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maybe-itll-be-someday · 3 years

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How We Raise Them

This is a birthday gift for the most wonderful human being and writer that I get to have the pleasure of being my friend? @jetaime-jespere you inspire and support me in so many ways. 10/10 would recommend being her friend.

This story, of puppy kisses, margaritas, and tooth-rotting domestic!Hotchniss is just for you.

Read on AO3

Emily always had a knack for caring and nurturing.

The house plants in their home were all bright green, a hobby she had gotten from JJ after too many nights spent fussing over Jack. Jack had seemingly grown up in the blink of an eye - far from the toddling two year old that Aaron had first brought into the office, his steps uneven and hand tightly wrapped around Aaron's finger. He was now almost 17, finally starting to grow into the long, gangly limbs he had no doubt inherited from his father. He was a great kid, but no doubt a teenager now, complete with the home-grown embarrassment for his parents' PDA and a sense of false confidence that he knew better than his parents' combined 80 years of experience.

Jack was starting to take charge of his own schedule, planning out his soccer and baseball practices and time with his girlfriend and was now rarely at home outside of eating dinner and sleeping. Sometimes, they liked to joke that their home was more of a hotel, only utilized for meals and a warm bed.

"He's grown up so fast, Aaron." Emily had lamented, curling a warm leg around his as they listened to Jack pitter around the kitchen before school. Emily had a rare day of no meetings, her new job as Section Chief agreeing well with a more attainable home life balance. Aaron had been teaching at the Academy for two years now and he didn't have his first class until 2 PM, granting the two of them a morning spent lazing in bed while Jack fended for himself before school.

He was old enough to drive now and have a girlfriend, and that fact took Aaron's breath away every time.

Aaron remembers when Jack was born, a wriggly screaming bundle of joy that entered the world with the loudest wail Aaron thought he'd ever heard. Now, he was driving, sending applications to colleges, and in a relationship with a nice girl.

He had grown up so fast.

Now, both of them had a plethora of time - time that used to be spent shuttling Jack from school, practice, and birthday parties between cases, making sure that his homework was fully done, PTA meetings (which Emily insisted on being a part of) and coordinating Jack's schedule with precision, slotting in play dates and trips to the mall to buy new khakis because he shot up like a weed.

All the time spent taking care of Jack, now exchanged for hours searching for different plants and nurturing them until their home was an urban jungle.

So Aaron starts doing some research while Emily is asleep, hoping to bring something a little more difficult than plants to take care of.

Before their entire home had turned into a greenhouse.

The house was quiet, too quiet, when Emily arrived home from a day spent in meetings discussing budgets. She was exhausted and would do anything for a glass of red and a foot massage from her loving husband.

"Aaron? I'm home." She calls out, shucking her shoes and purse by the front door.

There was silence that permeated from the house, followed by a sharp yelp from what she can decipher is Jack.

"Jack? Aaron?" She calls out again, following the source of the sound only to be met by an out-of-breath Aaron.

"Hi honey." He says, his breathing heavy as he presses a kiss to her lips in greeting. She cocks an eyebrow suspiciously, glancing over his shoulder to see if Jack would pop out from their den.

"Hey. Is something the matter?"

"No, no. Nothing's the matter." Aaron says, shaking his head. He wrapped his hand around hers, a bright smile on his face and she couldn't help but feel lucky that this is where they had ended up. Married, raising Jack together in a row house in Dupont Circle. Now Jack was nearly an adult - their duties as his parents were slowly dwindling down to providing advice and making sure he made the right decisions.

On those days, when she and Aaron are left in the empty rooms of their house, devoid of Jack's sounds of make believe as he pretended to be an astronaut or a G-Man like his father, she can't help but let a small pang of regret hit her.

She didn't know how much joy she would derive from being his step-mother, and a small part of her wishes that she and Aaron had created a brood of their own.

But it wasn't part of their journey, and she was okay with that.

"I have a surprise for you. Look, I know we've never talked about it..." Aaron starts to ramble, leading her to the den at the back of the house as her confusion grows.

He stops right by the closed door, hearing the shuffling going on on the other side of the door.

"But you're an amazing mother to Jack and I know that he's leaving for college soon. I don't want our house to be quiet."

"Aaron..." She says cautiously. "What did you do?"

The den door swings open, revealing Jack with a bright smile on his face and a small bundle in his arms. The tiny ball of fluff makes a soft mewl in Jack's arms, popping its tiny head up to reveal long floppy ears and the sweetest eyes she thinks she's ever seen. Aaron smiles, dropping her hand to pick up the puppy in Jack's arms and drop it right into hers.

There's a tiny jingle and her fingers brush against cold metal, reaching down to reveal the tag that hung around the puppy's collar.

Finn Hotchner

"This is Finn."

It turns out, despite all the research that Aaron had done for puppy rearing, it was still much harder than they had anticipated.

Emily groans as she hears a sharp whine come from their living room, where they had set-up Finn's crate. Aaron was adamant about them crate training Finn, despite the fact that Emily and Jack would have been fine letting Finn sleep with them in their beds.

This was the third, no maybe the fourth time, that night that he had whined in his crate like he had been abandoned on the side of the road instead of sleeping next to their fireplace.

Aaron pops up a sleepy head, eyes blearily adjusting to the faint moonlight streaming from the window and glances as the neon numbers that shone on his bedside table.

5:30 AM

"Good God, does he ever sleep?" Aaron groans as Emily let out a large yawn, patting a soft hand on Aaron's shoulder to tell him to go back to sleep.

"I've got him." Emily says as Aaron sinks back under the covers, quickly drifting back to sleep as Emily rolls her eyes and throws on her robe. She pads out into the living room, her soft footsteps enough to catch Finn's attention and get his cries to stop.

"Hey sweet boy." She coos, letting him out of his crate as he pattered out, his limbs still floppy at 10 weeks as he let out a large yawn, Emily's heart melting as he curled up by her ankles. He was clearly just desperate for attention.

More specifically, desperate for her attention.

Finn had latched on to her, claiming her as his human the moment Aaron had placed him in her arms almost three weeks ago. The puppy was always quick to dart to Emily when she came home, eager to expose his belly to her for pets after a long day at work. He followed her around at home, hearing the soft tapping of his paws against their hardwood floor as she cooked dinner or made coffee in the morning. He curled up right at her feet in her office as she worked through mountains of paperwork, content on sleeping right at her feet as she filled out reports.

"Come on." She coaxes, moving from her spot by his crate to let him out into their back garden.

The sun was softly breaking in the horizon, the long summer days already evident by the soft light that streaked the sky. Finn zoomed out onto the grass, quickly tripping over the limbs he still didn't have much control over and Emily let a small smile play on her lips.

After the initial shock of the fact that they now had a dog, despite almost no previous discussion prior, Emily found herself completely enamored with the puppy. She found herself thinking of the tiny ball of fluff often, taking time out of her day to check the camera they had installed in their living room to see what he was up to when they were at work (it was mostly sleeping) and watched with a fond smile as Aaron let him out during lunch. He would crouch down, despite the hell she was sure it caused on his knees that were now worn with age and trauma, and play tug with Finn or attempt to train him in what would only cause frustration for both of them.

She had always seen the softness that lined Aaron's interactions, despite the steely demeanor that had hardened like calluses after too many tragedies. But she saw the gentle way in which he raised Jack, always insistent on talking and sharing - a far cry from the slamming doors and harsh hits that were consequences of his father's temper. She felt it in the way his hands drifted to her lower back when he felt a need for connection. She heard it in the soft tones that he'd use when talking to children, a sparkle in his eye as he interacted with them.

It had filled her heart with a new measure of love she didn't think was possible, watching him soften to Finn in a way she never expected.

Aaron yawns, stretching his limbs to ease the sleep from them when he realizes that his wife's side of the bed had gone cold. He glances up at the clock and realizes it had been almost two hours since Emily had gotten up to let Finn out. A bloom of warmth grows in his chest when he realizes where they could probably be.

He finds her on their couch, stretched across in a deep slumber as Finn dozed quietly on her chest. It was a position he had found her in often, Finn always opting to sleep anywhere where he was physically touching Emily.

Another Hotchner wrapped around her finger.

When Emily is jolted from sleep by a loud clink, the warmth of Finn is nowhere to be found. She props herself up, sounds slowly coming into focus and she can hear the sounds of Aaron's soft whispering and a familiar scratching of utens. There's the sweet aroma of coffee wafting from the kitchen, and she follows the scent to catch Aaron red-handed.

Aaron is reading the paper on the counter, not noticing Emily walk in, and slips a small piece of his bacon to Finn who is sitting patiently by his side.

When she chastises him, he just laughs and passes her the cup of coffee he prepares for her on Saturday mornings.

"This is the only way I can get him to love me, Em."

As it turns out, having a puppy was a little too similar to having a baby.

Their days now revolved around Finn - their sleep schedules were disrupted by crying in the middle of the night, their daily list of tasks including someone having to be home to let him out every three hours whether it be them or a pet sitter and on top of Aaron’s classes and Emily’s workload. It had only been a month since they had gotten Finn and they were exhausted.

Emily had never had a dog and Aaron had never grown up with any animals, so both of them severely underestimated the amount of work that went into keeping a tiny ball of fluff alive and healthy.

Aaron finds her in the living room, sprawled out on the couch with relief on her face at the silence she worked so hard to cultivate amidst the chaos.

“He finally passed out.” Emily whispers and Aaron eyes the puppy who is sleeping peacefully in his crate after being forced in for a nap.

He produces a margarita from behind his back, salt lining the rim.

“I knew I married you for a reason.” She says happily, taking a grateful sip and moaning in delight as the sweet liquid hit her tongue and the tequila stung her throat. He clinked his own glass of whiskey to hers before taking a seat next to her, both of them needing the alcohol after weeks of sleep deprivation and tending to Finn’s every need.

“I think we’re getting too old for this.” Emily muses, watching Finn shift in his sleep.

“I don’t know about you, but I feel young and spry.” Aaron jokes, pressing his lips to her shoulder as she takes another sip of her margarita. His lips slowly trail from her shoulder, dancing across her collarbone before settling at the base of her neck. He feels Emily tilt her head slightly to expose more of her skin to him and a breathy moan escape from her lips.

“So this is why you made me a margarita.” Aaron knew that certain kinds of alcohol produced different reactions from Emily. Wine always made her sleepy, whiskey always made her angry.

Tequila, on the other hand, made her very mouthy.

“I just thought my beautiful wife deserved a drink.” He mumbles into her skin, taking the glass from her hand and placing their drinks on the console table behind them. “Also because Jack is sleeping over at Tyler’s tonight and Finn is finally asleep.”

It was the first free night they had in a while, out of earshot of their very perceptive teenage son and Aaron thought that deserved some sort of celebration, one that hopefully involved making her scream and not caring who heard.

“So no ulterior motives?” She teases, but Aaron’s lips are very persistent against the pulse in her throat.

“None whatsoever.”

They barely make it back to their bedroom, clothes hastily strewn against the carpeted bedroom floor with Emily’s legs straddled across his waist and his fingers dancing across her underwear when he hears it.

“You’ve got to be kidding me.” Aaron groans when a familiar high-pitched whine comes from the living room. They freeze like two teenagers caught by their parents, hoping that the whine would just be Finn waking up for a brief moment before going back to sleep.

It isn’t long before Finn’s wailing at the top of his tiny lungs and Emily giggles, hopping off his lap as Aaron flops dramatically back onto their bed.

“It’s your turn.” Emily says, pushing Aaron towards the direction of their door as he pouts like a petulant child. Aaron grumbles as he goes towards the living room, slightly annoyed when Finn bounds out of his crate like he hadn’t just interrupted the one solitude moment that they’ve had in over a month.

“Kid, I could kill for less than this.”

Finn slides into their family like the final piece of a puzzle they didn't know was missing.

He quickly becomes Jack's best friend, chasing him around in the garden and attaching himself to Jack’s hip when he was home. When Jack leaves for college a year after they get Finn, Emily finds him on Jack’s bed, a sullen look in Finn’s eyes at the profound absence of his playmate.

Aaron finds an unusual confidant in Finn. There are nights that are difficult, the memories of Foyet amplifying the phantom ache in his chest, especially when Jack graduates high school and when he gets accepted into both Georgetown and Yale.

He raises Jack to grow up just fine and he still hates, even after all these years, that Haley wasn’t around to see the kind of man Jack has become. Despite losing Haley at such a young age, too many of Jack’s mannerisms made him believe that he could have only gotten those traits through genetics. The way his left eyebrow twitched when he got angry, one of Haley’s tells when she was beginning to lose her temper. Jack fidgeted with a pen, clipped between his fingers, the same way Haley did when she was concentrating on a test back when she first caught his attention at 16.

On those nights, he steals away to the kitchen and sips a fingerful of whiskey. It was a habit he’d developed years before, a quiet moment just for himself. He was used to doing it alone.

Until they had Finn. He remembers the first time Finn had done it, a floppy 6 month old with disproportionate limbs and an attitude that was driving both him and Emily crazy.

He could only ruin so many of their expensive leather shoes before they had a problem with it.

It had been the night of Jack’s graduation and Aaron poured himself his whiskey, raising a glass to an empty kitchen with a hollow ache in his chest on days like today.

On days that she should have gotten to see.

“We did it, Haley.”

Finn had walked in then, intrigued by the clinking of the glasses that was coming from the kitchen. It was as if he sensed the sadness that lived in Aaron, walking up to give gentle licks to his palm and refusing to leave Aaron’s side as he sat at the dining room table nursing his drink.

He hasn’t spent a night in the kitchen without Finn since.

But despite the fact that they knew that Finn loved all of them, Jack and Aaron both knew that there was something special about the way that Finn loved Emily.

Finn was her shadow - always glued to her side whenever she was around. He often favored Emily’s company on the couch over anyone’s, huffing in disapproval when Aaron would come over to sit next to Emily. He was a constant presence in any room that Emily was in, either laying at her feet or pressed up against her somehow. They had often joked that Finn would choose Emily over boiled chicken, which aside from Emily was Finn’s greatest love.

When Elizabeth dies, suddenly and with no warning, Emily is inconsolable. She had always wished that their relationship was better than it was, despite the fact that it had improved in spades as the years went on. But it didn’t stop her from wishing for just one more day with her mother.

Finn is steadfast by her side from the moment she finds out. They all hovered over her, but Finn was practically tied by an invisible tether to Emily, refusing to let her leave his sight. He stays still when she cries into his fur on a quiet afternoon, grief heavy in the air. He licks the tears from her face and lays on her lap when their house is full of guests giving their condolences. He doesn’t bark at Aaron, like he normally did when he was hugging Emily, and instead lets her find comfort in his arms.

“Emily? Have you seen Finn?” She hears Aaron call out from their kitchen. She glances around their office and is about to call out that he wasn’t with her when she hears a loud crash and an exasperated Finn Hotchner.

She opens her office door to find Finn staring up at her, his fur caked in dirt with a trail of mud tracked on their hardwood floor. Jack comes into view, home from college for the summer, with a sheepish smile on his face. They had probably played with the hose in the garden - one of Finn’s favorite past times on hot days. She can hear Aaron yelling expletives in the kitchen and she simply bursts into laughter.

This was her family.

Mud on hardwood floors and all.

And she wouldn't change them for the world.

#hotchniss #aaron x emily #ckbwrites #literally i love you and your writing i can't believe you let me be friends with you #happy birthday sweet girl

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benedictscanvas · 4 years

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stolen heart, golden locket - aaron hotchner x reader

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x Reader

Word Count: 3.7k

Warnings: Swearing alongside typical CM stuff, kidnapping, some strangling, a sexual sadist...you know, the usual

A/N: My first fic on this blog! Thanks so much for requesting, anon, I really enjoyed writing this. Please do send in any requests you may have for Hotch, Derek or Spencer and let me know what you think of this! :)

---

(ways to say i love you) number 76 = “i want you to have this”

When you saw the locket that first time, it was entirely the wrong time.

Afterwards, you sometimes wondered what it would have been like if you’d have seen it on another occasion. A better occasion. What if you’d have seen it when you’d knocked on his office late night and he was looking at it, tracing his fingers over the smooth gold? What if you’d have wandered back into your bedroom to hurry him up before work and spotted him tucking it into his newly buttoned shirt? What if he’d accidentally left it on when you’d both stumbled into bed after one of those cases and you’d woken up to it splayed on the pillow?

It didn’t matter, because the first time you saw the locket was when that bastard tore it from his neck in disgust.

“What’s this?”

You were thinking the exact same thing as you struggled against the rope that was burning through your wrist with every passing second. There was dry blood on your chin and it was driving you mad, all you wanted to do was wipe it off, so you kept struggling despite the pain. Although maybe the real reason you kept struggling was in some vain hope that you might be able to strangle the guy before he touched Aaron.

Aaron. Steely faced in the face of danger, and in the face of anything really, but you could see the beads of sweat on his forehead as he tried to crane his neck to get away from the unsub, who insisted on getting right in both of your faces, breathing on you, making every muscle in your body tense up involuntarily. You gulped as you watched him, fists clenched.

“A locket,” he said, giving nothing away. You wondered how he sounded so calm, when you knew for sure that he wasn’t, not in the slightest. You’d come to learn his tells, but you hoped that the unsub hadn’t yet.

Frank Hall was the unsub’s name, even though when you’d knocked on his door that morning you’d thought you were just knocking on the door of someone who could know something. When there was no answer, Aaron had gone round the back and you’d stayed put. Almost seconds later, the door was opening and someone hit you round the head, hard, knocking you out instantly. You awoke here, in what you could only assume was a basement, so cliche, with your head throbbing and Aaron over the other side of the small room, just far enough away that you would never reach him. Your hands were tied, as were his, and you both had fresh head wounds that probably needed looking at.

But now, Frank was popping the locket open and looking at it with a sadistic smile. Your heart was beating out of your chest, you were sure of it, a few more seconds and it would beat right out of your chest and land on the floor in front of you with a sickening squelch. You didn’t know he had a locket. That he wore one.

“How sweet,” Frank said, turning to hold the picture up to you and you groaned involuntarily. It was one of your favourite photos. You and Jack. Stood in the little garden out the back of your house, your arms around him as you smiled with abandon into the camera, not caring about your eyes squinting in the sunlight and the fact that Jack’s arm looked uncomfortably pinned to his side with the way you were holding him. Aaron had simply held out the camera without warning and you’d done the first thing that had come to mind: cuddle the little boy that you raised as your own.

Aaron wore that? All the time? And this son of a bitch had just torn it from his neck? You seethed.

“Go to hell,” you spat at him, not quite taking the same approach as Aaron had. But you knew where that would lead you. You could see Aaron behind Frank, wincing already, just before the crack came as he slapped you across the face with the back of his hand. You felt the sting in your neck as your head whipped to the side. There was new blood on your lip and you licked it away before turning back to Frank with what you hoped would be a taunting expression.

“Y/N, please,” came the soft voice that you hated so much, the one that made you stop whatever you were doing. You looked past Frank, made eye contact with Aaron for the first time in a while. It had been too hard before, neither of you really wanting to see what he’d done to the other. It hurt too much, more than any injury you’d sustained yourselves.

But now, he was looking at you with those brown eyes that made you melt, a pleading look. Don’t antagonise him. I can’t see you get hurt. You read him easily, and you melted, some of the tension leaving your body as you sank back into the restraints. You forgot you weren’t the only one taking the pain. You nodded slightly and saw his shoulders ease.

“Bitch.”

You hadn’t noticed how close he’d gotten to you until he whispered the insult right at the side of your head. You bit your lip. It was all you could do not to headbutt him, but you knew what you’d get in return, knew how much Aaron’s rope would bite into his wrists if he hurt you again. You stayed put instead, and swallowed a gag at his breath on your ear.

“Frank, if you just tell us what you want, we could help you,” Aaron’s voice was loud and clear again, nothing like the pleading he’d done with you moments earlier. Would you forever be this in awe of your husband? Yes, you thought. It was almost a certainty.

“What I want-” Frank began, still twirling a knife between his fingers even though he’d yet to use it on either of you, “-is to torture little wifey here until you’re begging me to torture you instead.”

A shaky exhale out of your nose. Your eyes were following him as he paced around the room, slowly, a predator stalking his prey. You almost scoffed at yourself for making that comparison; you and Aaron were the predators in this room. Frank was a serial killer. Delusional. Filled with fantasies he would never live out. Not a predator.

“I’ll beg you to torture me instead right now, if you want to skip that first part.”

His voice was so steady. You snapped your gaze to him instead, even though he wasn’t looking at you, eyes still trained on Frank.

“Aaron…”

Your voice was a warning. But there was never any talking to him once he’d got something in his mind, and there was one thing he always had on his mind. Protecting you.

“I don’t think that would be as fun,” Frank replied, finally stopping his pacing in front of you, kneeling down beside you, making sure not to block an inch of Aaron’s view of you. You willed your breath to stay even, your heart to calm down. Deep breaths. Slowly, he shuffled until he was behind you and your breath became ragged when he used one finger to push your hair over one shoulder. You could see the golden pendant of the locket when you looked down as he put it around your neck.

Then your neck was pulled backwards as he tightened his hold.

The chain dug into your neck and you yelped, cutting your hands as you writhed, your tied ankles rubbing restlessly against the floor. You tried to move your head away from him, tried to remove his access to your neck, tried anything, but the chain was still there and soon you were gasping for breath.

Vision spotty. Hearing fuzzy. There were shouts from somewhere nearby, but whether they were distressed or triumphant, whether it was Frank or Aaron you could no longer tell. The chain was digging in so much it must’ve drawn blood by now but that was hardly on your mind, nothing was on your mind as you felt yourself slipping away.

You took a huge gasp of air, and another, and another, drinking it in and only realising once you’d fallen forward onto the floor that the chain was gone and you’d been released for the moment. You closed your eyes as you panted, cheek pressed against the cold floor, grounding you as your hearing slowly came back into focus.

It was Aaron who was shouting. Frank was deathly quiet, only his breathing to be heard as he resumed his pacing. There was a cracking sound, and when you finally looked up you saw the blurry golden splinters on the floor as he lifted his foot, which soon cleared into fragments of a pendant and a crumpled photograph you could hardly see anymore.

Aaron was still talking, even though it wasn’t that loud anymore. When you finally tuned into the words, your head hurt more than it had before.

“...swear, Y/N, please look at me...breathe, sweetheart, breathe for me. You son of a bitch, …”

You tuned out again but knew he hadn’t stopped. You grimaced as you sat up and your head span. There was more noise now, louder, but when you looked at Aaron his lips weren’t moving anymore. A door crashed open and Frank swore. You saw his figure move towards you before the world tilted again and your cheek returned to the floor with a thud.

***

When you awoke and could smell the familiar hospital smell that you’d become far too acquainted to over the years, you wrinkled your nose. Things came back to you slowly as you kept your eyes closed for a little longer, getting used to your surroundings before you opened your eyes. You knew that, as soon as you did, there would likely be an onslaught of worried BAU members asking questions and wanting hugs. You wanted a few seconds to get adjusted.

When you finally opened your eyes, you saw Penelope stood at the end of your bed alongside Rossi, and when you turned your head to the side with some effort, there was Emily sat next to you, hand resting on top of yours on the bed. You smiled, realising none of them had noticed you, and turned your hand over so that it was palm up and you could hold Emily’s hand in return. All three pairs of eyes shot back to you with kind smiles.

“Good to have you back, kiddo,” Rossi spoke first and you nodded at him gratefully.

“Aaron?”

“Fine,” he assured you and you let out a huge breath of relief, “In better shape than you. He’ll be down to see you in a bit.”

You nodded again, your smile a little more genuine than it had been. But then you felt a light punch on your arm and you turned to Emily’s angry face that almost made you laugh.

“Uh, ow,” you said indignantly and Emily almost looked apologetic but her eyes were hard.

“I really hate you sometimes, you know,” she said, still clutching your hand and you smiled at her despite her words, “I was first in that basement and I-”

“Em,” you said softly, “I’m sorry. I know it’s hard.”

You and Emily were a different kind of team than you and Hotch were, but it didn’t make the two of you any less formidable. Thursday nights were ‘Emily nights’ whenever possible, which usually consisted of movie nights under copious amounts of blankets or gossip nights with copious amounts of giggling. Aaron was confined to another room of the house (mainly so you could talk about him and how wonderful he was without him hearing) and he rarely complained, which you appreciated. Not that it would have made a difference. Your friendship was more than important to the both of you.

“Too right, it’s hard,” she said, stony-faced, “You weren’t moving and I thought you were…”

She trailed off and you squeezed her hand.

“I love you, Em,” you said sincerely, “I’m fine. You’re fine. We’re fine. And, as far as I remember, it’s only Wednesday so looks like we’re on for tomorrow night still as long as you guys caught the guy?”

“We got him,” Derek spoke up and you looked over at him for the first time, “Wish we’d got him sooner, though.”

“As long as you got him,” you said positively, looking back to Emily. She shook her head like she wanted to stay mad at you but you knew her too well to believe that act. She stood from the chair and enveloped you in a gentle hug which you returned as much as you could without moving your neck too much. It was still so stiff.

“Love you too,” she said it reluctantly, but you grinned nonetheless.

When she pulled away and sat back in the chair, you sat up a little more and tried to hide your grimace. You saw Derek’s hands itching to help you but you stared him down.

“You know what, guys, I feel great,” you said, pressing your hands against the bed as you made to get up, “I think I’ll just go and see Aaron myse-”

“Woah, woah, woah, slow down,” Rossi said as he and Emily gently stopped you from going anywhere, “I told you two that Mrs Hotchner here would get restless.”

“That’s Agent Hotchner to you, Dave,” you said jokingly as you settled yourself back on the bed again, knowing that Derek would pick you up and put you back there if you tried to get up properly, “Could somebody go and get him then, please, before I knock you all out and go myself?”

“That desperate to see me, huh?”

Aaron. You felt like you were probably glowing and you could see Emily rolling her eyes fondly beside you but none of it mattered as she stood to let him sit beside you. There was a nurse with him, just in case, but he was walking by himself. The head wound was the worst thing you’d both sustained by the look of it, apart from your near-strangulation which you were still trying quite hard not to think about.

“We’ll give you two some time,” Rossi smiled at the two of you, a nod directed at Aaron which he returned, as he guided the two others out of the room, even though Emily was protesting about not having enough time to talk to you. You chuckled, but soon turned your attention to your husband.

“Hey.”

“How are you?” you asked, reaching out for his hand which he gave you instantly. You felt any remaining tension leave you as you held onto him again and his thumb rubbed little circles over the back of your hand.

“You’re the one in a hospital bed,” he said, bringing your hand up to kiss it, “I should be asking you that.”

“You’ve got a hideous gown on too,” you joked, glancing down at him as he chuckled, “Head hurt?”

“It’s sore. Yours?”

“Definitely sore,” you admitted, “But I’m okay. Mainly because you’re okay.”

He shook his head as he smiled but you didn’t take your loving gaze away from him. He never liked it when you put him above yourself, often muttered about the fact that he didn’t deserve it but you took no notice. He tirelessly put others, especially you, first and you were only too happy to return the favour.

“You know, at one point,” he started quietly, looking at your intertwined hands and not your face now, “I thought I was going to have to sit there watch you-”

You cut him off quickly before he said it, because you were far too exhausted to cry now.

“Don’t do that to yourself, Aaron. I’m here,” you said softly, taking your hand out of his own only to rest it on his cheek, “And, anyway, you have some explaining to do.”

He paused. Stiffened under your touch which he had previously been melting into.

“I do?”

“You do. The locket?”

The blush that arose on his cheeks made you bite your lip to stop your laughter.

“I don’t wear it all the time,” he tried to explain, “Definitely not on cases, I don’t want anyone to find you and Jack and...use you against me or anything. I usually just wear it at the office, especially on late nights. We left in such a hurry for Frank’s house I must’ve forgotten to, you know, take it off.”

You couldn’t hold back your grin.

“I can’t believe you wear a locket with my face in it.”

He groaned.

“See, this is why I didn’t tell you,” he said, trying to move away from your hand on his face, but you held firm.

“You know I’m just teasing,” you smiled, “You are the sweetest man on this earth, even if I’m the only one who knows it.”

He scoffed at that, but his hand came up to rest on top of your own.

“You’re the only one who needs to know.”

At that, you couldn’t help yourself, and leaned up from the bed to kiss him, even though your neck didn’t thank you for it. But as he shuffled his chair closer and lay a gentle hand on your neck to steady himself as you kissed, the warmth that blossomed in your chest had you forgetting everything else.

***

“Knock knock!”

A pause.

“You know, you could just knock instead of saying it,” he said, amused, as you came into his office sporting a grin as wide as could be.

“But then how would you know it was me?”

“Trust me,” he said, standing from his chair and coming around to the front of the desk, “I always know when it’s you.”

Your grin got wider, if it was possible.

“Very sweet,” you said, “But I’m doing something sweet for you today, so stop it.”

He tilted his head in surprise as he leaned back against the front of his desk and watched you bouncing on the balls of your feet before him.

“Okay…”

“You ready?” you asked, but he only replied with that same amused smile on his face. You peered outside the door to make sure there wasn’t anyone still here, but it was late, an hour where only Hotchners ever remained in the BAU. For the last few weeks whilst you and your husband had basically been ordered to take time off, Derek said it was weird to be leaving the office and not have the two of you still working away. As if you hadn’t still been working at home anyway, “I want you to have this.”

You took the gift out from behind your back and held it out to him. A box. He chuckled as he took it from you and began to open it.

“It’s not my birthday, Y/N.”

“Just open it, Hotch.”

He raised his eyebrows at that, because you hardly ever called him Hotch anymore. Particularly since you had started signing your last name as Hotchner. Just felt too weird. It wasn’t as if you didn’t get a certain kick out of being the only one to call him Aaron anyway (and secretly, so did he).

He finally pried the box open and removed the tissue paper, revealing a rather nice watch that you hadn’t skimped on whatsoever. He looked up at you in question.

“This is very generous,” he said kindly, but you could tell he was still too confused to appreciate it properly. Neither of you were usually random gift givers, “What’s the occasion?”

“Look at the back.”

He tentatively turned the watch over and his face changed when he saw it. The engraving. Yours and Jack’s first initial in sloping silver cursive.

“You can wear it all the time,” you began explaining, “On your wrist, a prominent pulse point, so it’s symbolically next to your heart. It’s hidden, so no one else learns about you being the sweetest man on earth and there’s nothing to be used against you.”

Once you’d stopped your practiced explanation and there was a crushing silence as he stared at it, a little tinge of doubt began to creep into the back of your head at the gift.

“Y/N…” he breathed and you laughed humourlessly.

“You hate it,” you said painfully, “Don’t you? Oh god, you hate it. I just thought, you know, your locket was destroyed and I wanted you to have a little piece of me and Jack to carry with you but honestly, I can take it-”

You were cut off by his lips on yours as you squeaked a little. A hand on your face that slowly slid into your hair, another pulling you closer by the small of your back. He kissed you like he was a starving man, with an insistence that had your knees weak as you kissed him back. When your arms snaked around his neck and you tugged a little on the hair at the back of his head, the swallowed groan it earned you made you smile and pull away.

He tried to follow you, reclaim your lips once more and you felt the shiver up your spine. You’d been married for years. Wasn’t this feeling supposed to wear off at some point? Somehow, you knew it never would.

“I love it,” he said lowly, placing tiny kisses all the way along your jaw until he reached your ear and whispered, “And I love you. So much.”

Before you could reply he had reared back and kissed you once again, and this time you weren’t going to interrupt him. As you ran your hands up and down his arms, your heart rate spiked as you felt it. The watch already on his wrist. You had no idea when he’d managed to do that, but when he picked you up and wrapped your legs around his waist, you didn’t bother thinking about it anymore.

#aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner #criminal minds #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds imagine #criminal minds fluff #aaron hotchnew fluff #hotch #hotch x reader #hotch fluff

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elderkale · 3 years

Text

a toast (to what i have never had before)

Old Guard gift exchange @theoldguardevents for @longistheroadshortisthelife! Hope you like it and happy holidays <3

AO3

Arizona, the United States of America. Axel Safehouse. 2133.

Nicky found his husband on the roof, lounging on the clay tiles with his arms beneath his head. There was a breeze blowing from the west, teasing his curls and tugging at his shirt, and his skin seemed to glow in a way that was almost ethereal by the fading starlight. Beneath the light of the waxing moon, he looked calm—peaceful, even. His eyes were closed, chest rising and falling slowly, evenly, and, had Nicky been anyone but himself, he would have assumed he were asleep.

Carefully, he sat down and scooted to sit next to him. Joe smiled and rested a hand lightly on his knee. “Hey, babe.”

Nicky leaned down and pecked him on the forehead. Joe’s other hand came up, winding through his hair and guiding him into another kiss, this time on his mouth. Nicky hummed as Joe scratched idly at his scalp and traced his free hand down his stomach, fingers lingering just above his hip.

Joe reached down, linking their fingers together. “Hey,” he said into Nicky’s cheek, rubbing their joined knuckles over the curve of his ribs. “I’m fine, habibi.”

You are now , Nicky wanted to say. You are now. Not yesterday, when he’d been crushed beneath a falling building. Not that morning, when they’d finally dug him out, not when he’d writhed in Nicky’s arms in the back of the truck, drenched in sweat and tears as his body knit itself back together. Not eight hours ago when he’d held Nicky in a grip that hurt almost too much beneath the spray of the shower. Not twenty minutes ago when he’d kicked aside the sheets and stumbled out of their room. You are now.

He kissed Joe again on the forehead, then on each eyelid, then on his jaw. Joe chuckled and turned his head to press his own lips to Nicky’s wrist.

“I have something for you,” Nicky told him. Joe cracked his eyes open and peered up at him with barely-concealed curiosity.

He let out a groan of mingled delight as Nicky extracted the bottle he’d been hiding from behind his back. “You spoil me, Nicolò,” he said, reaching for it. Nicky tatted and tapped his shoulder until he sat up, rolling his eyes even as he leaned forwards to kiss Nicky again. “What’s the occasion?”

“Does there have to be one?” Nicky asked, swirling the mead around in the bottle. Joe hummed and Nicky twisted his wrist, freeing the cap with a pop .

“Wait.” Joe stilled his hands with his. Nicky smiled and let him take the bottle. “Mm.” He takes a deep whiff from the open neck, face screwed up into a masterful imitation of Andy whenever she’d tasted a new sample of baklava. “Ethiopia?” he guessed, opening one eye and peeking up at Nicky. “Poland,” he corrected, spotting the look on Nicky’s face. “No? New York?”

“You wound me, tesoro,” said Nicky. Joe pouted. He looked unfairly adorable when he did so, and Nicky couldn’t resist leaning forwards and giving him a quick peck on the lips, then his cheek, and then the hollow of his throat. Then, after a half-second of consideration, he blew on his ear.

“Nicky!” Joe laughed. “I’m going to spill it!”

“Don’t you dare,” Nicky growled, nipping at Joe’s neck. “Do you know how hard it was to hide that from Booker? In his own house, no less.”

“A wonder in itself,” Joe agreed, tipping his head back to let Nicky mouth at his throat. Nicky finally chuckled and leaned back, letting Joe take a swig. “Mm.” He smacked his lips, screwing up his eyes.

“Good?”

“Dusty.” Nicky elbowed him lightly and Joe grinned, taking another sip. “Good. Very good.” He held out the bottle and Nicky took a gracious sip of his own.

“Good,” he agreed, licking his lips satisfactorily. Joe leaned back against the roof and, for a while, they simply sat there, trading sips beneath the speckled midnight sky.

“Medovukha!” Joe yelled suddenly, sitting up straight. “Russia, ‘15, you—wait.” He narrowed his eyes and Nicky bit his lip, trying his hardest not to laugh. “ I bought that for you, you little vixen!” he exclaimed. Nicky let out a screech as Joe tackled him across the roof, shaking with laughter as he dug his fingers into his armpits, tickling him mercilessly until he begged him to stop.

(Later, Nicky half-heartedly suggested soaking up the spilled mead with a sponge. Joe tackled him again.)

Otjozondjupa, Namibia. Cave. 1903.

A loud crack reverberated through the cavern as Joseph hit the ground and he swore, grabbing the wall. Booker shot him a glance, one eyebrow raised, and Joseph nodded, jaw clenched. The other man nodded back wearily before vanishing after Andrea into the darkness.

There was a grating screech of metal against stone and Joseph quickly stood, throwing out his arms just in time to catch Nicholas as he skidded down the shaft. “Stupid cave,” he muttered, straightening his husband. “You alright?”

Nicholas nodded, tugging off his cap. “Are you?”

Joseph shrugged. “Ankle.” Nicholas frowned. “It’s fine,” Joseph hastened to add. “Just landed bad, I’m still healing—”

Nicholas tutted and took his hand, maneuvering him to sit against a wall. “Wait,” he ordered, pointing a stern finger when Joseph tried to stand. “Wait,” he repeated, then ducked into the shadows.

Joseph sighed and leaned his head back, stretching his legs out. It was still throbbing, loathe as he was to admit it. He watched with an almost morbid fascination as his foot slowly straightened itself, twisting back into place. He could, if he strained his ears, hear the faint creak of his bones as they realigned themselves. It didn’t even hurt that much.

Nicholas still wasn’t back. Joseph grimaced and began working at the buttons of his coat, a task made significantly more difficult by the blood drying between the clasps. He bit back a gag as he worked the tip of his thumbnail through the plug; neck shots always bled more.

Finally, he managed to more shake than shrug his coat off, wrinkling his nose when it hit the ground as a stiff sheet. What a shame—he’d liked that one.

“Joseph?”

“Hm?” Joseph glanced up. “Yeah, still here.”

Nicholas dropped his bag by Joseph’s feet and sat next to him. He’d shed his own coat, and had what looked like one of Andrea’s old shawls wrapped around his shoulders. There was a smudge of dirt on his face and Joseph reached up, wiping it away with his thumb. Nicholas smiled, letting his cheek linger in Joseph’s palm for a moment before leaning away. “Here.” He pushed a cloth-wrapped bundle into Joseph’s hands.

Joseph raised an eyebrow. “Where’d you get this from?” he asked as he began peeling back the layers Nicholas had wrapped it in. The scrap linen might once have been white, and was almost tacky with dirt.

“Buried it.”

“When?”

Nicholas shrugged. “‘77, ‘78? I bought it in ‘76.”

Joseph was grinning by the time the bottle finally rolled into his lap. “15?”

Nicholas shook his head. “14.”

Joseph laughed, lifting the bottle to peer at the faded label. He whistled. “Grenache, Nico?”

“Sardinia,” said Nicholas, resting his chin on Joseph’s shoulder. Joseph tilted his head, resting his cheek against his husband’s hair. “I was saving it for a rainy day.”

Joseph ran a hand up and down Nicholas’s arm, stroked his skin through a slit in his sleeve until he felt him relax. “It was a nice villa,” he recalled. Nicholas exhaled slowly, and Joseph pressed his nose into his hair, breathing in deeply. He was coated in a thin layer of dust—the ride over, perhaps, or just the slit of a shaft they called an opening—and his skin was tacky with sweat. The side of his head was matted with blood, his hair dyed the colour of rust, and Joseph leaned down, pressing his mouth to the skin below it. The beat of Nicholas’s pulse fluttered against his lips and he felt Nicholas’s hand encircle his wrist, fingers pressed over his vein.

Finally, Joseph drew away. Nicholas looked at him imploringly and Joseph chuckled, raising the bottle again. “Booker would kill for this, you know.”

“Too bad it is not for him, then,” said Nicholas, lip quirking.

Joseph pressed his lips to his temple, smiling into his hair. “Glasses?”

Nicholas laughed lightly, resting his head on his husband’s shoulder. “Live a little, Joseph.”

Joseph snorted and popped the cork.

The United Reformation, New Caspian Spiral. The Scythian III . 3099.

He heard the creak of metal before the beep and grate of the door sliding open. The ship was not a quiet one, nor was it particularly new.

(It wasn’t their only, of course; he knew Booker and Nils had cruisers stowed in convenient asteroid fields, and he’d eat a wrench if Zyin didn’t have an entire fleet stashed away somewhere. He and Ynko had their own crafts hidden across three systems, and Veyuz suspected he himself had buried enough spare parts across various moons to build them more than a few a liners.)

It wasn’t the first ship they’d shared together, either, nor, judging by the growing frequency of things needing fixing, would it be the last. (“You’re butchering my ship, you old mules,” Zyin had signed furiously the other day after Booker had hit a panel too hard and hurled himself into space. Veyuz had snorted and launched into an eager retelling of London ‘20 while Nils patted Booker’s shoulder until the blue receded from his skin. Ynko had just watched, the smile tugging at his lips turning into a laugh when Zyin firmly declared them all insane and waltzed back off to the cockpit.)

But, still, he held onto it all the same.

(Things grew precious with time, as people grew sacred; the Scythian was not a port in the Maghreb, or an island in the south, but it was home all the same.)

The steps shook faintly as Ynko sat down next to him, a blanket draped over his shoulder. He raised one arm, cocking his head, and Veyuz shuffled closer, letting him drape the rest over his shoulder. It did little against the drafts of the cabin, and Ynko had to hold onto the ends to keep it draped over both of them. It was as close to perfect as he was sure they could get.

Ynko tucked his chin over Veyuz’s shoulder. “What are you thinking?” he asked.

Veyuz gave the globe in his palm a quick spin. It flickered as it turned, the projection flickering and quivering for a moment, like a hologram in one of those old space movies Nils still loved (wonderfully inventful, but not terribly accurate, she’d been disappointed to learn; Veyuz was just glad he’d never have to meet a Gungan). Ynko reached over, dragging the familiar blue ball to a stop with the tip of his finger. Veyuz traced a path from the tip of Africa across the sea and over Israel. The globe jumped at his touch, the shadow of his hand splitting into a many-headed beast across the seven seas for a moment before he closed his fist. The orb vanished.

Ynko covered his hand with his own and brought it to his lips, pressing a feather-light kiss to his knuckles. Veyuz smiled and cupped his cheek. “You know,” he said, stroking the curve beneath his husband’s eye, “I was just thinking of that time in Malta.”

He felt Ynko smile against his neck. “Which Malta?” he asked, curving closer to him. “I’ve almost forgotten.”

Veyuz gasped in mock affront. “My own husband!” he accused. Ynko laughed and nudged him lightly in the side. Veyuz pressed a hand to his heart. “I don’t think I will ever recover, my once-heart,” he told him.

Ynko tugged at the blanket, and Veyuz whimpered dramatically as it slipped from his shoulders. “I have something for you,” he said, reaching into the bag at his feet that Veyuz had just noticed.

“Is it a sweater?” he asked pitifully. Ynko straightened, and Veyuz’s eyes widened. “ Ynko ,” he breathed. “Does Nils know you have this?” Ynko laughed.

“I have held on to this for too long for Zyin to throw it out of an airlock, my love.”

Veyuz laughed too. “Right.” He turned the jar around, cradled the glass—real, Earth-blown glass —in his hands. The liquor seemed to shimmer between the dim glow of the lights, the surface rippling with every rumble of the ship. The slender metal fixings seal were dull but smooth beneath his fingers, speaking of millennia of care. “How long?” he asked.

Ynko dragged his lips across Veyuz’s jaw. “Do you remember New Orleans?” he asked.

Veyuz couldn’t resist a grin. “Which New Orleans?” he asked. “I can’t seem to recall.”

“Oh?” Ynko asked drily. “Apt.”

Veyuz laughed. “And moonshine on the moon isn’t?”

“Near a moon,” said Ynko. “Near several moons, actually.”

Veyuz could almost see the fumes twisting out of the jar when he cracked the lid open; they danced like fingers of smoke through lifeless air, curling, serpentine, around steel and sterile lights. His throat burned with the first sip, and his eyes with the second. It seared his skin through his chest, leaving behind lashes of past centuries and dragged to his eyes tears shed in a world long gone. Gunpowder and cigarettes and buildings that had touched the earth, not the sky. Forest firefights and granite quarries and brass bands in alleyways. Air sealed with dust that landed, ghostlike, on glass and wood the way fingers do on the skin of lovers, cars that choked on their own rubber, powder burns that vanished and soot-black stains that stayed. Suits and polished tumblers and dresses that flashed like broken diamonds by the light of imported chandeliers. Dancing with Ynko, Nicky, Nicolò by candlelight and under the moon, wiping blood from his cheek under the stars and sweat from his lips beneath the arch of painted ceilings. Chasing the flames on his lips on stainless grates among their former stars, raising his hands, his lips, and falling to his knees in toast and pledge.

1099. 1926. Two thousand years and a hundred times more lifetimes lost and found, and carried after and in between.

“I love you,” he says and said and says again. His hand takes his, thumb caressing the edges of the same silver ring forged so many centuries ago.

“I love you too.”

#the old guard #fanfiction #writing #the old guard fanfiction #gift exchange #joe #nicky #yusuf al kaysani #nicolo di genova #kaysanova #historical #ish #acts of service #joe x nicky #joenicky #how many ship tags do two dudes need #mine #the old guard gift exchange 2020 #toggift2020

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stayextrafrosty · 4 years

Text

You Look Good in My T-Shirt

Pairing: Patrick Stump/Fem Reader

Warning: Just porn. No redeeming qualities except for the fact I had fun.

Smut prompt list #: 18, 27, 66 requested by anon. You steal a shirt from Patrick to wear for the day. Lets just say he can’t resist you.

Read on AO3 // Masterlist

I hid under the covers from the light pouring in through the window. Why Patrick felt the need to open them when he got up was beyond me. It didn’t used to be like this, he used to sleep later than I did. But with the band working on their next record, he was always doing something.

I could hear the soft hum of his guitar from downstairs. I grabbed my phone off the end table to check the time. It was a little past ten. I pulled myself up and looked around the room. The old t-shirt I slept in was damp along my neck. I cursed the summer heat.

Hopping in the shower, I thought through my day. I didn’t have to work until Thursday so I was free to do as I pleased. Patrick insisted I didn’t have to, but I insisted I did. He didn’t need to pay for things for me. Besides, I was doing what I loved. Making art.

I quickly brushed my teeth and rummaged through the closet. Nothing I had appealed to me. I glanced over at Patrick’s side. I looked through his clothes finding a black button down with short sleeves. This would work.

I threw it on over a sports bra, unbuttoning it to show off just the top. The shirt was still big on me so I tucked it unto my shorts neatly.

Bouncing down the stairs, I shot a text to a friend asking if she was free. It would take her at least an hour to respond as usual. I wandered past the living room and saw Patrick deep in thought over some papers.

“Morning Trick,” I called to him. He looked up at me and smiled.

“Hey, babe,” he said. I heard him put down the guitar as a made my way to the kitchen for breakfast.

I stood in front of the fridge wondering if I should bother to cook something or settle for cereal. Patrick wrapped his arms around my waist, pressing kisses to my neck. I giggled and turned toward him.

“Can I help you,” I asked sarcastically. He grinned.

“Hmm, maybe.” I raised an eyebrow and leaned into him. He met me halfway, lips soft against mine. “Are you wearing my shirt?” His breath ghosted over my lips as I giggled.

“Is that a problem?” His hands ran up over my arms and back down my torso, undoing buttons as he went. Oh, so I was getting this side of him today. Fine by me.

“Not at all,” he mumbled, pressing his lips against mine again. I wrapped my arms around his neck as he slipped his hands inside the shirt to touch my skin. I sighed happily and he took that opportunity to tease my tongue with his own. They were quick passes but they sent shivers down my spine and heat between my legs.

He pressed me back against the counter, slipping his leg between mine. I could feel him grinning against my lips. I would have happily let this continue, but my stomach had other plans. It growled at me, making me laugh as I pushed Patrick back.

“Am I allowed to eat something first,” I asked? Patrick rolled his eyes and nodded.

“Only if you’ll let me eat you next,” he said as I turned away from him. I felt the heat rush to my face. It didn’t matter if we had been married for years, his saying stuff like that made me shy every time.

I turned and smacked him gently, shaking my head at him. I grabbed the bread from the fridge and walked over to the toaster. Patrick watched me intently as I moved around the kitchen. Having his eyes on me at all times was making me squirm, but not in a bad way. Quite the opposite.

“Y/N?” I pulled the honey out of the cupboard and turned toward him.

“Yes, Trick?”

“Are you trying to drive me crazy?” I grinned at him as he looked me up and down. The shirt I had so nicely tucked in was pulled out in places, along with every button open, exposing my lack of clothing underneath.

It wasn’t my intention but if I could use this to my advantage then I would. I stretched my arms up over my head, pretending I needed it.

“What do you mean,” I feigned innocence.

The toaster popped and I tossed the toast onto a plate. I focused on spreading the creamed honey as slow as possible, making sure that it would drip when I picked it up. I sat myself across from Patrick at the island. I picked up my toast carelessly, pretending not to notice the honey that was now running down my hand.

“Ah crap,” I said, moving to lick my palm. I looked up at Patrick through my eyelashes as I dragged my tongue up and over my thumb. He wasn’t smiling anymore, but that was a good thing. I fluttered my eyes at him.

He was up and next to me faster than I was expecting. He trapped me between his arms against the island counter. His eyes were dark and he chewed on his bottom lip, shaking his head at me.

“Oh honey, you know you really shouldn’t tease me,” he warned, voice low. I sucked the last of the honey off my thumb before running my fingers over his lips.

“Why not,” I asked, overly sweet?

“Because then I have to do something about it. And if I have to remind you why you shouldn’t tease, neither of us will get anything done today.” My phone buzzed on the counter next to me, I looked away from him for a moment. My friend asked me to meet her in half an hour for lunch. This was perfect.

I looked back at Patrick; his eyes were all over my face but mostly focused on my mouth. I pushed him back gently with my clean hand.

“And as fun as that sounds, I’m meeting my friend for lunch. Gotta run,” I said, sneaking out from his trap. Hurrying to the bathroom and locking the door, I quickly washed my hands and tried to fix the mess of curls on my head. I settled for good enough and fixed Patrick’s shirt. Grinning, I left one extra button undone, to see if he noticed. I was playing dirty and I knew he could tell.

I grabbed my bag from the table in the entryway and started to pull on my shoes. I didn’t even hear Patrick come up behind me, grabbing my arm gently. He looked over me and his eyebrow twitched. Perfect.

“So, you’re going to wear my shirt out?” I shrugged.

“Yea. I’ll tell everyone my amazing husband gave it to me. I look good, don’t I?” I pushed my chest out a little further, drawing his attention for a moment.

“You look too good,” he mumbled. I heard him loud and clear but I wanted to see if he had anything else.

“What was that,” I asked? Patrick sighed and ran a hand over my cheek and down my neck.

“If you leave the house wearing that, as soon as you get home, I’ll have to bend you over the bed. The idea of you wearing my clothes all day where anyone can see you in them… Fuck, I just want to have you all to myself.” I smiled at him, cupping his cheek and pressing a kiss to his lips.

“Then I guess I’ll prepare myself,” I whispered to him. He blinked in surprise and I hurried out the door before he could stop me. I giggled the whole way to the small café I was meeting my friend at.

I told her what I had done and she shook her head at me. She warned me that I had a serious problem when I got home. I just told her, that was the plan all along.

I snuck quietly into the house after the few hours I had with my friend. I didn’t hear any instruments being played but that didn’t mean Patrick wasn’t home. Kicking my shoes off as quietly as possible, I tiptoed past the open basement door that lead to his recording studio.

Avoiding the creaky steps was hard sometimes. There were some that always creaked and some that occasionally creaked. I almost slipped on the last step but caught myself before any damage could be done.

I made it to the bedroom without alerting Patrick, though I still didn’t know where he was. I dropped my bag onto the dresser and ran a hand through my hair. I started undoing the buttons on the shirt, planning to put something more comfortable on.

“I was kind of hoping you’d leave it on,” I heard from behind me. Jumping what felt like a foot in the air, I spun towards Patrick, shooting daggers.

“What the hell, Trick? Trying to give me a heart attack?” My hand grabbed at my chest, heart pounding. He just laughed and sauntered towards me. I backed up slowly, feeling worried that maybe I pushed him to far this time.

“I warned you, that if you went out wearing my clothes, I’d have to bend you over.” The back of my legs hit the bed, and I sat down, scooting up as far as possible.

It had been a while since I’d seen Patrick like this. Since I felt hunted. And I loved it. I chased that feeling of adrenaline. I wanted to submit to him but where was the fun in that? He could work for it a little longer.

“Oh, come on, Trick. I just went out like that to rile you up. No need to be so scary,” I said nervously. He kneeled on the bed and crawled toward me. He didn’t come all the way to me, instead he grabbed my ankle, pulling me under him.

He braced himself on his arms around my head. I bit my lip looking him up and down as much as I could. Black jeans and a plain V-neck t-shirt and still managed to look irresistible.

“Y/N, you haven’t seen me look scary yet.” He leaned over me, pressing his lips to my cheek and then trailing them down over my jaw. I turned my head, exposing more of my neck to him. He left wet kisses down my neck and I squirmed. He vanished almost immediately.

“Don’t move. I want to be able to fully enjoy you,” he whispered close to my ear. I shivered and did the best I could to stay still. But he made it increasingly difficult.

His lips found their way down my neck and over my chest. He finished unbuttoning the shirt I was wearing and then his hands were all over me. Little moans escaped my lips but that seemed like it was allowed.

His fingers danced over my skin, just hard enough so he wouldn’t tickle me. He nipped at my collarbone and I dug my fingers into the sheets to keep myself from wrapping my arms around him and running my fingers through his hair.

“You’re being so good for me. Hard to believe you were such a tease earlier,” he mumbled against my skin. His hands found their way to the button on my shorts. He popped it open easily and dragged them down my legs.

“I’m sorry for teasing, please let me move,” I begged. I wanted to feel him. He was wearing far too many pieces of clothing for this to be fair. He pushed his shirt open so I was only left in my bra and underwear. I rolled my hips, wishing he would touch me.

“Why do you need to move? What is it you want?” He ran a finger over my cheek and down the rest of my body. He stopped just above my underwear, making me moan and roll my hips again.

“I need to touch you Patrick,” I pleaded. He sighed, looking at me with his thoughtful expression. He brushed a loose curl out of my face.

“I have never been able to say ‘no’ to you,” he said, smiling and leaning down to press his mouth to mine again.

My arms shot up, wrapping around his neck. My fingers tangled in his hair and I heard him sigh as I tugged gently. I grinned against his lips. He nipped at me, making me giggle. I dragged my hands down his body to the hem of his shirt, pushing it up.

He helped me pull it all the way off. I ran my hands over his shoulders and back, loving the way he flexed under my touch. He was soft in all the right places.

“Touch me,” I mumbled to him. He chuckled and pulled away.

“I am touching you. All over.” He nuzzled into my neck as his hands ran over my sides. I dug my nails into his shoulders, raising my hips up to grind against him.

“Not enough.” I felt him smirk as he grabbed my hips, forcing them back to the bed. I whined and tried to struggle but he was still stronger than me. His fingers massaged my hips, teasing me by letting them slip underneath my panties.

“I don’t know what you want if you don’t tell me, baby girl.” This jerk…

I shot him a halfhearted glare before dragging my hands down to the button on his jeans. I made it to pulling down the zipper before he stopped me.

“Use your words or you get nothing,” he threatened next to my ear. His breath, hot and taunting, gave me goosebumps. He kissed the spot just below my ear sending me into a fit of giggles.

“That tickles,” I said, moving my head away from him. He just chased after me, kissing all over my face and down my neck.

“You still haven’t given me an answer,” he teased. I bit my lip as he sucked on his favorite spot on my neck. I sighed happily.

“I need… I need you between my legs. Now,” I tried sounding as demanding as possible. Though I probably wasn’t convincing when my voice just sounded desperate and begging. I felt him grin against my neck before he started moving down my body again.

“What part do you want? My fingers?” He brushed over my clit and my hips jerked. “Or maybe my tongue,” he mumbled once his lips made it to my thighs. I squeaked out a moan when he nipped at me. My hands shot to his hair, tangling in the golden strands.

“Patrick, please,” I begged. He grinned up at me then lifted a leg over his shoulder and moved my panties to the side, being careful not to touch me. He let his breath ghost over me, making my legs shake and my hips roll.

This mans voice sounded like an angel, but his mouth was nothing but sinful on my body. His tongue barely touched me at first, teasing. I whined and tried to move my hips, but he held me steady. He wanted to take his time? I supposed I wouldn’t complain.

My back arched as he pressed his tongue flat against me before allowing it to dip inside me for the sweetest of moments. His name slipped out of my mouth and I had to consciously remind myself not to pull on his hair too hard.

He ran his tongue over me again and again and each time I moaned louder. He pulled away from me but only to yank my underwear off and toss it somewhere in the room. I could feel my orgasm building. He held my hips still even as I fought against it. His hands shifted slightly, gripping my thighs, forcing my legs farther apart.

“…trick I’m gunna…” I couldn’t finish my thought as he slipped his tongue inside me. He allowed my hips enough movement to rock against him. His fingers dug into my leg, not letting up on the attention to my clit.

The pressure was building. I did my best to keep my fingers loose in his hair but it just wasn’t happening anymore. He groaned when I tugged but never moved away from me. My eyes fell closed, getting lost in the sensation of him.

I rolled my hips a few more times before the waves started rushing over me. My back arched. I pulled my hands away from his hair, gripping the sheets on the bed. I called out his name. He kept himself firmly in place as I rode through the pleasure.

My body jerked as he kept licking at me. The overstimulation bordered on painful but I loved it. It was as though he was trying to pull another one out of me.

“Trick… if you don’t stop… I’m…” He stayed right where he was. One of his hands moved from him hips to tease my opening. My fingers twisted in the sheets again as I moaned. He was trying to kill me. “Patrick,” I sighed out.

He pushed a finger inside of me before removing his lips from me. His grin was cocky as he kissed my thigh.

“You can do it again. I know you can,” he encouraged. He pushed a second finger inside of me, moving them torturously slow. His fingers curled to press against that sweet spot. I gasped and threw my head back against the mattress. I thought I heard him chuckle, but I was too distracted by what his hands were doing.

My body screamed for release even though I shouldn’t need it. His fingers pulled sound after sound of need from me. I cursed and rocked my hips against his fingers. He adjusted his speed so that it stayed slow and frustrating.

“Damnit Patrick, more! Move!” I heard the evil laugh.

“Good girl,” he praised. He adjusted his position before speeding up his motions. My mouth fell open though no sounds came out.

This one crashed through me, sending my body into a fit of spasms. I groaned and let him pull everything from me. Every roll of my hips and every curse from my mouth.

He removed his fingers slowly, giving me time to breath. He sat on the edge of the bed, running his fingers over my legs gently. I looked up at him and grinned before I started giggling. He smiled back before laying down next to me, propped up on his elbow. He kissed my head and brushed a piece of hair from my face.

“What’s so funny,” he asked? I rolled my eyes and leaned up to peck his lips.

“You just make me happy.”

“Well, I can say the same thing about you,” he said, gazing at me. I smiled and tugged my bottom lip between my teeth.

“You have yet to bend me over the bed,” I reminded him. He chuckled before giving me an evil smirk.

“I never said I was done with you.” He bounced up from where he was laying. He grabbed my ankle and pulled me to the edge of the bed. I yelped in surprise as he pulled me to my feet, shoving the open shirt off my shoulders. He spun me around, undoing my bra and throwing it to the floor.

He attached his lips to my shoulder as he ran his hands all over me. He tweaked my nipples one at a time. I gasped at the light pain. The heat already returning to the spot between my legs. He ran his hands over my hips. A quick swat on my ass made me jump. He turned me back around, resting a hand on my cheek. He moved it slowly down and back to gently grab a part of my hair.

“Kneel,” he ordered. Need raced through me. I would never get tired of him being like this. I followed his order without complaint. “Finish taking off my pants like you’ve wanted to since walking in the door.” I bit my lip and nodded.

The button was still undone and the zipper was half down. I pulled it the rest of the way, grabbing the waist of his pants and underwear and pulling them down. His cock sprang forth, leaking precum. I licked my lips and looked up at him. He groaned and I giggled.

“You know what to do Y/N.” I didn’t need to be told twice. I took him in my mouth and hearing him sigh my name and a curse was music to my ears. I moved slowly, knowing just how he liked it. I ran my tongue all over him, teasing the leaking head.

His grip on my hair tightened slightly but not painful. His hips moved with me, making him go deeper each time. I braced myself against his legs as he pushed himself to the back of my throat. My gag reflex complained but I held him there for a few seconds before he pulled away completely.

Patrick pulled me back to my feet, crushing his mouth against mine. I ran my hands over his face but it didn’t last long. He spun me around and forced my hands to the bed. He pressed against my ass, rubbing his hard dick over my entrance. I whimpered at the feeling.

“You wanted me to bend you over, well you got your wish,” he said, sounding out of breath.

He pushed inside me slowly. I let myself fall forward onto my forearms. I moaned as he tugged on my hair. He cursed behind me as his hips jerked forward, making me gasp.

“I will never get tired of the feeling of you,” he groaned out. He bent over me, chest pressing against my back. He pulled out and thrust back in a few times. My legs shook with the sensation. He kissed the top of my back before grinding himself into me.

His hips came forward again and again. Every one pulling another moan out of my mouth. I could feel him throbbing inside me. He slammed into me, rhythm speeding up. The hand that wasn’t buried in my hair wandered. I felt his fingers on my clit again, causing me to nearly scream.

“You can be as loud as you want. I want to hear you.” My eyes fell shut as he thrust into me roughly. I kept myself as steady as possible, but my legs and arms were getting weak. My back tensed as another orgasm built inside me.

“Patrick… I’m so close…” I wasn’t sure if he heard me at first but the sudden rough pressure of his fingers on my clit told me otherwise. The muscles in my thighs tensed and I pushed back against him, needing more friction.

“Come on baby. You can come for me,” he whispered to me. He pulled on my hair, forcing my head to turn so he could see my face. The rhythm of his thrusts was becoming erratic. I felt myself gripping around him.

The pressure built until it was too much. He fucked me harder and rougher and soon I was spiraling. Half screaming as my knees buckled. Patrick held me up by my waist, thrusting through my orgasm.

He braced himself and me against the bed. His hips jerked forward hard and fast before he shoved himself deep inside me. He bit into my shoulder. Not hard but enough to make me arch against him. I felt him throbbing and his arms tightened around me.

His body jerked a few extra times before he stilled. I could feel him panting against my skin. I wanted to collapse on the bed and he had the same idea. After a moment, he maneuvered us slowly. He pulled out of me and moved to lay us both down on the bed, though our legs hung off the side.

His arms wrapped tightly around me as he kissed my hair and neck. We were both covered in sweat, but I was content to lay here forever.

“Live up to your expectations,” he mumbled against my skin? I giggled and turned in his arms.

“You always surpass them my love.” He grinned and covered my face in little kisses. He ran his fingers through my hair, staring at me admiringly.

“You going to let me focus on songwriting now or come up with more ways to distract me,” he joked. I laughed and gave him a smirk.

“You have other shirts that I like so no promises,” I said, winking at him. He rolled his eyes, pulling me into a kiss.

#patrick stump fanfiction #fall out boy fanfiction #reader insert #patrick stump x reader #smut prompts #feedback always appreciated #bandom #requested

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calypsoff · 3 years

Text

Thrity Nine. Part 5

Chewing on my bottom lip smirking. I don’t know why but I just feel a little giddy “what if I told you I haven’t shaved? I mean I didn’t know you was coming so?” Pulling a face thinking “mhmmm hairy coochie? I can play with that, it will give it a little different texture, but I can deal, I feel the flavouring will be intense” Robyn is cackling hard right now, she is half screaming and can’t speak “I really hate you, oh my god!” She spat, I chuckled turning in my seat to face her “me? You started it, I came prepared. I came prepared to devour; my pubes are tripped. My cum is going to taste extra sweet, I been eating well you see” I winked at her “mhmm, how you been pleasuring yourself prior?” Raising an eyebrow “same question to you? How you been doing it?” Robyn raised her hand “the middle two to be exact, I had to get pictures of other men. You weren’t cutting it” I sniggered, she is a straight liar “same, Teanna Trump gives good head” Robyn hit my arm “that better be a joke” I chuckled “the only lips I think about is you, trust me. But yeah, I been feigning for you for a while, the pictures from the rolling magazine were a treat to me, came all over that cover” Robyn looked away from me “you’re so nasty” she mumbled, the nerve of her calling me nasty “you can talk, middle finger lady” I am literally in awe with Robyn, just looking at her “man, I am so lucky to have you Robyn. On a real, sex aside. Everything, you are such a support to me. I just, I get choked up thinking about it. That what if, what if I didn’t meet you then, I just. It scared me thinking that, because I couldn’t see my life without you now. I really do love you Robyn, and I could never see myself without you, I can’t wait to settle down, have a wife, which is you. Have a home, I really want a home, like just our home. Not some rented thing” Robyn cooed out “I want that too, where would you like to live, I feel like Cali gives you bad vibes but it’s so much better for work, there is so many parts to it. We can move well away?” Nodding my head “I like the home where you rented out, I want to do it together. Do couple things, you got time off, I am not doing anything so we can do this” Robyn looks shocked, but I been thinking about this a lot “we will, you really thinking on the future aren’t you?” Nodding my head, that’s all I been doing “yeah, I just want to go house hunting. I just want to do a lot” I have a lot of things to do with Robyn.

This sucks I have no suitcase, but I got my backpack with me, fixing the backpack on my shoulders “thank you” grabbing Robyn’ suitcase from the driver, pulling the suitcase along as Robyn came up from behind me “what you think? This looks nice huh” walking inside the hotel “it does, you went all out for me baby. You really want some head tonight” I cheesed hard as I made my way to the reception desk, wait till she hears the name, she thinks I was joking but I wasn’t “you’re so adorable” the lady did a double take at me and then Rihanna, she is thinking this is really Rihanna “hi, welcome. Can I take your booking reference or name please?” licking my lips smiling “erm, Fenty” I couldn’t say it, let this lady do it “sure” she went to type in “Fenty? I mean why my name; you could have used your own” I chuckled “yes” the lady dragged out “Fenty” she looked at me “the first name?” I said trying to not laugh because this is funny “say it baby girl, I think I know what he did. I won’t be angry” I smirked rubbing the top of head “Forehead Fenty, I am sorry” she apologised “you’re an idiot you know what? I thought that was a joke, don’t apologise. He is stupid. Let’s just get booked in so I can beat his ass in private” I laughed rubbing my chest, it sounds even funnier with someone else saying it in the Barbadian accent.

This room is nice as hell, it’s ocean view. We have our own private beach area, this is amazing. For the price I expected it anyways “you opening the wine” I asked Robyn, she grabbed the bottle “I will be, but you annoyed me so you please me first” rolling my eyes, here we go “right so I got to do you first?” Robyn ripped the foil off the bottle “do a boomerang of me opening the bottle, my phone is in my bag” I guess that is my punishment for being dumb, opening Robyn’ bag and getting her phone “my passcode is five, five, eight, nine” looking up at Robyn smiling “your fiancé birthday huh, now I will snoop on your phone, make sure you ain’t getting no second husband” tapping on Instagram “so how I do that boomerang thing” walking over to Robyn, she tapped on camera and then boomerang “that’s it, time it right for me please” nodding my head stepping back, tapping record thinking I did it early but I timed it perfectly as it popped open “aye” that was easy “thank you baby, pour some for me” she placed the bottle down and took the phone from me “I am happy to be spending some time with you alone actually, now that I am mentally right within myself. I am just glad to just have time for us” pouring the wine “I missed you so much Chris, not even going to lie. The tour kept me busy, but my downtime was just horrible. I was worried you wasn’t going to get better because you’re stubborn but I didn’t know you was out there gaining a six pack” I chuckled grabbing the wine glasses, walking towards Robyn “I wanted to feel confident, for myself too” Robyn took the glass from me “to us and to you getting better for you, it’s what you deserve” I nodded my head as we clinked glasses, she is right I had to do it for me.

Robyn is annoying, she is on her phone “we ain’t come here to be talking. We came here to fuck, now you just playing, don’t make me play rough now” she is purposely checking her emails, like who the fuck does that. She is doing it because I named the booking Forehead “take my heels off” she didn’t even look at me, she just said it like I should obey “then you will quit playing?” grabbing her ankle, I yanked her down on the bed a little, on purpose “be nice” she is saying things without even looking at me, this small ass buckle at the side of her ankle, why is it so small. I managed to unbuckle the strap and then took the heel off “do not throw my heels, they cost me a lot” she knows damn well I was about too, I let the heel lightly fall down on the ground, I proceeded to do the same to the other heel “and then after that we can start getting our freak on? I mean come on Robyn; it’s been way too long. I am sorry I named it under Forehead, I will not do it again” pulling her heel off “I suppose” she locked her phone “blow my back out then” she rolled her eyes “you” I pointed, she will regret that, but I won’t say she will, I will just point.

Dropping to my knees, I spread Robyn’ legs apart, my fingers touched her skin, goosebumps broke out across my body, I have missed it. Robyn shivered and looked down to see me looking up and watching her. I could see in her eyes that she felt it too, those butterflies fluttering through. I placed my nose as close to her core as I could without touching her. I just inhaled, closing my eyes and moaning softly. Savouring the moment of her aroma filling my nose and making my mouth water “Mmhmm” I finally nuzzled my nose into her panties and Robyn gripped the sheets, I moved my hands across her body. I kissed her sex, first with my lips, then with my tongue. I ran my hands up the side of her body, Robyn yelped when I cupped her breast, roughly squeezing them in my hands. It’s been a while for Robyn, I can tell because she is squealing at every little touch, I don’t blame her because I will cum quick.

I pulled her panties to the side and teased her, she squirmed above me. Pulling her panties off, I grabbed Robyn’ leg, opening up her body further and gently kissed the inside of her thigh. I switched back and forth between legs, kissing both equally. I bit the inside of her thigh, my teeth sunk deep into her skin, with every intention of marking my territory. Her sex was completely open to me. She was so wet, so perfect. I growled and threw her leg over my shoulder. I pecked her clit, gently. Very soft. Treating it delicately before placing an open mouth kiss over the sensitive bud, I sucked long and hard until Robyn’ eyes popped open. I placed one more kiss on her lips before gripping her thigh and going to work. She was grinding her clit on my face. Moving to meet the thrust of my tongue. I continued to tongue her down, I have her pressed so far up the bed headrest, she is running from me. Moving my head back, my mouth covered in her essence and I licked my lips clean.

Plunging two fingers into her sex, Robyn whimpered and gasped when I slipped in another finger. Her body arched off the bed and I knew she was close to spilling over the edge. I placed my whole mouth over her swollen sex. my tongue in deep, digging and sucking out as much of her sweet honey nectar as I could as my fingers continue to work her. Her body hiccupped and Robyn went crazy. Her legs squirmed and shook, but I held them steady in place. She is screaming loud enough to get us complaints. Her eyes fluttered, back twisted and she trembled as I pushed her legs back further. Pressing my face deeper into her. I sat up a bit, letting go of her legs and grabbing her ass instead to lift her body off the ground, I pulled her towards me. Completely burying my face between her legs. I could barely breathe, but it didn't matter to me. If I died tonight I would leave this earth a happy, satisfied man. She is the sweetest thing to ever touch my tongue. My tongue vibrated against her clit and I heard Robyn slam her hand to the bed in pleasure while I continued to slurp her up. She came hard, proof of my victory oozing out of her.

I sat up on my knees, out of breath and drenched in everything Robyn “you’re a mess, I ain’t lost my touch” she is still reeling in from this, her toes are still curling from the pleasure. Pushing my shorts down and my dick hung free, grabbing Robyn’ ankle. Placing her foot in front of me and started to place kisses on each toe, my free hand slowly jerking off my hard member. Robyn smirked biting on her bottom lip as I froze at her big toe, my mouth covering her big toe. I think I have a foot fetish and this ain’t good because I do this, Robyn yanked her foot back from me. Squinting my eyes at her “move your hand” she said with a smile playing on her lips, I moved my hand and Robyn clasped her feet together around my member “mhmm, I think someone is not admitting to his fetish” she started to jerk me off with her feet and I wanted to say something, but I couldn’t, it felt good “mhmm, you like that don’t you?” I don’t want to say yes because then she will tease me, but I am crumbling, Robyn gasped “was that a moan?” she stopped “don’t stop” I mumbled, this feels so damn good “well I am, since you don’t like it” Robyn sniggered, she is a tease and I hate her, she is so annoying for that.

The sounds of her low moans and the slapping of skin filled the silence of the room, she hissed loudly, I groaned loudly “fuck, fuck, fuck” I grunted, I have missed this so much. I was on the edge of madness, I meant what I said when I said I was going to blow her back out. The sounds we created is making the ache in my dick intensify “god damn, you feel so good” I spat as the bed creaked under the strain of our movement, the moans reached a frenzied peak as the head board continued to bang against the wall, Robyn cried out. The ache in my dick increased as I listened to her come. Robyn arched into me, as my hand reached behind the back of her neck, pushing her face into the pillow as I froze, I knew I would have came early, I knew it and I didn’t last “my god!” that was intense “little too quiet there” I said, Robyn got no mouth now “be quiet!” slipping out of her “I don’t want no minute man Chris” side eyeing Robyn “shut up” shuffling back off the bed, gripping Robyn’ ankles and yanked her all the way to the edge of the bed “god damn, you could warn me” yanking her up.

The head of my erection pressed against the entrance of her sex and I was ready to be buried deep inside of her once again. I plan on slowly pushing myself all the way to the hilt and fill her completely. Spreading her legs wide and slid inside of her once again. My groan was deep and long when she gripped me and tightened around me. My hips barely moved forward; my rhythm was so slow. My eyes were locked on my dick sliding in and out of her, I enjoyed watching myself disappear deep inside of her. It amazed me how stimulating such a thing as watching yourself stroke in and out. My eyes gazed up when I heard Robyn moan, she liked this speed. I stroked a little deeper, to push a little harder. This agonizingly slow speed I was serving was beginning to drive me mad. She reached her hand up to either stop me from going fast, but I swatted her hand away “don't touch, just feel” I breathed, and Robyn complied, wasn’t going to do that again.

I moved my head to the side to stare at her face, loving each priceless expression she made. The ruffle between her eyebrows, the wrinkle of her nose, how tight her eyes were clenched shut, and what really turned me on, the way her tongue brushed across her bottom lip before pulling it back inside her mouth and biting down. It drove me wild, awakening the beast inside of me, but I had to contain myself. I don’t want to go in rough constantly, not when it’s going to be a lot of it. I fought the urge to flip her over and drive into her, something I really wanted to do. Pulling out of her, I thrust back inside of her and picked up my speed. Finding a natural rhythm. Each stroke was filled with passion, my want to please her, to unlock her release, fulfilling her desire. I gripped her hips and piston into her. The bed rocked back and forth as Robyn gripped the sheets, my speed picked up more and my head fell back in ecstasy. I know I said I wouldn’t have done this, but I wanted to push Robyn to her release.

Lighting the blunt again as it got put out by me, inhaling with the blunt between my lips and the smoke filled my lungs. Resting my head back on the seat, blowing the smoke out from my lips. A smile formed on my lips; I am high as shit. I don’t know what is in this weed but I am high as hell, I laughed to myself placing the blunt between my lips bringing my head forward just seeing Robyn bobbing her head up and down on my member, I assumed I was in a different world and this wasn’t happening but it was. My hips bucked as she deep throated me, moving my blunt back “damn” watching her slowly move her head back up my member, I can feel every curve of her tongue just against my member as she bought her head up, she stopped at the tip and twirled her tongue around the tip and gripped the base of my dick as she jerked me off at the very same time “fuck me” I groaned out, she is sucking the cum out of me, I don’t want to grab. I want to push Robyn’ head back from my dick cause she really sucking me off, Robyn knew I was going to grab her head but she gripped my wrist as she kept on sucking, my other hand with a blunt to it. I feel trapped “oh my fucking god” My toes gripping the carpeted floor.

Robyn is so fucking smug, she has come out of the bathroom so smug “your soul is mine now” I looked over at the time “is this who we are now, who gets to be more smug” licking my lips, Robyn and I are just butt ass naked. There is no reason to wear clothes when we just going to fuck again “I am just saying, two” she grabbed the bottle of wine “how two?” I questioned “my mouth, and my feet” she is so annoying “nah, I didn’t cum with that. Doesn’t count” watching Robyn drink from the bottle, she moved the bottle back “I could have, I stopped. I had you under my trance, remember that Chris. I got you, and I am going to continue to get you good. Ok let’s call it two one, because the first time you came quick, you did have me screaming and I came hard so let’s say that” chewing on my top lip, I am trying to gather myself, but my brain is just such a mess after that blunt “I got to admit, you sucked me dry. I have never experienced head like that, in my life. I mean I didn’t have much of that, you are lying. You done this before” Robyn chuckled “nope, just you” she shrugged “aight so we doing points, what happens if the person wins, what is the bet on this” she didn’t explain that “if I win, wedding is in Barbados and we do it quick like next month, and if you win then you can pick” that is big, my eyes widened “that is a big thing Robyn, that is Christmas time?” I wasn’t expecting this, I am shocked “and if you win?” she doesn’t want to hear it “if I win, then we wait, and it will be in Texas” Robyn laughed “Texas? You really came up with that shit, you ain’t winning shit, you men are weak” she licked her top lip “trust me” she sniggered.

#Chrianna FF #Chrianna #Chrianna Fanfiction #Fanfic #Fanfiction

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ddaengyoonmin · 5 years

Text

Fate/Bangtan Chapter 6

Genre: DystopianFuture!au; Prison!au; historical and mythological characters; based on the Fate/ anime series. Fluff (if you squint), Angst, Smut (it’s gonna be real smutty in some chapters 😳) Action and fighting will be a definite theme.

Pairing: poly!Ot7 X Reader (This chapter is mainly Jungkook x reader. Namjoon reader and Jungkook x Namjoon)

Word Count: 8k

Warnings: Mentions of death; gangs, guns; murder; toxic relationships. Oral (female recieving), dom!jungkook, sub!namjoon, double penetration, choking, biting/hickeys, jungkook has mental issues due to trauma,

Taglist (Sorry if i forgot anyone im so bad at taglists): @bellexwriter @3rachascompass

@im-emo-motherfuckers @i-like-puppy-mg

@mynameisstruggling @kaekae-h @skys-luce-stellare

@seesawsmin-flower @oddkpopgirl @caibaby23

@spider-thot0115 @sunshine-or-some-shit

@em1joon @aclp-jb1d @monvieesdaebaek

@mother-forker @karissassirak @littlebluebird-al

@namjoonsslutakakoreanmanswhore @d-noona @chloefran @kingsuckjin

Beta read by my lovely and amazing friend: @heyitsayjayy i cant thank you enough babe <3

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The roar of the rider servant revving his engine continued to echo throughout the buildings. A bright orange flame accompanied by shimmering sparks shot out of the back of his motorcycle with each thundering twist of his hands on the handlebars.

You heard the man next to you gulp loudly.

“I think that's...” an awestruck whisper came from your other side.

You turned your head first to Jungkook who had spoken.

“Do you recognize him?” you asked.

“Only from books of course, but, yeah. That’s Evel Knievel” His eyes never left the place where the rider servant sat. A nervous tattooed hand brushed it’s fingers through his hair. You could see some wording written on his knuckles in black ink. He always seemed so shy and sweet, yet the more you thought about it, his look and style were quite the opposite. He was dark and rough looking, and if you hadn’t gotten to know him you’d assume he was an intimidating person.

“Anything I should know about him?”

“Not sure. He did stunts thats all I really know” he shrugged.

You turned to Jimin next to you who was also locked on to the site on the rooftops above your team.

“Run or fight?” A voice shot out. You turned around to see Jin looking around the group.

“I don’t think we could outrun him” Yoongi commented, his lips were pursed together slightly, and you heard him cuss under his breath.

“I really didn’t want to fight this team” he muttered.

A loud shout ripped through the air and before your team had been able to decide on their plan, the motorcycle and the man riding it were racing down from the rooftop and directly towards you.

“What do I do?” you yelled out. Hoping that your master would give you some kind of direction.

Your team was silent and unmoving as the motorcycle neared your team. The older men on the rooftop all shouting and cheering for their servant as they disappeared into the building.

“Please run!” you called out to your motionless team mates.

You knew you had to think of something fast. You had a slight idea, it’d be hard to execute, but maybe...

Your men hesitated but complied after a moment, running off to the side and leaving the machine and it’s owner heading towards you and you alone.

You stood with your fists clenched tightly, staring down the man eye to eye.

5-4-3-2-1….

You jumped high in the air, spinning and attempting to knock the rider from his ride. Yet he was too fast for you, too experienced with his motorcycle.

With a loud screech he skidded and turned around in a 180 degree spin. Only a few feet away from you now, he took out a large silver metal bat with stars painted in glittering blue scattered across the tip. His hand was quick to remove it from where it had been attached to the side of the motorcycle.

“Fuck” you hissed.

The motorcycle jolted forward and he sped past you faster than you could react to him.

The first thing that registered in your mind was the sound. A loud crack. The next thing that occurred was pain. A splitting headache, instantly pounding. The third thing that happened was your loss of balance. You were now falling back to the pavement. Vulnerable and helpless.

Your mind was hazy and the memory seemed all too familiar.

That hammer really hurt…

No. It was a bat.

Or was it a hammer…

He had hit you over the head. How could he? Your own husband…

No, that wasn’t him…

Where were you?

When were you...

Everything was fuzzy. You couldn’t tell what was now, and what was a distant memory.

“And for my next trick! I’ll splatter these streets with your blood.” Evel growled, matching the low growl of his engine and preparing to charge.

His teammates had now made it down the stairs of the building and were standing out near it’s doors, cheering loudly and pumping their fists in the air.

The rider had a small smirk on his face, the large flames and sparks from his machine spouting out behind him like a beautiful painting. You supposed this could at least be a poetic way to go. Yet, if you go, your teammates…they would be killed...

You winced and tried to stand the best you could. But you knew you weren’t going to be able to get out of the way in time.

As you braced yourself for your fate, your insides curdling with the nausea that came with the thought of your team being slaughtered mere minutes from your own demise...

A loud pop sounded out in the air. Instead of hitting you, the motorcycle that had been rushing towards you was now flipping over forwards. The rider flipped over the handlebars and skidded across the ground, the motorcycle making it about ten feet further than his body.

You staggered over to him, your head injury causing you to stumble a few times, but you were determined to get to him.

He was pressing his hands to the gravely pavement and pushing himself up, standing up and rolling his shoulders back a few times trying to shake off his injuries from the fall.

You wound yourself up for a kick and tried to execute your plan. Only to have the rider’s hand catch you by your ankle, roughly holding your leg up in the air as he growled and spat a bit of blood to the side.

Another loud pop.

Your ankle was released and the man in front of you fell to his knees, clutching his stomach. Another loud pop.

He was flat on his back. Eyes opened. But his body lifeless.

You didn’t understand...what could have happened?

You spun around to face your team. Yoongi stood in front of the others, arms out and a gun held tightly in his hands.

He had saved you. He had saved you all and you once again were useless. You knew you’d be hearing about that later.

You now saw that the rider servant’s team were standing with dropped jaws and horrified expressions.

You knew you’d have to take care of them...but you didn’t know if you could.

Once you had made your way back to your team it seemed the others were discussing the same matter.

“We have to Yoongi” Namjoon spoke sternly.

“That's so fucked up. It's so fucked up” he was shaking his head, his eyes tearing up. “I won’t do it. I won’t let you do it”

“Give me the gun Yoongi” Namjoon hissed “I’m so sorry. Trust me. I don’t want to do this either”

“No” Yoongi’s voice cracked and he shook his head, one of the tears released from the corner of his eyes and fell down his cheek ��please there has to be another way” he quietly cried.

“Namjoon is right Yoongi” you muttered. “We have no choice…”

“Fuck this. Fuck all of this” Yoongi sobbed, shaking his head and holding the gun out to Namjoon.

He took the gun and turned it over in his hands a few times.

“I might need a bit more ammo,” he winced realizing how many members on the opposite team he’d need bullets for.

Yoongi sighed and pulled out a box of ammunition for his gun.

Namjoon loaded the gun, closed his eyes, shuddered, and took a deep breath in.

“Anyone who doesn’t want to see this, turn away now” He warned your team.

Jungkook spun around instantly, followed by Taehyung, Hoseok and Jin. Yoongi didn’t turn around, but his eyes shut and you saw him pressing his nails into the palms of his hands.

Jimin stayed staring at the scene, maybe it was his experience for these kind of things. Maybe it was that he wanted to support Namjoon. But something kept him locked onto the scene before you.

You moved to Jungkook who seemed the most shaken up, turning away from the moment as well. Jungkook's arms shot out and he clutched onto you tightly, burying his head into your shoulder.

He jumped with each shot that rang out. A small whimper escaping his lips. You wrapped your arms around him as well, trying your best to soothe him.

Namjoon returned to the group solemnly and with a rigid stance.

“Lets go.” he whispered.

Once again you couldn’t bring yourself to look back on the scene behind you as you hopped on the back of the car.

You knew what and who laid there.

A drone whizzed past the car, all of you looked up at it with grim looks.

Jungkook shook his head at the sight of the camera excitedly rushing to film the bodies.

“Fuck you!” you screamed out, throwing up your middle finger to the passing camera as Yoongi had done the other day.

You turned to look at your master who was opening the door to his driver’s seat. He was looking right at you, a small smile grew on his face...

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

When your group arrived back to the house Namjoon instantly rushed into his room, slamming the door behind him.

“Should I…” Jin whispered to Yoongi, who simply shrugged in return.

“I’d give him a bit...that was...rough” Jimin spoke “I watched it all and,” he shook his head quickly “That's not what we are used to. That’s not how we did things before. That was…” he moved his shoulders like a shiver had just run up his spine.

The group was silent for a few moments.

“I’ll make us some dinner” Jin broke the silence. The rest of you nodded.

“Goddess?” A soft voice whispered beside you.

“Yeah Jungkook?”

He didn’t respond, instead grabbing your hand and stepping away from the group, tugging you with him.

“What’s up?” you asked confused.

Still silence. He continued to pull you towards the direction of the rooms.

The rest of the group seemed too caught up in the conversations they were having to care about your absence. But, they all definitely noticed, they always noticed anything that you did.

Maybe it was Namjoon calling off the rule, but for some reason none of them seemed to think anything of the fact that Jungkook was now pulling you into his bedroom.

He shut the door behind you, hanging his head. His black hair fell down covering his face and he brought his hands together pulling on his fingers nervously.

“I need you” he spoke quietly.

“I’m here?” you cocked your head to the side.

His face shot up quickly to meet yours. Gone were the soft and nervous eyes of the boy that you had grown to know. Gone were the shy mannerisms that always laced every movement and feature of his body.

“I need you” he emphasized.

His dark eyes heavy as his bit down on his lip looking you over.

One of his tattooed arms reached out and his hand held the side of your face. A black outline of a rose was inked into the inside of his arm, it was beautiful, he was beautiful.

“Please” he mumbled softly.

His doe eyes were full of lust and want, scanning you over, pleading yet still somehow stern and demanding.

Any thought you’d had of him being one to give up control in the bedroom was gone.

You leaned forward to him, your fingers aching to run your hands through his messy black hair.

Jungkook chuckled slightly noticing your neediness.

“Yes?” He cocked an eyebrow up while his hand started to drop from your cheek and move to trace small circles over the top of your exposed chest. You shuddered at the feeling of the light touch of his fingers against your skin.

“You did say you wanted me” he winked.

“What’s got you feeling so bold?” You finally came up with a response for him. “You’ve been so shy, you don’t seem like yourself right now.”

Jungkook pulled his hand back from you and stepped a few steps back and shrugged, now looking embarrassed and more like the Jungkook you were used to.

“I was just trying to...trying something out…” he started to mumble and look down to the floor. “Sorry” he whispered.

“Don’t apologize!” You quickly tried to recover the closeness that he’d taken away, stepping so close that his broad chest was almost pressed up against you. “I wasn’t saying I didn’t like it! It just surprised me, I pictured myself being the one to take control with you, that’s all” you explained

Jungkooks eyes crinkled as he laughed breathily, still looking down at his feet.

“So you’ve been picturing this” his eyes now slowly lifted to meet your own.

“Maybe” you felt your cheeks grow warm with slight embarrassment. Of course you’d pictured yourself with him, how could you not. Even though bedroom Jungkook wasn’t quite how you’d expected, the side of himself he had shown you was driving you crazy with want. You wanted to explore this bold and forward Jungkook that he seemed capable of pulling out from some forgotten corner in his mind.

“Well sweetheart, sorry to ruin your fantasies of me, but there’s no way in hell I’d let you take control here” he growled, his face serious as he tilted his head back, biting at his lip. He then sent you a quick flirtatious wink again, letting you in on how much he was enjoying this new persona he’d decided to try on.

Maybe it was the war, maybe it was the idea that any of you could die tomorrow that pushed him to try new things, whatever the case, you both were glad he’d decided to.

His lips landed on yours before you could even think about leaning in to meet them. Both of his hands held your face as his frantic and lustful kisses were given. He pressed himself against you fully, pushing against you and forcing you to take steps back before you fell to the bed.

Jungkook pulled back from the kiss but stayed on top of you, holding himself up arms length away from you. His hands pressing into the small lower bunk bed on either side of you.

He stared down at you with his hungry and almost feral dark eyes.

“Fuck.” He hissed, pushing himself up, he sat with his legs straddled across your hips and lifted his shirt over his head quickly.

He was so muscular and his skin was scattered in tattoos of many different things. You caught one that stood out to you, the words “Out of my Mind” were tattooed right under his left collarbone. You had always wondered what that one said, only ever seeing the very top of the lettering when his shirt would slip down slightly.

Jungkook tossed his shirt to the corner of the room and then dove back into you, grinding his hips roughly against you to relieve some of the need that was growing.

One of his hands harshly grabbed and squeezed your tit through the fabric of your dress, his lips scattering passionate kisses all up and down your neck.

When he lifted his hand to brush a strand of hair from your face, you caught the words that you had noticed written on his knuckles earlier today.

‘OOPS’ was written in plain block letters.

You grabbed his hand and observed them.

“Why oops?” You were confused by his choice of that word.

Jungkook simply shrugged, a weird expression on his face.

“Don’t even remember ever getting that one” he spoke simply like that was the most normal thing in the world. “This one either” he pointed to the first one you’d noticed under his collar bone.

“How do you not remember getting a whole tattoo?” You chuckled.

Jungkook though wasn’t joining in the amusement “I think Taehyung did this one when I was too drunk to remember” he motioned to his collarbone. “And everyone says I did this one myself” He wiggled his fingers looking at his hand. “I try not to think too hard on it. We’ve all been through some rough shit…” he paused and seemed to drift into a thought he didn’t want to vocalize. “I think there’s a lot of things that we’d rather forget. Jimin says I’m lucky that I blacked a lot of things out, and he won’t tell me…”

Your eyes widened, these men had been going through hell long before this war, long before this prison.

“Sorry to bring the mood down” you whispered.

“It’s fine” jungkook lifted his shoulders up and down, “like I said, I don’t really remember”

‘Out of my mind’ … a part of him was. Maybe it should scare you. The way this moment brought out a side of him you’d never seen made you wonder what other dormant parts of Jungkook were just sitting inside of him ready to be unlocked and unleashed.

Though he said it didn’t bother him, Jungkook was terrified of what those memories might be. He’d been sure he’d never killed anyone, he prided himself in being a behind the scenes member of their gang. Yet, there were moments when the other members spoke, reminiscing on past crimes and encounters with other gangs, only to just stop. They’d fall silent and try their hardest not to look to Jungkook. So then he’d doubt himself. He knew he’d done something...something bad, something none of them thought he could handle reliving. Maybe it really was for the best.

You wished you could’ve been there to help them with all of the horrors they’d gone through, you wished you could take away the obvious pain that Jungkook felt over this.

The most you could offer was the pleasure that your body could give him. While you were sure that wasn’t enough to erase all the hurt, for a moment...you could send him into bliss. If that was all you could do, you were going to do your best.

You pulled his head back down into a deep kiss with one hand, and with the other, pulling off the straps of your dress and shoving it down, presenting your bare chest to him like an offering.

He took your offering instantly, reaching a hand to play with your nipple, pinching it between his fingers roughly, causing you to wince and let out a small whimper.

“Ah, so I see you’ve decided to sleep with someone other than Taehyung for a change” a voice boomed out from the doorway.

You gasped and Jungkook instantly rolled off of you.

Namjoon stood with a blank face, his arms folded over his chest as he leaned against the doorway.

Thinking that namjoon was speaking to you, you opened your mouth to reply.

But, Jungkook answered first.

“We’ve been over this. Same as Yoongi and Jimin, he’s not my boyfriend or anything” Jungkook hissed out.

You were covering your chest pulling up the fabric of your dress.

Namjoons eyes were locked on you, and you could feel the fiery lust that your spell caused growing stronger the more he lingered in your presence.

“No need to cover up on my account Goddess” he chuckled. “Unless you really don’t like me that much”

“I-I” you started to stutter.

But Namjoon cut you off, still looking at you yet talking to Jungkook.

“Yeah okay.” He scoffed “You may not call him your boyfriend, but every time I’ve tried to…” he trailed off “you always say he’s the reason you won’t…” Namjoon’s features started to crumple up in an angry expression as he recounted his previous encounters with Jungkook regarding this.

Jungkook groaned and rolled his eyes, pushing himself up and walking over to Namjoon.

“You’ve had a rough day, you’re lashing out.” Jungkook spoke annoyed.

Jungkook had always turned Namjoon down, and he used Taehyung as an excuse. Though he and Taehyung were in no way exclusive, in fact they frequently had other partners besides each other on the outside and neither of them could care less. Yet the reason he denied Namjoon...it was something personal. It was the way Namjoon looked at him like they’d already done it before. It was like a memory lingered in Namjoon’s mind, one that Jungkook couldn’t quite grasp.

It frustrated him, and made him resent Namjoon for not telling him. At least Taehyung pretended that nothing had ever happened, brushing things off with a “I have no idea what you’re talking about” if Jungkook ever asked about the broken pieces of his mind that he couldn’t seem to find.

Namjoon made him mad. So mad...yet he couldn’t deny the pull that had always remained. Nothing like the pull he felt towards you, but if anything else in the world could be compared to the feelings he’d always harbored and tried to bury about Namjoon, your spell would be it.

The bold and confident Jungkook had not left the room, that was very apparent as he reached his hand out and brushed a thumb over Namjoon’s cheek.

“What? You wanna fuck us hyung? Is that it?” Jungkook teased.

Namjoon smacked his hand away. His eyes flicking back and forth between you and Jungkook.

“I know you’ve always wanted to fuck me. And we obviously all wanna fuck her, because fuck-“ Jungkook hissed out spinning and motioning to you “just fucking look at her” he almost moaned out.

This all completely surprised you, you’d thought it was just Jimin and Yoongi that had fooled around, but now it seems that most of them had some relationships with each other like that...

Namjoon bit his lip slightly and pulled himself from the wall, his eyes trailed up and down Jungkook’s bare chest. He lifted his hand and brushed it against the inked words under his collarbone and sighed as if something about those words really affected him as well.

Reminding you of what Jungkook had mentioned just moments ago.

Something had happened to him, something happened and Namjoon knew…

“Jungkook...I” Namjoon stuttered.

“Fuck” Jungkook hissed “all the times you’ve begged to fuck me? And now I’m finally saying okay and you hesitate?” Jungkook seemed genuinely angry.

This moment seemed to be getting far too personal, you felt slightly uncomfortable and started to consider leaving.

“I’m saying I don’t care, I don’t care that you won’t tell me what happened to me to make me not remember. Cuz who the fuck wants to remember the shit that happened to us” Jungkook cried out, tears starting to form in his eyes.

You now realized what was going on here, Namjoon needed to forget today, what he’d done today would haunt him forever…

You couldn’t make him forget forever, but if being with Jungkook and you might help him…

“Please fuck us Namjoon” you said cutely. Trying to change the subject for their sake and bring the two boys attention back to you.

You remembered Namjoon saying how he wouldn’t be able to resist if you asked, it was a hopeful choice of words. And it worked.

“Fuck” he gasped “yeah...yes” his eyes widened and he instantly stepped into the room closing the door behind him.

Jungkook watched carefully as Namjoon pulled his shirt over his head.

He had far less hidden tattoos than Jungkook, just two stars, one on each side of his lower abs.

Namjoons gaze moved between you and Jungkook, wondering where he should start.

Jungkook, who seemed to really be falling into this dominant position of control well, made the decision for him, pulling Namjoon close to his chest and planting a kiss on his plump lips. He then took Namjoons lower lip between his teeth, sucking it into his mouth and biting down, dragging his lip.

Namjoon hissed out at the painful feeling, his eyes squeezing shut.

Jungkook released his lip and chuckled.

“Ah baby” he teased with a wink “let’s not leave our goddess out hm?”

This couldn’t have been the first time Jungkook had been this way...it couldn’t have been. He’s far too good at it, far too talented at taking control. It was so sexy timid, shy Jungkook taking control of you and Namjoon at the same time.

Namjoon nodded shyly, looking over to you, and then his eyes landing on Jungkook for direction.

“You can touch her hyung. But you need to get yourself undressed first hm?” He grinned widely checking out the older man while brushing a finger over his lower lip.

Namjoon ran a hand through his light brown hair nervously. He couldn’t believe he was really doing this. Here with you...here with Jungkook. It was like a dream come true in the middle of the worst nightmare he’d ever had.

A part of him wanted to stop, save this moment for a day where he wasn’t so fucked up in the head.

But he decided to continue, because he couldn’t promise himself that day would ever come.

Namjoon dropped his pants and boxers to the ground, letting his long, fat cock free from the restrictive jeans. He was so hard that it almost hurt, he felt guilty for being so turned on after the day he’d had. He shouldn’t be rewarded for what he’d done...no...he needed punishment. And he knew just how to get it.

“Maybe just y/n and I can be alone together? It feels weird with you here…” Namjoon turned to Jungkook next to him who still stood only half naked and now jaw dropped.

“Oh is that so?” Jungkook rolled his tongue against the inside of his cheek, getting incredibly ticked off by the older man’s words. “After all the times you begged” he walked over and grabbed a fistful of Namjoon’s hair, yanking his head back.

“Maybe I just don’t want you anymore” Namjoon spoke with a smirk, egging him on further, pushing him exactly how he wanted him.

“Namjoon. On your fucking knees you liar” Jungkook growled. “Y/n. On the edge of the bed. Spread that pretty pussy for us and Namjoon is going to eat you out until you cum. And if he does good maybe he can touch me too” he ordered.

You complied instantly, moving your dress up and presenting yourself to the two men in front of you.

Namjoon let out a needy whine at the sight, licking his lips excitedly.

Jungkook sucked in a sharp breath and spoke a quick ‘fuck’ under his breath.

“Now Namjoon.” He commanded his hyung.

Namjoon nodded slowly, his wide eyes locked on to your pussy. He inched forward and brought his face to your core. You felt his warm breath tickle your outer folds and you shivered slightly.

He took one hand and spread you further open to give himself better access. His other hand squeezing your thigh gently.

You looked down and noticed that his eyes were meeting yours for a moment, as if asking for permission to begin.

You nodded and gave him a sweet reassuring smile. He didn’t hesitate now, diving right in to the wetness in front of him.

His tongue flicked over your clit at lightning speed. You gasped out and bucked your hips up into his mouth in response. He used the hand on your thigh to steady you as he continued his pace.

You looked over to see Jungkook standing heavy lidded, pupils dilated and grinding his teeth together as he tried to hold himself back from jumping in and taking Namjoon’s place. His erection was throbbing in his pants, aching to get out. Aching to feel you wrapped around him in any way that he could get you...your mouth, your hand...your perfect pussy.

You felt your orgasm building under Namjoon’s quickening tongue. You cried out loudly as you were right on the edge.

The sight was so beautiful Jungkook almost forgot his plan for this moment.

“Wait stop!” He quickly got out.

Namjoon pulled back instantly, and you pouted at the denial of your orgasm.

“I want Goddess to beg me to cum. Come on temptress. You tease us all day long, did you really think I’d forget what a naughty girl you are? Did you really think I’d forget how you’ve been with four of my friends before me? Hm?”

He got on the bed next to you, crouching down and bringing one hand to wrap around you throat. It was different than when Yoongi had done this, Jungkook’s hand was placed there with control, and reason. Yet you couldn’t help but replay the beautiful moment with your master...missing it.

Jungkook was now breathing a soft breath of air out against your ear. Then suddenly nipping harshly at your lobe.

“Ah!” You squeaked out.

“Babygirl. Did you really not think I was worth coming to first? I’m honestly a little jealous. Namjoon too, he’s just being too nice to say anything. You know that’s why he lashed out at you earlier right?”

Was it? You thought he hated you for what you were...but...could he have just felt neglected?

“Namjoon?” You asked softly.

Namjoon sheepishly looked down.

“I’m really sorry about that Goddess...I was harsh, and I felt left out. I felt like you didn’t want me, that you wanted them all more than me. I’m sorry”

You rolled your eyes. Jungkook sat up so that you could get up and plant a soft kiss on Namjoon’s forehead.

“I forgive you” you smiled while kissing him on one cheek, “and I want you very much. You almost made me cum so good just now. I can’t wait for you to finish what we started here” you praised him.

His face lit up, and he looked over to Jungkook who was lounging on the bed on his side in a relaxed position with one hand propping up his head. He gave the two of you a look of approval.

“Well. Now that that’s sorted. Beg.” His voice dropped a few octaves on his last word, he resumed his position of hovering over you, his face mere inches from yours, noses almost brushing as his eyes bore straight into yours.

The look in his eyes was so wild and animalistic that you should’ve felt afraid, but instead you felt yourself growing even wetter.

“Please” you whined.

His hand shot to your throat. Not pressing down or restricting at all, yet still firm, a reminder that he could if he wanted to.

“Beg. Better. Beg like you mean it,” He hissed out through clenched teeth. Namjoon was on his knees a few feet back from the bed, sitting back on his feet, watching you and Jungkook with hungry eyes.

“Jungkook please let me cum” you desperately pleaded. Jungkook had one leg on either side of you straddling you and pressing his still clothed erection into your naked core, rubbing against you and soaking the front of his pants with your wetness.

He glared down at you, yet you could see the hints of lust that covered his expression.

“That’s a pathetic excuse for begging” he grumbled under his breath, “But your face tells me how desperate you are” he smirked, tightening his long fingers for a moment around your throat. You jerked your hips up into him as he did this, so turned on by the feeling.

Jungkook scoffed and shook his head, pulling himself away from you completely and walking to stand over Namjoon.

“Your turn” a sinful smile grew on Jungkook’s face as he stared down at the older man. Namjoon’s eyes widened. “Show Godess what I mean when I say beg” he growled tilting his head up and biting his lip as he ran fingers through his jet black hair, his bicep flexing as he did.

“Jungkook, Please let me eat Goddess’s pussy until she cums. I want to feel her cum on my tongue and drink up every last drop” Namjoon begged, not breaking eye contact with Jungkook as he did.

“And what makes you think you deserve to” Jungkook bent over slightly and grabbed a handful of Namjoon’s hair, jerking his head back and getting mere inches from his face, his stern gaze piercing into Namjoon’s eyes.

“I don’t. God. I don’t deserve it sir. But she does, please let me make her cum. I’d do anything. I’d do anything for you Jungkook, I’d do anything for her” Namjoon’s voice cracked as he answered, wincing at the pain of having his hair pulled so roughly.

“Good boy” Jungkook softened his grip and brought his lips to meet Namjoon’s. You felt a loud gasp leave your lips.

The sight was just so erotic. Jungkook’s kisses seemed controlled and well placed, while Namjoon’s were desperate and frenzied, he brought his hands around the back of Jungkook’s head pulling him deeper into the kiss. Namjoon seemed like a man starved, a man who’d waited a lifetime for this kiss. It was so different than the first kiss you’d seen from them, the emotion behind this was filling the whole room with it’s aura.

Jungkook pulled back from the kiss and whispered something in Namjoon’s ear. You couldn’t make out what it was, but whatever the words were, it caused Namjoon to shut his eyes tightly and flash a smile of relief and pure joy.

“Okay. Make our Goddess cum now” Jungkook pet the top of Namjoon’s head, motioning for him to return to his position between your legs.

Namjoon picked back up where he left off, flicking his tongue over your sensitive and throbbing clit. Your fingers made their way to intertwining themselves in his hair, holding him close as you moaned out his name needily. Jungkook moved next to you on the bed, lying on his side and bringing a hand to pinch one of your nipples harshly. You squealed at the pain, but you didn’t want him to stop. He started to suck on your neck, leaving purple marks on your skin.

“I’m going to cum soon” You gasped out. You felt Jungkook quiver at your words, and he pinched down even harder on your nipple.

Namjoon responded with a loud moan, and an even quicker pace against you.

“Namjoon, Fuck” you pulled on the strands of hair that you held in your hands.

Your orgasm was right there, so close…

“Cum for us baby girl” Jungkook whispered against the skin of your neck.

And that was all it took for you to come undone. You screamed out in pleasure as the waves of your orgasm took over your body, Namjoon carrying you through it with his tongue and lapping up every drop that you gave him as he said he would.

Your chest rose and fell dramatically as you tried to get a handle on yourself after that incredible high.

Jungkook released your nipple and planted a soft kiss on your neck where he’d just left the last mark.

Namjoon massaged your inner thighs gently as you released your grip on him and he pulled his head back.

Jungkook now stood, dropping his pants and boxers to the floor, his long cock springing free from it’s cage.

You licked your lips hungrily as he walked back over to the bed, he pulled some lube out from a drawer in the nightstand next to the bed then sat down without a word.

“Where do you want me sir?” Namjoon now stood in front of him.

“Where do you think I fucking want you.” Jungkook spoke lowly.

Namjoon dropped once again to his knees, this time in positioning himself between Jungkook’s legs instead of yours.

“Suck.” Jungkook growled out his order, roughly gripping Namjoon by his hair and jerking his head forward to his cock.

Namjoon moaned out lewdly as he moved his hand to grip the base of Jungkook’s throbbing length.

He was returned with a loud slap to the side of his face.

“I didn’t say to do that. I said suck. Put your fucking hands away” He hissed.

Namjoon quickly pulled his hand back and nodded, lowering his head to take the tip of Jungkook’s cock in his mouth, then taking the length fully.

“Wow” you whispered. Namjoon continued to suck Jungkook’s cock like it was his last meal, slurping loudly and humming around him.

Jungkook was throwing his head back, eyes rolling into the back of his head.

“Fuck fuck, baby stop” he groaned, using his grip he’d had on Namjoons hair to tear his head away from his cock.

“Goddess.” Jungkook motioned for you to come over to him, “Sit on my lap and let me fuck that tight ass while Namjoon fucks your pussy” a smirk growing on his face as he saw your jaw drop.

You hesitantly made your way over to Jungkook, he smacked your ass hard as you stood with your back facing him getting ready to sit on his lap. Jungkook put a bit of the lube on the tip of his cock and gently rubbed it all over.

“Now goddess” he ordered, now using both hands to spread your ass cheeks apart as you started to sit down on him. He steadied himself on the edge of the bed, using his grip on you to keep you from losing balance.

You felt the tip of his cock start to press into your hole.

“Relax baby” he spoke calmly, gripping your hips and bringing you down further around him.

“Fuck that feels so good, so fucking tight” He hissed out, his grip tightening as he pushed into you.

Once you’d taken him fully he gave you a moment to adjust before motioning for Namjoon to come closer.

Namjoon, bent slightly to reach where you and Jungkook now sat on the bed together, and Jungkook leaned back a bit as Namjoon rested his body against you, positioning his cock right at your entrance, waiting for a moment to make sure you were okay with this.

“Fuck me Namjoon, please” you moaned out, feeling so fucked out already from the feeling of Jungkook in your ass, but wanting more. You needed to feel Namjoon fill up your pussy.

Namjoon nodded, biting down hard on his lower lip as he pressed himself into you, stretching you out and filling you up. The feeling was pure bliss, both of them inside of you, Jungkook’s back pressing against your back, and Namjoons chest now pressed against your chest.

Jungkook leaned forward and gave Namjoon a soft kiss on the lips before starting to slowly move inside of you.

You gasped out sharply at the feeling. Namjoon took that as his cue to start moving as well, keeping his thrusts in sync with Jungkook, loving the feeling of your pussy, and the way he could feel Jungkook’s cock through the wall of your pussy. So tight, so perfect…

You wrapped your arms around Namjoon’s neck, feeling yourself start to tear up from the overabundance of pleasure coursing through your body.

“I-I-I” you tried to tell them you were about to cum but you couldn’t get the words out.

Jungkook chuckled and brought his lips to your neck again, nipping at the skin and digging his nails into your sides where he gripped you, holding you steady as he sped up his pace.

You started to grow limp from all of the pleasure rushing over you, Namjoon and Jungkook both held you steady now, curses and moans falling from both of their lips.

Your orgasm flooded over you, causing you to shake and writhe between the two men.

“Fuck.” You heard Namjoon hiss out, “So. Tight. So…” His eyes clenched shut and his pace grew unsteady.

“Cum with me baby” Jungkook spoke out in a gravely low rumble. At that Namjoon stilled and you felt his warm ropes of cum start to fill you up.

Jungkook wasn’t too far off, grunting heavily as he sped up and fucked into you hard, his hips slapping against your ass cheeks, then growling out a loud yell of your name as he emptied himself inside of you.

“Fuckkk” He moaned out, pulling out of you and laying flat on his back.

Namjoon still held you as you sat on Jungkook’s lap, cum now spilling out of you and onto Jungkook and the bed.

“Lets get cleaned up hon” he whispered gently, kissing you on the top of your head. “You were so good for us baby” he praised you.

Namjoon then pulled out of you, picking you up in his arms bridal style and carrying you out of the room to the shower, Jungkook following close behind, not caring who saw the three of you in your post sex state.

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

After you’d gotten cleaned up and sufficiently recovered from your session with the two of them, Jungkook left, telling the two of you he was tired and going to bed.

“I’d love it if the two of you joined me in there in a moment” he winked, lingering at the door as you and Namjoon were re dressing.

“I thought we were all sleeping in the living room” Namjoon furrowed his brow. “You might be in charge in the bedroom. But I’m your leader” he reminded him.

Jungkook scoffed, “I’m sleeping in my own bed tonight. If you want to let me sleep alone, that's on you” he shrugged, winking again and heading out of the room.

“That boy, what am I gonna do with him” Namjoon chuckled and shook his head “Did you have fun Goddess” he smiled cheekily at you.

“Yes. Why do I feel that wasn’t the first time you’d done something like that with Jungkook though” You teased, not realizing your mistake until Namjoon froze and his expression grew dark.

“Sorry, I wasn’t trying to..”

Namjoon shook his head “No it's fine.” he sighed, “There's just. Things about Jungkook, I don’t know if I should say”

“He talked a bit about not having all of his memories…” You spoke quietly.

“Yeah.” Namjoon nervously ran a hand through his hair, “Yeah.” he repeated.

“You don’t half to talk about it if you don’t want” you wrapped your arms around him, burying your head in his chest. “It’s gotta be tough”

“I love him. I’ve loved that insane man for so many years” He whispered.

“You pulled back and stared up at Namjoon who’s eyes were not filling with tears.

“You should probably know his story.” He sighed “You might find out eventually, he seems so close to having another lucid moment again, it’s bound to come out, you should be prepared.” Namjoon then took you to his room, the two of you walked past the younger men’s room to see Jungkook fast asleep in his bed.

You sat down on one of the lower bunks, Namjoon sitting next to you silently for a bit, deciding where to start.

“Jungkook was never our computer guy. He was our top muscle, our best killer. Everyone called him the Phantom of Death. He had a boyfriend. Another member of our gang named Baekhyun. There used to be 8 of us. I loved Jungkook even then, and we started to sneak around and fuck behind Baekhyun’s back. Jungkook was in love with me too, it was obvious. But he just couldn’t bring himself to break up with his boyfriend, he loved him more.” Namjoons eyes stared down at the floor.

“One day Baekhyun walked in on us together. He couldn’t handle it. It drove him mad. The next week a hit had been ordered on Jungkook. Five men jumped him on his way home that day, and Jungkook killed them all. It wasn’t too unlike him to handle himself that way. But, he just knew that it was Baekhyun who did it. He went back to the home he shared with Baekhyun, who was surprised to see him still alive.” Namjoon clenched his eyes shut as a tear fell down his cheek. “When we found Baekhyun the next day his face seemed like it’d been punched to shit...” he shuddered “So hard that it killed him. And he couldn’t handle it. He really did love him, it didn’t just break his heart what he’d done, it broke his soul”

You sat with your mouth gaping open, shocked to hear that Jungkook was capable of that. Scared Jungkook who seemed so nervous at every battle.

“He disappeared for about a week. When he came back he was wearing the same clothes, covered in blood, no one really knows entirely what happened. But he had the tattoo on his knuckles, the same hand that killed his lover.” Namjoon’s fist clenched tightly “And he’d completely forgotten about everything. He didn’t remember anything he’d done, he thought he was our tech guy and that he’d never killed a soul, it was some strange story that his brain made up for him so he could cope with what he’d done. He forgot he’d ever been with me.” You put a hand over Namjoon’s hand and held it tightly, nodding as you listened to his story, your heart breaking for him.

“He started sleeping with Taehyung. I was jealous but there was nothing I could do, none of us wanted to tell him anything that could remind him of what had happened. He seemed happier that way. Until one night, he must’ve had a night terror, all the memories of what happened. He was laying next to Taehyung in bed and almost killed him before realizing what he was doing. When he came to he passed out for two days. That's when Taehyung gave him that tattoo, more as a reminder for us that our Jungkook could snap at any moment.”

“I’m so sorry” You whispered, not quite knowing what to say.

“What's happened has happened I suppose...” He shrugged “Thanks for listening. I needed to talk with someone about it. All the emotions from what I did today. I was scared that maybe I’d snap too” he admitted “But being with you, and getting to be with him again. It really helped” Namjoon pulled you close to him. “Let’s go join our Jungkookie in bed okay?”

You nodded with a small smile, following Namjoon into the room and crawling next to Jungkook who instantly smiled a sleepy smile.

You had a lot to think about after today, you didn’t know these men at all. They were dangerous, maybe that was good for this twisted game you were all playing. All you knew for sure about them, is that no matter what they'd done...you were falling in love.

————

You woke up that morning sandwiched in between Jungkook and shirtless bodies. You nuzzled your nose into Jungkook’s chest and pressed your backside into Namjoon’s front, who in response wrapped an arm around your waist and pulled you in even tighter.

You felt so safe and warm. The heavenly memories of the night before were replaying on a loop in your mind.

The sound of the door opening directed all of your attention to the noise.

“Wake the fuck up!” Hoseok screamed out, his eyes wide, his hands frantically motioning for the three of you to get up.

“What’s going on?” Jungkook mumbled, sitting up and trying to rub the sleep from his eyes with the back of his hand.

“Fuck fuck fuck, I knew we should’ve all slept together. How the fuck did this happen?” You heard Jin’s panicked voice outside of the door.

At that you shot up rushing into the hallway, Jin met your gaze, tears were filling his eyes.

“Wha-“ You started quietly as you walked into the living room, your stomach was overcome with a tingling fear. You didn’t like the anxiety ridden aura in the house right now.

Taehyung sat on the couch with his head in his hands.

“Jimin is gone. Someone took him while we slept.” he whispered pointing to the spot on the floor where Jimin and Yoongi had been sleeping.

Your heart felt like it stopped instantly. Your blood grew cold and the needles of fear pricked into your spine. *no...not Jimin*

“M-master?” You whimpered out to the man laying on his side on the floor, blank faced and seemingly in a state of shock.

“He’s been like this since we found out…” Jin shook his head.

“Well let’s fucking go get him.” You stood tall and spoke with confidence. “I actually think I know where to look first” you added.

Though, you hoped that you were wrong. If he was where you thought he was, the chances of getting him back were low…

#bts smut #bts fluff #bts angst #namjoon x reader #seokjin x reader #jungkook x reader #hoseok x reader #jimin x reader #yoongi x reader #taehyung x reader #jungkook smut #namjoon smut #bts imagines #bts scenario #bts fanfic #bts x reader #ot7 x reader #btswriterscollective #ksmutclub

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uzumaki-rebellion · 5 years

Text

Black Boys Bloom Thorns First: Volume 2, Chapter 17

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"There will never come a day You'd ever hear me say That I want and need to be without you I want to give my all Baby just hold me, simply control me 'Cause your arms, they keep away the lonelies When I look into your eyes Then I realize That all I need is you in my life All I need is you in my life…"

Brian McKnight – "Never Felt This Way"

The nightmares had returned.

They usually rose their ugly heads the weeks before N'Jobu had to return to Wakanda. They were earlier than they had ever been in two years. It was usually some variation of the same narrative.

Califia would find herself walking into a palatial estate dressed in a fancy dress or some luxurious flowing pants suit and top. She would find herself bejeweled from head to toe with gold bracelets jangling around her wrists and ankles. She had no idea what the palace in Wakanda really looked like outside of the modest photos N'Jobu had shown her, but the dark dreams would conjure up various scenarios each time, her subconscious probably piecing together things she may have seen in magazines or on tv over the years.

There would be the initial joy of finally being in her man's homeland, feeling a sense of belonging, harboring joy in her heart as she moved through large ornate double doors that lead to the voices she heard. The voices were always N'Jobu and Erik's…until she stepped into a wide- open room where an elaborate silver throne sat. N'Jobu was on that throne, his gold slugs gleaming on his teeth as he smiled. But his smile wasn't for her.

Zinzi sat next to him holding a baby. Standing next to her were three other children…and Erik. The three strange children-sometimes boys, sometimes girls, often both—shared features that let her know these were N'Jobu's progeny. His rich dark flawless melanin was in their skin.

N'Jobu would always look over at her and his eyes would look beyond her as if she weren't there at all and one of the children would call out, "Baba, Umama…" and N'Jobu would lean over and kiss Zinzi's cheek and touch the head of the child in her lap.

Zinzi would rise and hold out her hand and say, "Come, Husband," and all of them, including Erik, would walk away from the throne, walk right through her as if she were a ghost. And each time, Califia would run after them screaming, trying to stop N'Jobu, grabbing Erik's arm, but it always ended the same way. N'Jobu walking away from her with another family. The horror would swell in her belly and then she would wake up…

Noise.

From down below in the streets.

Califia forgot how loud it could be living in cramped spaces with people piled on top of each other. Her eyes opened to stare up at the ceiling. Every part of her ached. She asked to be made sore by him. She got her wish. Her thighs had black and blue marks. Her private parts ached from pleasurable use. Her nipples felt tender and raw. Her back shot out bolts of precise pain from where he twisted her to and fro.

Everything hurt, but damn, everything felt so right too.

She was happy to be awake. The nightmare faded in the light of the morning each time. The constant fear about N'Jobu going home to Wakanda for his annual check-in would never leave her. The noise took her from the discomfort that the dreams brought her.

Turning her head to the left of her she saw N'Jobu's profile. He was sound asleep with the covers draped over his waist. His bare chest called for her to touch it and she did, not waking him at all. She herself looked like a fire breathing dragon with drool sometimes when she slept, but this man next to her had the ability to look like he was posing in a magazine when he slumbered. So unfair.

She rolled onto her side so she could get her face close to his. She touched his plush full lips then traced her finger over his chin. She leaned in and kissed his cheek, then lifted a little higher to press her lips into his. He slept soundly. She reached under the covers and felt for his dick. It was flaccid. It probably wouldn't work for a long time. She didn't know where he pulled his stamina nor the ability to recuperate from each time he ejaculated in her and on her, but N'Jobu really showed out this time. His appetite for her was ravenous and she reciprocated that hunger.

But now, he was finally sated and shut down.

Or so she thought.

"Hey," he whispered, his eyes still closed, but his lips curled into a knowing smile.

"Hey," she whispered back kissing his cheek again.

He turned his head to kiss her back.

"Are they back yet?" he asked.

"No. We are still alone."

"Maybe we should leave Erik with your Dad or Rolita every now and then when we get home. I want more time like this…like last night….early this morning…two hours ago…"

She laughed.

"We were really on one. Are you going to explain the door, or shall I do it?" she asked.

N'Jobu sighed heavily. His banging her against the bedroom door caused a noticeable crack in the middle of it.

"I'll tell Lia. And I'll replace the door."

Her hands were still rubbing him under the covers. She pushed the sheet and blankets down. His dick was plumping up. She stroked his emerald green seed jewel. The piercing was just as beautiful now as when he first showed it to her. He opened his eyes. She kissed his lips again then brought her face down to his cock and licked the jewel. Flicking her tongue around it, she felt his erection grow, his dick filling out and lifting up. She put her mouth over it.

"Damn, good morning to me," he said widening his legs for her.

Her mouth and jaws were the only things not too worn out.

"Ooh, yes, I like that, keep making that popping sound with your lips…"

She sucked on the head and each time she bobbed down on it and released it with her thick lips, a loud audible POP! was made. His dick was coated with hot saliva and she looked up at him and his lips quirked with pleasure. Eyes already heavy-lidded he thrust up into her mouth. Saliva dribbled down her jaw and neck. She sat up and gripped his cock and began stroking it up and down.

His eyes glanced down between her legs.

"You're still swollen down there. I'm sorry, girl."

"It's okay. I wanted it," she said. Her labia had swelled from when they were finished having sex, the irritated plumpness arose from his pummeling and biting and rubbing. It would take a few days to get back to normal. The look in his eyes told her he was ready to delve back in her.

His eyes traced every part of her and his erection reacted to what he saw, growing slicker at the tip and bulging in her hand.

Her eyes watched her hand work his dick. He moved his head closer to her and she gave him soft kisses. Her fingertip touched his slit and she played with the clear fluid he released and smoothed it around the head of his cock. Her grip returned just under the glans, her firm short strokes there made him stop kissing her, his breath agitated from the sensations of her stopping and starting. She was edging him just right. Staring at the fat shiny head of his glans she felt her body react to the perfect dark even coloring of his erection.

She slowed down her hand and just let her fingers make a ring under the head, twisting her digits slowly from left to right hitting his sweet spot. She saw his eyes sweep down to her pussy and more of his body's own lubricant spilled down and pooled on top of her thumb.

"Califia," he groaned, raising his eyes back to her face. He had that look. He was close to release. He reached out and fondled her breasts. She drew in a sharp intake of breath across her teeth when his fingers brushed over her sore nipples. The pleasure and pain she felt from his touch made him thrust his hips. He needed more from her hand and she gripped him tighter.

"Yes, like that," he gritted out watching her hand stroke him harder.

"Ah, man," she whined.

She could hear the children making their way up the steps from down below. Marisol's high-pitched squeal followed by Erik's high-strung cackles with Lia telling them both to slow down.

"Keep going," he grunted out squeezing her left breast.

She pumped her fist around him faster.

"Like that?"

"Yes…keep doing that…you know how to work me…you k'no—"

He blurted out something harsh in Wakandan and then his dick released a steady flow of cum that ran down his length and covered her hand.

"Shit!" he cried out.

When his cock was no longer sensitive, she reached for the hand towel they had used earlier.

"No, you clean me up with your mouth," he said pushing her head toward his lap.

"They'll be in here soon—"

"Lick all this up."

She did her best to slurp up all that dripped down his cock and thighs. When they heard the key in the front door twisting the lock, he wiped the rest of his release from his stomach with the towel and kissed her.

"I taste good in your mouth, girl," he whispered.

"You so nasty," she said licking her fingers of the excess semen still there.

The front door opened in the living room and the children's feet stampeded in followed by Lia's calm voice telling them to stop running in the house.

Califia stared at N'Jobu and rubbed his chest again.

"Next time we need a full twenty-four hours to ourselves—" she said.

A knock on the bedroom door let them know Erik wanted to see them. N'Jobu pulled the covers back over them and he pulled Califia onto his chest.

"Mom…Baba…it's me."

"Come in," she said.

Erik dipped his head in the doorway first then stepped in when he saw they were waiting for him.

"Why are you on the floor?" he asked.

"More comfortable down here," N'Jobu said squeezing Califia's shoulder under the covers.

"Auntie Lia wants to know if you want to have dinner at Luna's Grill or Catalina's…Baba, what's that on your teeth?"

Erik stepped closer to them and knelt down on the mattress. Califia ran her pinky finger on N'Jobu's gold slugs.

"Your father was just showing me his new grill," Califia said waiting for N'Jobu to come up with a good explanation as to why Erik had never seen them before.

"Cool," Erik said. He didn't ask his father to elaborate.

"Tell Lia we'll do Catalina's so we can dress up," she said.

"Okay," Erik said bouncing up from the mattress.

Califia could feel N'Jobu rubbing on her booty.

"What happened to the door?" Erik asked staring at the large crack in the middle.

Califia looked up at N'Jobu.

"Yeah, about that…" Califia said.

N'Jobu shook his head.

N'Jobu treated everyone to the Catalina restaurant feast.

His family, Lia's and Soliel's parents along with some community elders congregated on one side of the restaurant. It was a fancy establishment and everyone dressed up to celebrate the upcoming election.

Victory was in the air, and even though Lia thought it was presumptuous to celebrate before an actual win, everyone wanted to do it regardless of the final outcome later.

He couldn't keep his eyes off of Califia. Their lovemaking had him buzzing and once again he had tunnel vision, following her around like a lost puppy, constantly holding her hand or kissing her neck. She, in turn, stayed hugged up on him, her hand constantly rubbing his arm at the table or stroking the nape of his neck. She and Erik dressed alike, form-fitting black blazers with tight black trousers and black Doc Marten boots. Califia wore a low-cut black silk camisole top under her blazer while Erik sported a jet-black silk shirt he bought for himself at a boutique in the city.

N'Jobu wore an ivory and ecru suit that complimented the darker ensemble of his wife and son, and around their dinner table, the rest of their party was quite sophisticated with their apparel. The owner of the restaurant came over to meet Lia and wish her well while giving everyone dessert on the house.

Wine freely flowed, and N'Jobu felt his kimoyo beads heat up.

"Which way to the restroom?" he asked.

Califia pointed him toward the entrance of the restaurant.

Leaving the group, N'Jobu made his way as if going to the men's room, but went outside instead. He inserted an earbud in his hand and took out his cell phone to pretend he was using it. He tapped his kimoyo.

"Prince N'Jobu."

"D'Beke."

N'Jobu looked around his surroundings. No one was paying attention to him as he stood off to the side near the end of the sidewalk speaking Wakandan.

"I think I have found someone who can help us with our little project," D'Beke said.

"Who?"

"A South African."

"Really?"

"An Afrikaner."

N'Jobu sucked on his teeth.

"No, listen. This white man is a mercenary with a flawless reputation. Hard to contact, but I have my radar on him. He is in Dubai right now but may be willing to do some work for us. With your permission, of course, Your Highness. Sita knows him personally."

"Sita does?"

"Yes. Hold on…."

N'Jobu heard D'Beke speak to someone and then a new voice was in his ear.

"Your Highness."

"Sita," he said. His voice changed in tone when he heard the woman's voice.

"Tell me about this Afrikaner. Can he be trusted?"

"His name is Ulysses Klaue. A greedy maggot of a man. He is about as trustworthy as the dollar amount he is paid to do jobs. But he gets things done. And off the radar. He can be the perfect fall guy too if you want him to be."

"Let me think about it," N'Jobu said.

"Of course. I can set up a meeting in Canaan if you like."

"No, further away. Off continent. Someplace white. Northern."

"I will see what I can do, Your Highness."

"N'Jobu—"

He turned to see Califia watching him. He spoke quickly into the phone.

"I have to go. We shall speak again soon. Tell D'Beke to start preliminary inquiries. Feel out who is with me. And Sita…do this with great discretion. I can not stress this enough."

"Will do, Your Highness. Goodbye."

"Goodbye, Sita."

He pretended to tap his phone and took out his earbud.

"Everything okay back home?" she asked.

Her eyes were inquisitive. She heard him speaking Wakandan. He didn't know why he felt nervous. She didn't know his language, but her voice sounded suspicious like she was aware of something. He put his phone away and reached for her hand.

"Everything is fine—"

"Who were you talking to?"

"Some military colleagues. Just going over some things before I return."

Damn. There was that look in her eyes. The worry she always had when it came close to his annual check-in. He pulled her in and held her waist.

"Nothing to worry about. Is everyone still enjoying dessert?"

"Yeah."

He kissed her forehead.

"Let's go back in," he said.

They found Erik stuffing a large spoonful of chocolate mousse into his mouth. Marisol was busy pushing vanilla parfait into hers.

N'Jobu held up a glass of wine in honor of Lia.

"Salud," he said.

All the adults joined him. When he looked into Califia's eyes, she looked worried about something. But she smiled at him and held up her glass of white wine toward Lia.

When the evening was over and they were all back at Lia's ready for bed, Califia sat at the dresser mirror in the guest bedroom and twisted her hair. The children were asleep and Lia was on her couch with her boyfriend watching a late-night movie. She herself could not sleep and decided to busy herself with her hair.

N'Jobu was on the mattress down on the floor reading a book.

She heard his voice when he was talking on his phone outside the restaurant. The way his tone sounded she knew he was talking to a woman. It was something his voice did all the time and she wondered if it was what they did in his native language, or if N'Jobu just naturally sounded seductive when he spoke to any woman. He never sounded that way with men.

She worried about having the nightmare again when she fell asleep. She never told N'Jobu about it because she was afraid it might be true. His American life could be an elaborate charade, and he would go be with Zinzi and their children. Califia was just his side-chick that he gave a baby to just to keep her happy and complacent so he could use her for his spy work.

She didn't know why she couldn't ignore the dreams as the stuff feeding on her anxiety about his leaving again. But he was giving her vibes that something was off, especially back in his homeland. And to hear him talking to a woman that could be Zinzi just ate at her. He could be going home and putting on a wedding band and stepping into a home where Zinzi and their children would spend a whole month playing family. Maybe, just maybe, the times he told her not to come to his apartment, what if he were meeting his other family in secret from her?

She shook her head at the thoughts. They made her seem so ridiculous. He loved her. He wouldn't lie to her about having someone else. True, he lied about his heritage, but she understood why he did that. But she had heard horror stories from close friends about women marrying foreign men and their husbands having whole ass families in other parts of the world like it wasn't anything. Years of women thinking they were the only one only to find out a man had a whole different life for decades.

He received strange calls at odd hours of the night at their townhouse. Calls he had to take in private speaking his mother tongue in hushed tones. He was supposed to be a spy for his country. What if his double life was a triple life? She knew she couldn't handle something like that. And she cursed herself for coming up with the hurtful thoughts, driving herself into states of panic, driving herself to make him prove he loved her by teasing him. Pushing buttons in him that she knew he would react to. The whole time they went out dancing the other night was just her insecurity acting out. How bad did he want her? Did he still love her passionately? Was she still his everything in bed like he told her? He wanted more children. Could he have another woman back home giving him the babies he so desperately wanted? Legitimate royal offspring that his parents were fawning over? How hard could it be when he already had a secret child in the States?

The dream she had that morning was truly the worst even though most of the fear wore off once she woke up. In that scenario, not only did N'Jobu have his other family, but he took Erik with him and left her behind.

Her eyes glanced at him from the mirror. He was into his book. A history of salt. He had finished another book on the history of wine and beer two days ago. He looked comfortable. Content. Clothes off, no plans for the next day except attending a final political rally to drum up last-minute support for Lia near a mall after a late lunch. And here she was sitting in front of a mirror thinking he was doing the most horrible thing she could think of. Being with someone else. Although he had said it in the heat of their lovemaking, she could still feel the tension in her gut when he had told her there was pussy out in the street just lined up and waiting for him. Not just the streets in Sao Paulo, but everywhere.

He caught her staring at him.

"Penny for your thoughts," he said watching her reflection.

She tied her hair up with a black silk scarf and turned to face him.

"Just thinking about the election."

It didn't look like he believed her. He held out his hand for her. She stood up and went to him, kneeling down on the mattress and letting him pull her close to him.

"Something else is on your mind. I see it in your eyes. You know you can't hide things from me when your eyes reveal so much. My love, what is it?"

She hated being insecure. It was hard not to be when she had a man like him.

"What is it?"

He stroked her arm. Then lifted up her chin.

"Tell me," he whispered.

His eyes were so loving. Sincere.

"I have these bad dreams…I have them more now and they get really bad when you go back to Wakanda. I trust you…but…"

"But what?"

She couldn't answer. She felt ashamed for doubting him, but she couldn't help feeling what she felt.

"I have dreams that you go home to a second family."

She closed her eyes and pressed her head into his chest. It sounded even worse saying it out loud. N'Jobu pushed her back gently and shifted his body so that he was leaning above her.

"You dream this or do you believe this?"

His voice sounded coarse, like he couldn't fathom what just came out her mouth. She couldn't answer him. Shame swallowed her throat.

His face broke into an incredulous expression.

"Califia. You think I have another family?"

There was pain in his voice. She looked up at him.

"How long have you been thinking this?"

Don't lie to him.

"The past two years—"

He sat up abruptly.

"Two years?!"

She lifted up and her shoulder touched his, her off-the-shoulder t-shirt hanging low on her arms.

"What have I possibly done to make you believe that?"

"The secrets. The pretending. I don't know what you do when you are over there. I don't know what you do when you are in your apartment by yourself. More and more these days you are away from us alone. I tell myself that you have to do it to stay here with us, but sometimes…sometimes N'Jobu I get scared. And it manifests in my dreams."

"I don't have another family in Wakanda. Or anywhere else. I don't have any other children. I just have you and Erik. That's all. I just don't understand why you would hold onto this for two years. You can talk to me about anything."

He stroked her face then pulled her in for a hug.

"Shit, girl. Don't ever hold onto something like that. Talk to me. I love you. I want you."

"Okay," she whispered.

"I damn near fucked you through a whole door last night. That didn't tell you anything?"

She smiled.

"I know you worry. I know you get anxious when I am gone. It's the life I have given us. I take the blame for that. There is so much about my culture that you could never fully understand. It is so rigid, and so hard for me. I do the best that I can so I can make a life with you and Erik—"

"You don't have to explain—"

"No, I do. Because it is affecting you so much. Giving you nightmares. Stressing you out. I don't have any power right now to change things at this time in my life. But I promise you. One day we won't have to hide—

"N'Jobu—"

"Listen to me. I want you to feel secure and safe, and I am sorry that I have disappointed you by not making you feel that way."

She flung her arms around his neck.

"I don't want to talk about it anymore…just hold me…"

She felt his body shake a bit as he pulled her in tighter against him.

"There's only you, girl. I swear…"

She nodded and let him pull the covers back so she could scramble under them to get next to his warmth. He held her safe and secure until she fell asleep.

Noise again.

She woke up to a cool empty mattress on his side of the bed.

His shadow was outside on the patio deck. He was on his cell phone again. She heard the soft tones drip from his lips. A woman on the other end once more.

Knotting in her stomach made her feel a fit of dull anger seep into her chest. He said his military work caused the calls. She wanted to believe him. But he could talk in his language next to her in bed and she wouldn't know any details. He didn't have to go outside. It made him look sneaky. Like he was conducting an affair.

Girl, stop. Get it together.

She curled herself up into a ball and faced away from the window.

He stepped back into their space and packed his cell away in his suitcase. Crawling back onto the mattress and under the covers, he spooned around her and a hand reached for her breast. She didn't like the touch but endured it. He held the weight of her in his hand and pressed closer into her. He seemed to ignore her body language, probably still thinking she was asleep. When he angled his groin closer to her backside, she pushed away from him. She felt his body shift, unsure of what to do. He placed his arm around her waist and she went stiff when he touched her. He lifted up and she felt the covers pull back from her arms.

"Califia."

She ignored him.

"Don't close me out, girl."

She pulled the covers back over her shoulders.

"I just want to go to sleep."

"I can't touch you now?"

"It's hot."

"No, it's not."

She tucked her head low.

"What is it now?" he asked.

"Nothing. Do you need to make any more phone calls? I can go sleep with the kids. Give you privacy in here."

She heard him suck on his teeth. She sucked hers back.

"Don't act like a child," he said.

"Fuck you."

"Fuck me—?"

She turned around to face him.

"You're talking to a woman. Both times you have been talking to a woman on your phone—"

"We have women soldiers in our military. You do remember my personal bodyguards, right? All women—"

"—you didn't have to make or take calls right now—"

"—I'm in a different time zone. If I don't take the calls my people will think something is wrong—"

"Why does your voice have to sound like that when you talk to women?" she hissed, trying to keep her voice below a whisper.

"Sound like what?"

"Like you're trying to fuck them through the phone?"

"What?"

"Ughh!" she said throwing the covers back over her head. She sounded stupid. She knew it. Now she was embarrassed. It was so juvenile.

His hand rubbed her shoulder.

"Hey…"

She wanted to sink through the floor.

"So…you're not going to share the covers?"

His fingers pulled on the blankets and sheet, dragging them away from her face. She kept her eyes closed.

"I have no idea what you mean about my voice talking over the phone to women. I just talk—"

"You can't hear yourself, so you wouldn't know—"

"I can definitely hear myself, girl—"

"It's the tone…you sound suggestive…the pitch and timbre change…like you're trying to have phone sex."

"You don't think I talk that way to you on the phone?"

"Not all the time…sometimes…"

He shook his head.

"If I really want to seduce someone with my voice, I know I could, and I have done so…but I promise you, I'm just speaking to a colleague and fellow soldier…what are we really talking about right now? I'm so confused. What are you upset about? I took the call outside so I wouldn't disturb your sleep. I don't know what else to say to calm your fears."

"Let's just go to sleep and forget about it," she said turning her back and pulling the covers back up.

N'Jobu curled up behind her and held her waist again. She accepted it this time. He pressed his lips to her ear.

"You want me to talk sexy to you?"

She felt her ears get warm from his soft breath.

"Should I tell you how fine you looked in that blazer, hmmm?"

He flicked his tongue in her ear and then he let his lips snag her earlobe and toy with it. She felt a low whimper escape her lips. He reached for her breast again and gave soft swirls around her areola with his finger. The teasing circles didn't touch her nipple at all. She found herself pressing her rump into his groin.

"You are the only one I want. You believe me?"

He was doing it. That thing. That subtle change in his voice. He nibbled her lobe again and let his index finger skim over the top of her nipple once.

"Tell me you believe me, girl."

She felt her stomach drop.

"Tell me…"

She didn't say anything.

"Let me eat your pussy. Let me show you how I feel about you…"

"Okay," she said feeling a shudder escape with the word.

His fingers drifted down to her shorts and slid them off of her. Pushing back the covers he pulled on her legs and she automatically bent her knees for him. His mouth found her stomach and kissed each of her tattoos before traveling down to the opening of her thighs.

His tongue swiped her puffy inner lips, the tip of it tracing the delicate folds, parting them so that he could get at her center. His soft lips were deliberate in their work and very responsible for the mewling noises she was letting out. But good God, his tongue…

She gazed down at his face and his eyes were on hers.

She lifted up his pillow and pressed it against her mouth so she could scream into the cotton fluff when he finally licked her clit directly.

By the time he was finished with her, she was willing to believe anything he said.

That worried her the most.

Lia's supporters were feeling the momentum of her campaign coming to a close. The final rally they all attended was a rousing success, and Lia gave a powerful speech that encouraged the crowd to keep fighting for their rights even if she lost the election the next day. Many people booed when she mentioned the possibility of losing again.

N'Jobu and Califia stood among the crowd of supporters as they watched Lia on a portable stage. Erik and Marisol stood next to her.

N'Jobu adjusted his sunglasses and watched his son stare down at the crowd as Lia spoke. So many people were there, and Erik's eyes surveyed all the reactions. He was dressed in pressed jeans and a yellow cotton t-shirt with Lia's face on it. It was his favorite shirt to wear the entire time there. Lia was speaking into a bullhorn in the photo and her fist was in the air along with a crowd of Black women behind her holding their fists up too. It was an iconic looking image. Lia's hair on the shirt was free-flowing, thick curls framing her face making her eyes look dynamic and full of purpose.

Califia wore the same shirt while N'Jobu sported several campaign buttons on his plain black t-shirt.

Lia continued speaking and N'Jobu glanced over at Califia who was hanging on to every word spoken.

His woman could be so strong in so many ways, but when it came to him, she became almost fragile with her fears. His mind had been blown by the confession that she thought he had another family back home. She tried to say her nightmares about it was the cause of her worries, but he saw through that. For two years he had gotten on a plane to Wakanda, and she had sat in Oakland believing he was with another woman and fathering other children behind her back. Unbelievable. True, he could easily do it if he wanted to. But why would she really feel that he could do that to her? They had been through so much together. He had given her his heart and his allegiance, forsaken his parents and brother to be there with her, and yet she still entertained the notion that he could be foul like that. And her irrational belief that his talking on the phone a certain way meant he was having an affair. She wasn't handling his War Dog life well at all. He had to admit that. He was so busy trying to keep everything together balancing work, spying, and staying incognito in the open, that he had ignored the impact on his family.

Erik just knew that Baba worked a lot, kept an apartment, and traveled sometimes overnight. Once a year Baba left town for a month to teach at a barber college. That was the story and he and Califia stuck to it. It was such a normal routine since his birth that Erik never questioned it. The apartment was rent controlled and so many people sublet and had complicated living situations around town. His friend James stayed at the apartment many times when he was thrown out by his girlfriend when they fought, and Erik assumed N'Jobu kept the place for wayward friends and relatives.

"Look at him, lording over the crowd," Califia said bumping her arm into his.

N'Jobu looked back over at Erik who was still watching Lia's audience. Marisol was looking bored next to him, whispering in his ear. Erik ignored her, his eyes gazing back up at Lia. He listened to her words and N'Jobu wondered what his boy was thinking. He was constantly surrounded by politics, culture, activism, and art. How was this shaping his outlook on life?

Lia's speech ended and her fist was in the air. Erik raised his fist and he joined in with the crowd as they chanted with Lia.

"What are they saying?"

"Power to the people," Califia said.

There were reporters flocking to the side of the stage.

"I'll get Erik and we can meet over by the car, yeah?" Califia said. N'Jobu nodded and ducked through the crowd avoiding the press and camera people.

Tonight would be their night together as a family. Just the three of them. N'Jobu made reservations under Califia's name at a fancy hotel in the city, the Hotel Cadoro.

Aunjanue loaned them her car and N'Jobu waited for them with the motor running.

When Erik arrived with Califia his face looked sour. He climbed in the back seat and buckled himself up.

"Why the long face?" N'Jobu asked.

"Marisol was crying," Erik said.

"Why?"

"She thought we were going home to Oakland. She hugged me and got stains on my shirt. She was eating a candy bar…I wanted to wear this for the election tomorrow—"

"We can get it cleaned at the hotel, JaJa," Califia said.

"She's so emotional," Erik said.

"She's just going to miss you a lot when you leave, Baby," Califia said.

"But she knows we aren't going until Sunday. A whole week—"

"Hey. She only gets to see you every other year. She can express how she feels," N'Jobu said glancing back at Erik from the rearview mirror.

Erik stared out the window, his lip poked out.

"Fix your face, boy," Califia said.

Their hotel room was on the twenty-first floor, the top, and Erik's face definitely fixed up when he saw the view from the window.

"Whoa!" he exclaimed running up to the window and peering out. The lights in the center of the city were shimmering like polished silver and white jewel stones. Erik's reaction softened N'Jobu's heart. What would his son's reaction be if he could see the view of Birnin Zana from the palace?

"Mom, look!"

"Pretty," Califia said standing next to him. She pulled the curtains open wider.

"Can we stay in and eat?" Erik asked.

"You don't want to go out?" she asked.

"No."

"What would you like to do tonight?" N'Jobu asked placing their overnight bag in the closet.

"Eat hamburgers and watch tv."

Califia giggled.

"Oh, I see. The tv show Xica The Queen comes on tonight…"

Erik's face turned sheepish, and his dimples popped out.

"I knew you liked it a lot. You like the actress who plays Xica," she teased.

"She looks like Auntie Lia."

"Yeah, she kinda does."

Califia looked at N'Jobu.

"Burgers and Xica tonight."

"I'll call room service," N'Jobu said.

They laid up in the king-sized bed together eating burgers and fries with cheesecake for dessert. N'Jobu had to agree that the lead actress in the show did favor Lia, just older. It was a historical drama with some fantasy elements, and Erik was enthralled. Califia was into it too, and every now and then during commercial breaks, the two of them would discuss the previous segment and try to guess what would happen next.

Califia was leaned up against his arm and Erik was sprawled out on her lap. N'Jobu couldn't figure out the appeal of the show. It looked rather low budget and all over the place plot-wise. He nodded off toward the end, the burgers and red wine he drank taking their toll. Erik had shifted his position and was now between N'Jobu and Califia, his head now resting on N'Jobu's chest.

Their hotel room had an additional junior bedroom suite for Erik, but the way his boy was cozied up on him, N'Jobu might not get the chance to try out the king-size bed with Califia alone.

"Why is your bracelet getting warm, Baba?"

The kimoyo beads were pressed against Erik's arm.

N'Jobu moved his wrist and discreetly pressed one of the beads. The signature was from T'Chaka. Shit. He didn't have his scrambler with him, so if he answered the call, his locater would show his brother that he was not in Oakland. Questions would be asked that didn't need asking. He had a least twenty-four hours to ignore the call before his brother would try again. And if he didn't answer by then…trouble. Another War Dog would come searching for him in Oakland. And if he weren't there…

"It gets sensitive to body heat. It is warm in here. And you are all over me."

Erik tried to touch the beads again, but N'Jobu shifted his body reaching for the remote. "What else is on?" N'Jobu asked.

He flipped through the onscreen guide. Erik was staring at his beads.

"I want to watch the news," Califia said.

"Boring," Erik said.

"Well go in your room and watch what you want to watch," Califia said.

N'Jobu turned on the news, Erik's face looked deflated.

"Go on, and don't stay up too late. We are meeting Auntie Lia and everyone for breakfast and then we go to the polls," she said.

"What about my shirt?"

"Lia is bringing you a new one in the morning," she said.

Erik kissed Califia on the cheek and swung his face back around and kissed N'Jobu's cheek. He bounced off their bed and meandered over to his room.

Picking up his cell, N'Jobu saw that there was a missed call from T'Chaka. The fake code name they used popped up at the same time his beads warmed up. He showed the phone to Califia. She sat up on the bed.

"I'll have to leave soon—"

"Why? Please, not on election day—"

"I have a little over twenty-four hours to reply. I must be in Oakland when I do—"

"Just text him back—"

"Califia…I can't. I'll stay for the election, but I have to find a flight out tomorrow night or early the next morning. If I don't, it will cause me problems with my brother."

"Okay," she said, her voice gone small.

"I wasn't expecting a call from him. I have no idea what he wants."

"Just tell him you are tracking someone—"

"We have War Dogs here. They would handle it."

"Then tell him you are on a vacation-"

"I would have to notify them of any movement outside of the U.S. prior to going."

"Then you should've told him you were coming here weeks ago!"

She held her hand to her face.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to yell like that. We'll deal with it," she said picking up her phone off of the nightstand.

"What are you doing?" he asked.

"Trying to find you a flight out of here."

He took her phone from her hand and placed it next to his on the other nightstand.

"I'll do that later," he said.

"I don't want you to get in trouble."

"Don't worry about that. We will support Lia tomorrow. She will win the election. I'll fly home and be there for you and Erik when you return."

"We'll leave with you—"

"No, be here for your friend. Support your family."

She nodded. They watched the news of pre-election coverage, saw clips of interviews with Lia and her opponents. It would be a tight race, but pundits were confident of Lia's potential victory.

N'Jobu left their room to go check on Erik when it got late.

His son was sound asleep with the TV running infomercials. His body was twisted up in his bed covers. N'Jobu turned off the tv and tucked the bed covers around Erik's shoulders. He padded back across to Califia and she was snuggled under the blankets.

N'Jobu turned the TV volume up a bit and crawled in next to her. He bent down to kiss her and her eyes were bright.

"We'll be fine, alright?" he said.

He kissed her thinking a light peck was all she wanted, and he considered turning the TV off if she just wanted to sleep, but her lips held his seeking more. Chaste smooches turned into deeper and wetter kisses. She seemed desperate for affection. He slowed down her lips by breaking away from her and kissing her neck. She helped him pull off her top and bra, and by the time he had his pants and shirt off, she was naked under him. He kissed her breasts and licked her belly button while she rubbed circles on his scalp. She pulled him back up so she could kiss him again, and he drank from her lips.

She wrapped her legs around his waist and he rested his growing erection on her mound but kept kissing her. He wanted her to lead. He wanted her to be in control of what happened between them at this moment. He was worried about the call from his brother. He didn't want to show his own fear. His mind tried to come up with various scenarios as to what T'Chaka wanted. He spoke to his parents prior to going to Brazil, but he and T'Chaka still had a chilly relationship at times. There was pressure at home for T'Chaka to re-marry along with the political problems from within their own class. Zinzi tried to keep N'Jobu abreast of the issues from home, but his main concern was his influence over several War Dogs throughout the globe. Was his brother aware of the allegiance some were giving N'Jobu?

He was still feeling out ideas on what he wanted to do, still weighing the pros and cons of how to change the direction of thinking in Wakanda. He just knew that he couldn't sit back and let the world roll over Black people who were struggling. His son was in this world. His woman was in this world. He needed to figure out a way to make changes and force his brother to accept these changes. It was unacceptable for him to see the outside world function the way it did when all it would take was for Wakanda to step in and act. Take over. America was a poor excuse for a superpower and world leader. Wakanda needed to take that role. He had to change minds. And the first ones were other War Dogs who saw what he saw and agreed with him.

But what if T'Chaka knew about his secret meetings and talks?

He held Califia tight and let her have his tongue, mouth, and lips.

"I need you," he panted into her ear when he was desperate to escape his thoughts that intruded on her comforting him. He was losing himself in her lips. Her fingers caressed the back of his neck and he looked down at his dick. They were both sticky from the excitement of kissing. He rubbed himself against her folds. He could feel the tickling of her clit ring grazing the underside of his thickness and hear the wetness oozing between them as they moved.

He let his tip tease the entrance of her. Gazing at her face he saw that her lips were pursed and that lusty haze in her eyes had returned. He adored that look on her. It let him know her pussy was ready. He continued the gentle rubbing, his tip spilling a thick stream of pre-cum all over her ring making her more slippery. The fat lips of her outer labia cradled his dick and he could see that her clit was swollen enough now that the hood was pulling back. Her whimpers intensified but the TV was helping drown out her noise.

He was ready to lay pipe on her.

Sliding the weight of his dick in her folds, her clit ring hit a spot on his frenulum that made him moan loud enough over the sound of the tv.

"Fuck me," she panted.

He wanted to ram himself deep in her, but he wanted to stretch this exquisite sensation even longer.

"Look at this fat pussy," he said staring down at her center.

"Jobu…"

He closed his eyes for a second and then kept watching her clit.

"You know how to take care of Daddy—"

"Baby…please…fuck me…"

He groaned again. Her voice trembled now, the core of her begging revving up the nerve endings in his skin. This was his shit right here, the sound of his woman on the verge of cumming, begging for his dick. He shifted his weight so he could press his erection against her a little harder. She was still a little tender down there, but it was too late to turn back.

"Huhnhhhh…"

She was trying to keep quiet. It didn't matter now. Erik would either sleep through this, or he would get an earful. Fortunately, the boy was a hard sleeper.

"You like this big dick on you?"

"…fuck me…"

"You want me to punish this pussy again…is that what you want?"

She tried lifting up but he held her arms down at her sides.

"Tell Daddy what you want…"

She twisted her hips and her clit ring rubbed him at a different angle.

"Oh…you bitch…," he stammered.

She twisted again and he moved slower and harder. Her clit was twitching now. It was difficult for him to focus, his balls felt weighted down and his tip was spilling more pre-cum.

"Please," she yelped and he felt a shuddering ride up his back.

"You want this…"

"…bay-bee…I can't…"

"Tell me what you want…"

"Aiyyy! Baby!"

"Yes?"

"…fuck…fuck…oh…shit…fuck my pussy…"

He couldn't hold back and plunged in, shocking her senses and knocking a moan out of her.

He kept his thrusts slow so she would keep begging him for more.

"I'm in this pussy now, girl. See how deep I'm going…mmmhmmmm, I know you feel all of this. That's it, give me what I want."

Slow. Deep.

He was losing himself once more inside of her.

He interlaced his fingers with hers on both hands and kept penetrating her depths. The thick mattress and solid frame didn't make noise, so he was able to move his hips any way he liked without worrying about waking their son. He really began to put his back into it.

Peppering her neck and shoulder with kisses he clung to Califia. Her thighs squeezed his waist and he sank deeper into her.

"Califia," he gasped.

He released her hands and she reached up and wrapped her arms around his shoulders.

"I got you," she whispered in his ear.

His hands reached under her and gripped her ass cheeks. Pumping to save his life he didn't stifle his groans.

"You know how to take care of me so well. Just you…just you…Baby, I love you so much…"

He spilled into her, his primal yelled absorbed by the sheets that his face was pressed into. A heavy load of semen left his body and he didn't want to let her go.

Heart hammering and legs weakened, N'Jobu pulled out of her. His dick still seeped cum from the tip when he was out of her and he stroked himself to release the rest watching it drip down onto her clit ring.

Califia slipped her fingers around her swollen nub and rubbed herself, her eyes on his still erect dick as a long string of cum dangled from it. He stuck two fingers inside of her pussy feeling the aftermath of his ejaculation, and Califia sucked in a breath. He watched her orgasm give her release and he groaned when her pussy tightened on his digits. He held still until she had finished shaking and her body relaxed.

"This will be a long night," he said releasing his fingers and getting off the bed.

She smiled at him and stretched.

"Be right back," he said and headed for the bathroom.

Califia rolled on her side and felt a deep smile widen her mouth.

Their sex in Brazil had been out this world and she wanted more. The disappointment she felt because he had to leave them before their trip had ended subsided. He was remorseful and apologetic. Just now he fucked her like he missed her already, and she felt that she could cope with the change in their travel plans.

His cell phone lit up on the nightstand.

She watched it for a moment and then slid her hand over to pick it up. When she tried to swipe it to check the call, she found that he had locked his phone.

He had never locked his phone before.

She heard him washing his hands and she put his cell back where he had it.

He found her in the same position he had left her in when he returned to their bed.

"Me next," she said jumping up and running to the bathroom.

She peed first then washed her hands and face. Staring at herself in the mirror, she tried to fix the tears that were trying to fall out of her eyes. She wiped her face with cool water on a hand towel, and when she returned to N'Jobu, he was lying on his back.

"Come sit on my face baby," he told her.

So many mixed feelings passed through her. She wanted to ask why his phone was locked. His hands were beckoning her to come to him and she did. She couldn't help it. He made her body feel too damn good. And right now she just wanted to feel loved.

She crawled over his face and sat on his tongue. Looking behind her as he ate her out, she saw his hand stroke his dick.

"Make this pussy feel good, Daddy," she said lifting up a bit so his tongue could lick her from front to back.

"You taste so good, girl," he said, his breath hot on her clit giving her shivers as his voice vibrated on her folds.

His cell lit up again when she was cumming in his mouth. Someone really wanted him.

"Fuck me again," she told him while wiping a tear from her eye.

Chapter 18 HERE.

#njobu #n'jobu #blackpanther #black panther #erik killmonger #erik #erikkillmonger #killmonger #killmonger fanfiction #wakanda

15 notes · View notes

karouwinchester · 5 years

Text

Decorating the House

Word count: 2377

Warnings: Language, injuries, angst, sad, I think that's it without giving away anything.

A/N: This is for @katymacsupernatural angsty Christmas challenge. I honestly don’t know if this is angsts enough.

“IT’S CHRISTMAS!!” You screamed excitedly as you lugged a large box of Christmas lights through the kitchen.

Your husband jumped at the sudden loud noise that came from nowhere. He turned to you and watched with a big smile as you hefted the big box onto the island in the middle of your big kitchen. You huffed and dramatically fell against the counter. “Christmas lights are heavy, but it is a weight that I must bear.”

Sam laughed. “What exactly do you plan to do with these lights?” Your head popped off the counter and you smiled wickedly at him. “Oh no. I don’t like that look.” He said slowly standing up and backing away from the island.

You glided towards him still smiling. “Oh Sammy, do you love me?” You asked sweetly backing him into the counter, effectively trapping him

Sam looked down at you and smiled. He wrapped his arms around you and brought you closer. “Of course, I love you Y/N.” He looked at you with a look that said, ‘what do you want?’

You grinned and hugged him tight. “I love you too Sam. And since you love me…” You paused for dramatic effect. “I need you to help me decorate the house.” You gave Sam your best impression of his puppy eyes.

Sam groaned dramatically. “I guess I can, but what is in it for me?” He raised his eyebrow at you.

You paused and considered what could be his reward for helping you with your task. “How about I give you all the love and hugs you could ever want.” You hugged him, giving him a taste of what he gets if he succeeds. “Hmm. I think that is a fair trade.” He hugged you back and kissed you softly before releasing you to head to the garage. You smiled triumphantly and picked your box of lights up to carry it outside.

You and Sam spent what was left of the good daylight setting up the light up reindeer, and sleigh. You strung lights around your mail box poll and the porch. The small evergreen tree in your front yard was done up in its Christmassy best, complete with tinsel and a big bright star on the top. All that was left was the lights that went on the roof and the reindeer that went by your chimney. Sam had got the ladder out earlier and had set it up. You handed him a strand of lights and a staple gun, and up he went. He walked carefully across your roof and started laying the lights down in the pattern you had talked about beforehand. While he was busy with his task, you turned your attention to your well-lit yard and smiled.

Christmas lights always made the season feel more magical. You loved decorating your house and making it as festive as possible. Christmas lights where one of your favorite things. When you were little you remembered driving around town with your parents looking at all the lit-up houses.

Lost in the memories of your childhood you zoned out and started untangling more lights to give to Sam, every now and then hearing the staple gun firing. You were happy.

You heard Sam start moving towards the ladder, most likely on his way to get more lights from you. Humming a random Christmas song, you walked towards the ladder with the lights in hand.

Just as you were getting to the ladder you heard a thud, and Sam yell. You looked up just in time to watch him fall of the roof. He landed heavily on the ground with an audible thud. You dropped the lights and ran over to him. He wasn’t moving, and he had blood on his head and shirt collar. “Sam!!! Sam look at me! Shit!” You looked over him checking for other injuries trying to keep your panic at bay. His ankle was bent a little abnormally, besides that and the obvious head wound he didn’t have any other injuries that you could see.

You shakely pulled your cellphone out of your back pocket and dialed 911. The line rang for what felt like forever. You were losing your cool, Sam still hadn’t moved. Tears had started rolling down your cheeks when the dispatch officer answered the phone.

“Hello 911, what’s your emergency?” She asked in a calm tone.

You sniffled and tried you best to calm down, so you could talk to the woman. “My husband fell off the roof and hit his head.” You paused as you tried to fight of another wave of tears that flooded your eyes. “He isn’t moving.” You whispered through your tears that broke through. You gently grabbed Sam’s hand and held it to your mouth, gently kissing it, trying to find some comfort in the motionless, cold limb.

“Ma’am I need your address.” The dispatcher said. You didn’t respond to busy holding Sam’s hand and watching the shallow rise and fall of his chest. After she asked you for you address a few more times you were able to give it to her. She dispatched an ambulance to your location. They were there fifteen minutes later. The EMT’s calmly pulled you away from Sam and began checking his vitals and assessing the situation. They loaded him up onto a gurney. You hopped in the front seat of the ambulance and turned to watch as they set Sam up with oxygen.

When you arrived at the Emergency room you followed quickly as Sam was wheeled into a room. You were given paper work to fill out while you waited for the doctor to see him. You sat in the chair next to Sam who was still unconscious and stared at the half filled out form. You were still crying, and your tears were falling on the documents in big droplets.

You needed someone here with you, so you called the only person you could think of. The phone rang three times before his smooth voice came over the line. “Hey Y/N what’s up?”

“Dean, Sam got hurt, we are at the hospital now.” Your voice broke at the end.

On the other end of the phone you could hear Dean shuffling around. “I’m on my way, I’ll be there in ten.” Dean told you calmly. You nodded your head, even though you knew he couldn’t see it, but you didn’t trust your voice to make words properly at the moment. “Don’t worry Y/N I know Sammy will be fine, I’ll be there in a flash.” He hung up and you finished filling out the necessary paper work.

Just as you finished filling out the forms the doctor came in followed by two nurses. He introduced himself to you and quickly began examining Sam. He decided that he was going to need x-rays of Sam’s ankle, that he was sure was broken. He also ordered a CAT scan, to see what was going on with Sam’s head. One of the nurses took the finished forms from you and all three of them left just as quickly as they came. You were alone again.

You stood up and walked over to your husbands’ bed, you gently brushed his long hair out of his face and smoothed it down a little. You were still fighting off your tears, but it was a loosing battel. You felt responsible for what had happened. If only you hadn’t suggested putting lights up this year, Sam would be okay. You knew this was all your fault.

Right in the middle of your guilt trip Dean walked in. He was automatically at your side, pulling you into a hug and looking his baby brother over. You gladly accepted the comfort he was offering you and buried your face in his shirt to cry. He rubbed your back and told you everything would be okay, until you were calm enough to talk.

Once you were composed Dean pulled away and looked you in the eye. “What happened Y/N?”

You looked over to Sam as you told Dean what had happened, and how everything was your fault. He sat quietly though your story and waited for his turn to speak.

“Okay first off Y/N, this is not your fault. Okay. You did nothing wrong. Second, both of us know Sam has had way worse than this, he is gonna be just fine. His clumsy ass is going to be up an around in no time.

“Who you calling clumsy, jerk.” Came the faint voice of Sam. Both you and Dean’s heads snapped up with wide eyes and watched as Sam, smiled at the two of you before trying to sit up. You both jumped up and rushed to his side, gently lowering him back down.

“You can’t sit up, you might hurt yourself even more.” You exclaimed. You were so happy to see that he was awake.

Sam looked at you curiously for a moment. “What are you doing here Y/N?”

You and Dean looked at each other, but before you could say anything a nurse walked in. “Well glad to see that you are awake now Mr. Winchester. How are you feeling?” She asked as she checked his vitals and his pupils.

“Not to good honestly. My head is pounding like a son of a bitch, and my ankle is on fire.” Sam chuckled weakly, trying to down play his injuries.

The nurse raised the side rails of his hospitable bed. “Well, we are gonna get that fixed for you just as soon as we can. With that she wheeled him out of the room.

When the door shut Dean turned to you. “That was strange.” He led you back to the two chairs where you both set down.

You were worried. Sam had acted strange. Why would he question your presence? You were his wife after all. You and Dean set in silence till they wheeled Sam back in. It stayed relatively silent until the nurse had gotten Sam all situated and left.

“So, Y/N, what brings you to town? Last I heard you were in New York.” Sam asked casually. Then looking over to Dean he arched a smooth brown brow. “Are you two a thing?” He asked trying to mask his hurt.

You stared at Sam confused. “Sam, I left New York five years ago, remember. It was to busy for me. We started dating a few months after that. We were married a year later.” You watched his reaction closely. He looked confused, shocked, then smug, and back to confused.

“Do you not remember any of that Sam?” Dean asked him as he scooted closer to the edge of his seat.

Sam sat there and stared at the both of you for a moment before carefully shaking his head. “No, I don’t remember any of that.”

Dean shot out of his chair and was out the door in a flash yelling for a doctor on his way. You sat there staring at your husband. He really did not remember the last five years of your life. He knew nothing about your relationship, and the wonderful time you have had together. You felt like you were going to cry again, this was too much to handle all at once.

The doctor confirmed that Sam had amnesia. He informed you that Sam may never get all, if any of his memories back. The news broke your heart, and you cried on Dean’s shoulder in the middle of the busy hospital hallway. You had no idea how you were going to move on from this point.

Three days later Sam was released from the hospital. He had a concussion and a broken ankle, on top of the amnesia. Sam’s parents temporarily moved into your house to help take care of Sam, so you could work.

You two also no longer shared a room. Sam thought it was kind of awkward sleeping next to a woman he didn’t know that well. As far as he remembered you had just been a high school friend who he hadn’t seen in years, not his wife. He felt terrible as soon as he had told you. Despite your efforts you couldn’t hide the look of hurt that crossed your face. You had moved into the vacant room down the hall.

You felt so alone. You no longer had your husband, your best friend, your confidant, to talk to. You spent most nights silently crying, until exhaustion finally pulled you into a dreamless sleep. It was one of the worse Christmases of your life.

Over the next few months Sam tried his best to jog his memories and get to know you again. Despite not being able to remember the last five years of his life with you he was still in love with you. His heart still skipped a beat when you walked into a room, and the few smiles he got to see took his breath away.

Six months later Sam was back at work. He remembered everything he had learned in law school and was able to get back into the swing of things easily. He had gained a few of his lost memories back. He remembered, your first date, and that you had to listen to music in the mornings while you got ready. He remembered your favorite type of dogs, and why you hated mornings. Eventually you both decided that you would try dating each other again, essentially starting your whole relationship over. You went out to dinner and the movies a few times. You eventually shared your second first kiss. Followed by a lot of other second first moments.

After nine months things had pretty much gone back to normal. Sam and you were sharing a room again. Things were looking up, despite most of his memories still being gone. He had gotten to know you again. And for the second time in his life he fell in love with you.

On Christmas eve, one year after the accident, Sam proposed to you. He wanted to marry you again, that way he would have the memory. You cried and told him yes. A few days later on New Years Day, you and Sam renewed your vows.

#christmasgonewrongchallenge #sam winchester #dean winchester #christmas #decorating #angst

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sickdaysofficial · 6 years

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The Meeting

Sickdays Aug 17th: Public Illness

Written by @hurt-care

Tags: headache, illness, sick fic, cold, sneezing, chronic illness, pain, aches

Characters: Remus Lupin (Harry Potter)

—————————————————

Why Dumbledore always seemed to schedule things immediately after the full moon was beyond Remus’ comprehension. He was certain it was mostly shit luck on his part rather than ill-intent on Dumbledore’s, but it didn’t make it less irritating. So when another meeting of the Order was called at Headquarters for the late afternoon following a full moon, Remus knew he’d have to rally and get there if he could.

The moon had been as normal as it could be. While their quartet rarely could all make it anymore thanks to Order assignments and their jobs, at least one of the Marauders usually came to keep him company. On this particular night, it was James and Peter who joined him for a romp in the forest before escorting him back to his tiny bachelor flat to sleep it off.

“Need anything else?” James asked as he put a glass of ice water and a cup of tea on Remus’ bedside table.

Remus shook his head wearily, eyes closed against a pounding headache. They’d dosed him with the usual pain potions and tucked him into bed in a pair of his softest pyjamas.

“Right then,” James said. “Well, we’ll fill you in on tonight’s meeting when you’re back on your feet. Send word if you need anything.”

Remus made a small grunt of agreement and rolled over, cradling his aching back against a spare pillow. He heard the click of his flat door and the muffled popping sounds of his friends disapperating outside.

Forcing his eyes open, he reached for his wand and gave it a practiced flick towards his alarm clock. He’d easily sleep through the meeting if he didn’t set it. With the alarm properly set, he closed his eyes and quickly dozed off.

–

It was some time around three in the afternoon when he woke feeling desperate for a drink. His sleep-addled fingers fumbled with the glass of water on the nightstand, sending some of it splashing onto the bedsheets. He half-raised himself and gulped greedily from the cup until it was empty.

Squinting, he looked at his clock. There was only five minutes before his alarm was set to go off. Lowering himself back down on the mattress, he closed his eyes and scanned his body, taking stock of the usual aches and pains.

There was his back and neck which always ached from the strain of the transformation. His skin felt hot still from fever and it was hyper-sensitive to everything. Even the waistband on his pyjama bottoms felt painful against the pale expanse of freckled skin that had been fur only hours ago.

His head ached too, though not with the normal sharp pains he usually experienced. Today it was more of a dull thud in the front of his forehead that extended down to under his eyes. He pressed two slim fingers against his sinuses and confirmed with a sniffle that he was indeed stuffed up. Wonderful.

Rolling over, he forced himself to sit up and swing his legs out of bed. He turned off the alarm charm on his clock and stood up. A shiver traveled down his limbs in response to the increased surge of pain as he limped slowly on swollen legs towards the bathroom.

From the medicine chest he took out a vial of Blood Replenishing potion and another of Instant Energy Increaser and swallowed both quickly, fighting the urge to retch. He managed to keep them both down with a few minutes of careful slow breathing while leaning against his sink. The Energy potion sent a warm surge of strength through him and dulled some of the more mundane of his aches.

He washed his face and smoothed down his bedraggled hair, pausing to assess his appearance in the mirror. Dark circles were smudged under his red-rimmed eyes and his lips were chapped and peeling at the corners. His cheeks and nose were both flushed pink from fever and who knew what else. He sniffled, pawing at his nostrils and wiping away a thin trail of moisture.

At least he could make a convincing excuse for his appearance by claiming to have a cold. Simply showing up to a meeting looking like death when several of the Order members weren’t aware of his condition wasn’t the best idea.

He went back to his wardrobe with a fistful of toilet tissue for his stuffy nose and paused to give a few gurgling blows before he began the search for his most comfortable jumper and trousers. Dressing was a slow process as he carefully pulled of his pyjamas, knees creaking and ankles wobbling as he moved. By the time he had his clothing on, his sensitive skin was prickling angrily and he ran his fingers along the collar of his jumper, pulling the wool off his neck.

His unmade bed in the corner was looking extremely appealing but he knew now that he was up, he just needed to power through and get to Headquarters. With a last wipe of his nose and a fresh handkerchief folded into his trouser pocket, he headed out of the flat and summoned up the strength to Disapperate.

Order Headquarters was located in a large cottage owned by Hestia Jones’ uncle. Remus reappeared in the side garden, stumbling and falling to the grass with a groan. He was, thankfully, alone in the yard except for a finch that chirped irritably at him from a nearby tree. Pushing himself up, he stumbled towards the house.

Inside, most of the Order members were already gathered in the large central room, congregating in small clusters of armchairs and chatting side-by-side on massive leather sofas. As he shut the door with an unexpectedly loud bang, all eyes turned towards him.

Suddenly, Remus felt the hot rush of embarrassment sliding up his neck and across his cheeks. He lowered his head, raising a hand in a brief hello to the group, and limped towards a chair.

Almost instantly, a hand was on his back, guiding him into the cushy paisley-print wingback.

“What in Merlin’s name are you doing here?” Lily asked in a whisper, sounding as if she were speaking through gritted teeth.

“Couldn’t miss another one,” he muttered, feeling as if he really should have just taken the bruised pride and stayed in bed. He could feel several eyes still watching him curiously.

Lily frowned and shook her head. From across the room, Remus could see Sirius and James excusing themselves from a conversation with Frank Longbottom.

“Are you insane?” James asked loudly as he reached Lily’s side. She elbowed her husband in the ribs and scowled at him.

“Sorry!” James hissed, grabbing at the spot where he’d been hit. “What the hell, Moony.”

“I’m fine,” Remus insisted, wanting to shrink back further into the chair and allow it to swallow him up completely. “I missed the last meeting. I didn’t want to miss another.”

Sirius was uncharacteristically quiet, watching Remus with a strange expression on his face.

“Some tea, then?” he asked after a moment. “Kettle’s on in the kitchen.”

“That’s a good idea,” Lily agreed.

Remus shrugged a little and nodded.

Sirius disappeared towards the kitchen as Lily and James stayed standing at Remus’ side.

“Where’s Pete?” Remus asked, trying to steer the subject away from his appearance.

“He’ll be late. Had something for work,” James explained. “Why didn’t you just say something this morning? I could’ve fetched you some stronger potions.”

“Doesn’t matter,” Remus replied. “I’m not going to have the luxury to lie in bed all day every month if I want to keep a job. Might as well get used to it.”

Lily was still frowning at him.

“I don’t think it’s a luxury when you need it,” she said quietly.

Sirius returned with a large mug of steaming tea and passed it over.

Just as he was starting to speak, the cottage door swung open and Dumbledore entered dressed in dark purple robes and carrying a large roll of several pieces of parchment. As he crossed the room to his usual place in front of the hearth, his eyes darted briefly to Remus.

“Let’s get started, all,” he said, setting down the parchment rolls on a table. “We have much to cover.”

Dumbledore began with a briefing on some recent missions and a recap of upcoming assignments for several of the more senior members of the Order. Remus sipped his tea slowly, trying to pay attention, but the hot drink and the quiet drone of voices were both making his eyelids feel very heavy…

He drained the last bit of tea in his mug and set it on the floor, shifting uncomfortably in the chair and feeling his hips creak and crack in protest.

“Anything to report on your research into mapping vampire colonies, Remus?” Dumbledore’s voice was saying, cutting through the fog in Remus’ head like a loud whip crack. He jumped and looked towards the front of the room.

“Err…” he said, his voice hoarse and weary. “A bit. I’ve collected my findings so far into a map that I can pass along when I’ve completed a few more tracking spells.”

“Very good,” Dumbledore said, looking at him with a gentle expression. “And the centaurs in the south?”

“Less so, there,” he said. “I think we might need to do some scouting. I–”

He broke off, his voice catching in his throat. He started to cough, chest straining with each crackling spasm. Ever the quick thinker, Lily grabbed his mug and tapped it with her wand, sending a stream of water from the tip into the cup. She passed it over and he took a sip, managing to settle the coughing fit enough to sputter out an apology.

“I think it’s clear you’ve been unwell, so I think we’ll leave it at that and allow you to pass along your findings to the appropriate parties when you’ve completed the maps,” Dumbledore said. “Sirius? The Gringotts observation posts. Your report on the findings?”

Sirius began to speak and Remus slumped back in the armchair, hoping he hadn’t made too much of a scene. He fumbled in his pocket for his handkerchief and wiped his runny nose. He felt Lily’s hand give his shoulder a sympathetic squeeze.

Hehhh-TSGHH!

Suddenly he pitched forward, sneezing harshly into his cupped hands. Sirius paused his speaking for a brief second and several Order members offered cries of ‘gesundheit!’ and 'blessings!’. Remus flushed hot in the face and covered his nose with the handkerchief once more.

A few moments later, the welcome distraction of Peter arriving late interrupted the meeting once more. While more and more people shared reports of missions and other business, Remus remained nestled in the squashy chair, drifting in and out of listening as he dozed off repeatedly only to awake again seconds later.

Before he knew it, someone was shaking his shoulder gently.

“You see why this was a bad idea?” James asked. Remus blinked and looked around the room. Everyone had gone back to milling around and chatting. The official meeting was over.

His heart racing, Remus peered around and saw that Dumbledore was still present. Their eyes met from a moment and Dumbledore waved his hand in a beckoning motion.

“Be right back,” he rasped, struggling to his feet. Sirius hauled him up with a tug and steadied him for a moment before letting Remus limp off to meet with Dumbledore.

“A word in the study?” Dumbledore said, opening a nearby door and gesturing inside. Remus went in and sat on a hard wooden side chair that did nothing to relieve his aching body.

“I wanted to apologize, Remus,” Dumbledore said after shutting the door. “I do realize that the last two meetings were following full moons. This was not my intent, but simply the only times I could arrange it. And while I appreciate you being here, you’re clearly unwell.”

“It’s a cold,” Remus mumbled, but he knew that he wasn’t convincing Dumbledore of anything.

“That may be, but even without that, you know that you need proper rest after the moon. I think Madam Pomfrey would heartily agree with me. We can’t risk anyone not taking proper care. We’re already outnumbered as it stands with everyone healthy.”

Remus nodded.

“Yes, sir.”

“I think your friends are prepared to get you safely home,” Dumbledore said. “I suggest you accept their offer.”

With that, he went back into the living room, leaving the study door open. A moment later, his friends appeared with their cloaks and other belongings at hand.

“Let’s get you back to bed, Moony,” Sirius said. “I can side-along you home.”

“And I’ll come by in a little while with some dinner for you and some Pepper-Up for your cold,” Lily added.

“Thanks,” Remus muttered, embarrassed by their fussing.

When he was safely back in his bed, back in his comfortable pyjamas, and with a bowl of soup on his nightstand and steam drifting from his ears, he closed his eyes and let out a sigh. Bedridden once again. But maybe, as he’d learned, it was best just to stay safely there when he could instead of pushing it. At least in bed, no one was watching him suffer.

#sneezing #cold #common cold #fever #aches #pains #lycanthropy #sickdays 5 #17 august 2018 #submission

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ricandhaiz · 7 years

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#LostSouls, Part 3

Week 3

After a morning spent prepping and painting the outside of the house in the sweltering heat, Miguel was ready to take a break. He felt hungry and was dripping with sweat as he strode into the house to get something to eat. He opened the front door slowly and carefully so as not to disturb Emma, who was asleep in their bedroom.

He went straight to the kitchen to make a ham and cheese sandwich and then grabbed a bottle of water before heading back outside. As he sat down on the top step of the front porch to eat his lunch, he thought about how far this place had come from the weed-infested and dilapidated bank-owned property that he and Emma had purchased just weeks ago. He had thrown himself into the job of repairing the house like a zealot on a crusade after Eva’s death. Although he could have hired others to do the work, he had opted to do most of it himself. More often than not, he had found it to be therapeutic, especially in the face of the soul-crushing grief he had experienced ever since the day he lost his beloved daughter. He spent countless hours pulling up threadbare carpet, scraping walls off decades old wallpaper and repairing leaks and electrical shorts before laying down hardwood flooring and repainting almost every interior wall with one notable exception: Eva’s room. Given Emma’s fragile state, he thought it best to leave that room untouched for the time being.

It wasn’t long, however, before his mind began wandering to thoughts of Emma. In the three weeks since they’d moved in, she would often sleep until noon and spend hours at a time sitting next to the tire swing hanging on the oak tree by the lake. Until now, he had thought that giving her time and space would be enough as she worked through her feelings of anguish and loss. But now, he was beginning to wonder if that had been the wisest course of action to take, especially since his leave of absence from work was set to expire in less than a month. He was wary of leaving her at home alone in her present state and was beginning to wonder if a more intense psychological intervention was necessary at this point.

As Miguel pondered his options, the sight of his neighbor’s dog bounding toward him from across the street made him smile. As it stopped at his feet and rolled over for a belly rub, he saw its owner, George, following closely behind.

He approached Miguel with an outstretched hand and said, “We meet again.”

“It is good to see you,” Miguel replied with a firm handshake. “Where is Casey?”

“She’s at the store. What about your wife?”

“Emma is sleeping.”

“Ah, okay,” George replied with a quizzical expression since it was already well past noon. “I see that you’ve made a lot of progress since the last time we spoke. I’m impressed.”

“Thank you,” Miguel replied with some pride. “It is coming along quite nicely. I did a lot of work on the inside of the house and pulled up all the weeds outside even before my wife and I moved in. Once we unpacked and arranged our belongings inside the house, I spent the next few days building shelves and storage cabinets in the garage and fixing up the front yard.” He then pointed to the rose bushes he’d planted in front of the porch railing and said, “As you can see, I planted these just yesterday and am in the process of patching all the bald spots in the lawn with grass seed. I am hoping to finish painting the exterior walls by tomorrow and would like to get to cleaning out organizing the basement next week.”

“I can’t imagine what it must be like down there,” George replied with a shudder.

“It needs a lot of work,” Miguel admitted. “I have only been able to clear out the section of the basement in and around the stairs. I made an appointment with a contractor to come over and help me figure out how best to utilize and repair that space.”

“Were there still items from old man Rhoades in the house when you moved in?”

“Actually, yes,” Miguel replied. “I found an old record player, which still works, and quite a few vinyl records in the basement. I also found cases of old comic books and baseball cards down there.”

“Really? I didn’t think that he was the type of guy who collected that kind of stuff. But then again, my wife told me that his ex-wife Carrie, had lived there with her first husband before he died in Vietnam. I’m guessing that’s probably all his stuff.”

“Did she tell you that I ran into her at Starbucks last week?”

“Yes, she did,” George replied with an almost apologetic look. “She told me that she filled you in on all the local lore about this place. Personally, I think it’s all a bunch of hooey made up by people with overactive imaginations.”

Miguel smiled and said, “Your wife, Casey, seems to be convinced that it is true.”

“Tell me, in the three weeks that you’ve lived here, have you seen or heard anything that made you think that your house was haunted?”

As Miguel thought about the numerous times he had heard a door close of its own accord or had felt a gust of cold air blow past him, his rational mind quickly came to the logical conclusion that these occurrences were probably par for the course in an old and drafty house like his. And as for the girl that he thought he saw staring back at him through the picture window…Well, he told himself. She just can’t have been real. Thus, he said, “No.”

“I thought so,” George replied. “I tried to tell her to just leave things well enough alone but she wouldn’t listen.”

“I am sure she meant well,” Miguel said.

“Well, all the same, I still think that it was mighty nice of you to indulge her the way you did.”

“It was no problem, really.”

George nodded and said, “Is there anything I can do to give you a hand?”

Miguel thought a moment and then said, “Now that you ask, I do have quite a few empty moving boxes that I have been meaning to move from the garage to the basement. Would you mind helping me out with that?”

“Sure. Just give me a minute to bring this little one back to the house and then I’ll be right back.”

“Great. The boxes are stacked on left side of the garage,” Miguel said as he got up to open the garage door. “I will leave it open and keep the front door unlocked for you.”

While George went to take his dog back home, Miguel picked up a stack of the boxes from the garage and carried them into the house. As soon as he walked in, he heard Emma playing “Silence is Golden” from behind the closed door of the master bedroom. Emma’s been playing that song a lot, he thought as he toyed with the idea of checking in on her. He got as far as the doorway and even raised his hand to knock on it before he lost his nerve and went to open the basement door instead.

A powerful gust of cold air struck Miguel like blow to the chest, knocking him off balance as he stepped onto the stairs. He quickly steadied himself against the door frame and then flipped on the light switch. Before descending, he paused to allow his eyes to adjust to the dim flickering light illuminating the basement floor. On the way down, he carefully braced himself with his free hand on the brittle wooden railing while holding an armful of boxes in the other.

Miguel was nearly halfway down the stairs when the music from the master bedroom suddenly stopped. Although the eerie quiet that ensued unnerved him and almost caused him to turn back, he forced himself to keep going. Once he had reached the bottom of the stairs, he put the boxes down by the wall closest to the stairs and again found himself fighting the urge to flee as he and looked around the dirty and musty smelling room. What is wrong with you? he asked himself. Get ahold of yourself. What are you afraid of?

While his conscious mind struggled to placate his growing fear, the sound of footsteps near the basement door nearly caused him to jump out of his skin. “Hello?” Miguel called out as his eyes darted toward the top of the stairs. “Is anybody there?” No answer. “Emma? George?” Still, no response.

Rather than wait for a reply which didn’t appear to be forthcoming, Miguel elected to see for himself who was moving around up there. But as he made his way back up the stairs, yet another strong gust of cold air slammed into him with even greater force than before. As he grabbed hold of the railing to keep himself from falling, he heard what sounded like the crazed laughter of a young girl echoing through the room. He bounded up the stairs as soon as he had regained his footing and was nearly at the top step when the light bulb at the bottom of the stairs blew out with a loud popping sound. As he lunged for the doorway, he felt a pair of ice cold hands grasp his ankles and yank him off his feet. He cried out in terror as his torso hit the stairs with a painful thud just as the door above him slammed shut.

“No!” he screamed as he tried to scramble up the stairs in the dark on his hands and knees. At that point, the laughter in the room had grown to an ear deafening pitch as yet another gust of wind sent him hurtling down the stairs once more.

“Emma, I need you,” Miguel groaned as he lay sprawled on the steps. “Help me, please.”

Seconds later, Miguel thought he heard the basement door creak open. When he looked up, he saw what looked like the figure of a man standing by the doorway.

“Oh my God, are you okay?” George asked as he quickly made his way down to Miguel. “What happened to you?”

At first, Miguel just shook his head while George helped him get back on his feet. Will he believe me if I tell him what happened? he thought. Probably not. He could hardly believe it himself. Finally, he said, “Thank God you came when you did.”

“How could I not?” George replied. “I heard you as soon as I walked in the house. You could have probably woken the dead with all the racket you were making down here.”

“You think so?” Miguel asked as he stepped into the hallway and looked over at the still closed door to the master bedroom. “I was hoping that someone would hear me.”

“Is your wife still asleep?” George asked as he followed Miguel’s gaze. “Wow. She must be a sound sleeper.”

“I guess she must be.”

Later that day, Miguel was sitting across from Emma at the dinner table when he heard her ask, “How was your day?”

Is she actually talking to me? Miguel thought to himself with some surprise since they had spent much of their meal up to this point in virtual silence. He replied, “Good. And you?”

Emma shrugged and said, “All right, I guess.”

“Umm…by the way, did you happen to hear any unusually loud noises earlier this afternoon?” Miguel asked. Emma shook her head.

How is that possible? Miguel thought to himself. “I had a little problem in the basement earlier this afternoon. Did you not hear me calling out to you?”

Emma blinked once and then twice before saying, “Sorry…no.”

Miguel bit his tongue so as not to start a fight. Who are you? And what did you do with my wife? he wondered and then decided to change the subject. “I saw one of your co-workers, Connie, at the post office the other day. Do you think you will be ready to go back to teaching in the spring?” No answer. “Emma?”

“What did you say?”

“You heard me,” Miguel replied a little more loudly and forcefully than he had intended.

Another blank stare and then…nothing.

A few minutes later, he put his fork down and asked, “Why do you like to play that song “Silence is Golden” on the record player over and over again?”

“I like it,” Emma replied slowly. “I thought you did too.”

“I do. But do you really have to play it fifty times a day? I am surprised that you haven’t worn the record out yet.”

“Then buy earplugs…or just leave.”

For a moment, Miguel was too shocked to speak. But instead of ratcheting up the rhetoric, he took a few deep breaths and tried to take a more conciliatory approach with her. “You could play other songs, you know.”

“No,” Emma replied firmly. “I need to play that one.”

Why? Miguel thought with growing alarm and as he paused to consider what he should say next. “Why do you sit by that tire swing in the back yard all the time? Where do you go when you go for those long walks through the neighborhood?”

“Why are you asking me all these questions? I am an adult, remember?”

Then act like one, Miguel wanted to say but didn’t. “Can you just answer my questions?”

At that, Emma rose from her seat and slammed her fist on the table as she said, “God, you really can’t take a hint, can you?”

“How am I supposed to know what you are thinking? By osmosis? I am not a mind reader.”

“Okay…So, what about this? Leave me alone. Was that clear enough?”

“Emma, we need to talk,” Miguel replied as he motioned for her to sit back down. “The way you have been acting is not normal. You need help.”

“No, I don’t.”

Miguel shook his head. “Most of the time you sleep half the day away and…and when you are awake you are either locked in your room listening to that damned song or outside sitting by the tire swing. You can’t go on like this. Eva would…”

“Don’t you dare mention her name in front of me,” Emma snapped.

“Why not? She was just as much mine as she was yours.”

Rather than answer, Emma simply rose from her chair and flung her napkin on the table before fleeing the room. Miguel made no attempt to follow her.

Long after Emma had closed the door to the master bedroom with a loud bang, Miguel remained rooted to the spot as his shell-shocked mind replayed their last conversation like a tape on a loop.

#hailee steinfeld #ricardo gomez #horror #ghost story

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pussymagicuniverse · 5 years

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Back From the Dead Red

The familiar salty sea air spread its beachy, fishy aroma across the shipping dock. The scent reminded Francesca of exhilarating days perched on top of Papa’s shoulders trying and barely touching the rigging that supported the foremast of Mourning Star. Staring from the steps of the boardwalk, Francesca watched with awe at a new arrival. She could hear the booming commands from the captain and first mate intermixed with the clattering voices that commonly joined in the pier side chorus. Young boys and girls in rags sold shellfish in their make-shift carts, wandering and curious visitors of pop-up shops that appear as frequently as they disappear, each baring trinkets and treasures from lands far from where the horizon lay.

“Oysters for sell!”

“Fresh oysters! Cuatro Reals,” bellowed a dark haired girl in an outfit composed of recycled fishing nets and loose fabrics.

She looked on with wonder at the large ship. The white sails glowed in the afternoon sun, the aged bronze of the figure of a siren at the bow matching the metal accenting the ship.

A loud horn signaled the end of the working day. Hopping down from her seat, Francesca fetched the young girl and placed a gold Real in her hands for one of her oysters.

“Gracias Senora,” the young girl cried with gratitude, fresh tears in her eyes.

Another horn sounded sending Francesca off in a hurry. She waved goodbye to the curious girl.

Her husband Lucio was to return home any minute and would expect the aroma of tonight’s dinner to seduce his freckled nose as he entered their villa on top of a hill. As she walked closer to the town center, Francesca looked out for the large, white clock tower with its winged gargoyles that pointed North, South, East, and West.

“Son las cinco y cuarto, perfect,” said Francesca when the out of place building came into her direct view. The sun’s amber light shone on the left face of the clock tower. Its very tip had already begun to disappear into the shadow. She always thought it quite peculiar and anachronous in the vibrant coastal town. For months after her arrival when she was a young bride, she tried to avoid the blank stares of the beaked guardians at all costs; but eventually daily life as the wife of a popular merchant required for her to inquire over her husband’s local business with the town elite and wealthy citizens. Not only did she dread the stares, she despised the lingering whispers after the golden doors closed shut. With a turn onto a steep hill with cobbled streets, 8-foot-tall wrought iron fences signal the entrance to a large, light blue house resting on the apex of the hill.

“Hola senorita Francesca. Staring at boats again?” said Eloisa, the family’s head of staff. A tiny woman of large personality who was once Francesca’s wet nurse. It was in her care Francesca was left in after a band of mutinous pirates raided Mourning Star midnight Christmas morning while Mama and Papa slept in a tranquil slumber. Francesca can remember the searing heat of the roaring flames flashing in honey, tangerine, and crimson. The fire crept along the sides of her sleeping chamber. The blooming obsidian smoke choked the air from her quarters. Her screams for help were answered by a soot covered man with a receding hairline and ugly intentions. Francesca blackened the proceeding moments from her memory for it nearly drove her mad during her years of eternal and penetrating grief. “I figured you wouldn’t return on time. So I began preparing for dinner for you and Señor Hierro,” Eloisa kissed Francesca’s cheeks twice and took her jacket from her hands. “But my duties are over, and I give you full reign of your house.” The elderly woman flashed a toothy grin at the younger woman. Francesca just rolled her eyes in jest and naïve deviance.

“Ah Ma, you have earned your keep for today. So dimelo what’s next for you?”

“I heard of a traveling actors group performing tonight in the city square. And I am late. Adios Señora”

Francesca swirled a wooden spoon into the simmering pot of creamy Alfredo sauce and little dumpling balls of potato dough the Italians called gnocchi. Bringing the spoon to her plump rose lips, she tasted for any absent flavors. Her nose crinkled.

“It’s definitely missing some spice.” She thought out loud and made her way into the walk in pantry Lucio built for her after striking a contract with a spice kingpin in South East Asia. Being the wife of a wealthy merchant had its perks, specifically in the grace of foreign spices that reached their pantry, insuring an explosion on their tongues. She rummaged through the different spices held within spherical vials.

“Ah, these will do.”

She made her way back to the stove holding vials of paprika, cumin, and ras el hanout.

Francesca yipped with joy when her micro experiment went as planned. The Alfredo gnocchi had a spicy kick that sent her nerves firing like a full moon celebration.

•

The entirety of the building appeared to be sculpted from the mountain side. The large central room held together by mosaic archways in the windows, doorways, and even above the heads of the wealthy crowds. An ingenious plan for skylights sent sunlight scattering and bounced off the crystals of purple and white onto the tan stone to give a light show of rainbow of colors. On Francesca’s pale grey gown glimmered hues of blue and pink and iridescent green like the shells of Egyptian beetles. Francesca found the twinkling lights more interesting than the company of airheads she sat with. It is quite inconvenient to wear corsets in place like this, she thought. She wiggled inside the wire cage. Her breathing shallow. Her adversaries, dressed in all the frills, poof, and glitter imaginable looked to the merchant’s wife with wonder, and some with envy, as she ordered for everyone in the language of the Arab servers. The young ladies loved to repeat to themselves the smooth words. “Teteria,” “Karak,” “Shukraan.” The words rolled from their lips and evaporated into the heavy air.

Francesca’s mind fleeted from her immediate surroundings to imagining how Lucio’s hunt for her ship was coming along. She was startled back into reality by the gentle touch of her elbow. Instinctively, she withdrew herself from the touch and looked at the man defense her fingers flexed into a tight fist.

“Perdon Señorita Heirro.”

“Oh no. No. Perdoname, I’ve been catching myself in the luls of daydreams more and more often than not.” Her cheeks tinged pink with embarrassment.

“I should’ve proceeded with caution rather than start a beautiful woman like you.” The man, she knew that his last name was Reyes winked at her. “You almost gave me a black eye with that fist.”

Francesca watched him, waited for him to make his point. A quick awkward silence followed, and he cracked with a cough.

“So… I wanted to inquire about a shipment Senior Hierro has arranged to arrive tomorrow from far east of China.” He said carefully. She felt the tea surge back up and her face expressed the disgust she felt.

“That’s business you have with my husband.”

“Yes I am aware. I have mentioned business with him but he requested more than was fair.” He touched her elbow again looking intently into her golden honey eyes, “I was hoping you could pu—”

“Antonio! What are you doing?” In a swirl a petite brunette shouted and pulled Antonio Reyes away from Francesca, “Today is for small talk, gossip, and tea.” she quipped as she snuck herself underneath his arm. The brunette winked at an anxious Francesca. All she could do present a meek smile on her face.

“Dios mio, I’m sorry Francesca. My cousin fails at social life.” The small brunette whose name couldn’t surface in her memory giggled childishly. Antonio seemed offended and he huffed, “Goodbye ladies,” and with a flare of his coattail he scurried off. Less anxious, Francesca smiled back at the woman in a gown that looked like it was made of millions of dew drops tied together by spiderweb. She sat back on the large satin pillows she rested on.

“Tea?” She offered, reaching for the pot, “Um, Tatiana right?” she questioned carefully as she poured the amber liquid into a second golden cup and refilled hers for the third time.

“You remembered!”

Francesca chuckled in relief. What an embarrassment if I got it wrong, she thought. The warm liquid washed over her and she moaned quietly into her cup.

A thick layer of smoke spread across the ground and the skylights dimmed despite it being noon. Conversations faded as bells chimed with the entrance of six women, clad in colorful fabrics of silk and chiffon, little gold coins were tied to a scarf around their hips, bells at their ankles, and veils of chiffon allowed the party goers to only see their deep, dark almond eyes. A group of men in loose ivory clothes and black turbans sat on pillows and began to play instruments that looked as ancient as the room she sat in. The women swayed and moved their hips in a sensual way that aroused the crowd. Francesca excused herself from her new friend and fluttered towards the bathroom on the far western side of the tea house. She approached the narrow hallway, but stopped in her tracks when she heard hushed words. A thud against the wall sent a short wave of vibration to where she stood. She hid around the corner and carefully watched the transaction between Antonio and another mysterious man in a dirty jacket and torn pants.

The other man, taller than Antonio to that his nose reached his chest and he had to tilt his head in order to look at him, he had his long arm across Antonio’s chest teeth flashing in his face.

“I swear to Aegaeon… we gave you 2 hours.” He growled, spit flying onto Antonio’s petrified face.

“Please, I couldn’t get the bitch to speak and then my cou—” Antonio pleaded but was cut off by the back of a ring adorned hand, causing a minor gash to begin bleeding. “What was that for?”

“For being an idiot.” Mused the man. He pushed Antonio harder into the wall. “I need a way into la casa azul.”

Francesca slipped an audible gasp as she realized the tall man was speaking of her house. Her blue house on the hill. Her eyes widen with shock and she covered her mouth with her hands pressing her back into the wall.

“What was that?” The tall dirty man looked down the hallway squinting to see a figure in the hallway only illuminated by a single gas lamp.

Francesca closed her eyes willing herself to be as quiet as possible. The looming heavy steps beginning to walk towards her corner.

Please… God, she prayed inside her head. The clicks of his heel stopped right before the threshold of the hall and the darkened room in which Francesca hid and turned back around. A sigh from Francesca was covered by the grunt and thump of someone being kicked.

“You’ll regret crossing me and taking precious time.” He spat and made his exit.

Oh’s and Ah’s of admiration quickly turned into shouts and screeches of panic.

Krizia Isamar Bruno is an artist, editor, and writer born and raised in Brooklyn, who decided to unpack her bags in Pittsburgh, PA. Her creations feature a magical and diverse world where moms and daughters live for and against each other.

She is the founder of Ofrendas Press, an independent publishing press focused on creating handmade books and publications by women of Latinx, African, and/or Indigenous heritage. Her first self-published work, Dominicana Americana, is available for pre-order at the Ofrendas Shop.

More of Krizia’s work can be found on www.kri-zia.com.

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