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twwpress · 1 year

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Creator Spotlight #22: jazzjo

Welcome back to the TWW Author Spotlight! For every spotlight, we’ll ask each featured author the same ten questions (as well as questions you submitted on Twitter!). This week we’re excited to be chatting with jazzjo (on AO3 - @sameschtick on twitter)!

1) What are your top 5 desert island fics by other authors?

baby it’s cold outside by crossingdelancey It’s short, it’s sweet, it’s cj’s gay meg ryan winter, what more could you want.

may these memories break our fall by claudiasjeancregg A real gateway fic to cj/toby/andy that captures the internal lives of all three characters so well; I could (and do) read it over and over.

Red, White, and Boo by fleurfemme Scream meets West Wing meets great ensemble writing. Incredible.

departures and arrivals by rearviewmirror Atlas plays with distance and time and liminal space to pack so much yearning into this piece.

we thought love was something we weren’t meant to find by darlingdarling I love pieces that take a little moment in canon and expand on the potential and this one just knocks it out of the park.

2) Do you have a favorite character to write? Favorite ship(s) to write? Are there characters or ships you'd like to write more of?

My crutch character is C.J. by a long shot (who’s surprised) – the interiority of her as a character in how she’s portrayed is just so fascinating to me. My favourite character to write is probably either Andy or Charlie. Both of them get witty repartee in canon but there’s so much not said that I do love taking my authorial liberties.

Favourite ship is cj/andy hands down. I think I’ve populated half the tag (the math works out – 29/55) because I’m incorrigible about them. This extends to permutations within the cj/andy/toby triangle, which is a sandbox I love to play in.

I’d like to explore writing more about Charlie, Donna, and Joey. I’ve done a bit of all three (finally caved and wrote something Charlie-centric recently) but they’re still more challenging to properly capture.

3) Tell us about your writing process (setup/location? Night or day? Snacks/beverages? Computer/phone/notebook? Music or silence? Anything else you want to share is welcome!)

My (somewhat messy) rolling desk. Night (by necessity, because work). Emotional support water bottle or seltzer or a hot drink. Laptop, though I used to primarily write in a notebook. Music either completely accelerates or impedes the process, it’s really a toss up. I love writing with it, and take a lot of inspiration from it, but I sometimes get too distracted by it and have to turn it off.

I used to write longer things, back before I started working full-time. I only started writing for TWW in the last half-year and have gravitated to shorter chapters and one-shots because I like writing a full chapter in one sitting and I have less time. Even so, this lil baby can fit so much angst into it.

4) What writing advice do you have for others who may be reading this?

Write what you want to read. If something comes naturally, lean in. Catch passing thoughts and phrases in a small notebook or on your phone. Make a habit of writing. There’s always time to write – five minutes on the train, ten minutes before you sleep – but don’t let it take over your rest time.

5) From where do you usually draw your inspiration? (Other forms of media, music, tropes, etc?)

I love pulling and expanding on the tiniest moments in canon, or I’ll get a single line of a song so under my skin it turns into something on the page. I love intertextuality and my best work tends to happen between mediums.

I tend to draw on things I know well, so you’ll see recurrent themes and references like classical music, theater, Jewish life, and literature sprinkled throughout my writing.

6) What is the fic you've written that you're most proud of and why?

This is cheating, but I couldn’t pick between two.

turning in place is probably the best developed of anything i’ve written for TWW. It digs into Toby as a character in ways I didn’t really think I could do, and it really was me trying to find a way I could stomach the shuttle leak arc. It plays with time, it plays with religion, it plays with guilt and family and dwelling too much or too little or just enough on things, and if that isn’t Toby Ziegler. I think form, character, and content collided in a way I have been trying to get to again in this fic, and I still don’t know how I did it.

In one-shot land, enumerated powers comes to mind. It came completely out the left field, but I loved writing Evelyn Baker Lang as a character and imagining (aka spreadsheet planning) a workable backstory for her that bled through the whole fic.

7) What's the fic trope/concept/AU you'd read 1000 of? What's the fic trope/concept/AU you'd write 1000 of?

Romcom tropes kill me in the best way every time. Writing-wise, I love writing looks into post-canon and filling in the blanks within canon.

8) Is there anything you'd like to try writing-wise that you haven't yet?

A true ensemble fic. I came close in too wise to woo peaceably but not quite.

9) What's your go-to Starbucks/coffee shop/other drink order?

I tend to go for black coffee out of my aeropress, sometimes slightly sweetened, and I love all manners of tea, but both of those tend to be drinks I make myself. My one vice is bubble tea, and I’ll almost always get unsweetened oolong tea with taro pearls, without the ice in it if I can help it.

10) Do you have any current projects you'd like to promote or anything upcoming you'd like to tell us about?

I’m working on an Andy/Toby fic inspired by The Last Five Years – we see Andy in reverse and Toby in chronological order – called compel me to ask you for more.

Submitted questions:

From @JessBakesCakes: Do you have a headcanon about one of your fics that didn’t make it to the story for one reason or another? If so, what is it?

The continuation to watching the skies (the charlie-centric fic I mentioned earlier where Charlie is COS to POTUS, which is Andy) that I clipped and set aside to focus more on Charlie’s road back to the White House has C.J. eventually running for Congress in Andy’s second term because the spin boys make a whole case for it, even though she still feels a bit like an outsider to Hill politics. I almost always think of C.J. – like Leo – as the person behind the curtain, but I think one of the ways she might step into a campaign of her own is if someone she really trusted made a case for why it would help the constituents for her to run in place of a shitty incumbent.

From @S4MWILS0N: favorite: season, ep, one liner, character duo (romantic), character duo (platonic), plot arc, hc for pre post and during canon? craziest au you’ve ever considered? snippet/idea that never became anything? fave trope to read or write? moment that made u fall in love w the show?

Favourite…

Season: Three

Episode: The Supremes or Hartsfield’s Landing

One-Liner: “There is literally no one in the world that I don’t hate right now.”

Character Duo (Romantic): CJ/Andy

Character Duo (Platonic): CJ & Josh (early seasons) CJ & Charlie (later seasons)

Plot Arc: debate prep (also that we only saw the original campaign after we were already invested)

HC for Pre-Canon: CJ and Andy were grad school roommates. When Toby first introduces the two when he starts dating Andy they don’t tell him, and just let how similar they can be freak him out. He doesn’t find out for way longer than you think.

HC for Post-Canon: Charlie sets out on his own for a bit. Donna finishes school and goes back into politics. CJ never goes to California – she goes to Ohio to take care of her father, then back to the East Coast.

HC for During Canon: CJ has a personal relationship with each of the Bartlet girls – she’s the older sister Liz never got to have; she’s a model for living a full life while queer to Ellie; Zoey is a little skeptical at first but she ends up closest to CJ because CJ always Shows Up for her, no matter what, and holds her father back from being too embarrassing.

Craziest AU: rockstar AU my white whale

Snippet that never became anything: I have a whole folder titled “ideas i may never write / finish”. I will refrain from naming names out of hope that something will eventually exit that folder.

Moment that made me fall in love with the show: when I realised everyone talks as fast as I do

Thank you so much to jazzjo! And thank you to everyone who asked questions. This is our last creator spotlight for now - we may pick it up again if there’s interest in the future! We really appreciate every one who signed up to be featured and who asked questions for making this such a fun experience! As always you can reach us at [email protected], through tumblr messages, or on Twitter!

xx, What’s next?

#the west wing #west wing #tww #tww fandom #tww fic #tww fic rec #creator spotlight #cj cregg #andy wyatt #toby ziegler #cj x andy #cj x toby #cj x toby x andy #andy x toby #charlie young #fic writiers

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inkykeiji · 4 years

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do i make you scared? baby won’t you take me back

characters: dabi | todoroki touya, shigaraki tomura

genre: smut with a bit of angst sprinkled over it

notes: the second part of a companion piece to i can take you there but baby you won’t make it back. i’m really not kidding when i say this is almost entirely smut. uhhh virgin!tomura is a nasty nasty boy, please please please heed the warnings and stay safe! <3 | title credit: save that shit by lil peep

warnings: 18+, pseudo-incest (stepcest), non-consensual branding (yes, branding in the sense that something is being burned into the skin), noncon/dubcon, dacryphilia, cheating, degradation/dumbification, emotional manipulation, cumplay/snowballing, cockwarming, size difference, generally toxic relationships

words: 7.1k

synopsis:

“Was it good?” he seethes, eyes narrowed sharply. You think you might be able to detect a hint of distress sown into his voice, but you have no time to meditate on the thought as he yanks again, pulling your head back further. “Was it worth it?”

Glistening tears stream down your cheeks and you exhale harshly through your nose, teeth gritted as you urgently try to stop crying.

“Fucking answer me,” he growls out the words, but he sounds almost…desperate? You’ve never heard his voice like this before, and it’s then that it finally dawns on you.

You got him back.

✰ ✰ ✰ ✰ ✰ ✰ ✰

To your surprise, you spend the rest of your night the day after the party texting Tomura, and every time your screen lights up with a message from him, it sends a whole flock of butterflies fluttering in your tummy. You should feel guilty, really, but you’ve never been in a situation like this before and it’s…exhilarating.

It’s risky, answering these texts when Touya’s a mere few feet from you, but it sends sparks shooting up your spine, the idea of getting caught doing something you’re definitely not supposed to, the very thought of how upset he’d be if he knew, making you feel giddy.

You guard your phone closely for the rest of the week, deleting messages exactly after you send them—Touya has taken it and gone through it in the past, so it wasn’t far-fetched to think he may try to do the same thing again. It wasn’t like he didn’t notice your nose in your phone, little giggles bubbling up from your chest as you responded to whatever was on the screen. You can see it in his eyes, the frustration building each and every time a soft laugh escapes your lips, eyes glimmering as you tap out a response.

You plan your impending visit strategically, in tandem with Tomura. He knows Touya’s unpredictable and seemingly ever-changing schedule better than you do, and you both know that there’s absolutely no way in hell Touya would ever willingly let you hang out with each other—he barely leaves the two of you alone when Tomura comes over to your house, so you can only imagine how livid he’d be if you even asked to go spend some time with him, just the two of you.

You wear your prettiest dress—Touya’s favourite dress, a deep, satiny crimson—two inches too short to be considered proper, the hem brushing your midthigh. It hides a pair of baby pink cotton panties you’re sure Tomura will like.

Your veins thrum with the combined mix of terror and anticipation as he lets you in, and the heady combination has your entire body trembling. Tomura gives you a look as you kick your shoes off, eyes narrowed as they scan your body.

“You comin’ down or something?”

“I-I’m not allowed drugs,” you admit meekly, eyes falling to your feet, toes wiggling a bit.

Tomura snorts, an amused little smirk on his lips as he mutters, “No, of course not,”

Long, slender fingers wrap around your wrist, his cold touch making you jump, giving a slight yank as he begins leading you. He lives alone, in an apartment his father pays for—which is surprisingly much tidier than you expected—and you can’t help but look around curiously, eager to learn more about him, glazed eyes searching for hints in the empty takeout containers littering the counter, in the few articles of clothing strewn around the place.

Brows knit together when he bypasses his bedroom completely—the door wide open to reveal a large bed with blue sheets tangled at the bottom—and leads you to a living room with plush couches and an ornate rug you’re positive he didn’t pick out by himself. His fingers release, and he plops down on the floor, hands curling around a gaming controller. Scarlet eyes drift to you, up your legs and to your face, and you resist the urge to shiver under his intense gaze—you’re sure he can see straight up your dress from this angle.

But he does nothing except look at you expectantly, not breaking his stare until you finally sit down next to him, daintily tucking your knees under yourself.

Then he’s shoving an extra controller at you almost aggressively, the sudden motion pulling a gasp from your throat, making you flinch away.

“Relax,” he rolls his eyes, pushing the controller at you again and shaking it a little in his hand, trying to entice you to take it. “I’m not gonna hurt you, or anything,”

“You…You’re—what?”

Tomura observes you carefully, scrutinizing now, eyes narrowing a little as they scan your face. You stare back at him dumbly, lips slightly parted. “What?” he snaps.

“But I thought—I mean, I want you to—”

“What?”

“That came out wrong,” you rush to say, shutting your eyes tightly in embarrassment. “What I mean is…Um, didn’t I come over so we can like, fuck?” your cheeks burn as you force the words out, ears ringing as blood rushes to your face, so loud you almost miss his sharp intake of breath.

Tomura’s eyes widen and he stares at you for a long moment before he checks his phone, scrolling through your messages. “You said…You wanted to play video games?”

You look at him, blinking in astonishment. “And you believed that?”

Tomura frowns a little, eyebrows knitting, slightly defensive. “Well, yeah?”

You’re at a loss for words as you stare back at the man sitting cross-legged in front of you, watching you closely. This is the guy Touya so desperately didn’t want you to be around?

Powerless to stop the little giggle that bubbles up in your throat, you inch towards him on your knees. “You’re kinda cute, y’know?”

Soft notes of tiger orchid and sweet sticky toffee waft over him, your body heat clinging to his skin as you settle beside him, thigh touching his knee. He seethes at you, and his fingers twitch around the controller, a hand moving to rake his nails against his neck.

You reach out, little fingers wrapping around his wrist and pulling it away from his flesh.

“Do you want to?” you ask softly, gazing at him through your lashes, bringing his palm to rest over your breast.

“Are you stupid?” he spits, fingers instantly tightening the moment they meet satin, the strength of his grip making you gasp. “Of course I fucking want to. Do you know how many times I’ve jerked off to you? Christ,”

Warmth blossoms in your chest at the confession, sparking a dull heat that begins to spread deep in the pit of your stomach. You’re flattered, even though you can hear Touya’s voice in the back of your mind, sharp and condescending, reprimanding you for being so easy.

“Yeah? What did you think about?” Your voice quivers a little as you ask the question, but that doesn’t stop his ruby eyes from darkening, his free hand dropping the controller to shamelessly rub at the bulge in his jeans.

“How cute your little cunt must be, how sweet it’d taste, how good those lips would feel wrapped around my cock as I fuck your throat,” his voice drops an octave as he speaks, low and dangerous as he kneads your breast hard—too hard, but adrenaline keeps the pain from registering.

He’s reaching for you now, pale hands pawing at your hips and dragging you over, forcing you to straddle his lap. A soft whimper falls from your lips as he instantly begins rolling his hips up, like he can’t bear to wait, fingers digging into your flesh as they hold you in place.

Neither can you, apparently, because you begin wiggling a little in his grasp, trying in vain to rut against him.

“You’re a little whore, huh? Even with a virgin, you can’t help but grind on a hard cock,” he smirks, lips at your ear. “A hard cock’s a hard cock I guess, makes no difference to you, greedy little slut,”

A mewl escapes your throat as you nod, hips pushing forcefully against his, grinding your little cunt against rough denim.

Wait, virgin?

“A v-virgin?”

“Yeah, lucky you,”

His words taper off into a growl, vibrating in his chest, hands leaving your waist to cup your jaw and roughly pull your face to his, lips crashing into yours. You emit a soft, startled noise into his mouth, and he swallows it greedily, tongue forcing its way through your parted lips and into your mouth, commanding your own tongue into submission almost instantaneously.

It’s nothing like kissing Touya. Your body follows your tongue, melting into him. Fingers grip your jaw, pressing crescent indents into the skin as he guides your head to exactly where he wants it to go.

It isn’t romantic. It’s harsh, and desperate, a mess of teeth and tongues fighting for dominance. A hand tangles in your hair and pulls, forcing your head back and revealing your arched neck to him. His lips trail down the column of your throat, leaving wet, sloppy kisses in their wake.

“I wanna fuck you already,” he whines a little, aggressively thrusting against your clothed core. You moan out an affirmative noise, nodding.

“One rule,” you breathe out.

“Hmm? And what’s that?” his lips are against your neck, tongue painting it in glistening saliva with slow, languid strokes.

“No marks,” you yelp out just as his teeth sink into your skin. It stings, Tomura keeping his mouth latched onto your neck for a few seconds, teeth buried in the soft flesh. His tongue laves over the mark before pulling away completely, and a shiver crawls up your spine as the bite is exposed to the cool air.

He’s giggling into your shoulder, nipping at the skin superficially. “Oops,”

“Tomura!” you whine, making no effort to pull his lips from your neck. “Touya’s going to murder me,”

He laughs again, pulling back and rolling his eyes. “And, what? He isn’t already going to kill you for fucking someone else?”

There isn’t a moment to respond, though, not a second to try and explain how weird Touya gets about marks in particular, because then he’s crushing his lips to yours again, hard, fervent, bruising.

“Gonna cum soon if you don’t fucking do something,” he practically snarls into your mouth.

The very thought of Tomura cumming in his pants just from a few minutes of dry humping makes your entire stomach flutter, a flash of pure confidence surging in your chest as involuntary words tumble from your mouth.

“Oh?” you murmur, breath hot against his lips. “Something? Like this?” you begin gyrating your hips in tiny, quick circles, giggling at the groan you rip from his throat.

And Tomura hates how fucking innocent you sound, gazing at him with glassy eyes and swollen lips and a sinful little smile.

“Stop,” it’s supposed to be a command, an order, but it comes out as a broken whine, his hands latching onto your hips again as he forces you to move even faster, rocking into you.

“Doesn’t feel like you want me to stop,” you pout a little and he huffs out a curse.

It’s intoxicating, to be in a position of power like this. It isn’t your favourite—you’re much too shy and indecisive to be in a role like this all the time—but the novelty of it excites you nonetheless. Touya never lets you do anything like this, hates being teased with a passion, but Tomura seems to enjoy it, like it’s some sort of game to him.

“Little bitch,” he breathes out, though his forehead is resting against yours, eyes shut, soft grunts spilling from his throat.

“C’mon, Tomura,” you whimper, and now it sounds like you’re the one begging. “Make a mess in your pants for me? P-Pretty please?”

That’s all it takes to have his hips stilling, fingers pressing bruises into your skin as he grips you tightly, holding you in place and forcing you to grind against him ever-so-slightly as his cock throbs and twitches in his jeans.

You expect him to push you off immediately after, to shout and berate you for such behaviour, but he doesn’t. Instead, he leans back against the bottom of the couch, arms encircling your waist and bringing you with him.

It must be uncomfortable, to sit in those soiled jeans filled with cum, but he doesn’t seem to care, more interested in exploring your mouth with his tongue as you kiss lazily. You don’t mind, although your clit is aching and swollen, pussy fluttering around nothing every so often as his fingers explore your body, kneading your ass and tweaking nipples, your panties soaked all the way through and sticking to you unpleasantly.

And it’s due to this that your hips still manage to rock against his in minuscule movements that are more teasing than anything else, little micro-circles that have your drenched cunt grinding gently against wet denim.

It seems he has an impossibly short refraction period because, before long, his cock’s hard again, pressing up into your clothed hole. You whimper his name into his mouth and he breaks the kiss, lips red and puffy, shining with saliva.

“Take my cock out,” he instructs, voice stern despite his slight breathlessness. You crawl off his lap and do as your told, popping the button, tugging the zipper down and pulling at the waistband of his jeans. He lifts his hips just enough to aid you in dragging them down to his thighs, cock springing free.

“Clean it up,”

It’s covered in cum, so much cum—too much cum, more than is normal—glistening in the low light of the living room. It twitches a little under your gaze, as if to say get on with it already, so you wrap a hand around the base and bring the head to your lips.

You start with kitten licks, tongue tracing around the head and playing with the slit, pulling a deep, throaty moan from him.

“Don’t—Don’t swallow it,” he rasps. “Clean me up and keep all my cum in your mouth,”

It’s difficult—his cum is much more bitter than Touya’s, and you gag a few times as it settles on your tongue, marinating in your mouth. You try your best to hold it in your cheeks and away from your tastebuds, working as quickly as possible as you lap it up, gazing up at him with teary eyes when you’re finished.

“What a good girl,” he spits in a patronizing tone, like it’s an insult. “Kiss me,”

It’s a demand you have no choice but to obey, a hand rooting in your hair and yanking you up to face him.

He all but smashes your lips together, fingers still wrapped tightly in your hair, holding you in place. His tongue forces its way through your lips and you greet it eagerly, desperate to get his cum out of your mouth.

Except he doesn’t let you pull away after you’ve passed the majority of his cum to him, the bitter taste still stinging your tongue. No, he uses the fist tangled in your hair to keep you still as he shoves his tongue into your mouth again, transferring the cum—now watered down a little with his saliva—into the warm cavern yet again.

You whine, and he chuckles, lips spreading into a grin against yours.

“Swallow it,” he whispers, pulling back just enough to watch your expression as you force it down your throat, face souring, eyes squeezed shut as your lips pucker just a little. “Open, lemme see,”

Your mouth falls open obediently, little droplets of water clinging to your lashes as you gaze up at him, waiting for approval.

“Good,” he practically purrs, eyes darkening as his fingers caress your face. “Now I want to fuck you,”

You’re nodding, but he doesn’t give you a moment to respond, beginning to manhandle you into the position he wants before he’s even finished speaking. The oriental rug is soft against your cheek as he presses your face to the ground, hands curling around your hips as he hoists them up.

“What cute little panties,” he breathes, dragging a finger along your clothed slit before yanking the material down to your knees.

It stings a little as he practically shoves his cock into your sopping cunt, not bothering to stretch you out—you’re not even sure if he knows he’s supposed to—but you’re wet enough that the breach is relatively easy, and the burning fades quickly as your little hole adjusts to the girth of his cock.

He begins thrusting immediately, and he’s rough, overeager, uncoordinated, the vicious snaps of his hips uneven and sloppy.

Truthfully, he’s only using you as a hole the first time, but you don’t mind—not really, anyway. Blazing sapphire sears through your mind, and you think about how furious Touya would be if he knew, if he could see the way you’re degrading yourself, letting yourself be reduced to nothing but a fucktoy for a nasty virgin to desperately hump away at, sacrificing your own pleasure for his.

Touya would never.

To Touya, making you cum is half the fun. He gets a rush from it, gets high off the way you go absolutely fucking stupid from his fingers and cock, how quickly he can turn your brain to soup, rendering you a dumb little blabbering mess only capable of whining out the words niichan and Touya-nii. It feeds his ever-growing ego.

But Tomura is eager to please in a different way. He’s more selfish than Touya, sure, but he’s keen to learn all he can, curious and committed.

And, once he finally gets the hang of it, confident, too.

His thrusts gain more finesse as he fucks you, but he’s unable to keep up any steady rhythm, the tight fluttering of your pussy every time he grazes a specific spot inside of you making his hips stutter, forcing needy, guttural groans from his throat.

He cums quick—not that you expect any less from a virgin—with a deep growl of your name that has your stomach swooping, cunt throbbing around him again as he fills you with thick, burning cum.

You’re exhausted by the end of it, abused body melting into the lush carpet as your cunt throbs desperately, his cum slowly oozing out of it. Tomura snorts as he looks down at you, gentle hands tugging your panties down the rest of your legs and removing them completely, discarding them a few feet away.

“Up you go,” he’s murmuring as hands snake under your armpits and haul you up. You mumble his name and he hushes you, collapsing heavily on the couch with you still in his arms. Strong hands manhandle you into straddling his lap again, leaking pussy pressed against his softening cock.

The television hums to life, quiet main menu music floating through the room as the soft clicking of buttons sounds behind you.

You should go home now. You know you should. You’ve done what you came here to do, and now you should be leaving.

Should, should, should.

But Tomura’s so warm, and you’re so tired, muscles aching despite the fact that he did most of the work.

“Rest,” he instructs quietly when you begin to whine into his neck, fingers preoccupied with unwrapping a piece of watermelon bubblegum.

He’s so much softer than you expected—disgusting, but soft—and you can’t believe you spent months being terrified of him. You know this is probably the last time you’ll be able to see him in a long time—a fact that produces an inexplicable ache deep in your chest—so you allow yourself bask in the moment, just for a little, you promise yourself.

You obey his gentle command, snuggling up against him and permitting yourself to drift in and out of consciousness to the sound of aliens being killed and aggressive button smashing.

But then something hard is poking you—you aren’t sure how long you’ve been sitting here for now, long enough for Tomura to power through a few matches, at least—and that blistering heat flares again, beginning to coil tight in your tummy.

You shift a little, an involuntary whine slipping from your lips.

“What is it?” Tomura asks, eyes never straying from the screen, fingers never pausing. “You wanna sit on my cock, baby?”

Christ, yes. You mumble into his shoulder, nodding and rolling your hips in response.

He chuckles—a low, quiet sound rattling around in his chest—and allows you to sink down on him again, captivated by the soft moan you emit as you do so, crimson eyes gleaming and breathing slightly laboured.

“Ah, fuck,” he mutters when his avatar on the screen gets shot, redirecting his attention.

And it’s…it’s nice. Surprisingly nice. He’s cozy, and comfy, his breathing slow and even with every rise of his chest, despite the alien shrieks coming from the TV behind you. He smells like cheap cigarettes and artificial watermelon with just a hint of cedarwood, and you inhale deeply, letting the scent fill your lungs.

Touya rarely lets you cockwarm him; Touya doesn’t have the patience, Touya doesn’t have the time. You fall into a state halfway between asleep and awake, hips rocking against Tomura just enough to keep him hard, just enough to have you whimpering into his neck.

He could get used to this, he tells you. The confession is soft, a private little thought that just kinda slips out, mindlessly falling from his lips, but you could, too, you think.

It’s intimate, which is odd, considering you barely know him, used to be frightened of him. But it’s such a refreshing contrast to Touya’s intense, scalding flame.

Eventually, though, it isn’t enough, the teasing’s too much, and you need more.

Gazing up at him with glittering eyes, you begin to trail your lips up his neck, over his self-inflicted scars, slowly, hesitantly.

He inhales sharply, jumping a little in surprise, and you freeze, terrified you might’ve overstepped some invisible boundary you were not previously aware of.

“Keep going,” he whines, a little petulantly, hips wiggling against yours.

Lips resuming their ministrations, you place gentle, chaste kisses up the column of his throat and along his jaw, delighting in each soft sigh you manage to pull from him. The game playing on the TV suddenly halts, Tomura throwing the controller on the couch cushion next to you before large hands cup your face in a tender way you did not think him capable of.

Your mouths slot together, kissing messily, saliva glistening on your chins as you pass his watermelon gum back and forth between yourselves. It’s kinda gross, kinda filthy, juvenile and sloppy, but it’s fun, has the two of you giggling into each other’s mouths, a little breathless from it all.

“Wanna ride you,” you murmur, almost shyly, against his slippery lips.

“Yeah?” he rasps, just barely bouncing you in his lap. “You wanna use my cock to get off?”

“Yes, please,” the plead comes out as a pathetic whimper, and you squirm impatiently.

Finally, finally you get to cum. In this position, you have leverage over the angle of your hips, able to situate yourself just right, so his cockhead nudges exactly where you want it to.

He does nothing this time, just leans back and watches you with those dark, half-lidded scarlet eyes, hands idly exploring your thighs, occasionally raking his nails down them. He’s in a trance as he gazes at you, mesmerized by the way your eyes are starting to roll back, by the way each drag of his cock against that spot has you keening, by the way his name leaves your lips in broken little whines that have him gasping in response.

Your hips speed up, and you’re desperate, so desperate to cum, nails digging into the flesh of his shoulders through his thin t-shirt.

“Gonna—” he starts, breathless. “Gonna cum?”

You nod a little frantically as eager hips rock against him, his hands finally finding your waist and helping you move.

“Please,” he whimpers. “Wanna feel you,”

And it’s his begging that does it, that finally sends you over the edge, pussy clenching around him, convulsing almost painfully and gushing on his cock with a sharp cry of his name. He follows immediately after, painting your insides with hot cum as a curse hitches in his chest.

Your body collapses against him, going pliant and boneless as you both pant. Everything feels heavy—you haven’t had an orgasm that intense in a while—and the absolute last thing you want to do is get up and walk home.

Tomura can sense it. He can feel it in the way your fingers are knotting in his t-shirt, in the way your hips try to scoot forward, chest pressed against his tightly, and he wraps an arm around you, trying to keep you close for just a minute more.

Silence blankets the room as the two of you calm your breathing. You’ve been anticipating a certain sense of awkwardness to finally wash over you all night, but it never comes. Instead, it’s pleasant, and you hum a little, nuzzling your face into Tomura’s shoulder as skinny fingers brush through your hair.

“I don’t wanna go,” you say, and it’s so quiet, muffled by the material of his shirt, that he barely hears it. Maybe he wasn’t supposed to.

“Just stay,” he mumbles, resting his chin atop your head. “Text your dad some bullshit, or whatever,”

You want to. You’re surprised at how much you desperately want to.

“Touya will kill me,”

“Touya’s gonna kill ya either way, sweetheart,”

You suppose that’s true. Neither of you tricked yourselves into thinking that you’d actually get away with this. Touya will know the moment he sees you, will probably be able to smell Tomura all over you, but you can’t seem to find it in yourself to care, not in that moment, not when Tomura’s so comfy and you’re so sleepy and it’s all just nice.

Good, you think. It’s about time he gets a taste of how much stuff like this hurts.

And so you find yourself crawling into his bed, in one of his t-shirts, with bruises in the shape of his fingertips rapidly blossoming, heat seeping into your cheeks when he tells you he thinks you look cute in his clothes.

He latches onto you the moment you’ve settled into his mattress, long arms encircling your waist and dragging you towards him. One of your legs slots between his, and you have to stifle a giggle.

“Hard again, Tomura?”

“Shut up,” he says, no heat to his voice. “Can’t help it,”

His words echo your own, three simple words you’ve said so many times to Touya, and you feel a pang in your chest.

“Not my fault you’re too hot,” he continues, grumbling into your neck.

Honestly, you didn’t peg him as a cuddler, and maybe he isn’t—maybe he just wants to grind and hump against your thigh—but you welcome the warmth of his body nonetheless.

It doesn’t bother you, although it probably should, as he ruts against you, tiny broken moans and high, breathy whines being exhaled against your neck. But it’s so new, all of this is so new to you, and curiosity clouds your better judgement. While you’re pretty sure you should be shoving him away, reprimanding him for such behaviour, positive that’s what any normal person would do, you don’t. Little fingers thread in his hair instead, carding through silvery-blue fluffy tufts, reveling in the groan it pulls from him.

It doesn’t take long for him to cum, thick and sticky in his boxers, the material wet against your thigh. You’re impressed, both by how easily he cums, and how much he cums. You want to tell him, want to tease him about it a little, let him know you think it’s cute, but heavy, hazy fatigue begins to wash over you, and you fall asleep to Tomura’s soft breaths mingled with the sound of you phone buzzing, over and over and over again.

✰ ✰ ✰

Your phone’s dead when you wake sometime in the early afternoon, and for that, you’re thankful. Anxiety floods your stomach, bubbling up in your chest acidly as you think about what’ll be waiting for you when you recharge it.

Tomura walks you to the door, which you find to be very odd behaviour, but sweet nonetheless, and watches carefully as you slip on your shoes.

“Uh, text me later, okay?” He sounds unsure for the first time since you’ve been with him, and your expression softens.

“I will, if Touya doesn’t take my phone away,”

And you pretend to miss the look on his face, the way his eyebrows knit as a hand comes to scratch idly at his neck, the way he looks almost worried. It’s fine. You’ll be fine.

✰ ✰ ✰

He knows. The moment you step foot through the front door, he knows.

You knew he would, but it doesn’t make the glare scathing your skin any less terrifying.

He’s on you in an instant—you didn’t even know humans could move that fast—pinning you to the drywall, large hands wrapped around your wrists and forcing them above your head, keeping you trapped.

“You little slut,”

Unexpected anger flares in your chest, even though tears are already beginning to collect in your eyes, and you squirm in his grasp.

“I fuck one other person, and I’m the slut?”

You gasp the moment the words leave your lips, wide eyes searching his face and shaking your head frantically, would slap your hands over your mouth if they weren’t currently secured in his bruising grip against the wall.

The look he gives you is absolutely petrifying, blue eyes darker than the ocean—so dark they almost look black—his stare cold and hard as stone, sending sharp spikes of ice up your spine.

“You fucking reek of him,” he spits, face screwing up in disgust. You’re sure you do, too, after spending a good twelve hours in his bed, almost positive you can smell him in your hair, the remnants of cheap cigarettes and artificial watermelon clinging to you.

Patronizing eyes rake over you, zeroing in on the violet that’s bloomed on your neck. His nostrils flare as he stares at it, breath beginning to come in rapid, uneven huffs. His eyes slowly drift back to yours, an unreadable expression settling on his face.

It’s shock, and disbelief, and rage, and…and sadness? It passes too quickly for you to even tell, and then he’s pulling your wrists down callously, still gathered in his hand, and dragging you towards his room.

He all but throws you on his bed face first, breathing harsh and erratic as he exhales forcefully through his nose and climbs on top of you, knees on either side of your thighs. A large hand wraps itself in your hair and tugs, forcing your upper body to arch.

Glistening tears stream down your cheeks and you exhale harshly through your nose, teeth gritted as you urgently try to stop crying.

“Fucking answer me,” he growls out the words, but he sounds almost…desperate? You’ve never heard his voice like this before, and it’s then that it finally dawns on you.

You got him back. Sure, he’s furious beyond belief, looks like he could kill you right here, right now, with his bare fucking hands—but he’s also extremely upset, if the slight quiver present in his voice is any indication.

“Yes,” you wheeze out. If it made him feel even an ounce of the emotional turmoil he’s put you through with his whores, then yes, it was absolutely worth it.

“You’re going to regret saying that,” his voice is low, threatening, calm. It’s disturbing, how quickly he can switch, and a chill of unease settles deep in your bones—once Touya stops with his growls and snarls, once his voice becomes monotonous and almost serene in a way, that’s when you know he’s really angry.

Shoving your head down into the mattress, he tells you to stay fucking put as he gets up and wanders over to his desk. He returns to the bed moments later with a tool that vaguely resembles a pen, hand tangling in your hair again as he pulls you up.

“You know what this is?”

You shake your head as best you can.

“It’s a soldering iron,” his voice is still composed and collected, sounding almost as if he’s explaining something to a child, but there’s a malevolent glint in his eye, a look you’ve never seen before. “It gets really, really hot. I just so happened to be warming one on my desk,”

He says it so nonchalantly, as if this is an object one would regularly keep in their bedroom or on their desk.

“It’s not supposed to be used on skin,” he shrugs a little, twirling the tool between his fingers. “But today, I think we’ll make an exception,”

“What?”

“Head down, ass up,” he instructs sternly, pushing your head into his pillows.

“Touya, wait—” you start, the rest of your sentence muffled by the sheets. His hand gives one firm shove—a warning to stay down—and then he begins shuffling around on the bed.

Careful to keep your cheek pressed hard against the pillow, you turn your head just enough to speak.

“Wh-What are you doing?” Your voice is trembling, thick with tears, dense anxiety building in your chest.

“I’m going to burn my name into your pretty little ass,” he responds simply as he positions himself behind you, yanking your panties midway down your thighs and sitting back on his heels. “A nice, pretty, permanent mark so you, and everyone else, never forget who you fucking belong to,”

“No!” you gasp, beginning to lift your head only to have him force it back into the pillow with a snarl. “No, Tou—niichan, I-I’ll do anything, please—”

“No, no, no, baby,” he says over your senseless babbling, voice almost gentle, thumb caressing your silky skin. “Don’t squirm, now,” he chides. “If you squirm, my hand might slip, and I might burn other parts of your body. We don’t want that, do we? Be a good girl for niichan and sit still,”

And so you do. You should feel ashamed, pathetic, revolted that he’s able to manipulate you so easily, that he knows exactly how to turn you into putty to be molded and shaped as he pleases, even when he’s about to sear his name into your skin.

It burns unlike anything you’ve ever felt before as he carefully carves his name into the supple flesh, saying the letters out loud as he does so. It’s a unique, stinging-stabbing type of pure agony, one that sends sharp pain radiating up to your lower back and down your thigh.

Fingers curl in his dark sheets as you sob into his bed—chest-wracking sobs that have your entire body trembling, chest-wracking sobs that you so desperately try to hold back and swallow, to stay still, to be good for your niichan. Touya tells you to be happy, be grateful, that the temperature of his iron goes up so high.

“Otherwise, I would’ve had to go over it several times in order to make it really stick,”

It’s over quickly, though, a mere fifteen minutes later and he’s cleaning it with rubbing alcohol and gently taping thick gauze over it and uses this opportunity to take your panties off entirely.

“Good girl,” he praises as he hoists you up, manhandling you to straddle his spread thighs, careful of your now very sensitive bottom. “You did so good for niichan,”

And you can’t stand the way your heart weakly flutters at his praise. You can’t stand the way you instinctually bury your head in his chest, tiny fists forming in the material of his t-shirt as you wail, can’t stand the way he is still the only one you want comforting you.

His cock is hard through his jeans, and you can feel it pressing into your core as he shifts a little under you. It’s humiliating, but you’re powerless to stop your hips from moving in subtle little circles, grinding your cunt against the rough denim. And he lets you do it for a little, too, tender fingers petting your hair as he soothes your sobs, taming them to little sniffles and hiccups.

“Niichan’s gonna fuck you now, okay?” he asks softly, murmuring against your scalp, voice almost sickly sweet.

It takes you a moment to respond, eventually nodding your head.

A smirk spreads across his lips and he instructs you to get up, tapping the side of your thigh.

You lift yourself, walking back on your knees and giving him enough room to free his aching cock from the confines of his jeans before his hands find your hips again, dragging you back.

“Baby,” he breathes as his fingers spread your folds, his eyes darkening in a manner much different than before. “Already wet for me?”

Cheeks burning with shame, you nuzzle your head into the crook of his neck, whimpering a little as he pushes a finger into you.

“Don’t tell me,” he gasps tauntingly, voice dripping with artificial surprise. “You didn’t like being branded, did you?”

“No,” you whisper, shaking your head quickly. No, it wasn’t the branding that did it—not really, anyway. It was the aftercare. It was Touya’s cold hands gently tending to your injured bottom, Touya pulling you into his lap as he praised you and dropped kisses to the crown of your head, Touya getting hard from the punishment, from permanently searing his name into your flesh.

You should be disgusted with yourself, with how eager you are, hips wiggling a little only a few moments later as you whine out softly, “Niichan, cock,”

“Impatient,” he huffs. “Don’t get bratty with me now, you were doing so well,”

A pout forms on your face, still hidden in his shoulder.

“Jus’ want it so bad,” you mumble against him, beginning to slur your words. “Please, Touya-nii?”

He hums to himself, makes you beg just a little bit more, reveling in the way your voice begins to get desperate, all high and needy as you try to fuck yourself on his fingers, whimpering and begging with pathetic little please, niichan?’s.

“Is this how you want it? Huh? Wanna ride niichan?”

Mewling a little, you nod, rolling your hips into his palm.

“Words, sweetheart,”

“Yeah,” you breathe out. “W-Wanna ride you,”

Finally, he gives it to you, lets you sink down on his cock, watching the way you wince as it stretches you, expression contradicted by your soft moans.

He forces you to begin bouncing immediately, doesn’t allow you to set the pace—he never does—smirking at those little pained cries spilling from your throat, though whether they’re because his cock or the five letters freshly burned into your skin, he isn’t sure. Maybe both; probably both.

“Aw, baby,” he coos, tone condescending. “Does it hurt?”

“Yeah,” you whimper, the threat of tears stinging your eyes.

“Yeah? Yeah?” his voice mimics yours, pitched high and whiny. “I bet it fucking does,”

A hand travels down to grope your ass—specifically, the cheek with the brand—squeezing hard as fingers dig into your skin. You cry out, tears finally leaking from your eyes, chest hitching as you sob out, “Touya-nii,”

“Don’t ever do something like that again,” he says in your ear, voice low and dangerous. “Don’t you ever go fuck another man because you’re mad at me, do you understand?”

Heat begins to coil tightly in your stomach at his smooth, dark voice. “Y-Yes,”

“Promise me,” he growls, grip tightening on your ass.

“I promise,” you’re weeping as he gives one more harsh squeeze, pain scorching through your backside, a loud yelp escaping your lips.

“Bet his cock didn’t feel as good as mine,” he sneers in your ear, panting a little. “Wasn’t as big as mine, didn’t fill you up the way mine does,”

“No, no, no,” you’re chanting in time with his thrusts, eyes rolling back in your head.

“Probably could—” a low groan cuts him off as your pussy flutters around him. “Could never make you cum the way I do,”

A loud whine rips from your throat, your head nodding as he continues his relentless thrusts up into you, never once faltering. Adrenaline and endorphins rush through your veins, high off the heady mixture of pleasure and pain.

“N-Niichan,” you gasp, nails digging into his flesh through the material of his thin t-shirt. “Niichan,”

“Gonna cum? Hmm? Gonna make a mess all over niichan’s cock?” he’s asking breathlessly, slamming into you at a rapid pace and using his thighs for more leverage, hands gripping your hips.

“Uh-huh,”

“Do it, then,” he commands hoarsely. “Cum on your niichan’s cock,”

And you do, helplessly, incapable of disobeying a direct order, creaming so hard your vision blanks for a second, overwhelmed by the extreme, potent mix of pain and pleasure crashing over you.

“Who do you belong to?” Touya’s nearly keening now, hips jackhammering, making your body twitch and shudder with every sharp thrust into your sensitive pussy.

“You,”

“Tell me again,”

“I belong to you, niichan,”

And those five simple words—those five simple words have him cumming hard, hips stilling and cockhead pressed firmly against your cervix, filling your cute little cunt with his seed as broken curses fall from his lips.

You’re both panting, covered in a thin, sheen layer of sweat, your hair sticking to your face and little droplets of tears still glistening on your lash line. He all but collapses back against the bed, taking you with him, cock still buried inside of you.

“And I’m yours,” he whispers into your hair, hugging you tightly—too tightly—to his heaving chest. “I’m yours,”

Laying in his arms, in his bed, with his name burned into your ass, you wonder if you’re destined to play this game for the rest of your lives.

He’s yours.

Are you stuck with him now, forever?

He’s yours.

Will you every get married? Ever get the chance to date someone else?

He’s yours.

Do you even want to?

Laying in his arms, in his bed, with his name burned into your ass, knowing he’s yours, do you even want any of that?

No. With your head resting against his chest, rising and falling with his gentle breaths, slender fingers combing through your sweaty hair, you realize that this is all you want.

He’s yours, and you’re his, and that is enough.

#dabi x reader #dabi smut #shigaraki x reader #shigaraki smut #dabi #todoroki touya #no of course i didn't get the brand idea from jackass #what are u talking about #this tomura is uhhhh v different from break my bones tomura #ehehe he's kinda soft but also rly disgusting???#yucky yucky boi #i will DIE with that rich boy shig hc #tw pseudo-incest #tw noncon/dubcon #tw branding #tw dacryphilia #tw degradation #tw cheating #tw toxic relationship

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seijorhi · 3 years

Text

asks :)

i woke up to so many nice messages you guys are the best 💕💕💕

Coup de Grace.... SO GOOD. I love how you made toshiro such a supportive loving boyfriend. Made me feel bad when he had to get the ax. You really have a gift! You crank out these fics so consistently and it’s all quality!!! Amazing work and hope you’re staying hydrated❤️- @shadowkunoichi

ahhh thank you bby!! initially i was going to make toshiro a much less important part of the fic, like he was always gonna die, but i was gonna leave him nameless and not really give him much of a role, but i liked this better haha

Omfg Rhi the end of Coup de Grace with the voicemail was fucking genius. I gasped out loud. Literally how are you so good at making my heartrate jump. Also the smut? Fucking chef's kiss. I gotta ask though what did the boys do to make reader's friend stop talking to her? Like I'm trying to think about what it would take to get my friends to completely ignore me, and I can't come up with anything. - @ks350

!!! thank you so much, for once i’m actually really happy with the ending haha. as far as what the boys did to drive away her friends, for some of them it was enough to start spreading nasty rumours - you cheated on your finals last semester, you’re fucking one of the professors to get a better grade, and then when details of their own less than exemplary behaviour, things they told you (and only you) start leaking out, it’s easy to trace it back to you. it doesn’t help that you’re pulling away from them either, your new friends demanding so much of your attention. and for those loyal, dedicated few, threats finish up the job nicely.

You have given us all the goodness 😫😫😫 ... words are failing me ... how do you write poly yandere men so well???? Erasermic and bo/kuroo/akaashi are all i need in life and all i want!

aw, thank you!!!

MAM THIS IS SO BEAUTIFUL IM CRYING IM CRYING YOU ARE AND YOUR WORK IS A MASTERPIECE😭😭😭

sdfghjbvfghjkl i’m glad you liked it!!!

Would you say Bo is the kind of leader of the coup de grace trio? Or are they very much a partnership. Did they simultaneously decided to take reader or one mention it first? I freaking love your work so much. Absolutely saving my pennies for next commission slots!

no, not a leader. he is the one who ‘fell’ first and so naturally he got first dibs, but they’re all equal - and dw, kuroo and akaashi’ll have plenty of time to have the reader to themselves haha, but thank you!!

HOLY FUCKING SHIT THAT ENDING THO! IM SHOOK! THAT FIC WAS AMAZING! ❤️❤️

thank you so much, sweetheart!!!

Reader: pulls away from Bokuto when he kisses her

Me: What is you doing girl!! Get in there!! Get our mans!!!

(Also your fic was amazing you’re the best!!)

at least one of us should get the man we want 😭sdfghgdfghj haha i’m glad you liked it tho!!

rhi, that was fantastic as usual! what did the boys do to your friends and boyfriend?

the friends i explained ^^ but they definitely killed poor toshi. i like to think they drove him out to the lake, took turns beating him bloody and got rid of the body, but imagine what you’d like

This fic made my day so much better! I’ve been having such a rough couple of days 😭😭

aw i’m sorry bby, i hope things get better soon 💕

oh to be sandwiched between BoKuAka in bed wow

i feel this on a spiritual level, bby

I remember you’re post about yandere Kyoutani and this brought back many of the same emotions

https://archiveofourown.org/works/28878681

oh dang. first of all, love me that lil sprinkle of oikawa and makki, but yeah, no this was great. i need more kyoutani in my life

Hii I loved breaking point and read all of the follow ups too 😙 would you ever consider writing a sequel?? Like how would reader’s life at school change after what’s happened

thank you bby, but tbh probably not. there will be more miya twins goodness coming soon(ish) but i wanna write fresh stuff y’know?

#ask #anon #BD answers #fic q's #spoilers if you haven't read the last fic #kinda?

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sourstars · 2 years

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PANDORA HIII i know i just disturbed you like 4 days ago for the previous ask game you did but 4,5,8,13,25 or whichever you feel like answering HAHA :p ~ann :>

ANNNNNN HONEY U NEVER DISTURB ME IT’S OKAY UR ALWAYS WELCOME + I WENT A LIL OVERBOARD W THE LAST QUESTION LOL (it also includes a line from smth i haven’t published yet but i love it so much i couldn’t help it)

get to know your author!

4) favorite character you’ve written

ooo this was kinda hard?? idk i have a lot of favorite pieces that makes characters my favorite for a while but i think sugawara, ukai, dabi, or possibly even bakugou. i have a lot of plans always knocking around in my brain for them but i never actually write them so i think my favorite part ab then is the fact that their personalities are just so flexible, you can never tell where they’ll end up next

5) character you were most surprised to end up writing

kenma! i only have a short drabble for him but i never i totally planned to write for him bc i wasn’t connected with his character as much in the beginning, but i like to imagine him as a grumbly husband to a bubbly/sly reader sometimes!

8) favorite genre to write

genre?? i’m not sure actually, i’ve never thought ab it but if we’re going to divide it into the tumblr fanfic genres, i feel i’m a lil bias to say angst, bc i always lead with some sprinkle of it if i want a longer story to end in fluff, but for some extra info: my favorite trope to write has actually turned out to be strangers to lovers or slow burn bc there’s a certain twinge i can never get with another trope that just is so satisfying

13) your strengths as an author

that whatever i work on, whenever i publish it, i know i’ve put my all into it. cheers to you &i, love? they say it’s everything, 8:47PM, the cusp of you & i and more were purely based off of my own emotions and experiences and became my favorite pieces simply bc i can still see the bits of me i left behind in them. i don’t like posting things i’m not 100% invested or in love with, 95% max lowest, so i think one of my strengths is that i write what i want to enjoy, to read, bc writing them out can sometimes bc the only way to get rid of it!

25) copy/paste a few sentences or a short paragraph that you’re particularly proud of

okay this is cheating but here’s more than one lol

— shinsou, to walk into sunlight:

“He caves in fast, his fingers finding yours, and every inhale of his turns into a wisp of I will love you until the stars die and every exhale is the continuation; and I will love you even after.”

— dabi, love? they say it’s everything:

“you tell him that his name, in another culture, in another language, means dearly loved.”

— daichi, boy born of ichor and blood:

“The shouts of victory seemed quieter compared to them now; the rambunctious group of boys who simply just want to eat to their stomach’s capacity, but they have the ichor of gods flowing through their veins, and you suppose for a moment while they do fit the image, they must first get through the adolescence of simply being boys.”

— akaashi, unpublished:

“He told you it was a memory he has folded like origami, sentimental value folded into its corners with care and it’s kept in the box of his heart, and he told you he doesn’t think he will let it go any time soon.”

#ACK SORRY IT TOOK ME SO LONG #i don’t get notifs when i get an ask for some reason #👒: my lovely ann #📮: pandora’s got mail #🧦: pandora’s lounge

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hearteyes-for-killmonger · 4 years

Text

One Night Only 2, Part 7

But what DMs? Who's talking shit about me," you hiss mid-stair. He's halfway down the hall.

"Bring ya ass on," he whisper-yells and you jog over to grab his wrist demanding his focus.

"Tell me."

"I hear you," he says a little forcefully, unzipping the fly to his black Levi's and walking sock-footed into the main bathroom on the way to the toilet.

"Okay so? Why have you never brought any of this up to me? And how many of these messages you been getting?"

"Hella. Bae, get out I gotta piss."

"I need to see these messages."

"You finna see more than that."

"I don't care, I've seen your dick before.. Erik!.."

"Out," he points to the door.

Closing it behind you, you wait in the hall while he does his business. When he opens the door he double-blinks shocked to see you standing so close, glaring up at him.

"You never mentioned it... Don't you think that's something important to tell me?"

"For what," he deadpans. "What would you do with that information?"

"Tell you I'm not cheating!"

"I know you not cheating." He says it so matter-of-factly that it catches you off guard.

"It's just odd. Someone sends you pictures and you aren't the least bit curious?"

"Should I suspect you?"

"Hell nah! I'm very loyal," you scoff. "But with all these seeds being planted in your mind, you never had any doubts about me?"

"Once or twice," he admits, his forearm now resting on the wall over your head.

"WHEN?" Your eyes are wide.

"You remember when I hit you up and you said you was at the studio, but my producer ain't see you?"

Of course I remember that.

"I couldn't figure out why you'd lie to me about something that small."

"Erik, that was the night I wanted to surprise you by having your favorite cheesecake from Sugar's because I was excited you were coming home!"

"I know that now," he smirks sarcastically. It was also the first night we played with food and sex. The cake was a mess, we had to buy new sheets. "Only reason I was trippin then was cuz three niggas DM'd me the same video saying you was in the clubs with 6lack and that I'm a simp cuz the nigga was kissing all down your neck." He rubs down his own thick neck in distaste for the mental image. "I zoomed," he pinched the air, "She looked like you, her skin and her hair. Side profile. The fucked up part was I knew through the business 6lack was tryna collab and you were on to collab with a rapper. Plus I was away for a lil bit. But I looked at that picture real close and I saw she had green polish. Last I'd seen, you were wearing white."

"I've never even- ...what? Erik! You should've told me!"

"No need. Even if the rumors were true, I wouldn't leave you.. Not immediately."

"Not immediately, but you'd dip on my ass and I wouldn't know why." That actually kind of hurts. "I mean, I do get it. Cheating is definitely my dealbreaker."

"Oh for sure. Disloyalty is mine and I hate liars."

"Wow," I mouth just staring at him. "You really never hit me with the questions.."

"I checked up on you to make sure you were straight," he straightens defensively.

"No, I know. I mean clocking my moves. You never did that."

"I'm not your last nigga," his brow raises indignantly. "You know where home is just like I know what I deserve."

"You're right, you deserve the best. You deserve me," you smile, the smile drooping seconds later. "Erik, those messages.. all these lies about me. They really bother me and I know they shouldn't and that I should get used to it but I don't like having my integrity on trial like this. I don't get why people would say so much about someone they've never met, like I'm not a person with emotions."

He unlocks his phone and taps a few times and when he shows you the screen it's his Twitter account. His DM's are packed full of people, just like yours. It suddenly hits you how you never check each others' phones. You never felt a need to check his. He puts his phone in your hand and you scroll opening a random message. It's a nude of a blonde white woman sent with no other information. She's showing pale pink nipples and barbie proportions but he hadn't responded. The next message is one from one of his fan accounts sending him a bunch of hearteyes. He takes over the phone exiting out of that and scrolling. The next message he shows, they'd forwarded a post about you fucking 6lack with a sad face emoji. You open it and have to admit there's a strong resemblance, but you've never, ever cheated on him.

"What the hell? That's not even me, I swear!"

"I know."

"This is raising my blood pressure."

"It goes with the fame. They always talk shit about me being a fuckboy even though I been with you all this time. It just means you're relevant."

"There's gotta be other ways to stay relevant- Shh. Wait... You hear that?"

You listen to the air. It's silent, you just noticed. You decide to peep in on the baby. He's still knocked out. Though it's quiet now, he'd slept through another World War and it makes you wonder how bad Nay and Corey have been cuttin up in that apartment for this kid to be that used to the noise. Nay probably underplayed the severity of the situation.

Erik cracks the door again concealing the baby from your sight to direct you to the stairs with a nod. Leading the way, you head down silently

in search of Anaya. She's not in the living room where you'd left her with Corey and they're not in the kitchen, his favorite place.

"Where did she go," you mouth watching Erik peep through a window and cross the room. You look through the same window, see nothing, and follow Erik as he heads to the hot tub. As you approach, you can hear noises. Splashing, plopping, moaning, and..

"Shit, y'all getting it in ain't you," Erik grins. Anaya's body melts into the water as she grips the edge of the hot tub to hide. Corey hits one more pump and she hits him, not wanting to moan.

"GET OUT," Corey yells sending a splash out of the tub in Erik's direction. It sprinkles you both, but most of the water falls back down as you hop back.

"This my house," Eriks grins.

"And I like to watch," you add, humored by the fact that they can't find it within themselves to stop fuckin.

"Y/N get out!" Anaya splashes, water bouncing from her arch as Corey's hips clap against her ass underwater. You laugh holding your knees so not to fall.

"Get it Nay! That's how you get baby number 2!"

"GET OUT," they both yell in unison.

Back in the house, Erik's eyes are crinkled and he's trying to contain himself like you but you're both actually children and can't stop giggling. In any case, the two seem to be alright now.

"Baby. I wanna finish this conversation." You wait beside the sink looking at his eyes. "As you know, Anaya and I made a fake page and found some of the people who be spreading shit about me. Hate pages and they're mostly mad because I'm with you."

"I saw that shit. Sent them to Quentin and he said he traced the IP addresses of the two Twitter accounts we sent him, but something ain't sit right with me." He pours himself a bowl of Cap'n Crunch and leans against the counter to eat it, smacking loudly. "Who been watching us to know my schedule.. They said some bout me leaving the house and us barely being together. My tour schedule is public but other than that don't nobody but you and my team really know where I be."

"You think it's somebody on your team doing this?"

"Nah, everybody on my team love you and glad you're here to make me more manageable. They feel like they can snitch to you to keep me in line."

That one makes you giggle.

"I think it could be someone on your team. Someone you hired." He stares through you as he chews and you wait for him to finish his theory, on edge. It's all got you paranoid especially when he sits the bowl down unfinished. "Gimme your phone." He looks serious and confused, you hand it over.

"I'll be back," he says zipping up the stairs. Within minutes he's back with shoes on fully dressed grabbing his keys. He kisses you on the cheek and you jog after him to the door.

"WHERE ARE YOU GOING?"

"TELL COREY DON'T NUT IN MY TUB," he yells back as you watch him leave.

---

With nothing to do and no one to do it with you decide working on your music is the best use of your time and return to the home studio to work on track six of your album. Last you were there, you couldn't get quite right. Erik could hear it and so could you.

Pursing your lips you slide back up to the computer, put your Drop headphones back on, and play it back. Then you add the rap from earlier and play it back wishing the team was still in the house to give some advise. Hell at this point you'd listen to Courtney, the new and improved nanny.

Nanny...

NANNY.

Before another thought can cross your mind, you're tossing your headphones back on the table and running down the stairs out to the hot tub where Anaya and Corey are in their underwear slow dancing to Marvin Gaye. Rushing in, you immediately start looking for their phones in their pile of clothes.

"Sis. Whatcha doin," Corey asks still looking at Anaya but he can hear me ruffling through their things.

"Looking for a phone, Erik has mine."

"Under y'all coffee table," he says finally making eye contact to see your face twisted in mock disgust. "What.. don't act like y'all niggas don't fuck everywhere in this house."

"It's our house! That's okay though y'all just roll in where we nutted at, it's fine," you wave dismissively.

"Y'all can soak in where we nutted at! Have fun cuh' I skeeted all in this bih-"

"BYE COREY. Stupid ass," I mumble so he hears. I don't have time to play with him I need to call Erik.

"What bitch," he answers and you almost fire off, feathers ruffled and taken aback until you remember you're calling from Corey's number.

"Babe.."

"Y/N," his tone changes. "Sup baby, you okay?"

"Yeah I thought about what you said and the NANNY.. what if it was her? Not Courtney but the one I caught in my stuff.. Raven. She freaked me out."

"I think you might be right, I got her info from your phone. I'm headed to her now."

"You're going to her apartment?"

"Yeah, trust me okay?"

"Okay but I've got a bone to pick with her, I would've went just so I could beat her ass one time."

He snorts. "You're staying out of it. As far as anyone knows, you aren't the one who deals with this shit. You have an image to protect.. unless you wanna be painted as aggressive and reckless like me."

"I don't care."

"Yes. You do."

"And anyway you're not as reckless as they paint it and when you are I like it," you shrug resting your hand on your hip. "You've got character.. and so do I."

"Okay well keep your character over there, you got enough drama on your name."

Hanging up with him, you realize you can't call the bitch either because her contact was in your phone, but that can't be the end of it. It's not that you don't trust Erik, you just want your one hit in. Heading to the hot tub again, you catch Anaya and Corey as they're coming back toward the kitchen.

"ANAYA."

"YES? WHAT," she asks wide-eyed like I'm blowing her high.

"You won't believe this. I think that old nanny, the one who neglected my godson to play dressup in my closet, might be the one who leaked my number."

Immediately she freezes in place. "You know you did contact her before it happened," she points at me connecting dots in her head. "She was probably the type. No, definitely. It was her ass," she nods swinging hands like she's ready to fight.

"Godson?... My son?" Corey looks interested now, chin angled down like it better be a lie.

"Anthony, nigga. I hired her to give Anaya a mental break and the trifling hoe did nothing all day but walk around my house and go through my stuff."

"She ain't even feed or change my son," Anaya adds tapping Corey on his chest. He's pissed all over again, his lip curled in disgust.

"Hell nah where she at," he frowns.

"Erik went to find her and took my phone since he figured it out first. I don't have her information."

"Hell, I do." Anaya jogged up the stairs and returned holding the sleeping Anthony and a slip of paper. "I wrote it down after what she did cause I was ready to find her ass myself but didn't wanna do it here and drag you in it, you got enough problems. Sorry for unlocking your phone, but hmm," she hums as Corey takes the slip scanning it.

"I'm glad you did it," you assure glad to have the information now. Corey's already gone and when he returns he's got your car keys in hand, storming out the front door and you jog after him with your hand out. "Uh uh! Bring my keys back!" He looks at you like you've got to be kidding but when he comes back, you snatch the house key to lock up and toss them back to him. "Now we can go!" This time you don't stop him as he jogs off. You, Anthony, and Anaya are right behind him. It's the fastest Anaya has ever put Anthony in that carseat with him waking up only to look around and out the car windows, touch his shoes, and go back to sleep.

-----

Pulling up to the address you see Erik's car and hop out the passenger side of your car as Corey leaves the car running for sake of the A/C. "Stay here with my son," he orders to Anaya, slamming the door.

"Easy. On. My. Car," you fuss rolling your eyes. The both of you jog ahead to the apartment building and there's no elevator in sight. Without a second thought, he jogs up the stairs and you follow, walking up.

By the time you get there, your legs hurt but you make it to the apartment not sure of whose ass you can beat until your legs recover. You try the door and it's unlocked so you walk in, stopping short before you turn the corner. When you peep around... There standing with his arms folded is Erik in front of Corey who's threatening to kill someone. Never have you ever seen Corey this angry to threaten to kill someone but he's serious. Briefly you wonder why Erik's standing there in front of him like that and not brawling then you peep a little further. There's a gun pointed at them but you can't see who's holding it without exposing that you're there and coming in further. It looks like it's Raven's arm.

"You better pray you don't miss," Corey laughs behind Erik as he moves to block Corey's vital points.

"Say that to my face.. step around," the girl's voice taunts. "Scared?"

Corey is losing control and it finally hits you that Erik's using himself as a shield because the girl won't shoot him.

"COME ON," she challenges. "I don't want you here, I just want HIM," she chuckles.

"Fuck that," Erik retorts. "Never again."

Again?? You almost walk in there but stop yourself. It had to be before you. Yeah, that has to be the case.

"If you strip for me... right... now," she giggles, "I'll let your friend go. Simple. Whaddya say Erik? I promise. Baby, I promise."

Oh hell nah.

"He ain't doing shit bitch, shoot me. I dare you," Corey jumps causing Erik to shift again.

You can't leave and you don't have a phone to tell Anaya to call 911. Besides, neither of you would respect calling 911 anyway it was already out of the question.

But you also know if the bitch is this crazy and Corey is this mad, she will shoot him dead and Erik can't move because he knows she'll shoot Corey. They're stuck and she's taking advantage. There's only one thing left to do.

"BOO BITCH," you yell running around the corner praying you don't die tonight. You anticipate her firing her gun at you and slide as she shoots.. like a boss until she fires down. You try to dodge and get hit in the shoulder before Erik tackles her to the ground almost breaking her hand to seize the gun, snatching it.

"Corey, take Y/N and go," he orders.

"Hell nah! I ain't get shot to leave I'm in this," you fuss.

"She said she ain't leaving till this bitch dead," Corey points to the woman who's pinned to the ground.

"If it's by your hand, I'll accept it," the woman on the ground laughs like a psycho.

"Harpo who this woman?" You stare at Erik's head and he looks back at you briefly, sighing in irritation.

"You wanna talk about this now??"

"Did you put your dick in that bitch? When?"

"When we separated. It was one time."

You gasp. "You was fuckin groupies while we were apart?!"

"Baby.. yes, okay. Damn."

"So what was the difference between me and them? You were really fucking random bitches!!"

"You're not special," the woman he's sitting on teases and you finally get a good look at her to realize it's not Raven at all...

"Who is this bitch," you squint looking down at her.

"SOME BITCH," he yells.

"Psycho bitch," Corey adds. "Slice her fuckin titties off yo."

"Corey... Who's this bitch," you ask.

"Superfan. Stalker ass.."

"What?" Now you're really confused.

"This was never about you. She was tryna get to me," Erik reveals.

"Cuz you fucked her," you blurt.

"YEAH. I FUCKED HER. ONE TIME."

"What you expect," Corey interjects. "I told your ass to go get him, how long you expect him to hold out. Two years? Cut him some slack. Man was going through it."

"Don't worry, I took care of him then, he'll be okay if you walk out again," the girl under Erik giggles pissing you off for the last time.

"Uh uh, Erik get up," you command and initially he ignores you, but you tap his shoulder and gesture for him to stand up.

Groaning, he gestures to your injured shoulder but steps back and the woman chuckles standing up from the floor.

"I'm a beat your ass myself. Woman to woman," you nod feeling her out to see how she'll move. You haven't been in many fights in your life, but win or lose this is one you feel like you need.

"You can try, " she shrugs and you both move trying to find that in. She raises her hands like she's finding a time to swing and you wait doing the same.

"Hit me bitch," she laughs.

"I will," you chuckle ready to boo her.

She jabs and you dodge but her follow-up hits you in the nose knocking you back and you can see Corey in the background balling his lips like a mother saying you better not lose.

She hits you again and you miss her when you swing giving her the chance to grab your injured shoulder. Yelling out in pain, you grab her and scuffle knocking her backward where gravity does the work. She hits her head on the floor and straddle her to return the hits she gave you to her face with interest until Erik pulls you off by your waist holding you back.

"Put me down, I'm a drown her in her own blood!"

"Chill bae, I called my bodyguards. They'll handle her and her funky ass cousin. We need to leave though. Let's just go home.."

You still, calming yourself and smoothing out your hair before scooting to kick her one time in the ribs, "For Anaya," and once more "for Anthony. Now I'm done."

Spinning on your heels and walking out, you head down the stairs where Corey and Erik come down right behind you.

@ljstraightnochaser

#one night only #erik killmonger x black reader #erik killmonger x reader

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beca-mitchell · 5 years

Note

Prompt: Beca realises she has a toner for Chloe...

I was gonna write a headcanon, but instead of that, this lil drabble was born…Thanks for the prompt! The title is from The Head and The Heart’s “I Found Out”.

it’s the love that you might find

word count: 1686

summary: Five times Beca almost comes to a realization and the one time she finally does. I don’t think it’s super angsty, but maybe the slightest sprinkling of angst.

Read on AO3 or below.

one.

Beca has eyes.

That stranger was attractive, without a doubt. As pretty as she had been standing in the sunlight, imploring Beca to join the Bellas. Acapella of all things.

Just–

Maybe if Beca weren’t so mortified at having to perform an impromptu duet.

Scrubbing the back of her neck, Beca pauses. Maybe what? She asks herself. Maybe nothing. Shut up. Stop that.

She shakes her head, determined to ignore the sound of the giggles that echo around almost-empty showers.

She’s not going to let anything distract her from her goal of eventually moving to L.A.. Nothing. Nobody. Not even the prettiest girl she’s ever laid her eyes on.

two.

“I can see your toner through those jeans!”

Aubrey’s words ring in Beca’s mind.

Beca kicks her shoes off her feet and faceplants on her bed.

Aubrey Posen is quite possibly the most ridiculous person she has ever met and Beca scornfully reminds herself that she has met a lot of ridiculous people in her life.

“What the fuck is a toner,” Beca mumbles. She twists, pulling her phone out from her pocket so she can scroll through her unread messages.

Jesse, Jesse, Kimmy Jin, Dad, Jesse, Chloe, Dad–

She pauses, scrolling back up to Chloe’s latest text message to her.

Chloe BealeBecaaaa! Where’d you go!

She squints at the date and time, realizing that Chloe sent her that message during hood night.

Unbidden, flashbacks from the night float through Beca’s mind, persistent like a headache, though not nearly as painful.

Chloe’s lips had looked impossibly soft and Beca knew she wasn’t imagining the blush on Chloe’s cheek even in the low light.

Chloe’s smile drifts through her mind like a haze. Beca kind of wants to lean in–

But lean in where?

How?

She’s not–

Kimmy Jin chooses that moment to enter their shared room, startling Beca out of her reverie.

“Uh,” Beca starts, wondering if Kimmy Jin can see guilt on her face.

Why am I feeling guilty?

“What are you doing?” Kimmy Jin asks, eye Beca warily.

Beca blinks and realizes she had been standing in the middle of their room, absentmindedly gazing at nothing. She does not need to give Kimmy Jin more reasons to distrust her.

three.

Beca bites her lip, glancing over her shoulder to make sure Amy isn’t lurking or about to pop out from some hiding spot and scare the shit out of her.

Once she realizes she’s alone, she quickly opens Chrome’s incognito browser.

Her fingers twitch over the keyboard. She’s not even sure why she’s nervous. It just feels like the oddest sense of guilt and jealousy and anxiety all rolled into one ball of a mess and now it has settled somewhere deep inside her chest like heartache.

Is it considered cheating if–

Her brow furrows and she slams the backspace key.

Is having dreams about your bes–

“God,” Beca mutters.

is it okay to have sex dreams about your best friend

She scowls at her screen. Then, she scowls down at her hands as she types again, glaring in an almost accusatory manner at her hands, as if they aren’t extensions of her mind, but rather acting of their own accord.

–your FEMALE best friend

“Hey!” Chloe chirps from just beyond the bannister. Beca jolts and quickly exits out of the window. She spins on her chair, offering the briefest of smiles.

“Don’t scare me like that,” Beca warns.

Chloe lifts a shoulder and smiles innocently at Beca. “But then who would keep you on your toes?”

Beca can’t really argue with that.

Forgetting her previous troublesome thoughts, Beca rises and follows Chloe down the stairs, ready to take on whatever challenges they might face together as co-captains – and better yet, as partners.

four.

Jesse peers at her. “Are you attracted to Chloe?”

Beca gapes at him, disbelieving. “You just broke up with me and now you’re spouting this shit again?”

It’s not a new conversation. Beca recalls that she had spat out her drink the first time Jesse had brought it up about a year and a half ago.

“I mean, it’s a valid question.”

“I never cheated on you,” is Beca’s response. Her throat feels tight. “I don’t have feelings for her.”

“That you’ve admitted aloud,” Jesse adds, lowering his voice and looking at Beca with sympathy.

Beca hates that sympathy.

“I mean, I think you really tried your best in this relationship, Bec,” Jesse says carefully. “And you don’t need me to tell you that.” He shrugs. “I love you and I know you love me, but just not in the way that means we should still be together as boyfriend and girlfriend.”

Beca honestly can’t believe this is the same boy who sang “Carry On Wayward Son” to her out the back of his parents’ car on a hot summer’s day in Atlanta.

“But I don’t have feelings for Chloe. She’s–” Beca gestures vaguely, like Jesse should understand her thoughts immediately.

Jesse opens his mouth like he wants to say more. But he just offers Beca a pleasant-enough smile, all things considered, and sits back in his chair.

four and a half.

Belatedly, as Beca lies awake that night staring forlornly at the empty side of the bed she shares with Chloe, Beca realizes that Jesse had only brought up the question of being attracted to Chloe.

She scowls.

That’s dumb, she tells herself finally, as she falls asleep. Anybody with eyes is attracted to Chloe Beale.

five.

Chloe’s lips are impossibly soft.

Like Beca always imagined them to be.

Chloe tilts her head, inching closer to Beca. Her fingers tighten momentarily around strands of Beca’s hair before her hand falls away.

They had just been talking. Talking and catching up and doing things that friends do.

Then–

“You kissed me,” Beca says numbly. Chloe has long since pulled back and her eyes shine with something almost unrecognizable. Only almost because the same emotion echoes somewhere inside Beca’s chest, desperately trying to claw itself out.

“I did,” Chloe replies. She bites her lip, leaning back on the couch. “Is that…okay?”

“I–”

And for once, Beca doesn’t have any distractions or any mindblocks to fall back on. All she has is Chloe sitting in front of her, looking simultaneously hopeful and terrified of her own actions. That feeling resonates with Beca and she honestly doesn’t know what to do or say in that moment.

“Why did you kiss me?” Beca asks weakly. “I–”

“I’m sorry,” Chloe says immediately. “I’m so sorry, I just thought–”

Beca stands up and paces, running a hand through her hair. Every moment - every memory - from the past six years comes rushing back and it sends such a shock through Beca that it roots her straight to the spot.

Behind her, Chloe sniffles and shifts. In her periphery, Beca sees her stand from the couch.

“I’m just going to go,” Chloe says softly. “I–I’m so sorry, I thought maybe you felt the same way and I just–” Chloe sounds increasingly distressed and Beca can do no more than to struggle out of her own thoughts so she can do something – anything before it’s too late.

Everything in Beca’s life feels like it’s a touch too late. Her life is the result of hesitation and wariness. Cautiousness.

I’m sorry.

one, again.

Beca has eyes–

And every other functioning sense as well. The objectivity of sight and sound and touch were always enough for Beca, such that she let her brain run on autopilot and left her heart unattended.

I’m sorry, Beca thinks as her brain finally catches up to Chloe’s kiss.

But mostly it feels like she’s apologizing to her heart in some way. Apologizing for denying her heart the freedom it deserved; the freedom necessary to hold all the love and desire she has for Chloe Beale.

“Wait,” Beca calls, spinning on her heel. As quickly as the numbness had spread, it dissipates in a whoosh of air. Suddenly, Beca is breathless with love and affection, years of repression screaming out as she locks it away.

Some might not be so lucky to experience it all at once, but for Beca, it was a long time coming and she realizes she has been waiting a lifetime to embrace this–

Years to finally embrace Chloe Beale–

Chloe turns, halfway to the door. She looks surprised and concerned, ever the caring friend first and foremost.

“I don’t know–” Beca says, realizing she has no words prepared for this moment. “I don’t know how–”

“That’s okay,” Chloe says, almost as breathless as Beca feels. “Are you…?” Her question trails off, like neither of them are actually prepared for this.

She pulls Chloe in – one hand on her waist, the other lingering somewhere near the neckline of Chloe’s shirt (as close to her heart as she dares) – and kisses her like it’s the first day of the rest of their lives.

She can feel every curve of Chloe’s body vividly; she can feel the warmth of Chloe’s breath just before their lips meet again; she can feel Chloe’s lips against hers–

“Wow,” Chloe mumbles against Beca’s mouth. “Okay.”

If it were any other situation, Beca would have laughed a little at Chloe’s dorkiness, but she honestly can’t help but agree.

#bechloe #beca mitchell #chloe beale #pitch perfect #my fanfic #prompt #asweetmelodytrickling #ask #pp #mine

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