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olivemac · 3 years

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heartbeat | chapter two | b.b.

Summary | When Steve Rogers asks Kate Stark to find the Winter Soldier, she gets too involved.

Notes | Captain America: Civil War re-write, essentially. Starts just after the events of CA: Winter Soldier.

Pairing | Bucky Barnes x fem!oc, Bucky Barnes x Stark!oc

Genre | romance

Rating | explicit

Story Warnings | angst, fluff, romance tropes, so many romance tropes, coarse language, alcohol use, canon-typical violence , smut (m/f), oral sex (f&m receiving), 18+ ONLY

Chapter Warnings | coarse language

master list | AO3 link

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prev chapter

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Kate is on the next commercial flight to Bucharest. She's worried Bucky will move on before she can get to him, but she knows Tony would never approve of the use of one of his jets to chase down an ex-assassin in hiding. The less he knows, the better. Which is why she told him she was escaping to Europe for a long respite after feeling oh so overwhelmed with her work at Stark Industries.

Tony barely bats an eye when she told him. There were some advantages to being Tony Starks' baby sister. The first being he feels guilty about his ineptness at raising her after their parents' death and would literally let her get away with murder. The second is an almost unlimited bank account left to her by her father and supplemented by Tony's previously mentioned guilt.

Kate Stark was her mother’s mid-life crisis. Maria, three decades younger than her husband, had – at forty-two years old – decided she wanted another baby. Tony, who was eighteen at the time, had balked at the idea. But Howard relented and called in the best team of fertility doctors money could buy, and Kate was born.

She doesn't remember her parents, not really. She was only three when they died, and she doesn't remember that event either. Though she was there, in the car, when it crashed on Long Island.

Tony's only ever spoken to her about it once, after she accused him of hating her for surviving when their parents died. Really, he hated that he survived.

When rescue workers arrived at the scene of the wreck, they found her parents dead in the front seat and her tucked safely into her car seat in the back, bundled up against the December cold. She was an orphan, and Tony, at twenty-one, was suddenly responsible for a toddler.

So, he did the only thing he could think of. He hired a series of nannies to raise her, then sent her off to boarding school as soon as she was old enough, all the while playing genius, billionaire playboy.

He wasn’t surprised when it turned out she was just as smart as him or their father. And it surprised him less when she followed in his footsteps and attended MIT. What did surprise him was when she started hacking government databases for fun. She only agreed to work for him at Stark Industries in exchange for him not sticking Rhodey on her after she released documents regarding the US Air Force‘s involvement in some less that savory overseas dealings.

On the plane, she starts an email to Steve telling him where she was headed and what she had found. Then she deletes it and starts over. Then deletes that. She chews her thumbnail and thinks. If she tells Steve where Bucky is, he'll come blazing in, shield at the ready, and Bucky will.... She doesn’t know what Bucky will do, but she has a feeling the encounter would end with a fight and Bucky running. Which will kill Steve. Again. So, she decides she doesn't need to tell Steve – not right away. She'll see if she can figure out what Bucky remembers – if anything – before telling Steve where he is.

_____

A little over forty-eight hours after her software found Bucky, Kate is assembling IKEA furniture in her new studio apartment in Romania. Getting the landlord to lease her the empty flat next to Bucky's was easy enough when Kate offered him double what he was asking in rent. He was discreet enough to not ask any questions. Most of the people in the building were hiding from something so a young American woman who paid cash upfront wasn't the most unusual thing he'd dealt with.

She makes her bed, unpacks her suitcase, and re-reads the Winter Soldier file. That night she dreams of her parents and the wreck that killed them. In the dream there's always a man outside of the car, but she can never see his face. Her father begs for help: "Help my wife, my daughter. Please. Help."

She wakes up sweating, a scream caught in her throat.

_____

The apartment next to his is no longer empty. Bucky can hear music and soft footsteps through the paper-thin walls. If he focuses his hearing, he can hear a heartbeat other than his own, but he's working to turn off the super soldier reflexes, so he tries to ignore it. He's enjoyed the silence that the empty apartment afforded him, and he hopes the new tenant isn’t as nosy as his neighbor in Kiev who had asked so many questions. He hadn't stayed long after that meeting.

Around two in the morning, he wakes to the sound of a strangled cry from his new neighbor. Bucky sits up straight, suddenly on alert. He listens closely, focusing for the sounds of a struggle, but he only hears the unfamiliar heartbeat. His neighbor was having a nightmare, he imagines. He had plenty of those himself.

Sometimes he was staring down the barrel of a gun, his only intent to kill. Other nightmares took him back to the HYDRA base and their machine that scrambled his thoughts over and over again. And others found him falling from a train, the blonde man from the Triskelion reaching out toward him. He always wakes up just before he hits the icy river he knows awaits him.

Bucky knows now that the blonde man is Steve Rogers. Without HYDRA's influence, he's started to remember more: flashes of Steve and a group called the Howling Commandos during the war, but also flashes of Steve before the war, smaller, shorter. And flashes of a family – his family – a father, a mother, a sister. Rebecca. The name comes to him one afternoon while he's browsing the used bookstore near his flat.

He's started eating plums and jogging to improve his memory. He isn't sure if it's helping, but the memories are becoming longer and more frequent. He sees himself with Steve at Coney Island, riding the Cyclone until Steve lost his lunch and Bucky laughed so hard tears were streaming down his face, and he sees himself flirting with an auburn-haired combat nurse in Italy, following her back to her tent and undressing her slowly.

He wakes the next morning feeling restless. He had slept in fits and starts, listening for any more disturbances from next door. None came.

He dresses and goes for a run, and when he returns, he catches his first glimpse of his new neighbor. She's coming out of her apartment, her face turned downward toward her phone. When he reaches the top of the stairs, she lifts her head and smiles. Bucky is struck by how pretty she is, a thought he hasn't let himself have since leaving HYDRA. He turns away quickly and slams the door to his own apartment. He doesn't need pink lips and dark curls reminding him of what he can never have again. He's too broken for her, or anyone else for that matter.

_____

Bucky has seen his new neighbor more times in five days than he's seen anyone else in the building over the past two months. They always seem to be coming or going at the same time.

The first time he actually speaks to her, she's dropping groceries up the stairs from a rip in her canvas bag.

"Fuck," she mutters as an apple rolls beneath the railing and falls to the landing below.

Bucky has a brief vision of her uttering that same word while his head is buried between her legs, but he shakes if off quickly.

"Let me," he says in English, scooping up some rogue potatoes and taking the bag from her.

"Thanks," she says before unlocking her door and holding it open for him.

Her apartment is the same layout as his – one room, with a tiny bathroom at the front and a small kitchen along the back wall. He sets the bag of groceries on the kitchen counter and steps back.

"I should—"

"Thank you—"

They both speak at the same time. Bucky bows his head and motions for her to continue.

"Thank you for your help." She pauses. "And it's nice to speak English for a change. My Romanian is atrocious," she laughs. "How’d you guess?"

"All the music you listen to is in English," he replies brusquely.

She cringes. "Sorry. I'll turn it down."

"No," he says, "It's fine. Really."

There's an awkward pause as they both stare at each other.

Bucky breaks the silence first. "I should go."

"Right." She leads him to the door. "Thanks."

Bucky nods.

When his own apartment door closes behind him, he sighs and scrubs his right hand over his face. He needs to avoid her. He doesn't need anything to distract him from regaining his memories, and he certainly doesn't need to get close to someone he'll inevitably hurt. He doesn’t even begin let himself entertain the thought that she could be a HYDRA agent waiting to turn him in.

_____

Later that evening, he's startled by a knock at his door. When he peers into the hallway, there's a plate of food on the floor, covered with a cloth and a note. He picks it up.

Thanks for saving my groceries.

- Kate

Bucky considers the possibilities that she is a HYDRA agent and the food is poisoned, but he decides it's unlikely HYDRA would take that approach. If anything, they would want their soldier back, and if they didn't, they wouldn't kill him quickly. Also, he can't remember the last time he had a home-cooked meal – definitely before the war – and he’s starving. Protein bars aren’t really cutting it anymore.

He studies the note as he eats. He runs his fingers over the name written in curling handwriting: Kate, and debates what his next move should be. He needs to ignore her – for her own safety – but his mother raised a gentleman so he should at least thank her for dinner, right?

_____

Kate nearly steps on the plate when she leaves her flat the next morning for a run. It’s sitting right at her doorway, clean, the dish towel she had with it folded with a note peeking out.

Kate,

You’re welcome. Thank you for dinner.

- Bucky

If she knew how long Bucky had agonized over whether to write back, she probably would have cried. Kate definitely would have cried if she knew he had debated whether or not to sign the note “Bucky” or “James.” He’s been using James at any off-the-books odd jobs he can get, but with his memories returning, he’s been feeling more like the Bucky Steve referred to in DC.

_____

Kate makes a potato soup that night and leaves it outside his door sans note. She brings him dinner for a week straight before she asks him to dine with her.

"Come over,” she says the next time they pass in the hall.

"What?" Bucky freezes.

"Come over tonight,” Kate repeats, “for dinner.”

"Why?" He sounds rude. He should really work on that, but she’s caught him in one of his broodier moods after another sleepless night.

"Why not?” she shrugs. “I have wine."

He’s staring at her. He realizes he needs to stop staring at her and answer.

“Okay.”

“Seven thirty?” she suggests.

"Okay," he replies.

"Okay," she laughs.

For a second, Bucky wonders if she's laughing at him, but there's a softness in her eyes that makes him think not. Talking to women used to be easy, he thinks. It took him hours to come up with the simplest response to her note the other night, and now he can't even form a sentence in front of her. He spends the rest of the day worrying he's made a huge mistake in accepting her invitation.

He's not the only one. Kate has half a mind to call it all off, phone Steve, and get on the next plane back to New York. What if he doesn't remember anything? What if he's still the Winter Soldier? She has a brief vision of Bucky snapping and wrapping that metal hand he's been hiding around her throat – and not in a fun way. But when he knocks on her door at seven thirty, she thinks she might actually die from how sweet he looks.

"Hi," she says.

"Hi," he responds, running his tongue over his lips nervously.

They're caught in another awkward moment of just staring at each other when she finally invites him.

The old Bucky would have bought flowers and then made some quip about how the flowers aren't nearly as beautiful as she is, but this Bucky – post-HYDRA Bucky – feels like he's forgotten how to interact with women at all and his tongue has suddenly turned to lead.

Kate's debated how much to reveal about herself. Finally, she decides she'll tell him everything. Well, mostly everything. He doesn't need to know that she's a Stark or friends with Steve Rogers or here on some crazy rescue mission to save the Winter Soldier because maybe, just maybe, she read his file one too many times and got caught up in the look in Steve's eyes when he talked about Bucky. No, he doesn't need to know that.

Kate's also considered how much to ask him about himself. She wants to know what – if anything – he remembers, but she also doesn't want to give herself away by revealing she knows who he really is. And she doubts he’ll tell her outright. The fact that he signed the note Bucky seems like a good indication that his memories are returning, though.

"How long have you been in Bucharest, Bucky?" she asks, plating their dinner.

"Almost two months," he says.

"Here for work?" she asks casually.

"Uh...it's complicated," he says, scratching at the back of his neck. "You?"

She looks up at him. "It's complicated."

They're staring at each other again, and Bucky has to force himself to look away.

"Family?" she asks.

"Also complicated," he says. God, he thinks, he sounds like a jackass. But it's not like he can tell her he's a ninety-eight-year-old ex-assassin in hiding so his family is probably long dead.

She motions for him to sit at her small kitchen table and sets a plate in front of him.

"You're not hiding a wedding ring under those gloves, are you?" she asks, a smirk on her lips. She knows about his arm; she just wants to see what he’ll give away.

He blushes and looks at his hands. Then he realizes he's taking too long to answer, and she probably thinks he's an idiot. "No... uh...no. No," he finally says without elaborating.

Kate can sense he's nervous so she does what Tony would do in a situation like this and just keeps talking. She tells him about Tony – minus the Stark detail. She talks about MIT and New York and the last book she read. He listens closely, laughing softly when she makes jokes and asking questions where appropriate. He likes the way her lips look when they form his name and the way her eyes light up at her own humor.

When they finish eating, Bucky helps her wash dishes. She considers asking him to stay, watch a movie or something, but then she thinks maybe she should take this slowly, not overwhelm him, so she bids him goodnight and closes the door behind him.

Bucky thinks Kate might be the most beautiful woman he’s ever seen. Then he thinks that might be because she’s the first woman he’s interacted with in so long. Either way, he tries not to think of her that night when his body remembers what it's like to be a man.

He decides that staying away from her would be too hard.

On the other side of the wall, she’s thinking of him, too. She hadn't expected his eyes to be so impossibly blue. She had stared at the black and white military photo for hours, but seeing him in person, she was caught in the Arctic waters that made up his eyes.

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next chapter

#bucky barnes #james buchanan barnes #james bucky barnes #sergeant barnes #bucky barnes x oc #bucky x oc #bucky barnes x ofc #bucky x ofc #bucky fic #bucky fanfic #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes smut #bucky barnes romance

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chelsfic · 4 years

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Leftovers - Part 6 - Nandor the Relentless x Reader Fanfic

Previous parts: Masterlist

Summary: In which the reader and Nandor engage in some smut. There are lingering effects after the attack by the unknown vampire. A fight breaks out! And Fucking Colin Robinson can’t help himself when it comes to Scrabble.

A/N: Yeah, hi. It’s me. I spent all day struggling with this unwieldy beast and trying to shape it into something the least bit consistent. I really hope this holds up with the rest of the fic. I am also thinking that a vampire orgy is on the horizon, lol.

Warnings: Smut, Female Reader-insert, Reader is described as short and a roller derby player, lingering trauma from vampire attack, memory loss due to hypnosis

---

The horrible, empty echo of erased memories is still with you when you wake, like a forgotten dream that nags at the back of your mind. Nandor sleeps like the literal dead beside you and the inside of the coffin is utterly dark. His presence wraps around you. His solid body is a comfort and his scent fills the enclosed space--earthy and spicy with an edge of coppery-blood-soaked menace. It should raise the hairs on the back of your neck. Your primitive instincts should be screaming at you to run. Instead you draw closer to him, resting your head beside his, close enough for your breath to warm his lips.

The moment is quiet and still, despite the frantic beat of your heart as you recall the softness of his lips on yours and the proud, possessive audacity of his hands on your body. You think Nandor’s kisses must be at least as addictive to you as your blood is to him. Ever since that frenzied, blood-drunk makeout session you’ve had the memory of it running on repeat in the undercurrent of your thoughts. But, Nandor? Does he...want that outside the context of blood letting?

There’s only one way to find out, chicky, Nadja would say.

You lean forward, pressing your mouth to his cool lips, marveling at the contrast with your sleep-warmed skin. For a long moment he remains unmoving... dead to the world. You dart out your tongue and stroke it along his full lower lip, thrilling when you brush the wicked point of a fang. Your hands cup over his bearded cheeks, and you drag your fingers along his jaw as he gradually stirs beneath your touch. He wakes with a deep groan that rumbles up his throat and into your kiss. His lips move with yours now, parting to admit your seeking tongue. He catches your bottom lip in his teeth and nibbles gently, eliciting a pleased squeak from you.

“Nandor...” you pant. He’s fully awake now. His hand roams down your side, into the dip of your waist and over the round curve of your hips.

“Mortal,” he answers you, dragging his fangs along your lips with a shudder that wracks his frame. He brings his other hand up between you and brushes the tips of his fingers over your lips, “I can feel your blood. Here, and…”

He reaches down and just barely presses his flattened palm over the aching heat between your legs.

“...here,” he finishes.

Your breath falls from your lips in a shaky gasp. His touch is frustratingly light but thrilling all the same. You roll your hips forward, seeking the friction your body craves and Nandor obliges you, snaking his hand between your thighs to cup your sex and rub you through the fabric of your shorts.

“I want you, Nandor,” you hiss in pleasure, peppering kisses to his lips, his cheeks, his nose. It’s a declaration and one you’re not sure he’ll accept.

His mouth curves in pleasure at your admission. He wants to plunge himself inside of you and tear into your neck, erasing the foul touch of that unknown vampire. You’re his human. A growl rips from his throat at the thought.

He lowers his lips to brush against the shell of your ear as he barely whispers, “When I am with you I feel like I did with 35 of my 37 wives…”

He captures your earlobe between his teeth, letting his fang break the skin with a stinging little pinch while at the same time increasing the pressure of his hand against the bundle of pulsing nerves between your legs.

“...I feel as though I could never set another peasant aflame and...still be happy…”

He closes his lips around the tiny wound and sucks, moaning with the heady ambrosia of your virgin blood as you ride his hand.

“You’re in the habit of lighting peasants on fire?” you laugh shakily, your breath coming in heaving gasps.

He laughs haughtily, “I’ve killed a thousand peasants and drunk a thousand virgins, my human.”

Okay, pillow talk could use some...work. It doesn’t matter anyway because you soon lose your power of speech and resort to burying your face in the crook of his neck, breaking his hold on your earlobe in the process.

When Guillermo throws open the lid of the coffin you’re clinging to Nandor’s body with his hand buried between your thighs and a completely obvious moan dying on your lips.

Guillermo’s mouth falls open in shock and you jump away from Nandor, scrambling over the side of the coffin and burning in mortification when you notice the camera crew lurking in the open doorway.

“Guillermo!” Nandor shouts. “Haven’t you ever heard of knocking?”

---

“So...things are getting a little complicated with the human…”

Nandor is still seated in his coffin, one arm draped casually along the rim, and addressing the camera with an uncomfortable grimace.

“It’s like, do I want to drink her or do I want to do the sex with her?”

He looks off to the side, shaking his head in confusion. After a moment he finally climbs out of the coffin, standing and revealing the massive erection tenting his trousers.

“I wonder where Laszlo is…?”

---

There’s a saying in the derby world. “Roller derby will save your soul.” Sure, it might ruin your knees, break your nose, and deplete your bank account. But when you’re skating on the track with your league you can let go of everything else in your life for a little while.

The nagging black hole in your memories from the rave went away while Nandor touched you. But it returns with a vengeance soon after and you arrive at practice with a headache and a foul mood. Tonight is contact drills. Thank god. You really need to hit something.

You go through the motions of warming up, tossing greetings to your fellow skaters and letting yourself be in the moment. Your body knows these movements like the lyrics to a favorite song. You’re strong, fast and in control. Everything that you weren’t last night when...whoever it was attacked you and stole your memory. By the time you break a sweat you’re grinning with exhilaration.

You run through drills, losing yourself in muscle memory. The night ends with a short scrimmage and you on your ass after a truly impressive hit from one of the new skaters. The girl looks horrified that she’s hurt you but you just laugh it off, slapping your wrist guard to hers in congratulations.

By the time you step off the bus and make your way up to the front door of the house you’re feeling loose and pleasantly sore. And hardly frustrated at all after your interrupted moment with Nandor this evening.

Hardly at all.

As soon as you step inside Guillermo rushes up to you with a frantic look on his face.

“Nadja and Nandor are going to kill each other!” he cries.

Can you never have a nice, peaceful evening in this house? Maybe a game of Scrabble or a movie night?

All the vampires are assembled in the library and Nandor and Nadja are both floating in the air furiously hissing at one another like a couple of street cats.

“YOU BLOODY, SLUG-FACED ASSHOLE!” Nadja shouts, clawing out her arms and flying towards Nandor, who throws out a kick and sends her crashing into the opposite wall.

“Nandor!” you shout, disgusted. “What is going on!? I leave for a few hours and all hell breaks loose?”

“HUMAN! Tell your snake-ass boyfriend I am not to blame for what happened last night!” Nadja cries, breaking into a hiss as Nandor flies at her with murder in his eyes.

“Stop it, Nandor!” you shout, dropping your gear bag and reaching up to snag his ankle as he floats by. Rather than slowing him down as you intended, you end up getting dragged along the floor in his wake as he chases Nadja out into the hallway.

“Gaaah!” you shriek, hanging on to him and trying to dig your heels into the floor to slow him down. When that doesn’t work you forcibly pull yourself up his leg, grabbing onto the thick belt at his waist and climbing until you’re wrapped around him piggyback-style. You clamp your hands over his eyes and shout, “Stop!”

“Fu-cking human!” Nandor curses, reaching up and prying your hands off his eyes. “You stop it or I’ll drain you right now. I mean it!”

The threat falls flat, considering he’s currently in an apparent fight to the death over your safety and honor…

“If you kill Nadja I’ll never kiss you again...or any other stuff!” you growl, digging your fingers into his thick hair and giving it a yank. He hisses and swats at your hands.

Nandor actually pauses to consider your words, looking over his shoulder at you in hesitation before scoffing, “Psssk, you can’t resist my dark power, human. Now shut up and let me kill our roommate!”

Nadja has retreated up to the vaulted ceiling above the main entryway and Nandor surges upward after her.

You shriek in terror, “I’m afraid of heights, you jerk!”

“I’LL RIP OUT ALL OF YOUR DIRTY PUBIC HAIRS AND SHOVE THEM IN YOUR EYEBALLS YOU--!”

Just as Nandor is about to collide with your astonishingly imaginative vampire mama, Laszlo barrels out of nowhere and rams into him with a dramatic cry, “I say, keep your hands off my lady wife!”

Nandor launches backwards and crashes against the wall, crushing you and knocking the wind from your lungs in the impact. You both crumple onto the upstairs balcony. Nandor recovers at once, making ready to jump into the fray, but you’re lying on your back, coughing and wheezing as you try to get in a breath.

“Stupid...jerk...vampires! Knock it off!” you gasp.

Nadja flies down from her perch to land at your side with a moue of concern.

“Poor, baby,” Nadja coos over you before turning on Nandor. “Now look what you’ve done, donkey dick!”

Nandor kneels on your other side and whines, “I did nothing! It was Laszlo!”

You lift yourself up onto your elbows and eye both vampires with as much exasperation as you can summon.

“Enough! Nadja...I forgive you for leaving me on my own. I know how horny you are--”

“Thank you, human,” she sniffs.

“Nandor...stop trying to kill Nadja,” you order, trying to instill the tone of authority into your voice that comes so naturally to him.

He rolls his eyes and pouts but finally murmurs, “Fine.”

“Good…” you sigh, getting to your feet with a moan of pain. “I’m gonna go lay in bed with an ice pack on my ass. Try not to kill anyone--er, well...at least try not to kill each other…”

---

After a shower and some icing of the blossoming red and purple derby bruise on your right butt cheek, you make your way downstairs to find that Nadja, Laszlo and Nandor have all gone out hunting. Colin is sitting by himself in the library with his newspaper and Guillermo is tucked away in his room, talking to his mom on the phone.

“Hey,” you greet Colin as you gingerly drop down onto the couch. “Do we have any board games? Maybe Scrabble?”

A grin spreads across Colin’s lips and you miss the sheen of blue hunger in his eyes as he replies, “I think I’ve got an old Scrabble set around here somewhere…”

---

“...And then in 2017 it was David Eldar who took home the championship. But, of course, today the reigning champion is still Nigel Richards. But what’s really fascinating about competitive mind sports, like Scrabble--”

“What the fuck!” Nandor appears in the doorway of the library and you immediately turn to him and make grabby hands.

“Save me!” you implore dramatically.

Colin snickers under his breath, “Sorry, Nandor, I couldn’t help it. There’s just something about Scrabble that really gets me going…”

“Fucking Colin Robinson…” Nandor mutters darkly as he trails you up the stairs, following you right into your room and shutting the door on the camera crew behind him.

You plop down onto your bed, wincing a little with the pain of your massive bruise. When you glance up at Nandor you notice a splash of red blood on his chin.

“Have a nice...hunt?” you ask, trying and failing to sound nonchalant.

Nandor grins and perches beside you on the bed with a sweep of his cape.

“Jealous?” he questions with a smug smirk that bares his fangs.

Yes.

“No,” you insist. “I like my blood right where it is, thanks.”

Nandor narrows his eyes and needles, “Really...” His gaze falls to rest on the thrumming pulse of your throat. “Are you sure you don’t prefer it on my lips...or my tongue…?”

He crawls over you and the dark curtains of his long hair cascade down around your face as he bends to lay a kiss along your jaw.

“No biting!” you insist and he pulls back with a pout.

“Not even just to wash the taste of those joggers out of my mouth? They tasted like shit!” he complains.

You really shouldn’t be pleased that he prefers the taste of your blood over others but…

“You’re getting spoiled,” you grumble, reaching up and idly playing with his hair. “But you’re very pretty…”

Nandor settles down beside you and pulls you onto his chest, running his hands over your back and down to the curve of your backside with a lecherous leer.

“You’re the one who’s spoiled. I should have left you in the human cell to feed on when I choose…”

The threat is comically empty.

You roll your eyes at him and squirm up to press a kiss to his bearded chin, “Yeah, but then I’d probably be dead by now...and you wouldn’t have someone to smooch and cuddle in your coffin, so…”

He cups your face in his hands, drawing you back down and pressing his mouth to yours in a long, passionate kiss that erases the taste of jogger’s blood from his tongue.

“I suppose that there are certain benefits to mercy…”

Nandor picks up where you left off in his crypt. He kisses you senseless, until you’re a squirming bundle of need and then he finally reaches down between you and pushes his large hand down the front of your shorts and into your wet folds. His hands may have been made to hold a sword in battle, to bring pain and death, but they are also capable of the utmost tender and skilled care as he works you into a keening frenzy on top of him. You wail with the intensity of the orgasm that crashes through you and he keeps his hand on you, rubbing and stroking your oversensitive flesh until it almost hurts.

His erection juts between your bodies, obscenely obvious through the thick fabric of his trousers. You’re still breathless with the force of the pleasure he’s given you when you make your first shy, tentative advances. As soon as your warm hand presses against him through his pants Nandor let’s out a fierce growl and he grabs your wrist, directing you to apply more pressure, rutting himself against your little hand. You reach for the waist of his pants with your free hand, tugging at it and fiddling with the absurd number of buttons until he finally assists you, opening his fly and reaching in to free himself.

Nandor’s smile is goofy and pleased with himself as he watches your virgin eyes roam over the impressive length of him. You reach out to touch. He’s thick and heavy in your hand. Your touch is feather light, experimental, hesitant. You watch as his eyes fall closed and his lips part. Nandor the Relentless is at the mercy of his mortal pet. Your touch grows firm, more confident. He fists his hands into the sheets and pants out the faintest, needy cries of pleasure until he’s twitching and shaking in your hand with his own release. The cold spurt of his seed falls over your fist and stains the rich fabric of his tunic.

Now that it’s over you’re unaccountably shy. You tuck yourself into his side and hide your face in his shoulder as he recovers himself. You fall asleep like that, clinging to him. And for the first time in centuries Nandor sleeps outside his coffin, curled protectively around you.

---

You’re sitting cross-legged in the high-backed armchair across from the camera man. His question hangs in the air and you pull the hood of your sweatshirt up, tugging on the drawstrings to hide your face as you answer.

“Yeah...I’m still a virgin.”

Memories of the previous night swirl through your head and you tighten the drawstrings until only your eyes peer out from the hoodie.

“...for now.”

---

“Guillermo!” Nandor shouts from his crypt. “I have clothes for the washer woman!”

---

A/N: Ugh---please send me soft, nice things. I’m entirely unsure if I’m happy with this. The only part I know I love was the fight scene with Nadja and Nandor.

Tags:

@festering-queen @glitterportrait @kandomeresbitch @scuzmunkie @redwoodshadows

#nandor #nandor the relentless #nandor x reader #nandor the relentless x reader #nandor imagine #nandor the relentless imagine #nandor the relentless fanfic #what we do in the shadows #what we do in the shadows fanfic #wwdits fanfic #kayvan novak

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leerongrong · 4 years

Text

College Student!Jeno -

part of the NCT DREAM living the Y/N life collection.

full name: lee jeno

age: 20 [international]

height: 177cm

lets meet the infamous lee jeno

jeno’s a cutie with an eye smile, tall, and handsome

he has passion for multiple things; loves helping people, feeding stray cats, being an all around sweetheart

his love for cats got him a job at the local pet shop in his hometown

he works 2 hours a day after school, immediately going straight to work

the owner, who’s a lovely grandma, loves him to pieces

treats him like her own grandson; squishing his cheeks, gifting him snacks to bring home and even adding a little more to his monthly paycheck

she tells him people visit their pet shop more because of him and jeno always smiles and declines the thought

“this pet shop was already busy even before i worked here.”

although she’s 100% sure its because he smiles at everyone that passes by

so its not a shocker that the guy has his own batch of admirers at school

seniors, juniors, the lunch lady- you name it

everybody who’s anybody knows and adores this prince charming

most of the girls in school even go out of their way to watch him when he plays soccer or dances

people stare at him with literal heart eyes and they’re confused because he never seems to notice anyone??

the most popular girl in his class once confessed her feelings and asked him out a date

but got turned down by jeno

“i’m sorry, i don’t like you that way. maybe we could just be friends?”

the whole school went into chaos,, because lee jeno just rejected the queen bee- and no one’s ever done that before

and they’ve been hunching its because jeno already has a girlfriend

a secret girlfriend who jeno doesn’t admit to anyone

lmao truth is-

it’s because jeno’s a fanboy who’s heart has been taken by an idol

who’s none other than you

you’re the sixth member of red velvet

lead vocalist, lead dancer and song writer

born and raised in california before you decided you wanted to be a kpop idol

your heart breaks everytime you remember that your parents never showed you their support

they kicked you out the moment you told them about becoming an idol

you worked yourself to the bone, working at 4 different places just to save money for yourself to fly to korea

and when you do, your spirits were dimmed

audition after audition you were cast out, companies rejecting you left and right

the only company that hasn’t called after your audition is SM Entertainment

and by now you’re just about ready to give up because you know there’s no way SM’s going to accept you if the other smaller companies didn’t even bat an eye

until your phone rings

you initially thought it was the landlord, calling for the umpteenth time demanding you pay your bills

picking up and noticing right away that it wasn’t the landlord, instead one of the higher ups from SM

you cried tears of joy when they told you that you passed

you train your hardest everyday, along side seulgi and debuting together after 6 years of being a trainee

okay you, yourself know and adore jeno

yes you read that right, a kpop idol who remembers and love her fans with all her heart

well its because jeno’s been there since the very beginning

he’s been there when you first debuted, he’s been supportive and he’s never left

and you know him by name because he’s ALWAYS been there

fansigns, concerts, showcases, you name it

jeno’s always been there to support you and your group as you grow

you’ve always had a little piece of him in your heart because he’s different from the usual more older male and female fans

how could he not?

you’ll never forget that summer after you went MIA because of your health issues

you saw jeno again after months and in your eyes, he wasn’t a boy anymore he was a man

yeri and joy teased you a hell lot after you said it

“of couse you love reveluvs and what’re the odds! jeno’s a reveluv too.”

despite their teasing, you’re sure his eyes were locked on you the whole concert

and jeno would agree.

he remembers being brokenhearted after receiving news that you were going on a hiatus because of your health

he spammed your twitter and instagram accounts with so many ‘get well soon’ wishes

and jeno’s a loyal guy, he would never leave the group he stans just because his bias is missing

although he can’t say it feels the same without you on the stage but he still continued to cheer you on through social media along with streaming your group

he was over the moon when they’d announced that you’re coming back with a full album and concert no less

going straight to his piggy bank and breaking it open just so he could watch your concert

time skip to a few months after

today’s a very special fansign for you

it may or may not have smth to do with the fact that today’s jeno’s birthday and you may have pulled some strings just so the fansign happens today

you hope and pray that you’‘ll get to meet him today of all days

its because you have bought him a few presents for his birthday and you hope to give it to him

you bought him a cartier love necklace along with some perfume, multiple polaroids of you with the members and a very special handwritten letter

the members supported you all the way, they knew of your infatuation with jeno and you can’t bring yourself to care if you lose some fake fans along the way

you know the other reveluvs saw the gift and you’re glad nobody complained

the fandom p much knew how jeno’s literally the first ever to stan your group

they ALL know his love for you

and they all agree that he deserves your presents

although you heard some girls whispering dirty things about him and you

“shouldn’t she love us all the same? what’s so special about him?”

“inconsiderate to her other fans”

they were shushed by true reveluvs, the ones that that knew about jeno and his story

besides,-most reveluvs go to fansigns in hopes of running into him because that boy his HANDSOME and they’re lowkey staning him too by this point sjksjsgd

your fist clenched so hard when said girls came up to you and asked for your autograph

your fake smile is as clear as day, and irene tuts at you when she sees you rushing them away to the other members

which you knew was very petty of you and could ruin the career you’ve worked hard for

and you’re scared of what it might mean for you but you won’t tolerate anyone talking about jeno like that

you try to hide your disappointment when you don’t see jeno, the fansigning almost coming to an end

the gifts you preapared for him are still on your right, untouched

yeri nudges you on your hand and you’re sure your face lit up when you see jeno at the end of the line

a fansite took a picture of the exact moment and it clearly showed your wide smile, you looked like a fan who’s going to meet her bias and not he other way around

you wait and are filled with jitters when jeno finally stands in front of you

you give him the normal greeting, smiling at his newly dyed brownish hair and hand him the gift

you giggle when you see his face bright red and he’s ducking his head trying to hide his smile and your heart literally melts at the sight of his smile

while jeno’s literally dying inside because- you? his ultimate bias just gave him a gift? on his birthday? which you remembered? even after all these years?

he tries so hard to hold in his smile and tears because in no way is he going to cry in front you and plenty other people that are ready to take pictures

and his heart jumps when you, the members, and the people around him sing him a happy birthday while clapping their hands

even the manager behind you is smiling a little

while your agency’s in mock panic because multiple hashtags are trending on twitter

along with the footage of you and jeno

#y/nxjeno

#youandjeno’sshipname

and while jeno couldn’t wish for a happier 20th birthday, he’s not sure he should be relieved because now he’s famous too

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obxhoe · 4 years

Text

Leather and Lace || Rudy Pankow {1}

Lovers forever face to face My city your mountains Stay with me stay I need you to love me I need you today Give to me your leather Take from me my lace

(eek i’m nervous about this. hope y’all enjoy. message me if you wanna be on my taglist!)

CHAPTER ONE

ZOE’S POV:

Sophie’s alarm clock is blaring yet again after the third time she had snoozed it this morning. I can hear it in my bedroom… across the freaking hallway. I pad into her room,

“Soph.” No response. “Soph!” I whisper-yell. “Sophie!!!” She jolts up, ripping her eye mask off.

“I’m up. I’m up.”

“I’m leaving in 20 minutes for class, I won’t be home until at least 11 tonight, I told Liv I would have dinner and a wine night at her place.”

“I’m probably sleeping at Aaron’s tonight so…” I raise an eyebrow at her. Aaron is this new guy she met over Bumble and the two of them have been seeing each other every day since their first date 3 weeks ago.

“Alright well have fun and try not to do anything dumb”

“You know I always do” I laugh and shut her door, walking to my vanity to quickly put on some makeup and grab my stuff.

I’m about a quarter way through my senior year at NYU, and about a quarter away from an existential crisis. I’m not sure what I want to do with my life yet. Basically every single one of my friends have boyfriends and they talk about marriage and babies and all that shit. And it’s cute. But I’m fine on my own. My last boyfriend Peter always had me feeling suffocated. The constant “Babe” and “Baby”. The obligation of having to FaceTime someone all the time. Having to be around someone every minute of every day. I was exhausted all the time. Currently, I’m an international business major with a minor in accounting. Taking a full course load, and working a part time job in an accounting firm on top of that. I don’t exactly have time for anything else.

I check the time and see that I’m running 5 minutes late. I slip on mom jeans, a giant t-shirt I stole from my dad years ago and run out the door. The walk to school is always my favorite part of the day. The West Village was my dream neighborhood to live in and once I saved up enough money from working throughout school, I finally was able to rent a tiny two bedroom apartment. I mindlessly scroll through social media as I speed walk to “campus”, it’s really just a few buildings in the city, there’s no open space or anything. Unless you count Washington Square Park. I pass the West 4th street subway station and my phone fumbles out of my hand as a result of someone walking straight into me.

“Fuck. fuck fuck fuck.” I say grabbing my phone and seeing the screen cracked. This is not exactly what I need at this moment.

“I am so sorry” I hear a voice above me, “I’m not from here, which I guess you can tell. Uh, I’m a little lost. I think? I’m not sure where I’m going or what uptown and downtown mean on the subways. Sorry, I’m rambling. Oh my god!” He sees my phone. “I’m so sorry. Shit. I can get you a new one.”

“Ok chill for a sec dude” I stand up brushing my hair out of my eyes. “At least buy a girl coffee before you offer up a phone.”

“Oh you’re not mad. I thought most people who live here have a stick up their ass all the time” He says, and I finally look up at his face. Those eyes, those fucking eyes. My breath catches in my throat as I realize I’m staring at him. Something about him looks or feels familiar but I can’t place my finger on it.

“Uh yeah most people are like that.”

“So are you not from here?” He asks “Cause ya know, you’re nice and stuff.”

“Oh no I live here. I go to NYU, I’m actually on my way there now.” I look at my phone to check the time but I can barely see due to the cracked screen.

“Uh it’s 9:0-”

“Oh you’ve got to be kidding me” I groan loudly, class started at 9.

“Late for class…?” he asks cautiously, not sure if he’s going to make it worse or not.

“Yes. I have to go, like right now.” I say starting to turn to walk away.

“Wait. Let me buy you that coffee so we can discuss the phone thing. Today isn’t great for me, how does tomorrow sound?” I nod and he hands me his phone. “Put in your number.” I quickly type in my information and hand him back the phone. “Well Zoe,” He says looking down at my contact, “I hope to see you later.”

“You too, I didn’t catch your name though.”

“Rudy. Rudy Pankow.”

“Well Rudy,” I look at him, flashing a small smirk “I’ll be looking forward to your text.” I turn and walk away as fast as I can. Of all the things that make me anxious, being late to class is pretty high up on the list. But I think the idea of meeting Rudy for coffee is consuming my mind more than the fact that I’m late is. I slip into the back of the lecture hall about 15 minutes late, luckily not drawing any attention to myself. I take out my notebook and try to take notes, but my mind is elsewhere.

RUDY’S POV:

I don’t know where the hell I am right now. Chase was completely wrong when he said the New York subway system would be easy to figure out. I have to go film a few interviews for Buzzfeed about season two and I’m lost. Totally lost.

“West 4th street-Washington Square” The crackle comes over the speaker.

“Fuck it” I mumble and get off. I can just take an Uber, so much for trying to get the whole experience. I walk up the stairs trying to order an Uber, getting more and more frustrated by the minute. All of a sudden I slam into what I can only hope is another tourist, the last thing I need is someone yelling at me for looking at my phone.

“Fuck. fuck fuck fuck.” I hear a voice from next to me mutter.

“I am so sorry” Fuck. She’s beautiful, and I’m just straight up dumb. “I’m not from here, which I guess you can tell. Uh, I’m a little lost. I think? I’m not sure where I’m going or what uptown and downtown mean on the subways. Sorry, I’m rambling.” For fucks sake Rudy shut the fuck up. I look to her hand and see that I shattered her entire phone and my stomach drops. “Oh my god! I’m so sorry. Shit. I can get you a new one.” Yes good job. Just offer up an entirely new phone, that’ll help. I mentally smack my forehead.

“Ok chill for a sec dude” She stands up, locking her eyes with mine. My eyes can’t decide where to look. Her eyes? her lips? She’s stunning. “At least buy a girl coffee before you offer up a phone.” My face turns bright red. I’m a fucking idiot. She’s running late and I decide to just shoot my shot. I shove my phone at her offering up coffee. A smile breaks onto my face when she takes it and types in her contact info. Zoe.

“Well Rudy, I’ll be looking forward to your text” She smirks at me. God dammit I have never seen anything like her before. She spins on her heel and rushes away. I slide into the nearest taxi, not getting the chance to order an Uber. What the hell just happened?

ZOE’S POV:

I can’t get him off my mind. This isn’t like me at all. Usually I turn random men on the street down, I mean who doesn’t? What if this guy is a serial killer. God Zoe what did you do. Ok but he seems nice enough right? Ugh. I stare at my glass of wine, mind wandering.

“Earth to Zoe” Liv waves her hand in front of my face. I blink and look up.

“Sorry I’m exhausted. Too many unhappy clients today.”

“Uh huh sure.” She rolls her eyes and my friend Katie laughs next to her.

“What?!” I say, a little too defensively.

“Who’s the guy? You only ever act like this, all out of it and daydreamy when there’s a guy”

“There’s no gu-” I get cut off.

“Oh don’t even try. Who is he.” Katie slides next to me and pours more wine in my glass.

“It’s really no one. I met him on the street, he sort of smashed my phone. Well I guess I did. When he ran into me. And then he offered to buy me a new phone just like that. I was like well at least buy me a coffee first, you know, jokingly. But then he actually made a date for tomorrow to get coffee. He said he’d text me, but it’s been hours so I doubt it’ll actually happen. Probably is just being nice.” I mumble the last sentence.

“A guy on the street?” Liv raises her voice.

“Are you crazy?” Katie says, setting her wine glass down a little too hard.

“I know I know. But something about him just felt familiar. Like I had seen him before or something. He seems our age, he had these insane blue eyes. I couldn’t stop staring.” I look down at the table. “I probably won’t even go, it’s a dumb idea.”

“Dude, you’ll find someone. I promise. It just takes time” I look over to Liv.

“That’s the thing though. I don’t even want someone, I’m fine on my own right now. If I started seeing a guy, I wouldn’t have time for him, the two of you, work and school. I would literally have a mental breakdown.” I laugh. Part of me knows I’m lying. I don’t want a boyfriend, that part is true. But if that boyfriend was Rudy, I would have to reconsider. That’s crazy right? I’m definitely going crazy. I don’t even know this guy.

“Ok well let’s get drunk and watch hot boys on TV. There’s a show Liv and I wanted to watch on Netflix called Outer Banks. Have you seen it yet?” Katie asks me as she goes to the couch.

“I don’t have the time for that.” I plop down next to her.

“So that’s a no” She grabs the remote.

“I’m so fucking excited. I keep seeing stuff about the show everywhere, season two is coming out next week.” Liv squeals. Katie starts the show and I start chugging my wine so I can get a new glass. I choke on my wine and spit it out all over the ivory rug.

“Zoe! What the Fuck?!” Liv yells, obviously pissed I just ruined her rug. But I can’t stop coughing. I look back to the TV to make sure I’m not seeing things. It’s him, I could never forget those eyes.

“That’s him” I choke out, “That’s the guy who I ran into today.”

“Rudy Pankow? The guy on the TV right now? Are you sure?” Katie looks at me.

“There’s no way.” Liv shakes her head.

“I’m dead serious. That’s the guy.” My phone vibrates from across the room and we all look at each other. I run over to look at it.

Meet me at Think Coffee in SoHo tomorrow at 3pm. Apple Store right next door ;) -Rudy

“No. Fucking. Way”

Taglist: @pink-meringues @x-lulu @perkeusjackson

#Rudy #rudy pankow #rudy pankow x reader #rudy x reader #rudy pankow x oc #Outer Banks #jj outer banks #obx rudy #jj #jj maybank

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saladejin · 4 years

Text

Call An Uber? | 01

BTS x Reader | idolverse au, uber driver!Reader, translator!Reader | Fluff, flirting, super slow burn, angst and hurt/comfort, mature themes and eventual smut

Summary: Your normal life with a normal, yet inconsistent job gets drastically changed when your dreams come true. Sounds boring right?

What happens when all of this occurs, but you’re still doing something you love AND getting a large sum for it? Now there’s something to think about, and it’s definitely not what you’re thinking.

Warnings: Mild swearing, hysterical fan behaviour

Word Count: 7.1k (Chapter 1 is longer than usual)

A/N: Okay, so in my next phase of finally crossposting my works to tumblr, I’m adding this massive multi-chapter fic.

I began this slow-burner (emphasis on slow-burn) a couple of years ago, so it’s easy to see how my writing has changed and evolved throughout.

Basically, I wanted to imagine what it would be like to have one of those ‘chance encounters’ every fan has thought of at least once. Thus, this fic was born, and though it is full of coincidences and wishful thinking, I always try to work realistically to make it enjoyable (and not as foolish as the premise makes it sound).

I hope you enjoy the ride, and feel free to check out the rest on my Ao3 in the meantime while I try my best to transfer everything in an orderly fashion! <3

»»————- << masterpost | next >>　————-««

Reader 1st person POV

Imagine being asked to remember the most boring day of your whole existence. If you're anything like me, then it's a bit hard to recall...but for once I was certain.

Today was that day.

Or it was, until something outrageous happened. Something so unprecedented and so unbelievable that I struggle to recall it at all.

I suppose I'll give it my best shot anyway.

A clear and uneventful morning leading straight into the annoyingly peaceful afternoon, and I had still only picked up and dropped off a measly number of people. Yes, being an Uber driver had its ups and downs, and I had been one for about a year and a half already. It paid decently enough most of the time, and the job just worked hand-in-hand with the flashy new car leaving a gaping hole in my bank account.

Despite all these alleged perks, today had been an obviously gruelling exception.

The lack of activity could be blamed on a number of scenarios, for instance a public holiday or event stirring attention somewhere else. Whatever it was, it was decreasing the number of customers in this usually bustling city of Seoul much to my dismay. I needed good cash, and I’d been working my ass off lately in order to get exactly that. Even closing myself off to social media and other forms of communication with friends helped me focus solely on working nowadays.

I need a real job…

Then suddenly, even as cliché as it sounds, God decided to answer all of my prayers. A loud ding emitted from my phone and I almost veered off the road in sheer astonishment.

“Thank the Lord!” I pulled up quickly onto the curb and examined the Uber request, almost questioning if I had imagined the whole thing out of desperation.

The name read ‘J’. Literally just the letter, boldly sitting in the middle of my screen. I raised an eyebrow, and normally would have considered declining the request if it seemed too prank-worthy, but I needed this job. I didn’t think the person had even registered or used the service before, as there wasn’t a clear rating to be seen anywhere. Once again...I needed this job.

The pinpoint appeared nearby, and luckily it was only about a five-minute drive to reach the destination. It was located just outside a large shopping mall in central Seoul, and even though this was a seemingly quiet day, it shouldn’t have been this empty. There were of course a few groups of people and individual shoppers wandering about, in and out of the entrance looking for easy buys. Even so, I knew this place to be quite popular and to say I was astounded would be an understatement.

There must be something going on in the city somewhere.

Making a grab for my phone about three minutes after looking around for ‘J’, I considered sending him or her a text to ask where they were. The place was basically empty, so spotting someone on the lookout for their ride shouldn’t have been too difficult.

“They mustn’t be out yet.” I clucked quietly to myself, typing out a message to indicate I had arrived.

The gentle hum of my engine was the only sound accompanying me as I waited. After another thirty seconds, I received a short reply of “there soon”. I glanced at the simple words a second time before lightly scoffing.

“Okay ‘J’, I’m in no rush.”

Still amused over the less than eloquent reply, I leant back into my comfortable leather seat and hummed to myself to pass some time. I would’ve usually had the radio going, but for now I wasn’t really in the mood for any background distractions. I liked silence when it was comfortable, and especially in a place such as this shopping mall, it was rare to come by.

The reverie was soon shattered when faint sounds of various screams erupted from somewhere in the distance, and I instantly jerked my head up with squinted eyes to observe the area. Tinted car windows revealed just enough of the area to discern an overall lack of movement.

The paved courtyard outside the mall wasn’t occupied by a single human being, which was even stranger than before. The only moving things I could eventually see where a couple of dirtied napkins being thrown around in the slight breeze, and a ripped paper cup from a popular juice bar rolling around caught in the same fate.

The frantic screaming continued. Should I be worried? The shouting wasn’t in terror or anger, that much I was sure of. I usually would pin it on some brawl breaking out nearby, but these sounds where mostly female when I listened closer. In any sense, it definitely sounded extreme.

I wondered briefly if there was some massive sale happening at a famous clothes brand down the street, causing a flurry of panic within female shoppers. The anticipation from the sounds caused me to tap my fingers on the steering wheel in curiosity.

Then it happened. An enormous group of Korean women and probably a few men, some looking fairly young, flocked around the corner of a building in an intense hurry.

Was the sale here or something??

My eyes widened in shock, as the group only seemed to be growing in numbers. Many were holding their phones out, as if recording something, and I scanned the rapidly moving crowd with anxious eyes to spot the source of the commotion.

Two well-dressed men seemed to be caught in the centre of it all. The pair that stemmed this chaotic crowd were clad from head to toe in designer clothes, including darkly coloured masks and sunglasses, not to mention the hoods covering their heads. The shorter of the two donned a lighter colour palette through a milky white button-up, while the other was dressed in a charcoal black hoodie and black ripped jeans.

They appeared to be trying to escape the bundling mass of people, as they moved quickly and swiftly ahead of the horde in their haste. I gripped the wheel in surprise. The screams where deafening and I could feel them grating my nerves. I hoped my client would not be caught in this mess. I wanted out, and I wanted out as soon as possible.

Maybe they’re famous, maybe idols?

A small excitement sparked at that thought, but I was still daunted by the scene playing out in front of me. If they were idols, I felt incredibly sorry for them. This was a clear breach of privacy and personal space, and they didn’t deserve it at all. This was the reason for hatred against K-pop fandoms all around the world.

“Who do they think they are?” I found myself muttering, eyebrows furrowing in disappointment.

Suddenly, the more brightly dressed man glanced around and pointed directly at my car, turning to his well-built friend to shout something following a flurry of gestures. I stiffened and my breath hitched when both started sprinting towards me, their fans following desperately to try and at least touch them.

Oh no.

My breathing sped up and the situation finally dawned on me. The empty mall, the shady name and blunt text response. The timing…

I unlocked all my doors and gripped the wheel harder, if that was even possible. The mass of people followed the two guys as they drew closer to my car, and I prayed to God that they didn’t leave any scratches or dents by the time I was gone. The one that acknowledged me first reached the car, and I jumped slightly when he opened the passenger door and clambered in swiftly. The other darkly dressed one threw himself in the backseat next and I jumped again when both doors slammed shut simultaneously.

“Hello!” The first guy cleared his throat from where he sat next to me and I could see he was bouncing his knee in apprehension, obviously wanting to scoot the fuck out of there, but still trying to be polite towards me. His breathing was shallow, and I could see large beads of sweat rolling down the side of his half-hidden face. I was in no mood to sit around and ponder about him.

“To hell with this!” I exclaimed with a squeak, and the second after the passenger door closed I shifted the gearstick and floored the pedal. Making sure that no people were in my way before skidding slightly around the pick-up bend. Only the sound of one singular hand slapping the boot of my car made me wince, but I was glad there was no other physical contact on my precious red Hyundai.

Only the sound of laboured breathing could be heard amongst sighs of relief as we pulled away from the mall. I looked into the rear-view mirror to see some people giving a hearty chase down the road, but most of the fans had broken away and were just waving towards my car as we rolled down the street.

Adrenaline was pumping through my veins, and I could feel a small smile resting on my face at the thought of escaping something like that. What a turn of events for this tedious day! A muffled gasp caught my attention and I looked into my mirror again to see the darkly dressed guy’s eyes screwed shut as he laughed breathlessly, one hand slapping his knee. His friend was just leaning his head back against the headrest as he gulped in large breaths of oxygen through his plump lips. They had both pulled down their masks and lifted their shaded glasses to catch their breaths, but the sight caused my own eyes to widen dangerously.

Holy shit on a stick, Park Jimin and Jeon Jungkook are sitting in my car. What in the ever-loving…

My breathing hitched at the realisation, but I continued to drive steadily. The thing I needed to focus on most of all was getting away from the crazy population of the city. I knew internally I was freaking out a little at the thought of members of my favourite boyband sitting in my own car, but I kept it under wraps knowing they would definitely not appreciate another bout of whatever that shemozzle was before.

I guess nothing goes unnoticed when you’re that famous. Why the hell were they alone?

Jungkook stopped laughing as he looked at my wide-eyed and slightly terrified expression. He suddenly grew apologetic due to his unexplained laughing.

“Sorry, uh, just how you drove off… sorry.” His voice died down as he gradually started to regain his composure, and I watched a shy demeanour suddenly take over his form, as if he had been hit with a realisation of overstepping his bounds. Jimin just turned and glanced pointedly at him, and then back at me to search wearily for a response.

“No it’s fine, I’m just a tad shaken,” I huffed out an exasperated breath, amusement showing on my features at the maknae’s sudden behaviour change. The idol next to me cleared his throat as I turned another corner, luckily no traffic barred my way and I was easily able to fly down the main road.

“We’re very sorry for what happened back there, that was probably quite troublesome for you. We apologise for the inconvenience.”

“Seriously don’t worry. You guys definitely needed an escape from…that. I’m glad to help, honestly.” I smiled to ease any worry radiating from the two flustered boys. “J, right?”

I glanced upwards into the mirror to lock eyes with Jungkook, not missing the way Jimin tried to conceal a smirk from the younger member. “Ah, he’s not that creative with names it seems.”

The older boy’s melodic speaking voice caused my lips to part in an involuntary breath of awe. I had always loved Park Jimin’s voice, whether it be singing or speaking or doing literally anything. Jungkook’s amused exhale and gentle chuckle also made me quite soft.

“Ah, sorry about my rude message too.” He looked downwards and bowed slightly. I noticed how politely he spoke and my insides turned to jelly once again. I felt warm and fluffy from their pleasant mannerisms.

“Don’t worry guys, how could I expect an essay when you were running for your lives?”

The two boys couldn’t contain their amused smiles as they exchanged another glance, seemingly conflicted. I could tell they didn’t know quite what to do with themselves in this situation, as they surely seldom had to get rides from anyone else other than their own personal drivers. I saw Jimin’s brows crease in concentration next to me, as if he was trying to figure out how to maintain his sense of professionalism. His hands fidgeted with the hem of his shirt anxiously.

“You guys may want to start with an explanation, if that’s alright?” I decided to help them out a small bit. If I could establish a comfortable atmosphere here, it would be much easier to converse and work out what to do.

“I notice that you put the next street over as your destination, but I’m fairly sure you’d both want to go further than that.” I made my point with a raised eyebrow and gestured to my phone sitting on the dashboard, destination showing clearly across the bottom of the screen.

Jimin clicked his tongue and leant in to read my phone more clearly. My skin tingles at his closer proximity.

“Seriously Jungkookie, any other place would’ve been better,” he eventually spoke, and although his tone was whiny with complaint, I could see the traces of a smile dancing across his features. He was obviously trying his best to remain stern.

“Ah, sorry hyung. I didn’t have all that much time in this case, did you forget?”

The cheek of this boy.

Jimin turned around and pointed at the younger boy while failing to hold back a giggle.

“Oi, show some respect you brat.”

Jungkook was snickering to himself, and I couldn’t help the smirk from tugging at my lips involuntarily. The group these guys came from always had this certain dynamic of playful teasing that won over so many fans. I included myself in that list honestly, as I always managed to have a good laugh watching their energetic interactions. It made me feel so youthful, as though an inner child would come out to play even though I was still adolescent at the age of 22.

They were fine joking around with themselves for a bit, but I could tell they were still very conscious of me and my presence in the car. They stopped chuckling and Jungkook cleared his throat noticeably in the back, silently handing over the responsibility of the situation to his elder.

“Um, sorry about that as well,” Jimin began to launch into a heartfelt apology, his bouncy blonde hair lowering with his head in a meaningful bow. I stopped him softly with a smile and made steady eye contact for a couple of seconds. His oak-brown eyes were confused, and I knew he was trying his best to deal with the situation properly. Just as his leader would.

“It’s fine, no more apologies please,” I requested warmly, easing the tension as he leant backwards in his seat to relax.

“I just want to know how you both ended up there, if you don’t mind sharing that is. Also feel free to give me somewhere to drop you both off.”

Jimin glanced over at me once more as if calculating my chances of being a threat. I made sure to keep my expression calm and clear while focusing on the empty road in front of me.

“Do you know us?” the sudden question from behind caused Jimin’s head to snap backwards, and my heartbeat to speed up incredibly. It wasn’t an accusing tone Jungkook used, but more on the curious side. Jimin still showed slight disapproval before turning his gaze back to me, a newfound curiosity also flashing across his features. It seemed he became a little shy after the topic of their fame rolled around, but I could tell he still wanted to know pretty badly.

“I’d consider myself a pretty big fan, not insane but you get what I mean,” I managed to force out, swallowing the lump in my throat at the thought of explaining my admiration for them.

They were literally sitting in my car and I never thought I would be shy, but here I was with an embarrassed blush alighting across my face. Jimin widened his eyes next to me, his mouth parting slightly in his shock. Jungkook inhaled a sharp breath before letting out another hearty chuckle.

“Wow! I never would have known.”

“Neither, I guess you must not be as emotional as many ARMY are when they see us,” Jimin smiled at the thought, and it was easy to say he didn’t mean anything bad by the comment.

“I’m just here to do my job. I’m not usually one to express my emotions that intensely, but I’ll let you both know that you’ve made my entire day.”

I saw Jimin turn his radiant smile towards me with an abashed sound falling from his lips. “Thank you, you’ve done so much for us already. Thank you for rescuing us.”

I saw him throw a questioning glance at Jungkook, who in turn squinted his doe-like eyes in confusion.

“It’s (Y/n). You can use honorifics if you want, but I don’t care much for them,” I explained softly, easing his sudden bout of guilt for not even knowing my name.

“Ah, thanks once again (Y/n)-ssi.”

Both of the boys were nervous, as they had just learned that I was a fan and were probably expecting me to flip out on them at any given moment. I knew Jungkook was shy around girls especially, but even he was kind of uncharacteristically silent in the back.

“Don’t worry, I’m not going to freak out on you,” I assured them, keeping my eyes fixated on the road with a mostly amused expression. “I’m curious as to why you guys were alone with no protection out there. That usually doesn’t seem to happen.”

“No, definitely not,” Jimin sighed and I heard Jungkook hum in agreement.

“We didn’t mean to get separated from the others, we were all meant to just be shopping,” Jungkook huffed, and I could tell the young man was still shaken from his escapade from the mall. His large dark eyes were still slightly widened from the adrenaline spike.

“Yeah, everyone was together, and then we weren’t. Then the fans appeared and all we could do was run. Jungkook had to download Uber and make an account and everything on the spot. Lucky you were there because our drivers weren’t going to be around until a few more hours,” Jimin provided, his voice rough and raspy with weariness and relief. I could tell the shorter member was finally beginning to relax in the presence of the vehicle.

“Shit, I gotta call the Boss!” Jimin whipped out his phone and groaned when he discovered a couple of missed calls from his manager already.

I gave him a nod to let him know he could make the call safely. I wouldn’t record it or anything shady like that, I respected them too much and it wasn’t in my nature at all. Jimin gazed over a final time before finally deciding to place his full trust in me. I was already driving the car he was hitching a ride in, so trust honestly couldn't have mattered less when both of their lives were pretty much already cradled in my hands.

“I’d like to thank you as well (Y/n)-ssi, you really did save us back there,” Jungkook commented quietly as he leaned forward so I could hear. Neither of us wanted to interrupt Jimin as he fell into a heated discussion with his manager, or possibly Namjoon from the sounds of his replies over the phone.

“It’s okay Jungkookie, I know you guys deserve a much-needed break after all that. Sit back and enjoy the ride is all I'll say,” I said with a sigh, and finally decided to relax as well by releasing the tension in my muscles to sit more comfortably. I noticed Jungkook smirk cutely at the nickname accidently slipping out, and was just glad that he didn’t find it inappropriate.

“No, I swear she’s fine. She won’t do anything like that hyung,” Jimin’s suddenly louder response caused my smile to drop and my eyes to swivel around to the blonde boy. His temperament had grown agitated and I could see he was having difficulty trying to convince his managers and group leader. His round cheeks were blown out in exasperation, and I could clearly read the worry flitting across his expression.

“Jimin-ssi, if he wants to talk to me he can,” I offered softly so I didn’t spook him, raising my eyebrows in encouragement. We’d travelled a fair way, so pulling over was an option even though it was probably still too dangerous to linger in one place for long.

“No thanks it’s fine, I do trust you.” Jimin shook his head and I couldn’t help but smile at his kind, yet stubborn nature. These boys had no idea who I was, yet they put their faith in me and my driving ability for longer than they even needed to.

Jimin finished up with his call after another few minutes of stressed reassuring.

“Um, (Y/n)-ssi? I have an address I need to put in. If that’s okay.” He turned to me after letting out an explosive sigh, and I nodded towards the phone resting on the dashboard.

“Go ahead, distance isn't an issue.”

Jimin smiled at my response and shyly reached forward for my phone, still trying to be respectful.

“Hyung said it would be ideal if you dropped us off somewhere nearby the dorms so there’s no suspicion, but apparently all nearby areas are swarming with fans trying to figure out what’s going on.”

“Shit,” I breathed, the full realisation dawning on me. If their fans found out who I was, I wouldn’t be left alone for a while. I could imagine receiving threats and loads of unwanted attention, possibly not even being able to leave my house for a few days at the very least.

“So, you’ll have to drop us at the actual dorms then.”

“What?” I questioned in an instant. That sounded like the dumbest thing I’d ever heard.

“Isn’t that the area where most of the fans would be?”

“Well, most likely, but there's security.” Jimin ran a hand down his face as if trying to rub away the sudden bout of stress brought on, and I could fathom just how tired he was from all the rambunctious disorder.

“Why not drive you somewhere far away and get your driver to pick you up or something?”

“I did suggest that, but they just want us back as soon as possible so they can calm everyone down. I don’t mean to be rude, but they can’t exactly know or predict what you’ll do.”

That definitely made sense. Watching another car pull out of the building might also cause the fans to suspect the worst. They could even believe that I kidnapped the two band members instead of saving them. Well, that and there was absolutely no reason for their company to trust me with two of their idols that much.

“Okay, but one of you lend me a mask or something. I’m not going in there with a death wish.”

Jungkook chuckles from the back seat, and I’m slightly startled due to not hearing from the younger boy for a while.

“You’re right though, here you can use mine. I have my hoodie anyway.” A hand appeared next to me holding a familiar black mask, the faint but fragrant smell of a rare cologne wafting around me at the action. Of course, anything he’s worn would smell this expensive. Seeing how normal they can act, it’s hard to remember just how rich they actually are.

“Thanks.” I slipped on the mask and the smell was now stronger. I almost swooned.

“It’s actually not as far as I thought,” I commented when the map displayed the route to take. I knew the traffic was most likely to be more congested in this area than the city mall was before, so I decided to take a couple of back routes.

“Good plan,” Jungkook piped in with a nod and I saw the excited grin plastered on his face.

“What are you so happy about?” Jimin scoffed with a raised brow.

“I dunno, just this whole thing is so… exciting? Nothing like this has ever happened before,” Jungkook replied while trying to smother his grinning, but failing miserably.

“True, you guys would usually be living a careful life, right?” I decided to join in. Jimin and Jungkook didn’t seem to be shy or guarded around me as much as they were, but I knew they were still keeping face amongst all the drama.

“Of course, we don’t want our precious fans to worry about us,” Jimin went on in a level tone, his hand flying up to emphasise his point. I still couldn’t get over how captivating his voice sounded in person, and how it was this close to me...

“Speaking of fans, you’re an ARMY?” Jungkook’s cheeky lilt gained my attention and caused me to look up and lock eyes with him in the rear-view mirror.

“What of it?”

I try to suppress my sharp exhale of amusement, but fail miserably as well. Kookie’s adorable expression of playful confidence, bordering on egotistical even, made the laughter bubble up.

“Well, obviously you’d have a favourite, a bias.”

The question causes me to now laugh loudly, smacking the wheel once.

“Ah, I should’ve seen this coming honestly.”

Jimin clicked his tongue at his junior band member. “As if it matters.”

His voice is also playful, and I can tell he’s just as curious as the maknae by how he looks across at me with raised eyebrows and a small knowing smirk adorning his full lips. They were both taking this as a joke, and I was not going to be any different.

“Of course it matters Jimin, this is the question that decides my fate,” I feigned offense, and watched as his smile caused his eyes to disappear in the cutest, squishiest way imaginable.

Before I could say anything else, an embarrassed blush swarmed my cheeks as I spluttered, “Oh crap, I forgot the honorific.”

“Its fine,” Jimin assured. “You mentioned you don’t care for them before, so I can live without it.”

I smirked at him and shook my head slightly. “You’re actually too nice.”

His melodious chuckle was then interrupted by the mischievous maknae in the back.

“Hey, don’t change the subject hyung. Who’s your favourite member (Y/n)?” I noticed he took instant advantage of the honorific drop, and almost slipped an amused snort.

“Well it’s not either of you, that’s for sure.”

I knew they could tell there was a certain level of sarcasm in my tone, but they still let out varying noises of defeat.

“What, no way. It must be Jin-hyung then,” Jungkook groaned and I couldn't contain a giggle. His narcissistic nature was showing, and this time I wasn’t even sure if it was a joke or not. Jimin chose to pipe in as well, obviously enjoying the mystery that was my ‘supposed Bangtan bias’.

“Nah, I reckon it’s Tae. She’s weird enough to be a perfect match for him.”

Oh my, he really went there.

Both of the boy’s breath hitched, as if they thought I was going take offense and kick them out on the curb.

“Honestly, if you think Tae’s weird then I’m a whole other level. Although I guess I can never know who you guys are behind the screen.”

Jimin visibly relaxed after hearing me take the joke, but then grew serious again after my last comment.

“We’re fairly genuine to our fans, as much as we can be,” He defended, but wasn’t insulted. Jungkook nodded in agreement from the back, still smiling from the joking around that happened before.

“Of course, that’s why you’re one of my favourite groups, but you have to admit it is kind of impossible for someone like me to make a judgement on someone I’ve never met.”

“That is true, I guess. We really do try hard for you guys. I never thought super hard about that,” Jimin looked upwards as he pondered, and I felt proud that I’d gotten more than enough glimpses of both their true natures just from this simple car ride. Though, realistically they could be phenomenal actors and I wouldn’t know any different.

“We may be one of your favourite groups, but I’m still waiting for the member~,” Jungkook started lowly from the back, his sentence breaking off into his famous high pitched giggle when he saw my deadpan expression staring him down in the mirror. Jimin joined in and I sighed in defeat.

“Okay. I don’t have one.”

There’s a small silence, but both boys explosively let out sounds of understanding.

“Ah, you’re one of those.”

I was about to question what Jimin meant, but Jungkook cut me off.

“I was just about to pin her as a Yoongi stan.”

The sudden and serious statement made me cackle, although the sound was muffled by the black fabric of the mask over my mouth.

“Oh boy, you have absolutely no idea. My best friend…” I trailed off as laughter gripped me, almost causing me to veer off the road uncontrollably.

“Jesus Christ, watch out!” Jimin breathlessly squeaked as he made a grab for the wheel to steady the moving car. I gripped the wheel harder in fear, but amusement washed over me once again.

“Hyung did your voice just-”

“Shut up.”

I couldn’t stop the amused snort, but managed to regain control. My chuckles were now borderline wheezes, and I could hear Kookie in the back sharing the same demise.

“As I was saying,” I began, but erupt once more as the memory of Jimin’s voice crack surfaced back to the front of my mind. Jungkook is in shambles, but Jimin is just sitting with his head buried in his hands next to me, shoulders shaking as he tries to avoid his inevitable embarrassment.

“Stoooop.” He drawled it out and reached behind him to smack the chortling maknae on the knee somewhat harshly. I knew he hated the fact that he just got embarrassed in front of some stranger, who had also been established as a pretty avid fan. Poor Chim.

“You forget I’ve seen videos of your many embarrassments,” I offered in between chuckles, and caught the moment his face scrunched up in an adorable cringe. A sigh of defeat fell from his lips. “Yeah, I give up.”

He still chuckled and shook his head, the tinkling sounds causing me to bring a hand up to clutch my chest dramatically. Both boys laughed cutely once again at my reaction, Jimin’s eyes disappearing as he covered his face with one small hand.

“You sure you’re not a Jimin stan, noona?” Jungkook chimes in. I raised a brow and decided to skilfully avoid the question.

“Ah, so you picked up that I’m older than you?”

Jungkook stopped, his jaw going slack at the sudden question, and I found myself face to face with his widely memed blankness instead. I almost can’t contain myself.

“Oh, yeah maybe? It kind of actually just slipped out.”

I find myself giggling at the return of his shy persona, and he smiled bashfully at the floor in response. His tongue pushed out one of his cheeks in shame.

“Yah, don’t assume such a thing,” Jimin chuckled, obviously grateful that the heat was finally off of him.

“Don’t worry, I’m the same age as Jiminie I believe,” I decided to help the poor boy out, craning my neck forward to check the next turn off for oncoming cars.

We were actually almost to the destination, and the trip had flown by way too quickly. After Jungkook made a noise of comprehension, Jimin looked around suddenly and grunted in surprise.

“Crap, I was meant to call Namjoonie back a few minutes ago.”

“What are you doing hyung?” Jungkook chided in flippant scolding, to which Jimin responded with another angered slap. He brought out his phone and dialled a number quickly, obviously not concerned that I could very well easily read and memorise it in two seconds flat.

As If I would anyway.

I fell silent as Jimin waited for the phone call to connect.

Jungkook 3rd person POV

Jungkook also waited, breathless at the thought of how dire the situation was to their careers as a whole. This was such a strange occurrence to the famous band members, and he thought about how normal and relaxed the car ride had actually been when compared to how awkward they thought it was going to turn out.

When Jungkook had made the Uber request originally, he and Jimin were prepared to face the worst. Anyone who had the opportunity to drive a car unsupervised with two famous idols in tow could easily turn the tables and expose them more, or maybe even do worse things…

He shook his head at the thought and silently swallowed the bile rising in his throat. He glanced over to your form sitting in the driver’s seat, stiffened slightly due to the very important call being made.

You had been nothing but kind and understanding so far, not to mention hilariously easy going. Jungkook found himself respecting you immediately. You could have freaked out and demanded autographs or photos from them at any time. You could have decided to not drop them off where they wanted and just continued to drive for eternity. You could have even taken them anywhere you wanted to, but no, you listened to them, respected their privacy and even agreed to risk your reputation to drive them into their dorms where countless fangirls could eat you alive if they found out.

You were just amazing, and Jungkook knew his hyung felt similarly. Well, considering how he defended you without question before when Namjoon probably jumped to conclusions, it was evident that Jimin trusted you too.

Jungkook was completely numb from bewilderment. Everything could have gone wrong for them in their haste to escape the mob of their excited fans, but it didn’t, and it was all thanks to you.

These types of people drive our purpose, we’re so happy to have reached you.

Although if he was honest, he wouldn't mind at all if you got all flustered and cute while gushing over him. Just a little bit.

Reader 1st person POV

I watched as Jimin jerked the phone away from his ear suddenly, a loud voice booming loudly through the tiny speaker to reach even my ears. Jimin’s face winced as he brought the phone back to his ear hesitantly.

“We’re so sorry for the mess Sir, but it worked out.”

I knew that he was most likely talking to his manager or director with how his language changed. He ruffled his blonde hair anxiously and continued to listen to the voice on the line, eventually digging his teeth into his bottom lip in another bout of anxiety.

“Wait, we’re almost to the dorms, she’s got a mask on and everything-” Jimin was cut off and my eyes darted in between him and the road ahead to try and figure out what was happening. His breathing sped up and I could see his own eyes meeting mine a few times worriedly.

What is going on?

We were getting close to the dorms, and I had already noticed how the housing had become wealthier the more I drove through the city. The streets were becoming beautiful and cleaner. I knew that the boys lived in most likely the richest place in the city, and this place was by far the definition of that.

One thing I also noticed is that there were a few groups of girls dotted here and there that were walking or sitting around the footpaths. Some even saw my car and started pointing and taking photos while jumping up and down.

“Well, there goes my anonymity.” I sighed and slumped further in my seat, as if to hide my face better than it was already hidden. The only sound as I drove onwards was Jimin’s occasional reply into the phone next to me. His responses were becoming less worried, but still sounded unenthusiastic.

“Yes, I understand, okay I’ll tell her,” Jimin murmured and I held my breath at the sound of the call being hung up. My curiosity was nothing short of burning, and I instantly turned to the blonde boy when he looked at me pointedly.

“Um, our manager needs you to come in with us so you can speak with him and sign some stuff.”

I look forward again and nod once in understanding. “Yeah, I knew this would most likely happen. Confidentiality, right?”

I crack a smile at the thought of actually going in and meeting the famous Bang Sihyuk, CEO and founder of Bighit Entertainment.

“Wow,” I breathed after fully wrapping my head around what was happening.

“I guess you never thought this would happen.” Jungkook chuckled from the backseat, and I scoffed in disbelief.

“Yeah it’s not every day you meet two members of Bangtan and their producer.”

The sarcasm was heavy, and the two boys grinned in amusement. Jimin leant forwards to rest his forehead on the dashboard in a weary manner. “Ah, I’m so sorry for forcing you into this mess (Y/n)-ssi.”

“What did I say about apologising? I love you guys and your music; this is the least I can do to repay you for all the happiness you have brought me.” My voice became emotional and quiet as I let out all my pent-up feelings. I didn’t know how exactly I could express my bundling thoughts into formed words, but I felt as though that might have been just enough to let them know how ecstatic I truly was that this miracle had happened to me.

“You must be an angel,” Jimin smiled at me so sweetly and genuinely that I had to rip my gaze away from him in order to prevent tearing up. I heard Jungkook sigh in awe at my words, and I looked up to see him smiling shyly at the ground before glancing forward.

“Devoted fans like you are the reason we have made it this far, (Y/n).”

Jimin turns his head and gives Jungkook a look that says 'Well that was fucking sappy' but I can’t help but smile wider and let out a tiny gleeful squeak unknowingly.

His words had caused my emotions to storm again, and I was so fortunate to hear them in person that I didn’t even know what to do with myself. I gripped the wheel tighter so I wouldn’t let go and do anything stupid. Since I had my mask on, they could only see my smile through how my eyes and cheeks bunched up, but unfortunately the mask wasn’t large enough to cover my entire face.

“Awe you’re so cute when you blush like that!” Jimin laughed loudly, reaching out to poke my reddening skin. I gasped and knocked his hand away softly with one of my own.

“Leave me alone, I can’t control it or anything.”

Jungkook was also sniggering in the back, his cheeky nature making a comeback as I shook my head to try and rid myself of the heat.

“Sorry for that noona.”

Now he was using the word to tease me, and I fought the urge to slap him like Jimin did before. “Silly boy, I swear you’ll never make me blush again.”

“You sure about that? I’ll accept the challenge.”

“And we’re here!” I dragged out the first word to hopefully try and cut him off. I could still hear him giggling in the back, his knowing smile holding an impish quality.

The sight before me was spectacular, if that was even enough to sum it up. The area in which BTS lived was absolutely breathtaking, and I knew that this was in fact one of the, if not the richest place in all of Seoul.

The gardens were marvellously well grown and maintained, while the architecture seemed to gleam and glow in the sunlight, too perfectly constructed to be true. Modern was also an understatement, as this place seemed borderline futuristic. To describe it in one word, glorious.

“I don’t even know if someone like me should go in there,” I stammered, my voice cracking multiple times in sheer astonishment.

“Don’t be silly, how else are we gonna get in there?” Jimin joked and I snorted lightly at his change of demeanour.

“Walk, silly.” I shared a cheeky glance with the maknae behind me when Jimin gasped.

“Rude, and here I thought you were a fan?”

“I’m joking Jimin, alright how do we actually do this?” I looked around and saw a parking space out the front of the main building. Jimin gestured towards it and nodded, giving me the go to proceed.

There were no fans lurking around this place due to the security, but I knew I wouldn’t be able to escape any photographers if they were there. Luckily we had only a few brief, yet concerning encounters with the fans while driving in to the complex itself.

If Kookie hadn’t given me the mask I would be dead meat cooking on a spit.

I parked the car carefully and fell back into my seat with a sigh. Jimin and Jungkook eyed me with concern clouding their features.

“We’re so-”

“Park Jimin, will you eventually heed my words?” I tilted my head and blinked rapidly at him with a smile on my face. He sees my playful, yet tired expression and shakes his head with an annoyed groan.

“I probably will never stop apologising for the trouble we’ve caused.”

I sighed again and exaggerated a pout, borderline mockery if you will. Jungkook let out a huff and a click of his tongue indicated the long-awaited comeback of his cocky attitude.

“Come on hyung, she already said it doesn’t matter.”

His tone caused Jimin to narrow his eyes towards the back accusingly, and I watched as the younger member sat back down, satisfied with the reaction.

“Thank you maknae,” I rolled my eyes and suppressed a chuckle at his scoff, catching Jimin’s amused and appreciative look. I observed around one more time before turning my gaze upwards to glance at the building next to us.

“Okay it’s now or never boys, run and don’t look back.”

171 notes · View notes

hargrove-mayfields · 4 years

Text

You’ve Set my Soul to Dreaming Pt. 1

Christmas has always been Steve Harrington’s time to shine.

It wasn’t that it was his favorite time of year; darkness falling at 5pm bummed him out, and the heat in his house was never good enough to stand up to the freezing, unpredictable Hawkins weather. Overall, he preferred the spring, when the sun was warm and the breeze was cool and the flowers were blooming.

But festivity, that suited him well, and, probably more than anything, so did giving people things. In the non-physical sense, he always gave his all to ensure that everyone around him was happy.

Whether that was a good character trait or a flaw on his part he had yet to decide, but nobody could say that Steve Harrington was selfish. Sometimes it felt like he gave so much away that there wasn’t even much of him left at all, so much as just who he tried to be for his friends, for his parents.

Literally though, he was the best at presents too. Maybe it was the unlimited bank account, or just the fact that he was so considerate, but everyone always loved what he bought, or made, in the case of the few exes who’d refused material possessions over a heartfelt, handmade gift. (ugh)

That’s why, every year, he couldn’t help but buy as many presents as possible. For his mum, his friends, though the supply of those was getting rather sparse recently, the kids he babysat, their parents, the neighbors, the house keepers, his teachers, pretty much just anybody who he could possibly think of a reason to give them something got an expensive little novelty in hopes that he'd get to see their grateful reaction.

Sometimes he wondered if they just faked it to make him feel better about himself, but he kept doing it anyhow because it did make him feel better about himself, thank you very much.

Especially because recently, there was a lot going on to feel not so good about.

This would mark the tenth year in a row that his parents flew out to the tropics, where it didn’t snow or reach temperatures even half as cold as Indiana, and that’d been fine and dandy for a while, since before, he was living in the childish daydream being home alone, and after that he’d always had someone to spend it with.

But this year, this year he’d be all alone, in his mansion big enough for half of the city’s population to fit inside, and he’d been feeling pretty lousy about it since they informed him of the trip in early December.

That and the fact that he’d almost been killed a handful of times literally a month ago didn’t bode too well for his Christmas spirit.

Steve Harrington didn’t back down from a little hardship though, so what if he was plagued by a sense of crippling loneliness and nightmares bad enough to keep him awake for days on end, that just wouldn't be enough to keep him from rising to the occasion.

‘Tis the season to shove aside all that troubles you and put the needs of others before your own right?

So the morning of the fifteenth, the last day before winter break, Steve does as he always does and ditches his books, opting to instead stuff his backpack full of presents.

They’re wrapped terribly, he’s never been too good with his hands, and recently they’ve started to shake when he gets too nervous, so it’s kind of, lumpy, wrinkled, way too much wrapping paper on tiny boxes, but he’s happy with it. Even if he stabbed himself with the scissors about a million times and got tape in his hair trying to get them wrapped.

Another of Steve’s holiday trademarks is ugly sweaters. He has exactly twenty five of them, one for every day leading up to Christmas, and he wears them religiously.

These aren’t just any old tacky sweaters either, they’re homemade, the ugliest of the ugly.

His gramma had done basically nothing but knit in her free time, so when she heard that her grandbaby wanted a Christmas sweater and couldn’t find one that wasn’t made out of wool, (side bar, he was extremely allergic, like, life-threateningly so) she made him enough to last him the entire month of December up to Christmas Day.

Thank heavens she was terrible with sizes, so they all still fit if not just a little snugly even about 10 years after she made them. By now they were somewhat faded and pilled and riddled with loose threads, but they were soft as all hell and one of a kind, so he didn’t bother with replacing them.

This particular morning he’d chosen a white sweater embroidered with tiny versions of his childhood poodle Charlie in her little Christmas hat, the first his gramma did without a pattern, and his absolute favorite.

Maybe everyone else though it was dumb how into the whole thing he got, but nothing made him happier than pulling up to the school in a sweater from ‘74 with a bag full of overpriced knickknacks.

Steve started his day by giving Jonathan and Nancy their gifts in the cafeteria before the first bell rang, since they wouldn’t all three see each other again throughout the rest of the day, and he could barely contain his excitement.

Watching his friends carefully pull apart the crummy wrap job he’d done was probably one of the best feelings ever, in his opinion. Or maybe it was just the knowing that he’d put a thoughtful effort into making other people happy combined with the fact that he was using all that hoarded wealth that went towards nothing but funding his parents trips to bring someone a gift that would mean more to them than those wasteful luxuries.

Whatever it was that compelled him so, it was enough that he had to stuff his hands in his pockets and bite his tongue to keep from making a fool of himself in front of the whole school while he waited for Nancy and Jonathan to open their presents.

This year he’d reined the budget in a little, since last Christmas he’d gone just a little bit overboard with a $300 camera for Jonathan and a necklace and a ring for Nancy that cost him a 7th of his (very expensive) car payment. He still probably spent more than was considered normal, just not enough that his parents would notice the huge sum of money missing this time.

They didn’t have a whole lot of time before the bell would ring and they would split off to their respective classes, but it was enough that Steve got to see their reactions and revel in the hug Nancy gave him on behalf of the both of them.

He’d opted to get Jonathan a bag for the camera he’d gotten him last year, since you never know when something could happen to it, and before he even had it all the way unwrapped, Jonathan was getting his camera out of the bag he already used to put it in the new one.

Nancy got a bag this year too, but hers was a fancy designer thing he’d picked out of a catalog meant for his mother. He figured she’d need it for when she went off to college, or got the journalist job she’d been telling him about for a year and a half.

Heading off for first period, he already felt the swell of pride that comes with the season, and he could not wait to hand out the rest.

Perhaps another of his favorite parts was that, giving people things was the secret to saving his reputation when he was the way he was.

Everyone knew Steve Harrington was the “up to no good” type, who bought weed off of the shady guys camping out at parties, and got in your daughters panties just to promptly break her heart, and who fails all of his classes and barely scrapes by in high school.

But then he shows up in a hand knitted sweater and with a candy cane between his lips to spread his Christmas cheer, and suddenly all is forgiven, and he is transformed into the sweet Harrington boy who always gave the most thoughtful gifts.

First on the list was Mrs. Click, the history teacher he’d been stuck with since sophomore year.

History was by far his worst subject, and Mrs Click wasn’t the type to make sure you understood before she sprung a pass or fail pop quiz, so he’d failed her class twice.

Even with how stupid she had to think he was, the bright smile on her bitter old face when he handed over the little box with a large Givenchy brooch inside meant that he’d earned his redemption for the third year in a row.

Next was the tie-pin for Mr. Cook, the Spanish teacher, a little golden thing that had cost him more than he’d like to admit and earned him a pat on the back. He was good enough at remembering what he had to know in Spanish, but reading and speaking it? He might as well have been completely illiterate.

His pronunciations were so poor that even the chunky ruby inlay was almost not enough to save face, but in the end his ego got its booster anyhow.

The rest of the day went on like that: a bottle of Mon Parfum for Miss Foster, the English teacher, a SoundBand for the coach, a gift card to the most expensive store he could think of for Mrs. Hall, and so and so forth, each giving him that same rush of confidence, a sense that he was doing something important until he was practically floating through the halls.

By seventh period math, he’s only got two gifts left. A fancy pen set for Mr. Butler, and the other, well, the other one is for Billy Hargrove.

Billy Hargrove who, only about a month ago, had beat his stupid face in and gave him a concussion he still wasn’t quite over, and who definitely wasn’t going to give him that giddy joy he usually got from giving gifts, but he still felt like he needed to extend a holly branch.

Because the way he saw it, Billy couldn’t take all the blame for what went down, so why shouldn’t he be the one to try to apologize, be the bigger person and earn Billy’s respect through his shopping abilities like he did with everyone else.

He knows it’s kind of poorly thought out, maybe even completely crazy to try to make a peace offering to a boy who could practically be called his bully, but he’s still not anticipating the fact that, when he walks down the third row of desks and holds out the little box wrapped in red paper for the other boy to take, Billy just sort of stares at him.

Shaking it a little, like he’s trying to get the attention of a cat with a bag of treats, Steve sets the box down on Billy’s desk and retreats to his own seat a few aisles over.

That’s where it stays until about halfway through the period, which is just a free day anyways, no 75 year old man in his right mind would make a room full of teenagers do algebra on the last day before Christmas break, when Billy finally leans forward and snatches the gift box off the polished surface.

Steve could try to pretend he’s not staring, vibrating in anticipation of Billy’s reaction to the gift, a silver zippo with Venetian engraving, but he’s caught when Billy, having dumped the lighter out of the box and into his hand, turning it over a few times, turns to look at him.

There’s a look on his face that’s a cross between confusion and surprise and something unreadable, like maybe he’s trying to tell Steve with just a look that this was a mistake, and he’s going to kick his ass again as soon as the bell rings, but in a way he still thinks it’s worth it.

Because Steve Harrington does not have enemies, no matter how many toes he steps on and things he does wrong, and maybe Billy won’t accept a fancy lighter as an apology, but at least he’ll know that he tried to make peace.

Even after he turns his attention to the gossip circle running in front of him, Steve can feel Billy’s eyes on him. It’s borderline creepy, in Steve’s own opinion, but he supposes he can understand it.

He might have been a little more grateful and not so stalkerish were he in the same situation, but, potato potahto.

As soon as the bell rings Billy’s out of there like a bat out of hell. He’s up out of his seat before anyone else, halfway out the door and tossing a crumpled ball of red paper in the trash before the rest of the class could even blink.

At first, Steve isn’t even sure that Billy didn’t throw the whole zippo away, but he sees it catch the light from where it’s held tight in Billy’s fist just before he disappears through the doorway completely.

The fact that the lighter wasn’t in the bottom of the trash can was a good sign, but, this still didn’t bode all that well for a Christmas truce.

Read also on ao3

#harringrove #billy hargrove #steve harrington #stranger things #story by EJ!#ej writer #finally a proper post! sorry that ao3 got this first!#I hope it continues to be well received because it already has so many hits on there!#boy oh man am I proud #anywho I'm planning on posting another Christmasey themed story before the new year hits #so y'all look out for that!#oh and also I might add another chapter to this in the future to elaborate on the outcome of this but right now I'm pretty content with it #we shall see i suppose

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themangoyogurt · 4 years

Text

Clementine: Chapter 2

You cursed yourself as a ridiculous love ballad blared from Poe’s overpriced stereo system. All you had wanted was a night of relaxation. The marble tub in the master ensuite was already filled with hot water and a bath bomb that was so overpriced it was practically criminal. Next to the tub, a chilled glass of white wine patiently waited along the latest novel you were gobbling up.

You had stupidly decided that some calming music was the final piece to your self-care puzzle. Except, you had never used something as high-tech as what Poe’s place offered. One wrong button later, and you were ninety-percent sure that only twenty-percent of your ear drum would be functional after this fiasco.

To make matters worse, there was angry knocking at the front door. The aggressive sound was so furious that it somehow cut through the music, causing you to flush in embarrassment as you ran to get the door. You were so frazzled from breaking the sound system and subsequently upsetting your neighbor that you even forgot to grab a robe on your way out.

The door flung open to reveal a man so large and imposing, you lost your breath.

He was in nothing except a single pair of boxers and fuzzy slippers. Despite his distinctly disheveled (and frankly, sloppy) look, he was handsome. Handsome, built like a refrigerator, and angry. Ogling your neighbor would do no good if he murdered you.

Except, one moment he looked furious and the next, perplexed. Normally, you’d bristle if any man so obviously gave you a once over, but the way his mouth comically hung open made you less offended.

“Clementine,” was all he uttered.

The two of you stared at each other in silence, when the start of yet another pop song interrupted the moment. You startled to attention and rushed to explain, “I am so sorry about the disturbance. I can’t figure out how to work Poe’s stupid stereo and now the thing won’t shut off!”

The stranger peered around your shoulder and a hardened gaze returned to his face. He gritted out, “And where’s Poe to help you out?”

Your brow furrowed, and you could have sworn that he almost looked bitter at the statement. Deciding not to get into it with a stranger, you politely replied, “He’s flying right now. I’m just housesitting while he’s gone.”

The man softened ever so slightly at the response and straightened up. “I think we have the same system. I could help you turn it off.”

“Oh thank goodness,” you breathed in relief, quickly stepping aside to let him in. The stranger seemed to know his way around the gigantic apartment, and you assumed that his layout was either the same or he’d been here before.

Awkwardly shuffling behind him, you timidly supplied your name in an attempt to start a conversation. He merely grunted out, “Kylo.” He didn’t even spare you a glance as he busied himself with tapping at a seriously sci-fi looking box.

After a few minutes of strained silence, the music finally cut out. The sudden quietness was so strong your ears nearly rang from the lack of sound. “Uhm, thank you! Can I make you a mug of tea or something?” you ventured, politeness outweighing the sheer awkwardness as you realized you were two half-naked strangers staring at each other.

He shuffled a bit before giving a terse nod.

Jeez, nobody’s forcing him to hang out with me, you thought in response to his frosty reaction.

Speaking of frosty, you noticed his eyes zeroing in on your rather pointed chest, causing you to turn pink at the neck. Thankfully, you had left a sweatshirt thrown over the couch. Snatching up the thick fleece garment, you tugged it over your head and led Kylo to the kitchen.

Kylo followed with heavy steps, and made himself right at home as he settled on a stool pulled up against a bar area facing the kitchen. Two mugs were pulled from a cabinet and quickly filled with steaming hot water. The liquid reminded you of the bath now gone to waste, but one look at the handsome man gazing at you made it all worth it.

A mug of chamomile was slid across the marble top and into Kylo’s hands before you joined him on the stool to his left.

“Sorry again about the music,” you muttered.

Kylo ran a hand through his hair, dark locks falling like Fall leaves. “It’s fine. It was an accident. So...you’re a house-sitter?”

You laughed, “Unofficially. I just moved to town, and I don’t have a place yet. Poe’s an old friend from college, and he just started some sort of travel show that’s gonna keep him busy for at least four months. I get to stay for free, and he doesn’t have to worry about his house going to shit.”

Kylo nodded, not surprised that the dashing pilot somehow landed himself a deal to host a travel show. He also came from money and had already made a name for himself jet-setting around the globe piloting his own private jet.

You gave him a cute little head tilt and asked, “And what about you? What’s your story?”

For the first time since he left the First Order, Kylo felt embarrassed. Deciding to fall back on vagueness he replied, “Ah, early retirement.” Women liked mysterious men, right?

He was surprised as you let out a low whistle. “Retiring in a place like this? You must’ve had one hell of a job to retire from.” You blew the steam away from your mug and took a long sip.

Kylo frowned and folded his arms across the tabletop. “And what about you? It’s a Wednesday and you’re blaring Taylor Swift near midnight.” You knew that he wasn’t being defensive, despite a slight accusatory tinge to his voice.

You turned to face Kylo, propping your head up on an elbow. There was something gravitational in your exchange, and your bodies had slowly inched closer and closer as you talked. By now, your knees were lightly touching, and you found yourself feeling electricity at the subtle touch.

He laughed as you playfully jabbed a finger in his chest. “I’ll have you know that I do, in fact, have a job! Have you ever heard of Hanna Hut?”

Something about you riled Kylo up, and he felt more alive than he had in the past month. Some teenaged boy part of his brain refused to admit that he had no idea what Hanna Hut was, hoping to impress the pretty girl sitting next to him. Instead, he rolled his eyes and scoffed, “Of course I have. And what’s it to you?”

His resolve slowly dissolved as a silent minute ticked by. He groaned as you finally broke the silence with a loud laugh. “A grouch who can see into the future. Amazing!” Kylo furrowed his brow, and bit back, “What are you talking about?”

“Hanna Hut doesn’t exist. At least not yet.”

Kylo furrowed his brow and pinked in embarrassment at being caught. You patted his thigh, ignoring how muscled it felt underneath your touch. His bare skin was warm and deliciously corded and taut. He stuttered out a non-reply, only earning a louder guffaw from you.

“Don’t worry. It will exist. Hopefully very soon! I’m opening my very own coffeeshop-slash-bookstore combo right here in town!” You couldn’t help but gush in excitement at your very new business venture.

It had taken years of careful planning and budgeting. Years of forgoing mimosas with the girls and squirreling away every dime. Literally. Years of accepting overtime, and years of enduring doubt from friends and family alike.

No more though. You had finally gathered together enough money to launch your dream business. The moment your bank account looked healthy enough, you threw up digits and peaced out of your tiny good-for-nothing town.

Finally, after years of grit and sweat, things seemed to be looking up. With free lodging for the next few months, you didn’t even have to stress about finding an apartment. Your deal with Poe worked out perfectly so that you could spend all of your time and energy looking for the perfect space to launch Hanna Hut.

Your excitement was infectious, as Kylo couldn’t help but flash a wide smile matching the one on your face. “And where can I visit this newfound ‘coffee-slash-bookstore’ venture of yours?” he asked, genuinely curious and interested in the concept.

“Well...I’m still looking for the perfect storefront. I think I might have found it, though! In fact, I’m meeting with the landlord tomorrow afternoon.” You quickly pulled out your cellphone to show him the airy space located in Greenwich Village. It was beautiful, but pricey. Still, you convinced yourself that the price tag would be worth it.

Kylo quietly listened as you continued to babble and swipe through photos.

“It’s a little expensive, but I think it’ll be worth it! The landlord said that if I signed a ten year lease, he’d cut me a deal on rent. I think that should help, especially since there are so many fees and he needs three months rent up front...”

The more you prattled, the more agitated Kylo became. A ten year lease? As cute as you were, cuteness didn’t necessarily equate to business acumen. He found your naiveté equal parts adorable and concerning. Although you were a stranger, he didn’t want to watch yet another out of towner get swindled and eaten up by the city.

He cleared his throat, and interrupted, “Ah, if you want, I could come with you to negotiate tomorrow. I hope I’m not overstepping, but I am a lawyer...”

You perked up and replied, “That would be amazing! But I don’t know if I could pay you. Judging by the fact that you live here, I don’t think I could afford your rates...”

“Ah, well I am retired so it’s not like I’ve got much going on for me. How about you buy me a coffee and we’ll call it even?”

He flinched in surprise when you practically leapt out of your seat. Clasping his hands in your own, you gushed, “Deal! Thank you so much, Kylo!” Kylo looked down at where your hands joined, marveling at how much smaller you were compared to him. Mustering up as much courage possible, he nodded and flashed you a smile.

Just like that, Kylo found himself looking forward to something for the first time in years.

#kylo ren x reader #kylo ren x you #kylo ren #reader insert #modern au #clementine

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mama-ghostie-61542 · 3 years

Text

A Thousand Lifetimes

Rated M++ for language and themes

If you recognize it--IT AIN'T MINE

Sorry for the OOC-ness

Chapter 7

Kihyun

The next day, after two fittings with costumes, two phone interviews, a shoot for an ad, and a tv spot; I finally got back to the dorms, and back to that story.

Bryn PoV--

As if today wasn't bad enough, I walked into the house to find it completely empty. The kids wandered around and I tried to field a million questions about where they were gonna sleep and what we were gonna eat. That and the meltdowns every five minutes led me to try to call my little brother. I really just needed to talk to another grown-up. As soon as I had supper figured out, I called Joey.

"Hello," said a voice on the other end of the phone.

"Ummm. Hi?"

"Oh. Hello," The voice was familiar, but it wasn't Joey.

"Is Joey close?"

"Sorry. Who?"

"Sorry. Jooheon. Kids call him 'Uncle Joey'. Guess it stuck."

"Hmm. No. You just missed him."

"Dern. Can you pass on a message?"

"Sure."

"Can you tell him to call Bryn when he gets back?"

"Oh! I didn't recognize your voice, Bryn. How are you? It's Kihyun. Joey is in the shower. Can I help you with whatever you need," I asked, biting my lip and praying she would say yes. Just the sound of her voice was both soothing and somehow able to tie me up in knots.

"Actually, I was calling to vent. I've had a particularly terrible day today. Joey is my sobriety sponsor."

"He is? Wow," I said before Honey came charging at me, his hair still wet. "I would still LOVE to talk to YOU," I shouted.

"Gimmie my phone, Kihyun."

I handed him back the phone and heard him say

"What's up, Sis?"

Though I couldn't hear exactly what was said, I could tell by the look on his face, it wasn't good.

"Really?"

Then, Honey sighed. "Lemme see what I can do from here."

"Please, let me help."

If it were possible for him to get any more pissed off, he did. "HE WHAT," he yelled. Then, he pulled the phone from his ear and said, "I need a one way ticket to Peoria International!! I'm gonna kill him. I am gonna fuckin' kill him." Next, he put the phone back to his ear, "Lemme see what I can do here, Sis," he growled as he demanded numbers and wrote them down, and then hung up.

As he started digging on the internet to find the cheapest fare, HyunWoo said, "Hold it, Hot Shot. What happened?"

"That douchbag finally left. He took everything! Even the kids stuff. He left them with NOTHING! That is why Sis was calling. He cleaned out their account and took everything. Damn lucky he couldn't touch the shop accounts or he would have cleaned them out too. Literally everything. She needs a little cash to feed the kids til Friday."

"Thank God it is Wednesday," said CK. from the far side of the room. If anyone had bothered to look, the reflection on his glasses was an Amazon cart with 37 things in it. The only time ANYONE has that many things in an Amazon cart is when they are buying groceries. However, most of those were chips or snack cakes.

Honey, Min, and HyungWon all sat down to iron out how much and what they were gonna contribute.

Silently, I picked up my bank book and palmed the slip of paper with her info on it. Only HyunWoo saw me slip out the door. He stopped me as I waited for the elevator and handed me a few bills from his own wallet before turning back towards the room.

"What," was all I could get out before he interrupted, cutting me off mid-question.

"We look out for our own," He answered before he opened the door to the dorm.

After heading to the nearest Western Union, I called the number on the slip from Honey. When she picked up, I smiled.

"Hey, Bryn, it's Kihyun. I wired you some money. Should be about $100, if everything gets exchanged right."

"Kihyun, you guys didn't have to do that. My dad was already gonna feed the kids. I just needed to talk to someone. This has got me so shaken up, I want a drink really bad. Guess I wasn't too clear with Joey."

"Really? Then why was he," I stopped as a shadow fell over me. "Well, shit. Guess who is now standing right behind me."

"Tell him to calm down."

"Bryn says to calm down. She told me to sit on you if I have to."

"Kihyun! I did not."

"I paraphrased," I laughed. "Besides, Sweets, if looks could kill, I'd be dead right about now."

"Really," she chuckled.

"Oh yeah. He is probably gonna follow me all the way to the dorm. I guess I am not allowed out on my own," I laughed.

"Why," She asked.

"I tend to do dumb things, according to others. Though they may be a little impulsive, they always work out in the end. So don't look the horse in the mouth."

"I won't."

"Good girl," I laughed, "So why did you call him, anyway?"

"I needed someone I could yell at that would not take it personal."

"I am always here. Though, I may occasionally yell back."

She laughed. "Thank you."

"For?"

"Making me laugh. I needed that. "

"Damn. I was looking forward to the screaming match. C'mon, get it started, Angelface," I said as I stopped at the stoplight and waited for the crosswalk. "Do you want me to start," I asked, then pulled the phone away and yelled.

Bringing the phone back to my face, I asked as the crosswalk lit up and I crossed the street, "How was that," I grinned.

"A 10. A fuckin' 10. Have you thought of being a Rockstar," she laughed.

I could almost hear the smile on her face, which made me laugh. Even if my throat killed me in the morning it was worth it.

"Hey, hang on a second. I want to send you something," I said as I put my phone on speaker and started the camera.

"Oh dear God, what now," she asked.

I took a short video of me sending her a kiss and sent it off. "Nothing bad."

"Ok, if you say so. Just not cool with unsolicited dick pics from strange men."

"I would not send you unsolicited dick pics, nor am I a stranger. Now, if you asked for them...Like a good girl," I started and looked over at Honey, who was looking at me with the 'better never do that' face. "Uh-oh."

"What?"

"I'm getting side eye."

She laughed and said, "I know just the look. It screams, 'You'd better not be sending photos of ANY part of your anatomy to my sister'."

"Yes," I laughed. "So how are you feeling? Better?"

"Much. Thank you."

"No problem. I'm here all week. Try the veal," I laughed. "Still want a drink," I asked.

"No. The laughs did it for me. Thank you."

"You are very welcome, Darling. So did you get the video I sent?"

"I did. That was very sweet. Thanks."

"You are very welcome, Pretty Lady. Well, we are back at the dorms."

"I should probably go then," she sighed.

"Just remember I am also available for Mitzvahs," I chuckled, which made her laugh. "Seriously, Sweetie, anytime you need a sounding board or a laugh fest, a screaming match or some naughty-Ow, Mother fucker!-I got smacked on my arm for that last bit. I am always here,"

"Thanks again. Until next time."

I paused and came VERY close to telling her how I felt but said, instead, "Again, you are welcome."

"Bye, Kihyun."

"Bye, Bryn," I breathed, then hung up.

Honey looked at me as he crossed his arms over his chest, "It took everything you had to not tell her 'I love you' didn't it?"

All I could do was nod and hope that my dreams tonight would be better than they had been.

As we got into the elevator, He said, "It was good hearing that you made her laugh."

"I love the sound of her laughter. Once I got her started, I didn't want her to stop. I think that she is just as funny as she is sweet."

"You do know that she will do one of two things, right?"

"What two things?"

"Either immediately send the money right back, or hang on to it and physically give you back every bit. She hates asking for help...of any kind," he said as he opened the door to our dorm.

"Yeah? Wonder why."

He just laughed, "Her ex-fiancée, ex-husband, and her father."

"What happened," I asked as I made us a pot of coffee.

"They all held every penny over her head. Her dad decided he wanted her out the minute she turned 18 and to do it, he threw her out the boat, so to speak. Said if she floated, she never needed help anyway; and if she sank, well, it was her own fault."

"That's abuse. Financial abuse."

"Yep. He was the kind to tell her everything she had was his, that she owned nothing; not even the clothes on her back. He comes from the 'I Own You' school of parenting. Her ex-fiancée would demand she work, then make her late, so she would lose any job she got. Then, he'd take any money she got paid and use it for crap he wanted rather than the bills she had it ear-marked for."

"Oh, tell me he didn't."

"Oh he did. Spent it on girls at the local under 21."

"Shit. He screwed around on her, didn't he?"

"Yep. Which is why if you ever think about cheating, I will castrate you myself," he growled.

Somehow I knew he would do it, and I would let him. "Don't have to worry about that. Can you tell me about her ex-husband?"

"That asshole was a piece of work. Emotionally, Mentally, and Fiscally abusive. The entire time they were together, he would pinch a penny until it died if it was something she needed, but she was expected to turn over her things and cash to him. She worked second shift in a factory; out of the house from half 1 to almost 1 am. He was in semi driver school at the time, racked up a HUGE amount of debt; I'm talking almost 40K. Constantly accused her of cheating when he had a different lot lizard every night. It's a miracle he never gave her anything."

I was disgusted by this guys behavior. To have a woman like her waiting at home and trying his best to break her.

"And that isn't even the worst of his offenses. He screamed at her one night while he was over the road, on training. She was at work, and he called her on her lunch break. The entire time, he screamed at her for having a cold sore and yelled about her cheating loud enough for her co-workers to hear. Her boss to tell her to turn off her phone; that he was tired of hearing that jerk yell at her. The guy he was learning with, told him that 'If I were her, I would be calling the lawyer first thing in the morning, after that shit.' He 'apologized' pretty quickly after that."

"Icky. I hope she ended it there."

"No. That girl has a ton of stay and No show. He ended up deployed to Egypt and told his brother about the girls there. Never thought his brother would run and tell her. She still didn't leave. You left a blister on her cheek one night and he threw her out in the snow."

"Stay and no show? I'm not sure I understand."

"Horse terms," came a voice from the doorway. I had forgotten Hoseok was staying with us while his apartment was getting the pipes fixed. "When a filly is learning to ride, it's said she is full of Show and no Stay. Meaning she looks good, but is too skittish to stand still. Sis--Well Sis may not look like much, but she has tons of loyalty to those who show her the same. She has the patience to play a 30 year long game, and the courage to weather ANY storm. But she has a problem knowing when to leave, and so she gets hurt."

"Hold up! He threw her out in the snow?!"

As Hoseok filled his own mug, he answered, "Yeah, he threw her out of the apartment in the middle of a snowstorm. Lucky her parents were in town. So if you start this with her, and you ever want out; you are gonna have to straight up tell her to go. She won't understand otherwise. She doesn't play games and has a tough time with subtly. So always be direct and honest with her."

I nodded taking it in. There was something I thought I wanted, so I asked, "How is her aegyo"

"If you are looking for overt aegyo, don't. Hers is subtle but she has got it in spades, and she doesn't even know it. It's in the way she plays, either with her guy or her kids," he said as he leaned against the counter, "It's in the subtle blush when you say or do something for her without her asking. It's in a compliment and the smiling eyes that comes with it. She has never had some of the things other girls take for granted, like a stolen kiss or flowers on her birthday. Other things, like those romantic gestures, she has only had once or twice. If I remember right, the last guy to 'play' was an FWB years and years ago, and that guy only stole one kiss, once," Honey replied.

"Don't expect her to run with girls. Most girls find her too harsh, too rough. She doesn't appreciate girls and their whiney, gossipy ways. She never wears makeup, and I have never once seen her with her nails painted. She is a guys-girl, a tom-boy through and through; wasn't made delicate. She is stronger than most people will ever know. However, her heart is extremely delicate, it's been broken and bruised so bad, even I wonder how she is still alive. So, let me tell you, right now," Hoseok said as he sat down his mug and leaned over the counter in my direction, "She may not be blood, but she is my sister."

"Hmm," I nodded. "You really don't have to worry about that," I replied. "How are you related to her again," I asked.

"Distant cousin. Her auntie married my mothers little brother, for all of five minutes. I am only gonna tell you this once, if you hurt that filly in ANY way; you wont walk again."

"Got it," I replied, cringing.

"You know that she won't ask for what she wants or needs. You are gonna need to be damned good at reading between the lines, cause she is so afraid that if she tells you what she needs, what she wants, you will do the same thing every one else has done," Honey said after a minute.

"Run," I answered nodding.

"Yep. Most men can't handle her intensity so they either run or try to turn her down to levels that they can handle without realizing that her fire isn't meant to be dimmed, but fed. She is gonna need you to be just as emotional as her, to show her that it is ok to feel again. She is very touch oriented, very tactile. So a lot of her feelings are touch related."

"I understand, Joey."

"You had better. The only reason I didn't beat the shit out of the other assholes, is that I wasn't there. If I had been, I would have had no problems with a few months in the county lock-up. And if Clark had tried that shit while I was there..."

"Really?"

"Yeah. See, the shit of it is, she fades into the background. She doesn't want all those things that other girls want. She isn't the kind to run or chase. She doesn't play games. She is also emotional. Ease into it. Don't try to love bomb her, she went through that shit with Clark and won't put up with it from you," Hoseok said, then turned to Joey, "Speaking of, did you hear what Lone Elm called him?"

Joey shook his head.

Hoseok grinned. "Elm called him a fuckin fishstick."

Joey started laughing, "Elm called him 'Fishstick'."

I looked back and forth between the two men who were holding themselves up on the counter while they laughed. "I don't get it. What-What's a fishstick?"

A hand landed on my shoulder from behind. I turned to see Changkhyun standing there, an amused look on his face.

"Fishsticks are only available in the States. They are mashed-up fish paste, about an inch wide by around six inches long, which is then breaded. Then, they are to be baked in an oven. Either they turn out soggy or they are hard as a rock; inedible either way. Which is good, because they are fuckin' gross. Nasty little things."

"Are they like the fish at Mickey's?"

"No," CK stated. "The fish there is actually decent. Fishsticks are generally served in school hot lunches on Fridays due either to religious reasons, or because they are cheap and can be purchased by the gross. At any rate, they are still inedible."

"Icky. How in the hell can people do that to their kids?"

"Not a clue. That was why I always took my lunch on Friday. Every Friday, the hot lunch was always the same thing; rock hard fishsticks, soggy tater tots, dehydrated-rehydrated mixed vegetables, and golden glow salad with mayonnaise on the top. It was the grossest meal I have ever seen in my entire life."

I shuddered to think of those poor kids. Forced to eat that nasty stuff.

After reading that, I was glad her kids never had to eat that. She fixed boxes for them. School lunches in the States sounded gross.

'Some things were ok.'

'I thought you took your lunch, Mami?'

'I did. My dad said cold lunch was cheaper. But, there was one day, once or twice a month, that I would get school lunch. They called it pork pattie day, but it was a breaded pork tenderloin on a bun. It was pretty decent. It was pretty gross the rest of the time, but that day wasn't too bad.'

'Have I watched you fix those before?'

'Not sure.'

'Are those the sandwiches where you beat the pork chops to nothing and then bread and fry them?'

'Yes.'

'Those do look pretty tasty,' I said as I dug around for what to fix the next day, so I could write it on the board. 'Hmm. Help, please. Can't figure out supper.'

'Whatcha got?'

'Hmmm. Some sausages, some tiny shrimp, and a package of chicken,' I said as I dug around in the freezer.

"You can use the shrimp and chicken in Gumbo.'

'It has been quite a while since I've had Gumbo. I've never made it before though.'

'Look it up. There are a million Gumbo recipes out there.'

'I think I will do that. Thanks, Baby. Have I told you, today, how awesome you are??'

'Yes, but I can always stand to hear it again,' she laughed.

A/N)--The above abuses......actually happened. First hand experience.

#original writing #my writing #original story #twin flames #twin souls #soulmates #soul mates #soulmate #soul mate #past life #astral travel #spirit projection #fanfic #fan fiction #monsta x fic #kihyun fic

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rxsie-the-demon · 4 years

Text

Brooklyn Baby | JJ Maybank

SERIES MASTERLIST

A/N: heyo! so i haven’t written fanfic in FOREVER, and i never have on tumblr. so please be patient with me (haha). this is gonna be a series, basically everything that i want (dreamed?) about that happens in season 2 of outerbanks. i hope you enjoy!

chapter summary: Nikki Reddy is new to Outer Banks High School, aka ‘Kook Academy.’ After befriending Topper, Kelce, and Scarlet and getting a crash course on OBX culture, she meets the school outcast, Kiara Carrera

warning: swearing, mentions of drowning, shooting, death, smoking, etc. nothing super bad, just usual stuff from s1

word count: 2075

CHAPTER 1: Shades of Cool

I honestly had no idea what was going through my brother’s head when he decided to say, “Fuck it, let’s move to the Outer Banks.” In the middle of the school year. In the winter!

Like, he could’ve at LEAST waited ‘til the summer or spring. But nope, we’re going to the Graveyard of the Atlantic in fucking January.

JANUARY.

I can’t even wear cute sandals or shorts.

I sighed deeply and turned into the parking lot of Outer Banks High School, or as some kid I heard called it, Kook Academy. I have no idea what that was supposed to mean because no one at the school seemed crazy. But then again, this was my third day here. For all I know, these kids are batshit crazy.

I parked her white Lamborghini Aventador that I had gotten for my sixteenth birthday (just Sweet Sixteen things) and grabbed my pink Kanken backpack and flung it over my shoulder, brushing her shoulder lengthed hair out of my way. Stupid hair always getting in the way of everything. While I walked into the building, I pulled her schedule out of the pocket of the bag, not remembering where my AP US History class was.

“Nikki! Hi!” I heard a girl’s voice call out. Turning around, I was met with the energetic, and for a lack of a better word, preppy girl who was assigned to show me around the school two days ago. Scarlet, I remembered. The girl whose name matched her hair. Next to her, the tall, HOT, tan blonde friend wearing khakis and a sweater, and the other boy, also tall, equally hot, dark-skinned friend. Topper and Kelce, was it? I couldn’t remember. Or was it Topher, like Christopher? I knew a guy who went by Topher instead of Chris. He was a weird guy.

“Hey! Scarlet, right? And...Topper and Kelce?” I gave them a sheepish grin. “Sorry, I suck with names.”

“No, it’s all good, broski,” Topper smiled. “And you got them right if that makes it better.”

I sighed with relief. “Oh, good.”

“I LOVE your dress,” Scarlet cooed. I did too. A yellow plaid cami dress over a thin, white turtleneck sweater, complete with white converse and a simple silver necklace with an ‘Om’ symbol.

“Aw, thank you! I love your outfit, too! I could never rock a green tube top and jeans, you’re BLESSED.”

“We should start walking to class, guys,” Kelce interjected, “Otherwise we’re going to be late, and Miss Newbie here doesn’t need that on her third day of school.” Topper rolled his eyes and laughed.

“Facts, love. Let’s get a move on,”

As we turned to walk to class, we passed by this girl whose rather dull aura caught my attention. I only saw part of her face when we walked by her, but she had sunken eyes as if she hadn’t had a good night’s sleep in who knows how long. Her frizzy brown hair was spilling out of the hood of her black sweatshirt, and her hands were stuffed in the pockets of her black sweatpants.

Honestly? I thought she looked like shit. But not in an insulting way, in an “Are you ok? Do you need a hug?” kind of way.

“Hey, Top,” I turned next to him to asked, “Who’s the girl in all black that looks like she’s gonna pass out?”

The three OBX OGs spun their heads around to catch a glimpse of who I was talking about, before letting out a laugh at her question. “Ah, that’s Kiara. She’s a freak.” Top responded, chuckling.

I smiled sarcastically, a little mad that they outright insulted someone like that, but couldn’t show it because, well, I had no other friends. “True, but uh, how so?”

“She’s friends with Pogues, that’s how.”

“...Pogues?”

“The poor kids on the island, from The Cut. They’re all freaks and whores, they run around, stealing stuff, trying to shoot people.” Scarlet chirped up, emphasizing the different words. I nodded slowly.

“Yeah! This one Pogue, John B, like, he stole my girlfriend, uh sorry, EX-girlfriend from me, and his buddy JJ tried to shoot me in the head!” Topper exclaimed. Nikki’s eyes went wide.

“Wait...hold up, wait, he- WHAT? WHY did he try to shoot you?”

“I got into a fight with John B.”

“OK BUT THAT DOESN’T MEAN HE’S GONNA- WHAT?”

“OK OK, I may have stuck his head underwater for a bit. I wasn’t gonna KILL him, I was just messing around, you know?” Topper looked at Kelce and Scarlet, who agreed with him, “Gotta show those dirty Pogues their place.”

I laughed dryly. What the flying fuck?

We stepped inside the classroom and took our seats, with me right behind Scarlet, and Topper and Kelce on either side of her.

Scarlett spun around. “Bro, our teacher isn’t even here!” She rolled her eyes and pulled out her Puff Bar from her bar and took a hit. She looked over at me and held it out for me. I shook my head no and turned to Topper. “Wait, Topper, that ex-girlfriend. Does she go here?”

Kelce and Scarlet immediately looked over at Topper, who looked like I just ran over his cat.

“Oh I’m sorry,” I immediately apologized. “I shouldn’t have asked about-”

“No, no, it’s ok,” Top said awkwardly and coughed. He turned to face me with a sad smile. “Uh, remember how I mentioned she’d left me for some Pogue?”

“John something, yea?”

“Well, he killed her and himself, about six months ago.”

My jaw dropped. “What the fuck?! How are you so casual about- Shit I’m so sorry.”

“Yeah, he shot the last sheriff, Sheriff Peterkins, who by all accounts was actually a sweetheart. Then he proceeds to convince Sarah, or maybe he blackmailed her, I don’t know, into riding his boat into a tropical depression. We found the wreckage of the boat a couple weeks later, but...their bodies were never found...”

“Holy fucking shit.”

“Yeah... That girl, Kiara, she was best friends with both John B and Sarah. John B was, by all accounts, trash, but he was still her friend, I guess.”

I nodded slowly, trying to process all the information Topper had just dumped onto me.

Despite my extremely wealthy upbringing, I was raised to not be classist. Or at least, I hope that’s how I turned out; Scarlet, Topper, and Kelce also don’t seem like the most honest people. But these...Pogues that they were talking about...don’t seem like the sweet people.

But something about that girl’s eyes...they seemed so sad. You don’t feel for someone like that unless they’re a good person. Right?

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

Our teacher was droning off about...gosh who even fucking knows, I stopped paying attention the second he walked in.

I was on autopilot mode, taking down notes but not, like, actually paying attention. Instead, my mind was on these really cute boots I saw while online window shopping yesterday. I had bookmarked the link. Maybe I’d buy those?

“Nikhita!” My teacher called out. Hearing my first name, I snapped back to reality.

“Hi!” I smiled back. The class chuckled a bit.

Mr. Obi, a Nigerian man with the biggest glasses I’ve ever seen, rolled his eyes. “Hello. Did you hear what I said?”

“Not at all, sir, not at all.”

Topper and Scarlet were losing their minds; the former had to put his head down on his desk because he was laughing so hard.

He sighed and shoved his glasses up his nose. They slid down again. “I asked you what was the impact of the election of 1860?”

Shit shit shit shit shit

“Uh...wait, we want to war? Yea, that, like, started the Civil War.” I said, thankful I knew the answer. Mr. Obi was unimpressed.

“Mhm. Anyway, so...” and he continued to drone off.

Topper turned to me, smiling, and we both laughed.

As the lesson went on, I kept glancing at the clock. Ok, 45 minutes left, which means we’re halfway through class.

Mr. Obi kept going on and on about the Civil War, until, 15 minutes later, a little alarm went off on his phone. He turned and pressed the ‘Stop’ button.

“Right on time. Ok, so, I shortened today’s lesson because I wanted to talk about your project. Nikhita, you got here two days ago, the first day back from winter break, so you have no idea what I’m talking about, and I’m sure most of your classmates have forgotten. So I’ll refresh your memories: the second semester of U.S History is not going to the usual. You’re going to have a semester-long project that can be about anything. Literally anything, so long as it has something to do with either world history or current events. Yes, I know this is a United States history class, but we expanded this project to make it more interesting for you guys..”

Mr. Obi stopped for a second, looking at all of us. I nodded, partially because I felt bad because everyone was just giving him black stares, and because I found this project interesting.

“Now, in the past years, I left my classes to choose their partners or groups. But before the break, I’m sure you all remember the catastrophe that was your mini-project, yes?”

The class mumbled something incoherent, except for the boys in the back of the class who started cheering, which made our teacher smile.

“Well, because of that, I’ve decided to choose your partners for you. Well, more like the Pyramid of Doom.”

The Pyramid of Doom. This mini pyramid statue that has a little opening on the top, with all of our names in them.

Mr. Obi opened the Pyramid and began. I stayed quiet, listening to see who I was going to be paired with. Hopefully one of my three friends, or maybe one of the boys in the back. They’re cute.

When my name was called, I leaned forward to pay attention. The intensity, the suspense. Who was gonna be my partner?

Mr. Obi stuck his hand in the Pyramid and pulled out the next piece of paper. “Kiara Carrera.”

My eyes went wide.

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

“So, you excited to be partners with the freak for class,” Topper asked, taking a bite of his pasta. I laughed sarcastically.

Outer Banks High School has an A/B schedule, which means third block is two hours instead of 90 minutes, and everyone has a different lunch at a different time, depending on their class. On A days, I have lunch with Topper and some other kids. On B days, I’m by myself.

Today’s an A day.

“It’ll be fine. She doesn’t seem that bad.” I turned to my left to face him, popping a grape into my mouth. Yum. I love grapes.

“Yea, just wait ‘til you get to know her,” this boy across from us said. “She’s so weird. She hates being a Kook. Like, she never goes golfing.”

“Or shopping!” One girl piped up. “She just likes to sit at the beach and surf, and smoke weed and stuff.”

“Well, that sounds fun,” I shrugged. “I mean, don’t get me wrong, I love going to country clubs, and shopping, and going out to get breakfast, but I love chillin’ at the beach. Maybe she just has different interests?”

“Ok, that’s fine,” Topper stated, “but she’s friends with Pogues. And not just any Pogues - John B Routledge, JJ Maybank, and Pope Heyward.”

“Ok, but like, one of them’s dead. Look, I’m all for holding people accountable for their actions, but...bro, stop tryna cancel a dead dude,” I laughed. Topper punched my arm, and I winced jokingly.

He wrapped an arm around my waist, and I blushed a bit. Topper’s cute, definitely, and I like the attention, but I knew what was going on. Sarah Cameron, the dead girl, was this school’s Queen, with Topper as King. He’s looking for a replacement, not an actual girlfriend.

But...I liked the attention. I put my head on his shoulder.

“Hey, so, my friend Rafe’s 20th birthday party is this Friday. He’s a family friend and I would love it if you’d join me at the party.”

I turned to look at him, debating whether or not I wanted to go to some rando’s birthday party. But Topper knows him, and it seems like everyone else does, too.

“Sure,” I smiled. “Why not.

__________________________________

chapter two

#outerbank #outer banks #jj #jj maybank #john b #john b x sarah #obx kiara #pope #jj fluff #jj smut #jj angst #obx fic #obx

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venusiandivination · 4 years

Photo

What is being hidden from you?

The question I asked the tarot today is “What is being hidden from you?” A couple of messages that came out seemed to be more on the air of how you’re doing rather than what is being hidden, but nevertheless, here is your reading!

Click the “Keep Reading” tab and scroll to the pile that you chose to see your reading.

Pile 1

I am sensing that you are out of balance, Pile 1. I feel as though you are not feeling much like you have control over your life and it is causing you to feel “out of whack.” With the Temperance and the Wheel of Fortune in reverse, there isn’t a sense of peace in your life – perhaps you just feel like you’ve been given a long stream of bad luck. This is due to external forces, so you can rest assured that it has nothing to do with you. This could mean many things, such as you are going through a lesson period that you have not quite made it through yet, and therefore feel as though everything has gone downhill because the Universe is trying to push you to learn your lesson. It could also mean that somebody is trying to keep you down. This doesn’t mean that you can’t fight it, though! I do feel this has more to do with karma to be repaid, however, because of the Six of Pentacles. This card always talks about being generous and forgiving – giving away to charity, helping those in need, and giving what you can to those who are less fortunate than you. It is possible to pull yourself out of this funk by giving back. I also pulled Capricorn, which speaks of ambition and goal-setting. Perhaps you need to sit down and figure out how you’re going to pull yourself out? Strive to be a better person, and the Universe will reward you. I also pulled Uranus, which talks of sudden transformation, much like The Tower card. Typically, these cards show up when something sudden is going to happen and break down everything you know as it is to create and rebuild something better. I believe that you, yourself, need to be the genius behind this transformation. Use Capricorns wisdom to really plan out how you’re going to do better and break down everything that isn’t serving you. Uranus is pushing you to be the brains behind the fallout. Regardless if you are not in control of what is happening in your life, this is your reminder that you ARE in control of 1. How you react to these external forces and 2. What you do to try and change your circumstances.

Pile 2

I feel like your emotions are being put on the backburner here, Pile 2. I am getting that maybe you tried put your toe in the water of love and were left out in the cold, perhaps. Ace of Cups and Five of Pentacles tell me that you were in the bliss of something emotionally driven, and suddenly it was yanked out from underneath you and gave way to an ignorance about your feelings. I pulled The Lovers as well, which is a very good sign. This can indicate a soulmate connection, however, I feel in this context it is just reminding you that there will be more love to come. It’s not over yet! If this emotionally driven situation was not relationship-related, then I feel The Lovers are going to ask you to make a decision soon. Whatever it is that you are ignoring is going to demand an answer – although The Lovers feels like a soft, sort of mushy card, it is still part of the Major Arcana. I pulled Cancer, which also indicates that you have been pushing your feelings aside regarding this matter and trying to ignore it. Cancers love being in partnership – they quite literally love love – and you are going to have to face love eventually. You aren’t going to be able to put it off and hide from it forever! I also pulled Chiron, which can be a kind of difficult healing. You heal, but in a very intense way. Chiron is all about facing yourself, realizing all of the ugly parts of you to dig deep and heal those wounds. Your Shadow Self is always appearing in every decision you make, so maybe recognize those traits that you are suppressing and work out the kinks to become the best you – then see your dreams realized.

Pile 3

I’m getting a very defeated feeling here with the Seven of Wands reversed and the Three of Swords. I feel as though you have had to grieve something recently, and it’s completely taken the wind out of you. You’ve basically given up. This could be a relationship, the loss of a loved one (whether in death or a non-romantic break-up,) or even perhaps the loss of a job you really liked, or the end to career you thought you wanted. I’m sensing that this has been extremely difficult for you, so much so that I even want to say I’m sorry. I think you have really been defeated by this situation. I’m not getting the sense that you’re unsure of where to go, more unsure that you WANT to go. But unfortunately, tarot is always here to help you, whether you like it or not. I pulled the Four of Pentacles reversed, which is all about letting go of situations and moving forward. The Four of Pentacles upright describes a greedy, selfish person. Reversed, it’s all about being open to new things and lightheartedly going where life takes us. The oracle I pulled for you are Aquarius, which is the sign of humanitarianism. “I Know” is written across the front of the card, and I feel that is where this is leading – You KNOW it’s time to stop grieving. You KNOW it’s time to let go and move on. I also pulled Mercury Retrograde, which is all about reinvention! During a Mercury Retrograde, we typically aren’t ourselves – our words get jumbled and we feel like we’re glitching in the Matrix. I feel like this is where you are now, right in the middle of an unexpected failure. But when Mercury goes direct, we don’t continue those mishaps and mistakes. We get up and fix what needs to be fixed, and we move on. Find the motivation and get up, because you’re only as good as your next move.

Pile 4

The only thing I really want to start off with looking at all of these cards as a whole, is how freaking powerful of a person you are, Pile 4. You are K-I-L-L-I-N-G it. I believe what is hidden from you IS this power. You’re not aware that you are a badass. Perhaps with the Magician reversed, you are aware but not using it wisely. That will not be the case for most of you, however, with the Empress seated right next to him. Perhaps someone in your life is manipulative and trying to keep you from seeing your own worth. However, I believe you are owning your feminine side, creating and manifesting everything around you whether you know it or not, and despite any attempt at pushing you down. I also pulled The Sun for you, meaning positivity at it’s highest in a tarot deck, and the absolute best of life to come. Perhaps you are working hard toward something right now, as I pulled Taurus, all about material possessions and what is in the bank account. Whether that be working overtime to afford a car or just have a little extra cushion in the bank account in case you decide you need something down the line. Whatever it is, you are on the right path with North Node. The North Node is all about life’s path forward, going more toward the North Node in this lifetime to get away from the South Node of your past lifetimes. North Node is THE lesson you should be learning, and I feel as though you have it down pat.

Pile 5

With the World and the Hermit reversed, I feel a lot of stagnation and loneliness, Pile 5. You are not feeling like you’re getting anywhere with whatever it is that you’re trying to accomplish. Perhaps the state of world currently has you on edge and is truly getting to your state of mind. The Five of Wands reversed lets me know that the battle is going to be short-lived. However long you have been feeling this way, you’re going to come out on top soon. A solution to your worries is coming quickly, and you’re going to get out of this rut to realize the true potential of the World at its most powerful – success and accomplishment. Perhaps you’ve already come across the solution and it is just hidden to you, as would be the namesake of this reading. For your oracle I pulled the Twelfth House, which is generally about our subconscious. The unknown part of us lives in the Twelfth house. Those mannerisms that we are unaware of and can let take over us without really being aware it’s happening. Look to your chart and see what sign lies in the Twelfth house – perhaps it is Leo, where your ego is almost nonexistent, or Libra, where we learn to balance ourselves. Perhaps this will give you the push you have been needing. I also pulled Scorpio, the dark sign of transformation that is ruled by Pluto. This sign is about death, taxes, and those darker parts of life that are necessary to see the better parts. I feel as though the transformation is coming soon, along with the Five of Wands reversed. The recommendation here is to let your desires be known, outwardly and to yourself. Perhaps you are not really sure why you’re in this rut, but a little but of inward reflection will tell you exactly where you want to be, and pushing this desire into the Universe will make it happen!

#pick a card #tarot reading #Venusian Divination #what is hidden from me #what is being hidden from you

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viskovie · 4 years

Text

Almost Like Family

Chapter I

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Following his return to the States, Matt would like to say he was productive. Would like to say that he found a job, connected with old friends again, and started looking at apartments so he could finally move out of his mom’s house. In reality, he put in an application for college - after haphazardly picking a degree - and then lay around doing nothing. For six weeks.

He knows he needs to get his shit back together, but how the hell are you supposed to do that when some of it’s still in some godforsaken war camp on the other side of the world? His mom is worried about him, and usually that would be enough to guilt him into getting off his ass. But now it just gets under his skin. He’s been to war - literally. If he was only a boy before he left, he definitely isn’t anymore.

Part of him is uncomfortably aware that he’s being unreasonable. Of course his mom’s worried. Her baby just survived hell on earth - the same hell she lost her husband to. She doesn’t want to lose him, too. But still. Matt doesn’t appreciate the coddling. She was an army wife, so she of all people should know to leave him be.

The first thing he bought when he finally had his feet back on familiar ground was an armful of the most American fast-food he could think of. Later that evening, with his system flooded with relief and his belly full, he’d seriously considered ditching the whole college idea in favour of aimless travel. He’d wanted to buy a car and just roam the country until he’d seen everything there was to see. But his mom had - luckily - had the foresight to shut him out of his bank account before he got home. No better way of making your kid stick to the plan than not giving them any other options, he’d thought moodily, but he knows she was right. He still wants to travel around the States, but he reasons that he can do that after he’s graduated and got a good job.

He wants to be a veterinarian, although it was kind of a snap-decision. Besides, it’ll be a better reason to call himself a vet than going to war is. Will ever be. His time there was… useless. A waste of resources; of life… He doesn’t want to think about it.

He’s been having this recurring nightmare ever since he got home. He’s standing out in the desert - somewhere familiar, but he can never place exactly where. He always looks around, trying to remember, and when he turns back Chutsky’s walking toward him. There’s blood on his helmet and smeared all over his face. His gun is in his hands, but the trigger is missing. He gets close. Close enough for Matt to see how glassy and vacant his eyes are. He looks ragged and disoriented. He’s a shell of himself; all the life in him gone. Sometimes he just stands there, with a sad, longing look on his face, but sometimes he talks directly to Matt.

“Why didn’t you help me?”

“Why didn’t you try to stop me?”

“I had a family…”

It’s infinitely worse when he speaks, because Matt can never answer. He doesn’t know what to say. He’d been too busy covering his own ass to worry about anyone else’s, and his teammate had died for it. Chutsky always looks at him like he’s waiting for a response, but when he seems to realise that Matt isn’t going to reply, he turns away with a lonelier expression than before. He breaks into a sprint, gets a few steps away, and gets gunned down. He hits the dirt exactly like he did in Baqubah. The shot echoes in Matt’s head even after he’s sat up in bed, drenched in an icy sweat. It’s his fault that Chutsky’s dead. His fault, and there’s nothing Sergeant Harper can say that will change his mind.

He often wonders how Harper’s doing. The Sergeant’s a career soldier, so for him this is probably just an intermission before the next tour. Matt doesn’t envy him, but he does miss him. He wonders if Harper ever reconciled with his fiancée (Anne? Andrea?). He doesn’t like to think about that either.

Matt had discovered his sexuality in ninth grade. It had not been a particularly fun experience; he’d immediately told his best friend at the time, but the friend hadn’t taken it well. He was never mean about it, and never told anyone else (which Matt was, admittedly, grateful for) but there had been a weird tension between them ever since. Eventually, they drifted apart and didn’t really speak to each other again. In eleventh grade, Matt had his first - and last - boyfriend. Once they’d moved past the excitement of a new relationship, the whole thing had been disappointingly average. It had ended quietly. There were no hard feelings, but they were never friends. All in all, Matt isn’t proud of his attractions and tries to keep them under wraps as best he can. He’d been doing a pretty damn good job of it, too - until he’d met Sergeant Harper.

It hadn’t been some Romeo and Juliet, love-at-first-sight bullshit. There were plenty of good-looking men around, and statistically speaking some of them should’ve been gay, but something about Harper fascinated Matt.

It could’ve been anything, really. Even after fifteen months in Iraq, living practically on top of one another, Matt still couldn’t say he knew much about him for certain, besides what he knew as a soldier. Harper was fair, he knew when to pull rank and when to let things slide, he did his best to keep his team safe, and he showed a sensitivity that most of the other blokes had lost long ago. The only thing Matt didn’t like was that he never stepped in when Burton, Enzo and Chutsky’s teasing had gotten nasty. Harper had a “fight your own battles” attitude, which was all well and good, but sounded frustratingly like his middle school teachers. And so Matt did his best to ignore them, but it was hard not to feel alone when he noticed Harper watching and never intervening.

He also had this weird ability to know what Matt was thinking. After he’d broken his hand, Harper had asked how it happened. The question was casual, innocent, but Matt couldn’t quite force himself to make eye contact as he answered. The sergeant wasn’t an idiot. No way he bought the story, even if he never really mentioned it again. The rational part of Matt knew he couldn’t actually read minds, but still. He’d tried not to take any chances.

He knows he’d been in hot water by the time he finally left. He thinks back on their conversation in Baqubah, after the mission that was supposed to be quick and painless and ended up being a total shitshow, when he finally came clean and told Harper everything. Why he’d broken his own hand, how it’d happened, why he’d even signed up in the first place. Harper had nodded - he hadn’t brushed him off or told him to suck it up like the others would’ve, and Matt couldn’t tell him how much he appreciated it. Harper seemed to understand. But Matt thinks he’d confessed more than he’d meant to, even without explicitly saying it. Harper had given him a long, searching look before going back to his cigarette. Matt can’t stop thinking about it.

They were never exactly close, but did Harper suddenly seem to hold him at arm’s length? Was it because he’d known more than he was letting on, was it because he was still in shock over that ill-fated raid, or was it all in Matt’s head? Had he projected a little too much, desperately hoping for reciprocation and terrified of rejection?

He sighs, staring up at his bedroom ceiling. The paper stars he stuck up in sixth grade are still there, hanging from their fine white threads in a loose cloud. He thinks the original idea had been to cover his entire ceiling in them, make it look like a galaxy. He can’t quite remember. What would his twelve-year-old self think of him now? He’d dreamed of working at NASA. If he searches, he’ll probably find all the drawings and plans to build cool space tech that he made when he was a kid. The thought makes him smile, but it’s heartbreakingly bittersweet. Poor little Matt; lost his dad at six, lost his best friend at fifteen, and now losing himself at twenty-two.

His mom knocks gently on the door, tactfully waiting for invitation to enter. She’s holding the home phone. She looks a little sad, but quietly knowing.

“It’s for you, hun.” She says, holding it out for him. Matt accepts it and she gives him a small, tired smile.

“Don’t keep him waiting too long, he seems sweet.” She adds, shutting the door again as she leaves. Matt brings the phone to his ear. He doesn’t know who would be calling him, nor does he really care. It’s probably one of his few high school friends, making a token attempt to reconnect. He’s not expecting to hear Harper’s voice.

“Hey Ocre. How’s it feel to be home?”

Matt nearly drops the phone. He sits heavily on the edge of his bed.

“I- uh, good, sir. It’s good to be home.” Even to his own ears the words sound hollow. He sits up a little straighter, subconsciously falling back into the familiarity of addressing a senior officer. Over the line, Harper laughs softly.

“Yeah, it takes a little while to get used to the fact that nobody’s trying to kill you anymore.” He says. There’s a few moments of awkward silence, in which Matt can’t think of anything to say. Harper makes a sound like he’s clearing his throat.

“Are you still in the area?” He asks carefully. The question takes Matt by surprise. He fumbles his anwer, suddenly self-conscious about still living with his mom.

“Good. There’s some stuff we never got to talk about back there.” Harper continues steadily. Matt’s heart skips a beat and his blood runs inexplicably cold. No, no, no, no. What happened in Baqubah was going to stay in Baqubah, including their little ‘chat’.

“Ocre? You still there?”

“Uh…”

“When are you free?”Harper prompts. Never, Matt wants to say.

“Whenever.” Is what he actually says. He cringes as soon as the word has left his mouth. God, he sounds like a teenager with a crush! He hopes Harper doesn’t notice. But of course, no such luck.

“Damn, you’re that excited to see me again, huh?” Harper teases, laughing again. It sounds more genuine this time. Matt opens his mouth to snark back, but realises there’s nothing he can say that will let him win. They arrange a time and place to meet, and when they hang up he feels lighter than he has in weeks. He lies back on his bed, looking up at his stars again.

He isn’t sure whether to be relieved or agitated that he’s gonna see Harper again. He’d left Baqubah with the sense of absolute certainty that if he never saw or thought of the guys again he’d be able to forget what he’d seen and done. But on the other hand, Harper may well be the only other person in the world who knows exactly how he feels. It’s confusing, and Matt’s getting another headache.

He isn’t sure when he dozes off, but for the first time since he got home, he doesn’t have his regular nightmare. It’s not a peaceful sleep, but he doesn’t wake up with the shakes so he counts it as a success.

#sand castle 2017 #sand castle #matt ocre #sgt james harper #fanfic

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mrs-hollandstan · 6 years

Text

Filthy Rich || Rich Kid! Tom Holland

Warnings: There’s a lot. Smut, oral (brief, male receiving), rich kid Tom, talk of past sex stuff, rich people tings, language, mention of alcohol, HEFTY prices on things, talk of sex toys and their use.

Word Count: 5,297

Author’s Note: So this is the rich kid!Tom thing I talked about. I have an idea for the little piece at the end that Tom mentions but I’m very open to suggestions on what you guys would want to see if I do write a part two so let me know! And enjoy! (Italics is a flashback.)

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"Hey you, come here often?" You giggled as Tom bound his arms around your waist. Clicking your tongue, you swat at his hands placed at your hips, "What are you doing? I thought you were with your little golf friends at table six." "Oh stalking me now, are ya?" You giggle again, "Definitely not. I served you guys water not too long ago. Back then, you were talkin about... whatever... that was." He chuckled, "Do you ever pay attention to me?" Turning with a full tray, you smile, "To answer your question, yes, I do come her often. I work here dummy." He tsks,

"Tryin to leave me already?" Glancing over your shoulder, you shake your head, "Like I said, I work here. I gotta get back to it. I can't have any distractions." Tom watches you walk away, licking his lips as he eyes you up and down like he always does when you're any measurable distance away. He looks dashing in his crisp, white button up and black polyester slacks, hemmed at the bottom. He tucked his hands in his pockets, trudging forward after you, a smile set wide on his face at the polite gesture of you offering water to some of the other boys in his golf club. That shy smile you gave, he'd seen beyond. He almost felt dirty for thinking about it. The way you laugh and focus your attention on him. The way you wear his shirts even though he's offered to buy you the finest, most expensive pajama sets in New York. He remembered that first time you kisses him and the way it made his heart leap out of his chest. And how that night, you cried out his name like a mantra for the first time. "Gosh, we really shouldn't be here. I feel guilty just standing here." Tom had chuckled at the way your cheeks were rosey in embarrassment. All the other women in lavish boutique looked as though they belonged to millionaires and the purses they carried, watches they sported, clothes they wore, added to the effect. Tom just scoffed and took your wrist, "Oh come on, you said you'd do this for me. I wanna see you try some of this stuff on. My mum used to bring me and my brothers round these shops all the time to look for party dresses. I used to envision doing the same with a girlfriend of my own. Now I..." He'd gotten embarrassed himself at the idea of calling you his girlfriend. He didn't know what to call you at the time but he knew that with how beautiful you were, always, he didn't want to stick to the friendzone. You just followed him in silence until he stopped in front of a rack of brightly colored garments, all of them with a blazing yellow price tag sporting a number that heavily exceeded three month's worth of rent. Tom could read you when you turned, mouth agape to elucidate the regret and uncertainty in your body. He held a hand up, "Don't... darling don't. Have fun with this. I'm not saying that every dress you like I'll buy you. I just want to see you in... rich people clothes." He shuddered as the words left his mouth, his nose crinkling in distaste. He hadn't really thought of him as a spoiled little rich kid until you'd popped off, thinking you'd proved a point. He'd felt bad though and he stopped brandishing thick stacks of cash in an attempt to stifle your indications. His savings sat in his bank, collecting dust for a few months as he and you spent your time at coffee shops and cheap restaurants, wasting weekends studying or sitting on your broken down couch in old, torn shirts and sweats, mouths full of pizza while you watched a comedy special or movie on either his Hulu or Netflix account you'd fought him tooth and nail not to log into on your laptop. He of course won and to this day, you still used them. You rolled your eyes and your shoulders slumped, but you turned and scowered the expensive pieces hanging on the racks. Sitting on a large, white, leather couch, Tom kicked a foot up on it, holding it in place behind his knee, his arm laid over the back of it. He eyed you, watching you shyly thumb through the hangered clothes as if you'd rip them. Tom chuckled, "You won't rip it... and even if you did-" "If you even think of saying you'll buy it, I will literally throw myself through a window." Tom chuckled again, watching you slide a dress back from the others on the thick metal pole, cocking your head. Tom rolled his eyes, "Would you like me to pick stuff out for you? You seem to not know what you like." He piped up snarkily. You sighed, your eyes closing before he steps up behind you, his shoulder pressed against your own as he eyes the expensive navy blue, velvet dress you'd chose out of all the others. He nods, "I like it." You scoff, tucking hair behind both ears, "Not for that price." He rolls his eyes as you mumble, pulling the thick wooden hanger off the rack and sorting through some other dresses. He hums satisfactorily at a blush dress with a low front and back, the bottom made of tulle that came off the silk top in waves. He shrugged and pulled it from the rack, moving through the other ones. He found a number of dresses he liked before he turned to you, "Alright... ready to be my little model? Be the little spoiled rich kid's own, personal fashionista." Rolling your eyes, your feet carry you after him with the insistent hold on your wrist. Pulling you into a large, all white dressing room with a couch and a pedestal centering the room surrounded by a circle of mirrors, Tom sighed, "This is one of those places you have to ASK for the champagne." Rubbing a hand over his face, he shakes his head and hangs the dresses on a hook. Sighing, he turns and cocks his head, "You can try the one you were interested in first. You really seemed to like it." "They're all beautiful Tom. They are... I just... with those price tags... those price tags all alone are worth more than my entire life." Tom's face broke out in a cocky smirk, "Probably twice or three times over darling." He stares for a moment, finding an unamused look written on your lips and in your eyes. He clicks his tongue, taking a step forward, "I'm kidding and you know that. Love... money doesn't constitute you. You're worth more than this. Quit acting like if you drop a pen in one of these quaint little shops, you'll have to pay a hundred thousand dollars. Fuck these people. You could go on without me and be worth more than I could ever think of being." Pulling the navy dress from its hanger, he holds it up, specks of gold catching the light. You sigh, watching the dress glisten before stepping forward. Nodding, he gives a reassuring smile, eyeing you as you take the dress, "Want me to turn my back?" You swallow back your nerves and shake your head, setting the dress on the pedestal before stripping of your shirt and jeans, while Tom flops on the fainting couch, propped up on an elbow, his phone in his nimble fingers. His jaw clenches and his eyebrows furrow as he scrolls through his notifications for just a moment as you neatly fold your clothes, setting them on the pedestal and picking the dress back up. Sliding it up your legs gently, Tom only glances up when the thin straps are pulled up over your shoulders. "Now," he stands again, strutting over and buttoning the dress's three buttons, "normally this," he flicks the strap of your bra against your skin, "wouldn't be worn." When you meet his eyes in the mirror, they're dangerously playful. He raises an eyebrow, "Get the hint?" After a few seconds more, you nod and he watches you reach behind your back and unclasp your bra, sliding it off your shoulders and tossing it on the pile of clothes. He gives a sigh, placing his hands at your arms, "See? It looks better." You nod, watching Tom's fingers brush your hair aside, looking you over in the mirror. He cocks his head, "You're stunning. I can see you at gala's sipping champagne with the most expensive dresses with your nails and your hair and your makeup done. The prettiest little thing on my arm." Leaning in, his lips pressing the gentlest kiss to your neck. A kiss that breaks the skin out in goosebumps and has you tilting your neck. Looking up again, his hands drift to your hips, being hugged by the navy material, "And I suppose it's you that wants to pay for it?" You speak quietly. He shrugs, "If you'd like me to. I could." "That's your dream, not mine. You see that. I... I don't." When you look down at your hands, he hums, "Why? Because you think you're being self righteous?" Your head snaps up, "Because I have self awareness. I have boundaries. I wasn't RAISED a spoiled brat. I don't like the idea of transforming into one to conform to your twisted ways Holland." The corners of his lips twitch up into a half attempted smile, "Is that so?" You give one curt nod, before you glance down at his fingers, "Unbutton me." He smiles fully before giving a gentle nudge to your shoulders, towards the mirror, "Look at yourself first. Tell me you don't look good. Tell me you don't like the way you look... the way you feel." Peering over your shoulder at him, you humor him, taking a few step forward to stand before the row of mirrors, looking yourself over in each of them now that the bar lights above them are basking you in an annoying, but flattering glow. He tucks his hands in his pockets, watching you smooth the dress over your stomach and hips, "Beautiful aren't you?" He purrs, entranced by the way your hair has fallen over your shoulders, making you look like the absolute goddess you are. And for just a moment he sees the idea of being his arm candy glint in your eyes. You nod hesitantly, "Its a sight, I'll give you that." He chuckles, "You could have the world if you were with me." He informs. "Is that what this is?" You turn, eyes locked in his, "This is a curtain call for a girlfriend? You wanna see how I look in your getup so you can either approve me or deny me and move on?" You rationalize. Tom raises his eyebrows, "Is that what it seems? That's not what I intended." Walking towards the row of dresses laid out for you to try on, he pulls the blush pink one from its hanger. Turning to look at you, he holds a hand up and guides you over with a finger. After another second, you walk towards him, eyeing him and turning. He reaches forward and unbuttons the three pearls on the back of the dress. Holding it to your chest, he watches you, cocking an eyebrow, "Shy now?" He smiles, his eyes sparkling in playfulness. Quirking your own eyebrow, you let the dress fall to your feet, his eyes wandering your nearly nude body. He gives a satisfied nod, eyes locked on your full breasts before he holds the blush dress up, "Need help?" Turning to him, you shake your head and take it from him, sliding into it while he resumes his place on the couch again, pursing his lips. You press your hands to your stomach, looking yourself over in the seemingly distant mirrors. You'd liked how you looked in the navy dress, but the way you looked in the blush dress prevailed. "C'mere darling." Tom huffed out, setting his phone on the couch beside him. Spinning on your heels, you walk towards him nonchalantly, playing with your fingers, "You really liked this dress... how do I look?" You say shyly, Tom's stomach flipping at the sudden loss of attitude. He licks his lips, looking you over, "Like... can I be honest with you?" You nod, chewing the inside of your lip. Grabbing your hips, he turns you and pulls you down into his lap, the pool of tulle covering his legs down to his shins. He clears your hair off to the side again, "I've never wanted to fuck anyone more than I do you... right now." "Earth to Thomas." Tom comes back from his zoned out expression with your hand in his face, your lips turned up into a smile. Blinking away the memory of that day, he nods and turns fully to look at you, "Jeez... you were zoned for a long time. What was that all about?" Setting the pitcher of water down beside him, he looks around the both of you, "Are you due for a break yet?" Pursing your lips, he watches you swallow. Taking hold of his arm, you glance at his watch, "I'm due for a half right about now... yeah, why?" Reaching up, he tucks hair behind your ear, much shorter than that day in the boutique, "I really want you darling." He rasps out, goosebumps erupting up over your skin. You lick your lips, "Oh... uhh... yeah, let's... let me go ask Yolanda." He nods, watching you walk off, his eyes locked on your hips and the way they sway naturally. He loves holding onto them when he takes you from behind. Sooner than expected, you return with a swift nod, "While everything's calm right now, she said I can have my half." Tom nods, "'Right, do you have somewhere we can be... alone? Like somewhere private?" Licking your lips, you cock your head, "There's a little bathroom like all the way across the golf course no one really uses." He nods and takes your hand, "Take me there." In a short walk, you've reached a dimly lit bathroom, licking your lips and releasing his hand, "So... what were you daydreaming about in there?" Turning to him, you cross your arms, Tom stepping forward and bending at the knees to run his hand up your thigh under your denim skirt, "That first day... in the boutique... in downtown Manhattan." Watching his hands drift up towards your core, you swallow again, "Oh... yeah?" He nods, licking his lips, his eyes meeting yours, "Take your shirt off for me baby." He croaks, watching you uncross your arms and pull your top off. He groans, leaning in to kiss the mounds of your breasts, barely hidden beneath a lacey red bra, "So fucking gorgeous. God when you took your bra off in that boutique, I could barely function. You're absolutely flawless love." Reaching up, he unbuttons your skirt, letting it pool at your feet. Taking hold of your thighs, he lifts you to sit on the counter, reaching up to unbutton his own shirt. He glances up when you reach behind yourself, and unclasp your bra, tossing it with your clothes on the sink beside you. Tom licks his lips once more, shrugging his shirt from his shoulders. Taking a step forward between your legs, he leans in, his lips finding yours. You reach up, running your fingers through his hair before he steps back, unbuckling his belt, "I fucking love you." You giggle and slip to your knees, unbuttoning and unzipping his slacks when he pulls his belt free. He swipes his nose with his thumb, watching you tug his slacks and underwear down, freeing his proud member. He places his hand over your right ear, "Gonna suck me off a little bit princess?" You nod, leaning in to kiss his sun kissed thighs. Smiling, you suck at his tip a tiny bit, "So naughty. I shouldn't be thinking about you sun tanning naked on your private beach house like I am. You're so sexy Tom." He chuckles, watching hour cheeks hollow, "I shouldn't think about how much cum have been on those beautiful tits of yours. I also shouldn't be thinking about you riding me. There's a lot of things I shouldn't be thinking about when it comes to your perfect body." He grunts when you finally wrap your mouth around him, his head falling back, "The way you looked in the blush dress. The way you begged me not to buy it for you because it was five thousand dollars. The way you said you'd do anything and I ended up buying it and we fucked anyways." He panted, feeling you run your tongue along the base of him. Bobbing your head gently, he moans, "God you're absolutely amazing princess." Humming around him, you glanced up at him through your lashes, running your teeth along his shaft. His knees nearly give out and he growls before taking hold of your arm, "Stand up love. I don't wanna wait for you." Tsking, as you stand and bend over the counter just the slightest, you lean on your hands, "Impatient little rich kid." He laughs rather loudly, slowly drawing the red lace of your underwear down your legs, "This impatient little rich kid bought both your bra and your underwear." Your cheeks burn an aggressive pink as he looks at you in the mirror, one of his eyebrows disappearing behind the mop of curls that had bobbed to his forehead. Lifting your legs by the calf, he hummed, slipping your underwear from around your feet and standing, wrapping his arms around you and showing you the brand name at the inside of them, "I did buy you those right? That was me, correct?" You nod, "Piss off Holland. Don't be rude." Clicking his tongue, he tosses your underwear with your other clothes and tears a condom open, tossing the wrapper into the trash and smoothing it down onto him. Jerking himself harder, he licked his lips, spitting onto his shaft for lubrication. He hummed as he lined himself up with your entrance, a hand running along your back to hold onto your shoulder, rings gently nipping at your skin as he gently glides inside of you. He glances up at your face in the mirror as you moan, his own features twisting up in pleasure, "Fuck. God I'm inside you like every other night and you're still so tight." You giggle, "Its not every other night. The last time we've done this was... what, almost a week ago?" He chuckles, "That's too fucking long for me. That's how long it's been." Smiling, you gasp, your head dropping forward as he gently holds your hips and thrusts in and out of you, "Fuck... God Tom you... fuck..." Tom chuckles at your broken statements, watching you bite your lip, and your eyes roll back in your head, his lips turning up in a wide smile, "Still so fucking stunning." The metal of his three rings, a matte black Lashbrook E8D, a meteorite and whiskey barrel band, and a platinum Cartier D'amour band and the cold leather of his stainless steel, Master Ultra Thin Moon, Jaeger-LeCoultre watch that he'd spent a good amount of time this morning debating if he should wear, presses against your skin and he listens to you hum. Pulling back on your hips, he leans in and presses his palms over both breasts, "I want... to buy more lingerie for you. I want you to have... more for special... occasions." He practically pants as you reach up to press your hand to his own. You buck your hips back against him, "Tom... you're wearing... four pieces of jewelry right now... and all of them total up... to nearly fifteen thousand dollars. I can't... imagine how much... the lingerie you want to buy me costs." You rasp out between moans. He chuckles in your ear, "Around five hundred but... who's counting?" "Me... what have I told you about... buying for me?" He forces himself deeper, his hand snaking up to your throat when you cry out, your head falling forward. Leaning in he growls through grit teeth, "Didn't hear you complain when a box of sex toys arrived at your door all those months ago." His smile in the mirror is devious when your cheeks and clavicles flush a deep red. You could remember that day. He hadn't answered the phone immediately, having to sneak into a bathroom during his internship and answer with a whispered hello where he'd practically got you screaming at him, wondering why there was a box of various colored and sized dildos, vibrators and even a few fleshlights for him, meticulously packed in a black, unmarked box and laying on your bed before you. He'd just smiled, chuckling out a reply about the two of you having fun before demanding that you give him twenty minutes before he went on his lunch break so you could use a particularly long and thick dildo, a cum tube included for the first time over the phone. And that was the first time the two of you had had phone sex. A harsh slap to your ass brought you from the nostalgic memory, "Naughty girl. Did you just grow wetter thinking about the contents of that box? You quite liked some of those toys huh? Loved the way my eyes sparkled when fake cum dripped from your pretty little pussy. Loved the way I pounced and fucked it back up into you, huh?" He doesn't mistake your nod, squeezing your throat just the slightest before his hand slides down your chest and back to your hip, his eyes locked on his cock, now glistening in your slick. His heart stutters in his chest when you whimper, his hand slipping down to your thigh, lifting it up onto the counter, "The way you had... no shame in fucking that fleshlight that first time. Like you'd... done it before." "I had." He leans in to whisper in your ear. Leaning back into him, you can feel his fingertips dig into your hips, your eyes locking over your shoulder, "In front of another girl?" You pant out. He hums, "Well no." "Good. I better be the only girl you do that for." You reply sternly. Reaching around, he strokes your clit, nipping at the shell of your ear, "Always. Only for you my girl." Reaching up, you stroke his cheek, moaning for him. After a few more heart pounding moments, he reaches across to hold your bottom, drawing back until his tip slips out of you before pressing back in. He does it a few times, loving the way your slick sounds each time your pussy clenches down around him and then releases him. He loved the way you whimper and whine, his name thrown into the mixture before he completely pulls back, grabbing your arm and careening you back into the handicap stall, your back pressed against the tan, brick wall. Placing your hand at his shoulder, you both glance down to watch him guide his cock back inside of you, Tom drawing your knee up into the crook of his elbow, his hand placed at your hip. You meet eyes when you gasp, Tom giving a loving smile, "I can never get over you. You're fucking stunning." Giggling, you bite your lip and moan when he starts to thrust into you again, "Can't keep your hands off of me. What are we gonna do with you?" Grabbing your ass in both hands, he pulls you closer to him, your arms falling around his neck, hands pressed between his shoulder blades. Leaning in, his teeth sink into the skin of your neck, "No lovebites. I have to go back to work Tom." "I'm almost there." He grunts, reaching around to stroke you clit, continuing to nip and suck at your neck, "No lovebites Tom. They'll send me home." You gasp. He growls, "You can come back to mine. Finish this." "I can't Tom..." he groans, drawing back and kissing up your throat and under your jaw. Pulling your hips more firm against his, he grunts, "Tell me again." He whispers in your ear again. You moan, "What?" "Tell me again. Tell me what you told me that day." "What day?" "That day in the boutique... after I told you I wanted to fuck you." Your brain is filled with all the things you said to him, the rude and less. All the things you did to him. The angry fuck that ensued after you'd walked away from him and got lost only for him to find you and lead you back to his car where your clothes were abandoned for half an hour in his backseat. But you know exactly what he was talking about. "If you can shut up long enough and put those hands to better use than dishing out your money I think I can manage to open my legs for you." His skin breaks out in goosebumps beneath your hands, his hips stuttering for just a moment before they speed up, his fingers pinching your clit. When you whimper, he leans in, his lips pressed to yours in a rushed, hungry kiss, "Oh fuck... Tom." Your high is building and Tom knows. He can feel you clenching down around him, your legs starting to shake. Rearing back and swatting at your bottom, grunting as your head falls back against the wall, "Tom-" "I know baby." Drawing your other leg up into his arm, he lifts you, carrying you back to the counter which he sets you on. Dropping your legs, he holds your knees to his hips, pounding into you. You squeal and bury your face in his neck, digging your nails into his arms. He groans, "Fuck. Cum for me." He growls in your ear. "Baby-" "Cum for me darling. Just like you did in the backseat of my car. Say my name." Curling your toes and clutching him tight in your hands, your head falls back, flopping as he continues to thrust up into you, his tip gently skirting along your g-spot, "Tom." You gasp out. He hums, leaning in to suck at your skin again, just over your collarbone where he knows no one will see. "Tommy." You press, fingertips on one hand digging into his shoulder while the other hand slips down to hold his bottom, the coil in your belly so close to snapping. Tom watches your head fall back again and you cry out, reaching up to give his hair a harsh tug when he reaches around to toy with your clit again. When you scream, his name slips past your lips and your legs quake in his hands. He spirals over the edge, spilling the contents of his orgasm into his condom with a growl, his chest pressed against yours nearly knocking you into the sink. "Fuck baby." You pant out, leaning in to kiss his cheek when your haze is gone. He hums, binding his arms around you, "Yeah... fuck." His lips press into a tight line when you reach up to brush fallen curls from his eyes, "You're good. Really good." He nods, "So I've been told. Hey... that reminds me... ive been meaning to ask you something." Gently drawing back, he pulls out and slides the condom off, tying it and tossing it into the small bin while you start to pull your bra back on, "Ask me what?" He turns, taking his boxers from your hands and stepping into them, "I'm headed to Seychelles to accompany my dad on a business conference. We're staying in separate rooms on the beach and I..." You look up at him, his eyes finding yours, "I want you there with me." You nod, "I could go for a beach week or... however long. You gotta let me know when it is so I can ask for it off." He nods, "I think it's just a little over two weeks. I'll text my dad, give you an answer by the time your shift is over." You nod, buttoning your skirt and smiling when Tom's arm bind around your middle, "Love it when you scream my name pretty girl." You giggle, placing your hands over his arms, "I know you do handsome. I love you." He smiles, leaning back when you turn your head, "Love you too. I wish you'd let me buy more for you. I find some beautiful things and I'm cut off... ya know?" You nod, finding the right end of your work shirt, moving out of his arms to slide over your head, "I know, I know. I just... I want us to be in love without material things. There's no need for all these fancy things in life. I feel like I'm being bought into loving you and I don't want to. I love you more than anything and all these numbers being thrown my way on price tags... the dresses, the necklaces and promise rings, the trips and souvenirs and all... its nice to have memories... yes, it's nice to be spoiled every once in a while but you don't have to buy me." "I know baby, I know I just... sometimes I see things that I know you'd love but I can just see myself getting yelled at for buying them. I just wish you were more blinded by my money." Taking hold of his face, you bring it to your own, the tips of your noses touching, "I wouldn't yell at you. I'd scold you but... I have lingerie on that you bought me and my nails are done with your money. I enjoy it sometimes but... I gotta stay humble... and keep you down to earth. Can't have you bein an airhead with that ego." He smiles, holding your hips. He nods, "Yeah, I get it. I love you." "I love you too." You coo, leaning in to kiss him, "But I got a job to do. My half is almost over and if I'm a minute late I'm gonna get in so much trouble." He chuckles as you pull the small bag from the trash can, "Disposing of the evidence eh?" "Hey I’m just looking out for you. Someone use this to try and frame you for child support and all." He follows you out, still buttoning his shirt and crinkling his nose, "Gross." You giggle, tossing the bag into the dumpster and trailing further to the open double doors of the banquet hall, "Hey but uh... who do I have to bribe for you to serve dinner to our table?" Fixing his collar and helping his tuck his short in his slacks, you tsk, "Me, I'm already serving you guys." Reaching in his pocket, he pulls out his money clip, counting out a hundred and offering it up. He chuckles when you roll your eyes and swat at his hand, "One, what did we just talk about? Two, you should not carry that much cash. Three-" He cuts you off with his lips against your own again, "Lemme guess, you're not a whore that can be paid for." "Exactly." He nods, "I was kidding." You nod back, smoothing his shirt down, "I'll see you in like an hour and a half okay? Just in case I don't pay attention to you." He nods, placing his hand at your lower back and holding you close as he pecks your lips, "Yeah, I love you." "Love you too rich boy."

Taglist: @embrace-themagic @delicioustommy @spiderman-n @winters-beauty @smexylemony @lolabean1998

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twokinkybeans · 4 years

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Tempio Di Pietro 5: Clessidra

A Jar Of Dirt Spin-Off Peter x Tony (x MJ)

Masterpost Read this chapter on AO3

Vacanza - Il Quattordicesimo Giorno (Day 14) MJ stares at her own reflection in the mirror as she twists and turns, checking the way the light pastel pink dress hugs her skin. It’s surreal. This entire situation is surreal. How did she find herself in the most expensive shop in a little Italian village to choose a dress that will make her look like a goddess? A dress that she’s paying using Tony Stark’s money? She can’t believe it’s actually happening. This dress is worth at least five months of food for her and it’s the prettiest one she’s ever seen. The light chiffon fabric is so soft and gentle on her skin, accentuating all the right parts of her body. The low cut is just revealing enough and the flowery pattern at the bottom makes it playful and cute. “This one,” she whispers, turning around to the shop assistant who’s been helping her try on dresses for at least half an hour now. The woman’s lips curl into a smile and she nods. “Excellent choice, miss.”

MJ can’t stop the goofy grin on her face as she walks back to the fitting room to change into her own loose, simple black summer dress again. She’s aware of how it makes her look slightly out of place in the expensive shop- but truth be told, she is out of place here. She doesn’t necessarily mind. Not when she knows there's $1000 on her bank account. A thousand dollars accompanied with the sweet promise of what’s about to happen. It’s exhilarating. She can’t wait for Tony to find out that Peter’s been throwing his money at her just like that, she knows it’ll turn the man on instantly. No matter how submissive he may be on the island, it won’t cover up his sugar daddy streak. MJ knows Peter tends to have a hard time accepting the man’s money, or his gifts. Not her. If the man wants to spend - is aroused by it - she’s going to enjoy the heck out of it too. The same grin is still on her face when she returns from the fitting room, the shop assistant waiting for her with a professional smile. “Special occasion, miss?” “Yes, you could say that,” MJ replies and walks over to the counter to pay. The woman taps the buttons on the screen expertly and scans the price tag. “That would be €699,- please.” Right. Euros. MJ does the math quickly and nods when she takes out her card. That would be a little over $750. Together with the $50 her parents gave her to take the boys out for another gelato she’d have enough to buy the additional part to her plan, something even Peter doesn’t know about.

Payment approved.

After MJ finishes shopping for the extra surprise, she makes way toward the lunchroom that Peter suggested they’d meet up at. The three of them decided they should take a brief moment to discuss their likes and limits before they’d dive into it. MJ is glad they’re taking this moment, but it also has her slightly nervous. She remembers the island so vividly. The near-magical atmosphere has been haunting her in her dreams ever since. She’s painfully aware she’s only seen a glimpse of this thing her friends have going on. Tony and Peter still held back a lot those two days ago and she wonders what they’re like when they fully emerge themselves. She can’t wait to find out. “MJ, hi!” She looks up and sees Peter and Tony waving at her from the terrace. The sight has her chuckle. Tony literally radiates billionaire. His simple white button-up and sunglasses resting on top of his head, sitting back nonchalantly. Peter, however, is his very bouncy self. Puppy-like. It’s so strange knowing that in a few hours’ time, Peter will have Tony on his knees. She grins and walks over, hugging the both of them from behind before she sits down opposite them. Both her backpack and bag with surprises carefully placed at her feet. “Sup, my dudes.” “Not much,” Tony says with a shrug. “Only the tingling excitement for what’s to come.” He smirks and winks at MJ, who scoffs at the gesture. “Anticipation is half the fun.” MJ leans back in her chair casually and waves at the waiter, so she can order a lemon sparkling water.

The conversation is pleasant. Ordinary. They talk about the weather, MJ’s trip and the touristy things they’ve all done in the area. When the waiter returns and places the sparkling water in front of MJ, she smiles at him and cocks her head. She knows the boys are staring at her and it’s her goal to turn them both to putty in her hands before they even get to their getaway. She pulls out all the stops. “Thank you,” she says to the waiter, her voice a little deeper than before. When the waiter seems flustered by the eye contact she made with him, he scurries off and she smirks. “You’re really good at that,” Peter notes. “What- saying thank you?” she replies innocently. Peter’s shoulders rise so he can duck his head. “No- no, I meant, eh… Seducing people.” “Well, Aphrodite is the Goddess of Love.” “Venus,” Tony butts in.

MJ slowly turns her head to the billionaire, her eyes still focussed on Peter’s. The young man has his lips pressed on top of each other, quietly anticipating MJ’s reply. Only at the last second, she flicks her eyes to make eye contact with Tony. He gasps quietly. “The Romans kinda stole their Gods from the Greek and simply renamed them. If I’m playing your game, I’ll be playing it as the OG goddess of love. Aphrodite. Not Venus.” Tony swallows and straightens his back. They’re not on the island yet. The hourglasses are still upright. He should keep himself together. “You’re messing with our canon here, missy.” He waves his hand by flicking his wrist casually, but his tone of voice betrays he’s already sinking. MJ snorts at his reply and leans towards him with an open-mouthed smirk on her face. She stares at him through half-lidded eyes, locking their gazes together purposefully. “ Aphrodite. ”

The silence that follows is intense. Heavy. And it’s only when MJ finally breaks eye contact with Tony and cracks her back, slouching in the chair again, that the tension is broken. “Anything I need to know about before we get into this?” Peter swallows and slightly shakes his head. “Right! Eh, well... “ “Just tell me the whole story of how this came to be. That’s easier than trying to give bits and pieces and then forgetting stuff I should be knowing about.” MJ takes another sip of her sparkling water. “Unless that’s too personal, of course.” Peter glances at Tony, who was already staring at Peter. “You okay with it?” Peter asks, his voice gentle. Soft. Tony nods. “She already knows about the majority of our sex life through you, and is joining us on our sex island. I think we’re way past being embarrassed about this.” “Exactly!” MJ chuckles. “So, how did all this happen?”

Peter starts telling the story, quietly that is. He doesn’t want anyone else to listen in, they’re still out in public… He reminds her of the jar of dirt and how he had put in God Worship with the full intent of Tony being the one in charge. How Tony had secretly reversed their roles and gently nudged Peter into dominance. How after that one trip to the spa, Tony would crave being submissive occasionally. That Peter has only been able to dom in Italy. How the hourglass is the symbolization of Tony’s submission and how it works.

Tony takes over Peter and explains the frustrations he experienced being in the public spa, not being able to give in completely without breaking the spa’s rules. Maybe even some laws, if they got caught. He touches on how he went island shopping without Peter knowing and referred to the island as “Marcello’s blessing,” which had Peter chuckle. Tony continues the story by telling about the painstaking process of trying to keep the construction a secret from Peter and what it was like to finally reveal it to him.

And how they’ve been indulging themselves ever since.

“Wow,” MJ breathes out. “I’m… Honestly kind of honored that you’d want me there.” Peter shifts in his seat and beams. “You’re the only one we’d want there with us.” “You’re making it worse, Pete!” MJ exclaims, laughing with her eyebrows curled into a frown. “It’s true, though,” Tony adds strangely calmly. He cocks an eyebrow. “We all know I don’t like to share, but this… This will be special for all of us.” MJ hides her face in her hands, trying to hide her intense blush. Suddenly, rough fingers curl around her hands and pull them away from her. Tony holds them gently and he looks up at her with big, soft eyes. It has her heart hammer in her chest. “Will you be our Aphrodite?” A rush of arousal shoots through MJ’s body and she can’t help but notice Peter is physically responding to it as well. She licks her lips, not breaking eye contact with Tony and nods slowly. “Yes.”

MJ takes a deep breath when Tony reaches out for her to help her get off the boat. She takes his warm hand gratefully and takes a little jump onto the docks. “Thank you, Tony,” she whispers and she can see a hint of desire flash in his eyes. They’re not playing yet. Back at the lunchroom, MJ had suggested they take things slow. Just relax until the vibe would settle naturally as it had last time. Both the men seemed relieved at that as well. No hourglasses are turned yet, but that doesn’t mean that the tension isn’t there. It hangs heavy in the air, applying a sweet yet sensual pressure on all of them.

Before MJ can reach around for her bags, Tony swings the flowery backpack over one of his shoulders and carries the other one close to his chest. MJ cocks an eyebrow at him. “Looks good on you,” she says and nods at the backpack. Tony snorts. “Almost gives me Hawaiian Dad vibes, doesn’t it?” “Almost.” MJ laughs and decides to just roll with Tony’s already increasing need to serve. It’s strangely satisfying to have him take care of her like that. She can see why Peter likes it and it’s only the beginning of everything. She follows after Peter towards the beautiful pool area. It’s the best place to relax and hang out for a bit. The comfortable chaise longues, the natural pool with the perfect temperature to plunge into to cool off, the patch of slightly dried grass to just lay on the ground and gaze up watching the clouds pass by. She sighs as she sits down at the edge of the pool, her legs dangling in the water. “This is so perfect,” she beams. “Thanks for inviting me over guys.” “We love having you here, Michelle,” Tony answers and the use of her full name settles deep in her stomach. She sends him a sweet smile and watches how he blushes at that.

“You know, Tony,” she starts, tilting her head slightly. The words have Peter look up at them. The girl’s voice is smooth and playful as she leans back on her hands, god, she’s so pretty. “-I could use one of those sweet lemonades you made last time.” “Of course, I’ll get one for you. My L- Peter, would you like one as well?” Peter grins as he hears the near slip. Tony almost called him lord. Already. He knows how excited Tony is about all this. Anxious, yes, that too. Maybe that’s why the man is already leaning towards his submission. His safe space. Peter will guide him there as he always does. He nods and waves the man off. “You know I do.” “Coming right up.” Peter watches Tony stalk towards the kitchen and his gaze shifts to MJ again. The girl waits for Tony to disappear from their sight and then she gets up. “I got a dress,” she whispers and walks over towards the shopping bag, rummaging through it until she pulls out a faint pink fabric. Peter bites his lips, blushing when she slides the simple black summer dress from her shoulders. “S-should I-” he stammers and starts turning around but MJ shakes her head. “No, come over here, I need some help.”

Peter gulps when he’s presented with MJ’s bare body. She’s… She’s gorgeous. Stunning. Mind-blowing. Beautiful. Beautiful. “What?” MJ raises an eyebrow and smirks. “Never seen a naked girl before?” Peter’s breath is shaky and he mumbles. “Not in real life.” “Shit, you’re for real?” MJ quickly grabs the dress and covers herself with it. “I’m sorry, I should’ve asked if you’re-” “Move that,” he orders, gesturing at the dress in her hands. A surprised smile creeps onto MJ’s face and she uncovers herself again. Peter Parker just ordered her to show him her nude body. What alternate universe is this?

MJ shifts her weight to one foot, pushing out her hip a little and showing off her slight curves. She knows her chest isn’t big, but judging from the way Peter’s staring at her breasts, he doesn’t mind a single bit. “Contrapposto,” she whispers. “Hm?” Peter’s shame is nowhere to be found. He doesn’t even look her in the eyes when she says it. “The Greek sculptural scheme where they had the people they depicted stand like this.” She speaks quickly, trying and failing to ignore the rising tension. “They were the first to do this. Before contrapposto, all art was static.” “That’s cool,” Peter mutters. His eyes travel further down until they reach her private parts. His mouth is dry, staring at her small bush. “Did you even hear what I said?” MJ teasingly moves her free arm to brush past her body and she shifts her weight to her other foot, mirroring her pose, but the other way. “...Of course.” His lips barely move at this point and MJ chuckles. She decides to walk his way, which startles him slightly, but he doesn’t stop watching her. MJ reaches out to him, offering him the expensive dress. “Of course,” she purrs, knowing damn well Peter didn’t process a word she said. Knowing she has this effect on him makes her feel strangely powerful. “Help me in, would you?”

Peter nods absentmindedly as he takes the soft fabric in his hands. He realizes she’s going to have to step into it. He needs to get to his knees. Fuck. He slowly sinks down in front of her, eyes wide, body shaking, until he’s at the exact height of her- “Go on. Wouldn’t want Tony to walk in on us like this, now, would we?” MJ’s comment snaps Peter out of it and he looks down to open the dress for her to step into. When she lifts one leg to get into it, Peter freezes when the scent hits his nose. His head whips to look at where it’s coming from, wanting to intensify it even more, because shit, it’s the best fucking smell in the world. He gasps softly when he spots something he hadn’t noticed before. She’s… She’s glistening? Peter’s cock twitches when he realizes he’s not only smelling how wet she is. He’s seeing it. He doesn’t notice his mouth opening slightly, his Spidey senses completely overwhelmed and MJ chuckles. “Later, Peter.”

It takes a lot of his willpower to stand up again. To move away from where he wants to be most. He lifts the dress over her hips and she turns, taking her hair in her hands so Peter can close it for her. He’s unnecessarily delicate. As if he’d break her, or wake up from this wet dream if he touched her. When he’s done, she turns again and cups his face in one of her hands. Her thumb brushes over his nose and cheek and she leans in breathing her gratitude into his mouth, but not actually giving him the satisfaction of pressing her lips against his. “Thank you.” Peter’s dick is officially, fully hard now, pressing against the fabric of his pants. He’s well aware MJ is toying with him, just like she toys with Tony. He knows that’s what she likes and she knows it’s what they like too. They’re indulging yet simultaneously denying themselves all this pleasure. It’s deliciously frustrating.

Tony nearly drops the tray with glasses of lemonade when he spots MJ in her new outfit, splayed on one of the chaises. She playfully sticks out her tongue. The chiffons flow around her body and she pulls up one of her legs, exposing it and caressing the skin. “You two better appreciate my legs, I didn’t wax them for nothing.” Tony swallows and puts down the tray before he actually drops it. Peter clears his throat, helping Tony to tear his eyes from MJ. “They sure are shiny.” Peter’s voice is slightly higher in pitch. “Ah, yeah, that’s the oils I’ve been using lately.” MJ keeps caressing her legs and both men’s attempts at remaining nonchalant about the situation are failing. “Makes them so soft…” All three of them imagine the two men touching her legs and MJ manages to collect herself by standing up and showing off the dress to Tony in its full glory.

“Oh! I nearly forgot,” MJ says softly as she saunters over to the man. She grabs the chiffon skirt and makes a turn. “Thanks for the dress, Tony.” MJ watches entertained at how the turning gears in Tony’s head screech to a halt. “What?” “The dress!” MJ gestures at herself and lets go of the chiffon mid-air, making it flow down. “It was paid for with your money.” Tony’s mouth is open, jaw tightened. “I-” “Peter was so kind to send me three nines.” A wicked smile spreads on her face and Tony’s head whips to Peter who tries to hold back his own smirk by sucking at his teeth. MJ invades Tony’s space and plays with the collar of his shirt. Her index finger touches his chin, guiding him to turn his face back to her. She opens her mouth slightly and pushes her tongue into her cheek. Tony’s cock stirs and all his mind can think is I’m gay. I’m gay. I’m gay. I’m gay.

MJ’s voice is low. Sensual. “Your boyfriend spent your money, Tony. On me.” I’m gay. I’m gay. I’m gay. I’m gay. “And I spent it on this.” I’m gay. I’m gay. I’m gay. I’m gay.

The words still beat through his head, at the same pace his heart beats in his dick, while MJ takes his hands in her own, placing them on her waist. Tony’s knees are jelly. He wants to drop. So bad. “It even feels expensive…” MJ whispers. Tony growls quietly, caressing the fabric and squeezing into it slightly. “How expensive?” “Over 700 euros.” Tony bites his lip. “That’s nothing.” “Want me to spend more?” MJ smirks. “I’ll do it. Gladly.” “I’ll add a nine next time.” This time MJ shivers aggressively. Ten thousand dollars. Next time. They haven’t even started yet. Tony licks his lips. “Where’d the other money go?” MJ breathes out her smiles and gyrates her hips. “Later, Tony.”

Tony’s so ready to drop to his knees. It’s obvious the three of them are bordering the edge of giving in. It’s almost frightening how easy it is. But- the two young adults are just so fucking gorgeous. So sensual. He doesn’t even have a choice but to sink deeper and deeper into his submissive role. He wants to serve them. He wants to pleasure them. Make them moan and shake and take whatever they want from him. The stupid hourglass is still upright though and he’s waiting for either one of them to push through. “Tony,” MJ’s voice cuts through his thoughts and he turns his head to look at her. The girl is holding one of the shiny red and yellow apples from the bowl of fresh fruits he’d given her earlier. “Yes?” “I want to play a little game,” she whispers, slowly speaking each word as to drag them out. Tony stares at her and gasps quietly when his groin tingles. Oh fuck. He already knows that whatever it is, it’s going to be something good. He remembers exactly what she said to him all these months ago at the tower. “I like giving my subs physical pleasure while degrading the fuck outta them at every chance I get.” MJ loves to play. Whatever this game is, he already knows she’ll be the one shining with victory. He wants her to. She hums softly as she twists the fruit in her hand once more and then throws it into the pool casually. Watching it float.

“Uh oh,” MJ mumbles, a sly grin playing on her lips and locks gazes with Tony once more. She doesn’t say anything yet, her eyes narrowing slightly until Tony looks away from her, cheeks burning red. He’s very aware of Peter watching them and he looks over at his boyfriend. Peter simply nods towards MJ, wordlessly ordering him to focus on her for now. “I need you to fetch that apple for me, but uh, there’s a catch.” “A catch?” Tony repeats MJ’s words. “You’re not allowed to get wet. Not a single drop of water staining your skin or there will be consequences. And believe me, they’re in my favor.” Tony sniffs and stares back at the apple, still floating, creating ripples in the water around it. How on earth is he going to- It’s impossible. The only way to reach it would be to swim. Surely he’s missing the solution to her bewitched riddle. “Go on, then.” “Michelle, I don’t-”

“Come on, sweetness,” Peter coos, “-don’t keep her waiting. Make me proud.” Tony gulps and shakes his head. He doesn’t get it. His eyes scan their surroundings, hoping to find a broom or a stick or whatever, but there’s nothing he can use. He presses his lips together. He doesn’t want to displease his deities, he- Tony lets out a shaky breath when he realizes he’s starting to think of them as Cupido and Aphrodite already. He looks at MJ once more, wanting to plead for a hint, beg her to stop the light humiliation he loves, when he sees how MJ’s barely able to keep herself from laughing out loud. The realization dawns on him and he growls. She’s fucking with him, the little tease. There’s no answer to her riddle, there’s no-

Tony smirks. There is something. MJ wants her apple? She’ll get her apple. Tony rises from his seat swiftly and runs over to her. The girl shrieks. She to scramble up when she realizes his plan, but she’s too late. He scoops her up easily and throws her into the pool. Water splashes in the air when the girl disappears beneath the surface. Peter, on the other side, bursts out laughing and Tony grins proudly. He solved the riddle after all. The Goddess got her desired fruit and he didn’t get wet.

MJ swims up and gasps when her head is no longer underwater. With one hand she pushes her now wet hair out of her face and then blinks a few times to get the water out of her eyes. “Tony!” She huffs and licks her lips. There’s a playful sparkle in her eyes when she swims towards him - the apple long-forgotten. The man gulps when she puts her arms on the tiles at the edge and pushes herself up. Everything. Everything clings to her body so tightly. Her hair, her dress . She strides towards him and Tony wants to drop to his knees - again. Still. A surge of arousal shoots through him at the thought. He crossed the Goddess and he wants to make it right. Goddess. Goddess. His Goddess?

She stops mere inches away from him. Her gaze fierce and strong as she stares up, scanning his face. Tony wants to apologize. She raises a finger at him though, it’s enough to make him shush. MJ reaches out for him, her soft, wet fingers trailing past his cheek. “Don’t look away,” she orders and Tony shakes his head in response, but a moan catches in his throat when she beckons Peter to come over. “Help me take it off again, would you?” Tony’s ashamed to admit that the scene has him hard in his shorts, his cock pressing against the fabric just right. Does this mean Peter helped her get into the dress as well? Tony stares, as she asked, at the way the water is still trickling down her body, the droplets making her skin glitter in the bright sunlight. Her hard nipples poke through the thin fabric. He stares at her, and at Peter, the boy now carefully moving her hair to one side to find the button. Tony can see how Peter’s cheeks are flushed now that his fingers brush past her skin. Tony knows how much this must mean to the boy. Peter has known he’s bisexual for so long, yet he’s never touched a woman. Not like this. The moment he manages to undo the button, MJ slides the dress off her shoulders, slowly, teasingly, until it’s all the way down to her feet and she steps out of it. Tony moans when he sees she’s naked. No bra. No panties. Just her. “Should I get the hourglass?” Her whisper is quiet but the words echo in his mind nonetheless. Hourglass. Cupido.

Aphrodite.

“Please.” Tony pleads and he doesn’t care how needy it makes him sound. They know what they’re in for. They’ve discussed this. He wants this. MJ smiles, licking her lips before she turns around to make her way towards the small pedestal a few feet away. Tony stares at Peter, Cupido, in front of him. Just in time to see the young man’s nostrils flare when MJ moves. Tony wonders if he smells her again. He hopes so. Knows it drives his lover wild. “Any last words, Peter?” MJ asks both of them, giving them a last chance to back out. Not that they want to. “No.” “Tony?” “No, Michelle,” Tony speaks quietly and groans when she lifts the hourglass, turning it to its side and putting it down again. “Call me Aphrodite.”

Tony’s already so overwhelmed by both their presence. Aphrodite is so powerful standing there, her wet curls long and thick and gosh- he knows he wants to braid it and one point. Feel it slide through his fingers. “Amore,” Cupido whispers, and his eyes find the god in front of him. Peter’s looking at him so sweetly it grounds him a little. The brown eyes he’s grown so used to over the years. Loving him. “Undress me.” Tony doesn’t hesitate. His fingers immediately curl around Peter’s shirt. It’s not long before Cupido’s body is revealed and the way Aphrodite gasps has them both twitch. “Oh, Cupido,” she whispers. “Those statues really were to scale.” She moves closer to the two men and her hand shamelessly touches his defined abs, right above his abdomen. “You truly are a God worthy of worship.” “As are you,” Peter whispers in reply, eyes strained on her physique as well.

After a few shaky breaths, Peter turns his head towards his servant. “We’re going to the grass. Please bring the basket of fruit.” “Yes, my Lord,” Tony whispers and walks over to the basket, carefully lifting it up and walking after his deities to the patch of grass where they sit down. He waits. “Where would you like me to put it, Cupido?” “Just here’s fine,” Peter answers and pats the ground on his right. Tony nods, lowering the basket and then taking a step back. Waiting for the next order. It’s almost funny how much their dynamics in this had changed since the first time they did this. Where Tony, despite his submissive role, used to take the lead; he’s now giving in fully. Peter’s confidence has grown so much that the subtle power shift simply happened. Tony loves it like this. Is grateful that he doesn’t have to think much. Not when there are two gorgeous beings in front of him. It’s MJ, their Goddess, who speaks next.

“Get out of your clothes, Tony. I wish to see you fully.” Tony nods, his hands reaching up for the buttons of his white shirt and he opens them. A slight hint of insecurity washes over him. He’s not as gorgeous as Peter - his age is catching up with him. And, there’s the arc reactor with all its scars around it, covering his chest. It’s not beautiful. Not like Cupido. He pushes through, though, and he moans softly when he sees the woman’s gaze filled with lust after all. “Am I to your liking, My Lady?” “Oh, yes, Tony. Very, very much. I can see why Cupido has chosen you.” Tony moans, a very filthy moan, at those words. He drops his shirt to the floor and pushes his shorts and underwear down, stepping out of them. His cock is so achingly hard and he blushes as he sees the woman checking him out. “He’s a real work of art, don’t you think?” Cupido quips, smiling proudly. Aphrodite nods. “Why don’t you come closer,” she whispers and pats the ground in front of her. Tony nods desperately, finally, finally, able to kneel. The dry grass is cracking under his weight. The woman’s fingers reach out for him, this time just above his collarbone. Her nails grazing, tickling, as she drags them down towards the arc reactor. “Let me inspect you.” “A-Aphrodite…” “Shhhhh, just let it happen.”

Tony lets her explore. Enjoying the warmth of her fingertips there where his skin ends and the arc reactor begins. The blue light shimmering on her skin. Slowly her hands start to roam around a little more. Tracing his clavicle, then down, less than an inch away from his nipples. He turns his head around slightly, looking at Peter. The young man is watching them, a content smile tugging at the corners of his lips. “How’s that, caro mio ?” Peter’s sweet voice makes him moan and he slumps forward just a little. “Good,” he breathes. “-good and soft.” “Oh-” Peter exclaims sweetly and Tony’s eyes widen. That’s usually a sign something’s about to happen. A sign that his god has something in store for him. “I know something that’s gonna be even softer. Come, lay down on your back.”

Tony complies easily. The grass tickling his naked skin but he doesn’t really care. Not when Peter sits up, crouching next to him with the basket of fruit in his hands. He picks a pomegranate from it. Fingers digging into the peel. Tony can hear its seeds crack and like a Pavlov response, the sound has his dick twitch. MJ stares down at him amused, probably seeing right through them. He watches how his God bites into the peel after he turned it squishy, and then he sticks his arm out and squeezes. Tony gasps when the juice splatters down on his chest, making him wet and sticky all over. “Aphrodite,” Cupido grins widely. “I think we should have a little taste, don’t you?” Tony groans and closes his eyes. Yes, please. He doesn’t have to wait long. He can feel Peter’s warm breath on his lower abdomen. Sucking. Tasting. Teasing. And then- Oh God. A second pair of lips find their way onto his skin. The Goddess’ lips are so soft, so soft and hesitant as she too starts pressing sweet kisses on his skin. Her tongue occasionally darts out to lick up the pomegranate juice staining his chest. His eyes flutter open again and he watches, enthralled, how MJ and Peter move closer and closer towards one another. They’re so beautiful together. Please. Please. He needs them to kiss. Wants to see how good it makes Peter feel. Wants to see those ethereal beings melt together. Sensual and erotic. “Please,” he breathes out and moans when he realizes what he just said. They both turn their heads to look at him and Tony licks his lips. “M-may I request you kiss each other?”

Peter breathes in sharply at Tony’s suggestion and he turns back to stare at MJ. Their faces are so close already. Her lips are sticky with the same juice staining his own. He wants to kiss her, very, very much so. “Do you…” he whispers and Aphrodite nods. Leaning over Tony’s chest to reach for him, pressing her lips onto his. Peter whines, his entire body surging with pleasure. Oh fuck, oh fuck, Tony had been right. Girls’ lips are so fucking soft. He reaches out for her, his hand on her waist and the other on the ground to support himself. She feels so different than Tony does in every aspect he can think of, but it feels good though. He likes the way her hair tickles his face. The soft sounds deep in her throat, and obviously the smell. God, why does she smell so fucking good? He wants to bury his head between her thighs, wants to lick her, taste her. Make her legs shiver around him.

He’s so fucking nervous. The hand on her waist could easily sneak down but he doesn’t have the guts. “You hesitate,” MJ sighs into him as her hand grabs his, slowly pushing him further down to where they both want him to be. “I can smell you,” Peter blurts out and leans back slightly, eyes opened wide when he realizes what he just said. “What?” “S-Spidey Sense, everything is heightened, your arousal… It’s everywhere. I, I want-” “You can smell how wet I am? How much I am soaking for you?” Aphrodite grins, continuing their kiss, licking his lips open-mouthed. Peter moans and his fingers slightly dig into her hips. “Smells so good-” “Do I? That’s sweet…” MJ continues moving his hand further down her body. “Do you want to feel it?” Peter nods eagerly and the Goddess guides his hands between her legs. She’s dripping down her thighs and his fingers catch it as he caresses her. Peter instinctively squeezes her inner thigh and MJ moans. When he does it, the smell intensifies for a split second. “What did you do-” he mumbles. “I didn’t do that, Pete-” She takes his top lip between her teeth and suckles on it. “You made me feel good. Making me feel good makes me wetter.” “Wanna make you feel good,” Peter moans. His hips roll midair. “Well, then,” MJ whispers, letting go of Peter to look him in the eyes. “Do you want to taste it, Cupido?”

MJ lays down on the grass, lifting her knees and resting her feet in the tickling strands. Peter and Tony stare wide-eyed at the phenomenon in front of them. She’s literally oozing slickness and Peter wants nothing more than to stuff his face into it but he’s scared. Scared as he inches forward. Scared as he leans down until his face is right over her. The smell is intense. Addicting. His mind spins, yet anxiety settles. “Peter, are you okay?” Peter’s head whips up at the mention of his own name. Not Cupido’s. “I don’t know-” MJ immediately pulls back upon seeing the bewildered look on Peter’s face. She closes her legs and glances at Tony, who gives her a worried look. Instead of commanding Tony to get it, she stands up herself to grab the nearest hourglass. She sits down next to Peter and hands it to him. He stares at the infinity sign in front of him and his stomach aches.

“The hourglass exists for a reason,” MJ reminds him. “Use it if you need to.” She cocks her head. “You’re not ruining this. Only pausing.” Peter looks up at MJ and his breath hitches in his throat. He feels like crying over the stupidest fucking thing. He slowly puts the hourglass upright and Tony sits down next to him. Both men know MJ is in tune with her subs. That she’s a great dom. They didn’t expect her to do this. “What’s going on in your head, Pete?” MJ asks softly, genuinely. The role of Aphrodite completely discarded. “I’ve never done this before.” His lips press on top of each other and he shakes his head. “It’s stupid, I know. I’m just. I’m nervous. How can I be Cupid if I don’t even know how to make someone feel good?” MJ places her hand on his shoulder and squeezes slightly. “You’re already making me feel good. But it’s completely normal to feel these things.” “I want to learn how, though,” Peter says while blowing up his cheeks. MJ smiles kindly and creates a bit of distance between them so Peter can breathe. “Do you want to try it as Peter, Tony, and MJ? Keep the hourglass upright?” Peter nods, a little embarrassed. “If that’s okay with you.” “Pete, we’re all here to have fun,” Tony joins in. “MJ and I will take good care of you, alright?” Peter gives a small nod and looks at the hourglass, still in his hands. He’s ready to learn. “Alright.”

“How do you wanna do this?” MJ asks. “Want me to guide you?” “I can show you how it works,” Tony states. The other two look at him surprised. “A-are you okay with that?” Peter asks rather shocked. “You’re not-” “I know. But you know I’ve shared a bed with many women back in the day. Just cause I’m gay doesn’t mean I don’t like making them squeal.” He winks, keeping the conversation light for Peter’s comfort. “Your call, Pete.” Peter turns his head to MJ who nods with a smile. He scoots closer to MJ again, but not where he was before, and he looks at Tony with a nervous expression on his face. “Show me,” he mumbles. “Please.”

Soon, Tony’s open mouth hovers over MJ’s private parts. Peter’s eyes are locked on his every movement, studying him like he would for a test. “Women are very sensitive,” Tony says softly. “Much like you, actually.” He swallows and glances up at Peter. “The more loved they feel, the more arousal they feel.” “You’re romanticizing it,” MJ scoffs a laugh and Tony cocks an eyebrow. “You’re talking to the person who was actually sent a prize cup with the text ‘#1 Pussy Licker’ engraved into it.” Tony grins. “Trust me when I say I know how to make you come four times in a row.” “Oh, I’m not questioning it. I’m just trying to say that Peter might be more of a visual learner, if you know what I mean.” “Eager,” Tony says with a smirk. Peter doesn’t say a word. He just watches.

Tony brings up his index finger and takes a bit of MJ’s wetness from the inside of her leg. She shivers visibly and Tony points at a certain spot. “This little thing here is your best friend. When you touch it just right-” MJ gasps softly when Tony’s finger expertly starts tracing patterns on her clit. “The slower you go, the more agonizing it is for her,” Tony chuckles darkly. “If you want to make a woman desperate, this is the best way, in my opinion.” “Differs per person, though,” MJ adds. Her breath is a little shaky and her muscles clench when Tony presses an open-mouthed kiss on her inner thigh. “Differs per person,” he repeats. “Best way to figure out what makes ‘em shake is to just try things. Some ladies like a bit of teeth, others don’t.” Tony scratches his beard on her inner thigh as he continues to rub slow circles on her clit. “T-Tony-” “When she’s wet enough, just keep making those little circles. Move down a bit…” He spreads her folds with his circular movements and MJ tilts her hips slightly so he has better access. “Until you’ll find your fingers moving into even more slickness. Keep circling there and then-” MJ gasps out loud when he enters her gently. “-you push in… Let her get used to you before moving. However-” He pulls out again, his fingers so slick and shiny with her wetness, it has Peter’s cock throb. MJ whines in protest.

“-Today’s class isn’t about fingering now, is it?” He smirks mischievously and MJ huffs. “You’re a tease, Tones.” It’s almost a growl. “Get that face on my puss, show Peter how it’s done.” Tony’s smile is almost innocent and he moves his face closer again. “Remember your best friend?” His voice has gotten quieter. Deeper. Peter notices how the vibrations of it go straight through MJ, who has closed her eyes. Her jaw is slacked, head hanging back as she leans on her elbows in the grass. “I kiss it like I would kiss her soft lips.” MJ bites her bottom lip and stifles a moan when Tony’s opened mouth softly presses against her. He lets go of her for a second to speak again. “Suckle on it, while I squeeze the skin of her legs. Keep her hips from grinding down onto my face. I’m in charge of her pleasure,” he growls quietly before pressing his face against her again. MJ moans audibly now and arches her back. She sounds amazing, and slowly, Peter feels the intensifying need to make her moan like that too. For him.

Tony explains all kinds of techniques, showing exactly how they’re done. Peter makes note of everything he does. How to lick her, go inside her with his tongue. How he can keep playing with her clit while eating her out. What patterns to draw with the tip of his tongue and how he can make her taste herself by kissing her. The whole scene is so hot and Peter is throbbing by the time MJ is nearing the edge. “T-Tony, I’m-” she gasps, hips bucking involuntarily and thighs squeezing around his face. Tony, however, pulls back with a grin, face slick with her juices. MJ lets out a frustrated yelp and her hands flail in an attempt to grab his hair and pull him back onto her. She’s panting and growling and convulsing and it’s one of the hottest things Peter’s ever seen. Tony easily evades MJ’s grasp and shakes his head. He turns to look at Peter and cocks an eyebrow. “Ready to give it a go?”

Peter’s mouth is dry when he sits down on Tony’s spot. MJ has since come down from the edge, but the look on her face, the smell of her wetness and the little noises falling from her lips have Peter dizzy already. He’s broken out of his trance when Tony hands him the hourglass. Peter looks at it confused and Tony figures he should explain it. “If at any point while eating her out, you want to go back to being Cupido. We’re ready. Once again, your call, Pete.” “And if I don’t?” Peter mumbles quietly, slightly ashamed. “Then you don’t,” MJ breathes out. “We’re here every step of the way.” “Thank you…” Peter licks his lips nervously and Tony frowns at him before deciding he needs to do this differently.

“Close your eyes.” Tony’s fingers wrap around Peter’s shoulders and massage his neck. Peter complies and exhales through his nose. Tony nods at MJ who leans slightly forward to take Peter’s hands, still holding on to the hourglass, in hers. She pulls him down, closer, while Tony kneads his muscles the way Silvia had taught him. Tony leans in until his mouth is right next to Peter’s ear. They all know Peter wants it so much. His embarrassment holds him back. Tony’s goal is to make him so hot and bothered for MJ that Peter forgets his worries and just dives in. Tony speaks, quietly. “Take a deep breath through your nose…” Peter does as told and shivers when the intense scent overwhelms him again. He whimpers. “How’s that smell?” Tony asks. “G-good,” Peter manages to push out. When his mouth opens to speak his cock twitches as his tongue picks up on the taste mid-air. “Just good?” Tony questions as he keeps rubbing his hands into Peter’s upper back and shoulders. “Give us your words, Pete.” “It’s- it’s sweet, somehow.” “More,” Tony growls into his ear. “Intense,” Peter says before taking another breath in, eyelids fluttering, but remaining shut. “S… Sensational. Sensual.” “More-” “Overwhelming.” “More.” “Addicting.” “Do you want it?” MJ whispers. “I need it.” “Feel it.” MJ tugs on one of the hands she was still holding. She pulls the one that isn’t holding onto the upright hourglass closer to her until the tips of Peter’s index and middle finger catch some of her wetness. Peter shivers upon contact, screwing his eyes even further shut. “O-oh.” Peter barely notices how clouded his mind has become. “Juicy, isn’t it?” Tony moans into Peter’s ear. Peter replies with a moan of his own. “Open your mouth, pretty boy.” MJ’s voice is soft. Gentle. “Lean in. Taste me.”

The smell of MJ’s wetness is nothing compared to actually tasting it on his tongue. Delicious. He was right. She’s delicious. Salty and sweet and like nothing he’s ever had before. The next few minutes are a haze. Peter can hear MJ’s moans in the distance, every single one making him shiver all over, while Tony continues to growl filthy and encouraging words to him. It’s only when Tony tells him to open his eyes that Peter’s mind catches up again. "Peter, look at her face, god- she loves what you're doing to her," Tony whispers, his hands still working their magic on Peter's back. Kneading, gliding, digging in all the right places. The words make his dick stir and he moans against MJ while glancing up as much as he can. The sight is dizzying. Her lips parted where broken moans keep falling from her lips like a sweet melody. He sucks experimentally, then flattening his tongue against her clit. The way her eyes flutter makes him smile. He feels confident, powerful.

Powerful.

As he continues to ravage MJ, he raises the one hand he hasn’t used yet. The hand that’s holding the hourglass. He curls his arm around her leg and while maintaining eye contact he places it upright on her bare stomach. The cold material of the hourglass against her skin and the anticipation of what’s about to come has MJ shaking. Peter continues to eat her out, not breaking eye contact. His pupils are blown wide. Slowly but surely he starts tipping the hourglass, while his tongue starts spelling out her name in between kisses and suckles. A-P-H- The intense, dark look in his eye causes MJ suck in a breath. R-O-D- “Peter-” I-T-E- The hourglass now rests on its side on her stomach and Tony’s touch immediately softens up on his back. “Cupido-” Tony mutters and Peter growls in response. Yes, that’s right. He’s in charge here. This is his island. Tony is his servant. And god- Aphrodite is making him lose his mind. Their sounds, the change in their demeanor and the way Cupido aggressively attacks MJ’s pussy has the Goddess bordering on the edge of orgasm. “Cupido,” Aphrodite gasps and arches her back. “Please, please, I’m so close-” “Are you?” Cupido chuckles darkly as he moves back up to suck on her clit again. “Yes-yes-yes-yes- don’t stop, don’t stop!” “Mmmmmmm.” Peter hums around Aphrodite’s sweet spot and her legs squeeze around his head, hands pulling the grass out of the ground. Her hips buck and twitch and- “Come for me, Aphrodite.”

Peter sighs happily as he puts his fork down. The late-night dinner they’d made together was delicious - a rich, creamy mushroom risotto with scallops and asparagus. His stomach is nice and full. Not too full, though. He knows they’re fucking again tonight and he doesn’t want his digestive system to slow him down. His cheeks flush when he thinks about this afternoon. His entire body tingles when he remembers how MJ had tasted on his tongue. How incredibly hot it’d been to watch Tony fuck her while he fucked Tony. Sandwiching their servant between them. Peter’s lips pressed onto hers while he rutted into him. He hasn’t been inside their Goddess yet. Tonight, she’d promised. Tonight. His cock stirs at the memory and his blush intensifies. MJ grins from opposite him.

“I think it’s time for dessert,” she states and stands up. “You two, wait here.” Peter wonders what she’s up to and stares as she walks off. He vaguely remembers she said something about another surprise earlier today. Would it have anything to do with that? He eyes Tony carefully. “How are you feeling, sweetness?” Peter asks. Tony nods and licks his lips, meeting Peter’s gaze. “I feel good, amore.” “Come here,” Peter continues and gestures for him to come closer. The man obliges instantly and kneels at his side - a small habit they’ve picked up since they’d gotten to the island. Usually Peter orders Tony to massage him, or suck him off, or praise him. Not now. Now he simply puts his hand on Tony’s shoulder. His servant shudders under his touch. “Let’s see what Aphrodite has in store for us now, uh?” Peter grins and squeezes gently into Tony’s skin. The man lets out a shaky breath and nods. Peter can see how hard the man is already. Or still? Peter isn’t sure. Early on, MJ gave Tony one rule to follow today. He only gets to come twice and it’s his choice when he wants to. He came during their first fuck and had been holding off ever since.

It doesn’t take long for MJ to return and she’s holding the shopping bag in her hands. The mischievous sparkle in her eyes has Peter on edge already. Whatever she’s planned for them, it’s going to fuck with their heads and he can’t wait. “Hmmm, so beautiful on your knees, Tony,” the Goddess mumbles and she crouches down in front of him, shoving the bag toward the man. “Open up.” Peter cranes his neck a little to look over Tony’s shoulder. The older man’s hands are hesitant and careful as he opens the bag. A small, wooden box appears, delicate lines burned into its surface. “Wine, My Lady?” Tony asks softly and MJ nods. She reaches forward, guiding Tony’s hands towards the top and helps him slide it open. Tony hums appreciatively when he sees the name on the label. “Good choice.” “I know. Now, why don’t you go fetch me a corkscrew, honey?” Tony’s eyes glance up at Peter and he nods curtly. The man hurries off. Peter tilts his head and grins at MJ. “That must’ve cost a fortune.” “Oh it sure did, he’s gonna love this, Cupido.” MJ stands up with the bottle in her hand, showing it to Peter. Castello Vicchiomaggio FSM Merlot. It sounds very Italian and high-class and he’s not exactly surprised Tony recognized the name. He probably grew up with it. MJ takes a step closer towards him, bridging the space between them. Peter swallows when her hair tickles on his skin.

“Do you know what I’m going to do with this, arciere ?” The young God shakes his head. There are endless possibilities of what they could do with it and knowing how creative she is, he’d probably guess wrong anyway. Aphrodite smiles sweetly and leans in, kissing him so incredibly gentle that it has his knees weak. He groans quietly, putting his hands on her waist to drag her flush against him. Her curves make him dizzy with lust. It’s so different from the way Tony feels underneath his touch, yet it’s still just warm skin, soft flesh, to dig his fingers into. He can taste the creamy sauce on her tongue still. He grins into the kiss when he feels Tony nearing the dining room again but he doesn’t break away from her. Tony’s reaction when he enters the room is barely audible, but Peter doesn’t miss the tiny gasp. Tony clears his throat, causing Peter and MJ to turn towards him. “M-My Lady? I’ve got what you asked for,” Tony lowers himself on one knee and presents the corkscrew to the Goddess. “Very well,” MJ answers. She takes the corkscrew from his opened hands and opens the bottle with such ease Peter knows she’s done it before. The strong, fruity aroma fills his nostrils and he hums. God, he loves the smell of red wine. “Cupido, I need your assistance for a moment.” Peter holds the bottle of wine for her, watching how she waves her hand at Tony to make him kneel down completely. MJ gently caresses Tony’s chin. “Do you know this wine?” “Not this one specifically. The brand, yes.” “Good. You’re going to taste it for us.” MJ cups her hands tightly and nods at Peter. He gets the hint. He tilts the bottle and bites down on his bottom lip when he sees how the crimson red liquid fills her hands. Droplets seep through her fingers. “Drink.”

Peter watches, enthralled, how Tony’s eyes flutter shut at the command. His head bowed, lips kissing MJ’s fingers slightly before he laps at the wine. Drinking it all up. It’s messy and the drink stains on the man’s chin. Dripping onto his chest and onto the floor. “Gooooood,” MJ coos when Tony licks up the last bit from her hands, sucking on her fingers to clean her up. Her index finger trails across Tony’s lips and they part naturally. “Tell me, how’s it taste?” “Sweet…” Tony starts quietly. “Earthy, rich. It’s delicious, My Lady. Thank you for granting me my share.” The Goddess is pleased with his answer. Peter can see how she’s in her element. In charge of the situation. In charge of Cupido, too.

Tony stares at the expensive bottle in Aphrodite’s hand. He can’t believe she spent his money on this. Of course, the amount she spent is nothing compared to the numbers in his bank account. He wouldn’t even notice. But he’s very aware of how incredibly much this is for the both of them and the thought has him shiver all over. “Now,” the woman speaks and smiles down on him. “-what should we do with it?” “I… I can get some chalices?” “Nah, I want it to be special. Do you know how expensive this one is, Tony?” “I do.” “Good.” Aphrodite doesn’t break eye contact with him as she raises the bottle and flicks her wrists. The wine splatters onto her chest and streams down. Oh fuck, oh fuck- “There goes your precious money, tesoro. Come, catch it before it goes to a waste.” Tony groans and rushes forward. His lips sucking on her skin, tongue darting out in an attempt to catch most of the wine. She laughs, aiming for his head. Tony feels the liquid trickle down his hair and it’s so humiliating yet pleasurable at the same time. His cock twitches, hanging hard and heavy between his legs. His lips move their way up her legs as he keeps drinking, trying to spill as little as possible. Obviously, he fails at that. The wine pours so freely that he could never catch even half of it, but the fact that Aphrodite is literally wasting his money here turns him on beyond limits.

“Please,” he mumbles into her skin when she stops spilling the liquid. She stares down at him and Tony moans, his tongue darting and teasing along her inner thigh. “Taste so good, My Lady.” “Do you think you deserve more?” Tony moans at the words and casts his eyes down. Staring at the stained-red floor. “That, I will leave for you to judge,” he mumbles softly. Aphrodite chuckles sweetly from above him. “You’re such a wonderful servant boy- so polite and well-mannered. Cupido has taught you well.” Tony doesn’t know why those words nearly have him collapse. Nearly have him beg for anything his deities are willing to give him. Aphrodite called him boy. He shivers just thinking about it. The simple word is just another reminder of his position beneath them. His very submission credited not to him, but to Cupido. He’s sinking deeper. So much deeper. All he craves at this moment is to please them. “Oh Cupido, just look at him. Isn’t he the prettiest thing? Here- it’s your turn.” Tony gulps, not daring to look up at them yet. His heart is pounding in his chest. Is- Is his lover going to spill the rest of the wine? His fingers curl together and he takes a shaky breath. Gasps, when he sees his God’s feet moving closer until they’re right in front of him. “Look at me,” the young man’s voice demands and Tony’s head shoots up. Peter’s eyes are dark with lust and looking down at him so sweetly- he has to shift closer. Tony shuffles on his knees, resting his chin on the God’s leg. “Please, My Lord- Please.” “Oh do I love hearing you beg, caro mio , open your mouth.” Tony obeys easily, parting his lips while he keeps staring up at his lover. He stares how Peter tilts the bottle until the wine comes pouring out once more, this time clattering into his mouth. Tony tries, very, very hard to swallow it all. But it’s impossible. Impossible to keep up with. He drinks, gulps down as much as he can. Very aware of the fact the entirety of him is wet and sticky and sweet. He knows he can’t get truly drunk from the amount he manages to drink up but his body starts feeling slightly buzzy anyways. “That’s it,” Cupido coos, “-that’s it, amore.”

Soon, the bottle is completely empty. The soft, dripping sounds when the last droplets fall from Tony’s hair into the puddle of wine around him ringing in his ears. He feels so good. So incredibly good. Aphrodite beckons Cupido to come closer and they crouch in front of Tony together. All Tony can do is stare at their divine bodies. Smooth, strong, shiny and powerful. MJ’s fingers trace past Tony’s chest and Tony stares, eyes fixated on the way she then brings her hand in front of Cupido to let him taste. He watches how Cupido’s lips wrap around her fingers so nicely, sucking on them. Moaning.

“I think it’s time we show you our master bedroom,” Cupido whispers the moment her fingers slide out of his mouth. MJ stares at his sweet face, before she breaks out into a smile and nods. Somehow, the thought of being in their bedroom makes the whole situation a lot more intimate and real. She watches how Peter’s arms wrap themselves around Tony’s wine-soaked body and how he lifts the man easily. MJ nearly gasps. Peter is smaller than Tony, and yet- he carries him as if he doesn’t even feel anything. Spidey strength? The mere idea of Peter… Cupido being that strong does things to her. “Caro mio,” Peter whispers to the man, pressing a gentle peck on Tony’s chest, kissing the wine of him. “You are so beautiful. So perfect. We’re so pleased with you.” MJ smiles fondly at seeing her friends like this, at seeing Tony melt into his God's arms so sweetly. She follows after them.

Peter smiles when they walk into the bedroom. MJ’s close behind them. He loves this room. It’s spacious and big, yet the dim lights make the room feel so cozy. He walks towards the bed and moans when he spots the gaze in Tony’s eyes, lowering him into the silk sheets. He’s actually under now. So pliant. So sweet. So malleable. Ready to do anything they might want from him. “Cupido,” MJ whispers from behind him. Cupido eyes her curiously. “Aphrodite?” “I think it’s time for me to fulfill my promise to you.” Peter gulps at those words and he nods breathlessly. He is going to fuck her. He is going to be inside her. Inside a woman. Tony’s been describing it to him more than once and he’s so ready to find out what it feels like. To make their Goddess feel good. He stares intently when she lowers herself onto her back and without even realizing he’s doing it, he climbs onto the bed and hovers his body on top of hers. Their skin isn’t touching, but he can feel how warm she is. Hears her heart beating. As nervous as he was to eat her out this afternoon, he’s not nervous now. “Tell Aphrodite how beautiful she is, Tony,” Cupido growls as he moves one hand down, tracing her fingers through her wetness. She’s so slick, so fucking slick it has his mind spin with desire. Tony breathes in heavily before he speaks. “Aphrodite- you are divine- your hair, waves for your loyal servant to push his fingers through, skin glowing with warmth and lust, feeding my desires with endless pleasure-” Tony sighs, his voice hoarse and quiet. Peter takes this moment to trail his fingers up slightly, remember what Tony had taught him this afternoon. Be slow. Gentle. Don’t push but- MJ gasps out loud when Peter brushes past her sweet spot. Her legs dropping wider unconsciously while Tony continues his praise. “Your eyes carry the night sky, hiding infinity behind the stars. Your presence is humbling, dizzying. Like alcohol, you tear my defenses and aid me to give in to your gentle touch. Divine, Aphrodite, you are divine-” “Oh my god, Tony-” MJ murmurs and reaches out for the man, her fingers wrapping around Tony’s cock to stroke him ever so slowly. Tony actually whimpers at the touch and Peter moans seeing both of them expressing their pleasure. He feels so strangely satisfied.

“C-Cupido-” MJ moans and Peter’s eyes find the Goddess’ gaze staring at him hungrily. His face flushes when he knows what she’s going to ask him next. “Will you please take me?” “Don’t you want me to fini-” he breathes and casts his eyes down where his fingers are still rubbing against her. “Oh, I do. C’mere.” Peter swallows when he shuffles closer between her legs. His cock is throbbing and it twitches when he realizes he’s about to fuck her. Not just any woman. It’s MJ. Aphrodite. She’s so incredibly pretty and sweet and the way her mouth tugs into a little smile has his insides burn with lust. Tony’s cuddled up at her side, his lips parted where tiny huffs leave him with every stroke on his cock. MJ grins at him and lifts her legs up, resting her ankles on Peter’s shoulders. Their hips are so close. He twists his wrist slightly to have his thumb rub against her again, the touch earning him another moan. “Aphrodite, I- Can I?”

All it takes is one little nod. Peter groans, nearly stumbling forward when he grabs his own cock to guide himself inside her. He pushes in and- Peter squeezes his eyes shut when he feels her warm slickness surround him. “Oh my-” he chokes out when his hips sink down completely. It’s so easy . It’s so similar and yet so incredibly different to how Tony feels and- He can’t think anymore when she tilts her pelvis to make him slide in even deeper. “Give it to me, Cupid. Do not even think about holding back-” Aphrodite orders him and Peter nods, slowly pulling back only to slam back in. Pleasure shoots up his spine and he loses himself in a dizzying rhythm. MJ’s moans ringing in his ears, Tony staring at the both of them in awe. His free hand grabs around her upper leg to draw her in closer and he knows his fingers are digging into the soft flesh maybe a tad too harshly but her scent is increasing, her moans growing louder and when he tries to ask, she shuts him up with a rushed, “-don’t stop.”

So he doesn’t.

“F-feel so good, Aphrodite,” he whimpers and leans forward slightly. Her knees bending closer into her chest to give in to his weight. Where sometimes he’d have to get extra lube when fucking Tony, MJ only feels slicker around him with each thrust. He knows she’s getting closer to her high. Her moans are getting breathier, her legs trembling slightly where they still rest on his shoulders. He picks up his pace, his thumb flicking over her, playing with her clit. “Close, ‘m so close, don’t stop-don’t stop!” “I won’t. I’ll never stop, can’t stop even if I wanted to, can’t-” Cupido’s words are cut off by Aphrodite’s sweet cry. Her body tenses for a moment, and- oh god. Her insides squeeze around him, her entire body going slack. Peter grunts, rutting into her while she tightens again, and again, and again. She brings her hands down and gently moves his fingers away from her. “Need a sec,” she chuckles, the sound turning into another moan when Peter drives forward again. He wants to come, so badly. He’s getting so close so fast and he knows it’s probably too fast, but god- who can blame him. It’s his very first time like this and he just made MJ come around him and she just feels so good, and-

“I can’t wait to taste the two of you mixed together,” Tony mumbles, his voice shaky as MJ’s hand cups his balls, playing with them. “-it would be such an honor. Can I- please? Aphrodite can I please eat you out after he comes?” Cupido growls, inching forward even more, one of his hands creeping up towards the Goddess’ throat. His fingers curl around it and he can feel her fast pulse on his fingertips. Aphrodite gasps and the young God bites down his own lip harshly. The woman loves being choked, loves the pressure, the lack of oxygen for a moment. She’s explained it to him all this time ago and now he has her right here, so he squeezes ever so lightly, aware of his increased strength. “T-Tony, yes- Permission granted, I- Fuck. Cupido, show me just how strong you are, please. I can take more, I promise, I promise. I’ll tap you if it’s too much but-” Peter tightens his grips and the way MJ’s eyes flutter shut makes his dick stir with need. Just a few more thrusts- just a few more. Oh fuck- “I’m gonna-” Cupido manages to breathe out before he tips right over the edge. His body crashes forward, MJ gasping and pushing her hips up to take him all the way in where he spills inside her. His grip around her throat loosens up, his brain clouded and fuzzy in the best way possible. Slowly, his breathing comes back down to a more normal pace. He casts his eyes down, staring at MJ’s dazzling sweet smile. She pats the bed on her right, eyeing Tony mischievously. “Your turn, honey.”

Cupido nestles into her side and watches wide-eyed how Tony crawls between her legs needily. His lips capturing her clit expertly. Sucking, licking down more and more until he laps the God’s cum right out of her. It’s a fucking wonderful sight, Peter wants- “You’re still hard, Cupido-” Aphrodite whispers, moaning when Tony touches her just right. Peter grins. “Being Spider-Man has its advantages.” “Oh my… It’s going to be a long night, isn’t-” Aphrodite’s voice turns into a loud whimper when Tony grabs her hips tighter and Peter glances down, seeing how the man drags his tongue over her sweet spot again and again. “It is,” Cupido answers while gripping his own dick. “A long, long night. We’re going to wreck our sweet servant, hmm, Tony?” “We sure are,” Aphrodite chimes in.

Tony moans.

None of them know what time it is. Late, they guess. The moon is high in the sky and it’s been dark forever. Tony stares at the bodies of his deities; their sweaty skin glows a warm shade under the light of the torches and candles. His gods are spent. Cupido’s cock finally went soft after the fifth orgasm on that bed. Tony wouldn’t have an answer if he was asked how often Aphrodite came. This entire evening- or, well, the whole day- had been intense and now Cupido and Aphrodite are lazily making out while Tony tidies the room. “You get two orgasms today,” Aphrodite’s voice still lingers in his head. “No more. You get to choose when.”

Tony hasn’t come a second time yet. His cock aches and has turned a darker shade, veins throbbing to the beat of his heart. He didn’t want to come earlier. Not when his Cupido and his Aphrodite were still chasing their highs. He wanted - no, needed - their hunger to be sated first. To worship them, like he promised he would. His release was not important to him. But now, he can’t help but gently cup his shaft and press it flat onto his abdomen with his palm. He shivers and turns away, not wanting to bother his deities with his needs. They were done. Ready for sleep. And Tony couldn’t- “What do you think you’re doing?” Cupido’s voice is soft, yet stern. Tony shuffles where he stands and slightly ducks his head when he turns back to the bed, slowly. Aphrodite is leaning back on her elbows, head cocked, while Cupido sits up straight, one opened hand resting on Aphrodite’s chest. “I-” “What did I tell you about hiding your pleasure?” Tony’s lip quivers at his Cupido’s words and he lets go of his dick.

“Ouch,” Aphrodite chuckles at the sight. She moves to sit next to Peter, placing her hand on his inner thigh. “Say, you only came once today, didn’t you?” Tony nods, bowing his head. “Yes, my Lady.” “How many times did I say you could come?” “Twice, my Lady.” Before Cupido can jump in to make a comment about how he doesn’t agree with Tony holding back like this, Aphrodite coos and crawls off the bed to stand up. She leans into her hip and rolls her shoulders. Tony knows she must be sore from the thorough fucking, but she somehow manages to keep her composure. She’s still a goddess. “Such a good servant for waiting for us… Isn’t he, Cupido?” She looks back at Cupido, who seems slightly flustered. “He shouldn’t-” “Loyal,” Aphrodite interrupts and saunters over to Tony, cupping his cheek in her hand and smiling at him. “Perfect.” She then purses her lips and sucks at her teeth, letting go of him again. “Cupido is right, though…” Her fingers trail down his neck to his chest, circling around his nipples. “You shouldn’t hide.” She moves lower, drawing patterns on his skin with her index finger, but never touching Tony where he wants her to. “Your worship means nothing if we cannot give back. Your pleasure is a gift to us. Your offering. We crave your release as much as you do.” Tony swallows, but his mouth is dry. He stares down into Aphrodite’s eyes and can’t help but whimper.

Suddenly, Cupido is beside her, shifting Tony’s attention to him. “How would you like to come, caro mio?” Cupido creates goosebumps on Tony’s skin, simply by lightly caressing his arm. “You have given us all we could wish for. Let us give back.” Tony presses his lips on top of each other, flustered at the sudden attention he’s receiving from his gods. “Speak,” Aphrodite whispers, emphasizing the word by lightly tapping the head of Tony’s cock once, causing him to gasp and lean forward involuntarily. “Tell us your darkest desires.” Tony stares at their lips and licks his own, building the courage to say what he wants to say. “I- I would be honored if you-” His jaw twitches and he closes his mouth. “Yes…?” Cupido asks quietly. “If… If you would grant me the touch of your lips on my… On…” Oh, fuck, even just saying it has him throb. He’s not sure if he can even finish the sentence. “Say it, sweetness,” Aphrodite encourages him by pressing into his space a little further. “...On my cock.” Tony gasps when he finally gets it out.

Cupido grins wide. “Are you saying you want us to kneel for you?” Tony steps back, cheeks burning red and shaking his head. “No- no, I didn’t mean-” He finds his back pressed against the wall, his deities not letting him get away. He stares, eyes wide, at Cupido when he slowly gets down on his knees. “You’ve been the sweetest servant for weeks,” Cupido sighs, inching closer to Tony’s cock. Tony can feel his god’s warm breath on his shaft and he grasps at the wall behind him to hold himself up. “It is time I serve your pleasures.” Aphrodite smirks, her hands let go of Tony, only to push her fingers through Cupido’s curls as she also moves down to her knees. Tony could come from the mere sight of the very gods he worships, on their knees in front of him. He can barely believe this is happening. But it is, oh, it is.

Tony moans when Cupido kisses his shaft, causing it to twitch. It is finally getting the attention it has been craving for. Aphrodite joins in, tickling his balls with her tongue before licking a stripe up the shaft. It’s slow, so slow, oh, it hurts. But it feels so good. “Please- oh, god-” Tony couldn’t close his eyes if he tried. All he can do is watch and feel, how Aphrodite grips his thigh and squeezes into the skin. His cock is shining and wet from their saliva. He involuntarily bucks his hips when Cupido licks the precum off the tip, only to spread it over his cock by flattening his tongue on the shaft.

After a few minutes of absolutely delicious torture, Cupido kisses up Tony’s abdomen to his chest, swirling his tongue around the nipple before leaving long, wet kisses up and up and up until he reaches Tony’s neck. He nibbles the shell of Tony’s ear and uses his hand to caress Tony’s skin everywhere. Aphrodite takes full control over Tony’s cock and he moans obscenely when she wraps her lips around the shaft. She hollows her cheeks and presses her tongue up while expertly bobbing her head up and down and she’s heavenly. He only half notices how his knees give out and he feels Cupido’s strong arms wrap around him to keep him upright.

“So weak for us,” Cupido coos, kissing Tony’s jaw, suckling on it. Tony feels like he’s losing his mind. Or has he already lost it? “Yes,” he breathes out. “You’re the perfect servant, aren’t you?” “P… Perfect.” Tony can’t even make any coherent finishes through his pants and moans. “Aphrodite is taking your cock so well… Your goddess loves you- I love you.” Cupido’s voice is deep. True. Tony’s god forces him to look down into Aphrodite’s eyes, staring up at him with dark eyes. “Go on, then.” Cupido smiles against Tony’s skin and wiggles himself between Tony and the wall behind him. Their hips are at the same height, Cupido’s dick soft, pushing against the crack of his ass. “Take her head in your hands. Fuck her face, amore.” Tony only barely manages to place his hand on Aphrodite’s hair, gripping weakly. He’s being held up by Cupido. He couldn’t even push himself forward if he tried. “C-can’t-” “Oh, Tony,” Cupido says with a grin. “Let your god make it possible.” Cupido pushes his hips into Tony’s, making him push further into Aphrodite’s mouth. Tony moans when Aphrodite gags around him. Cupido starts a steady rhythm, helping Tony fuck Aphrodite’s face while whispering the filthiest things Tony’s ever heard. “P-please, so close-” Tony gasps for air, intertwining his fingers with Aphrodite’s hair even further. The goddess takes this as an invitation to speed up, as does Cupido. Tony can barely breathe anymore, short, loud whines fall from his lips with every push into Aphrodite’s mouth. Her hands pump along and play with his balls and the words Cupido says make his mind spin. “ Yes, ” he gasps. “Yes, yes, yes, oh, god, I’m-!”

Aphrodite takes everything Tony gives. Even though this last one was about Tony, they somehow still stuck with their dynamic. Tony’s body thrashes in Cupido’s hold, but his god holds him up with ease. The servant’s orgasm somehow washes over all of them. It’s rewarding. And though Tony is the only one who came this round, they can all feel his afterglow as his eyes roll back, completely giving in to Cupido’s hold. “Thank you,” Tony slurs. “Thank you, thank you-” His words fade, and his jaw slacks. He’s smiling, and so, his gods do too. Cupido lifts the fucked out body of his servant to carry him back to the bed and it’s not long before all three of them cuddle up and drift off.

It’s quiet and MJ smiles when she can hear the soft waves crashing on the shore far away. She shifts slightly and stares at both boys happily. They’re both fast asleep, their bodies completely spent and fucked-out after hours and hours of sweet lovemaking and pleasure. MJ is slowly falling asleep too. She drags her fingers through Peter’s curls on top of her chest and giggles when Tony’s arm around her waist twitches, she wonders what he’s dreaming about. He looks so peaceful and sweet like this. She nuzzles into his grip and closes her eyes.

Aphrodite. She’s Aphrodite.

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