#also talks about smelling you. man there’s other ways to go about this. this isn’t how it has to be

[bunnliix]

When Eight Becomes Nine - Chapter Fourteen

This was a bit of a rollercoaster of a chapter, with angst, fluff, maybe a bit of romance too, but overall ends on a sweet note. This is also my longest chapter in a bit oops

Pairing: Ateez x 9th member!reader  Summary: Yunho's fight and getting called back to the company, plus more angry Hongjoong because we love an angry captain. wc: 4.8k AU: a/b/o  Genre: Fluff/Angst  warnings: fighting, non-graphic descriptions of injuries, angry alphas, slight panicking by y/n, Hongjoong being angry aover many things, talks about supressing heats for not good reasons, clingyness, mxm interactions, growling masterlist

She would come to find out later that the bystanders were almost smothered in the scent of her distress. But in the moment, y/n could only watch in horror as Yunho fought the other alpha, fists flying and too much movement to keep track of, until you noticed something fly out of Yunho’s pocket.

Watching as it flew towards her, she found it was Yunho’s phone. Y/n wasn’t able to catch it, but she picked it up from the ground. However, it was locked, and there was no way for her to guess his password. Though, just with her luck, she was able to open up the emergency call, and found that there was a number ready to be called. Calling that number, she hoped it was someone who would be able to help.

“Yunho?” She heard the person answer, and it took her a few moments to reply, prompting the other person to repeat Yunho’s name once again.

“This isn’t Yunho, but who are you?” Y/n asked the person on the other line, not recognizing the voice.

“Y/n? Why do you have Yunho’s phone? It’s me, Hongjoong.” He said, and y/n just breathed in a sigh of relief to hear the captain’s voice.

“There’s a bit of a situation here, can you come find us?” You asked him, whining at the end as you watched Yunho take a particularly brutal punch.

“What’s around you? Tell Alpha Hongjoong so he can find you,” Hongjoong said, finding that you couldn’t help but tell him after hearing his last words to you. Hongjoong had added a bit of his alpha voice into his last sentence, needing y/n to focus on what was around her so they could find her and Yunho quickly.

“Umm, there’s a convenience store to the left of me? It looks like a 7/11 I think? And there’s a bunch of food stalls around here too?” She said, looking around quickly.

She heard one of the other’s voices in the back, “I know where they are, let’s go!” She couldn’t tell who that was, but she knew they were on their way.

“Keep yourself safe, sweetheart, okay? We’ll be there as quickly as we can be, I promise.” Hongjoong told her before hanging up on her. 

She watched as Yunho took control of the fight, pinning the other alpha to the ground. It seemed she had missed a bit while talking to Hongjoong. She held her breath as she watched him, eyes flicking up every few seconds as she hoped the others would get there already.

It wasn’t until Yunho had beaten the other alpha half to unconsciousness, that the other seven arrived. Jongho, Wooyoung, and Seonghwa rushed over to your side as you watched the alphas pull Yunho off of the other alpha, who laid there for a moment before stumbling up and running away, not looking back.

“Yunho, what were you thinking?” Hongjoong asked him, his voice stern.

“He insulted y/n. He was being an asshole.” Yunho said, anger still clear in his voice and scent as the smell of oranges was taken over by the spicy smell of ginger, causing y/n to step back.

“This isn’t the time or place to do this. We’re going to head back to the company now. I’ve been requested to bring you all back with me.” Hongjoong informed him, placing a hand on the taller alpha’s shoulder and pulling him along, the smell of bitter coffee that stung her nose emanating from the shorter man as he passed by the three omegas and beta.

The four joined the group as the nine of them walked back to where their security would pick them up. When they arrived, there were two vans waiting for them, as well as one of the group’s managers, who ushered the group into two separate ones as they climbed into the black vans. Y/n chose to stick with Jongho, Wooyoung, Mingi and Yeosang as the other four climbed into the van behind theirs. They quickly took off towards the company, and for the first little while the car was silent. 

Yeosang was the first one to break the silence, “What do you think the company wants us for?”

“I don’t know. We’ll find out soon.” Mingi answered his fellow alpha, and the car once again fell silent, and that continued until they arrived at KQ.

The four exited the van, only waiting a couple minutes more for the other half to arrive, and the full group entered the company building and followed Hongjoong as he took the lead and guided them to the same conference room they had been in earlier that day.

It was almost a mirror image of that morning’s meeting, except it was just her, Ateez and their management team.

“We want to get y/n’s contract signed quickly, so that we can get to work on adding her into the group.” One of the staff members stated.

“Hand over the contract then, please.” Hongjoong took charge, as he had pulled y/n to sit next to him for this meeting, having had a clue what was going on. 

Knowing that Hongjoong wouldn’t relent, they handed over the contract to him, who placed it in between himself and y/n, and Hongjoong helped y/n look over the major parts of the contract. While they did that, Hongjoong looked up at Seonghwa, who was already messaging the group’s independent lawyer, so that they could look over the contract before their newest member signed it.

“It’s a standard contract that all of our artists sign,” Another staff member said, “The clauses in there are all industry standard.”

“No it’s not,” Hongjoong said, having found a couple clauses that he very much disagreed with, “I know neither of these clauses are industry standard. I negotiated them out of our renewed contracts, so why are they in hers?” He said, looking up at the staff with a raised eyebrow and a grin that no one wanted to be on the receiving end of.

“This is the standard contract. Why should she be given any other contract?” The same staff member asked.

“Because she’s part of my group now. She’ll get the same contract we have. She will not be forced to suppress her heats, nor will she have a separate dorm unless she explicitly requests that.” Hongjoong said, his voice teetering on the edge of anger.

“Well, we’d have to have a valid reason why she can’t follow what we’ve put in the contract.”

“The valid reason is the omegas in my group do not and will not risk their health for your ability to make us work.” Hongjoong states with a tone of finality, not willing to budge.

“Our lawyer is on their way, Hongjoong-ah,” Seonghwa leaned over to tell him.

“Your lawyer?” Y/n finally spoke up, looking over at the two eldest.

“Yes, he’ll make sure that your contract matches ours, and will make sure that there’s nothing shady in it.” Hongjoong reassured y/n.

She was surprised that they would go this far for her, but in reality she shouldn’t be too surprised. As a group, they’ve done a lot to make her feel like a part of the group and this is just another way they’re doing that, but ensuring she would have a fair contract.

Mingi leaned behind Jongho, whispering, “Hyungs will make sure your contract is like ours, they won’t stand for anything being unfair to you. It’ll be okay. But bring it over between Jongho and I so we can tell you what else is in it.”

She managed to slide the contract between the three of them, and the two explained exactly what was in the contract to her, sometimes using a translator when things didn’t transfer between languages. She found the parts that Hongjoong pointed out to be the most egregious, with the exception of the one other part of the idol contract, that she felt was potentially malicious in its wording. She was intending to bring up that clause as well, as she wouldn’t abide by it.

It wasn’t long before the Ateez’s lawyer arrived, and Hongjoong, having realized that the contract was no longer in his possession, looked to find that y/n and the two men had nabbed it. He coughed to alert them to his presence, the three looking over and seeing that the captain had his hand out for the contract. 

Y/n handed it over, looking a little sheepish that she had taken it, despite the fact that it was her contract, so she was allowed to look at it. Hongjoong handed it over to the lawyer, who immediately took the seat offered to him by Seonghwa, who moved to stand behind the chairs of Jongho and y/n, his hands resting on the backs of the chairs.

“Hi baby omega, Joong-ah will get this sorted for you.” Seonghwa said to her as he leaned down closer to her, as she nodded.

“There’s another part of the contract I don’t like. It’s the one beneath the accommodations.” She looked up at the older omega as she spoke.

Though neither of them had to say that to Hongjoong, the man somehow heard her words despite his focus, and immediately pointed that out to the group’s lawyer, to the protest of one staff member. The same one who continued to insist that y/n’s contract was fine as is.

“It is not fine as it is,” Hongjoong fired back, before turning to y/n, “Y/n, what do you want to do for your accommodations? Do you want a separate apartment? Or would you like to stay with us in our dorm?” He asked her.

Y/n took a minute to think. It would be nice to have her own space, it would allow her the downtime she sorely needed sometime, and the space to be by herself. But on the other hand, she’d grow closer with the others if she moved in with them.

“I’m okay moving into your dorm, Hongjoong-oppa,” She answered, looking at him.

Hongjoong didn’t have to say a word as the lawyer amended that part of the contract. This was how the rest of the amendments went, Hongjoong asking her what she wanted, and once she answered him, that change was implemented in the contract. Hongjoong also changed the contract to allow for her to have as many heats during the year as her body required, though usually she only had two or three a year.

“Here’s the amended contract. We won’t accept any less than this.” The lawyer, whose name she never caught, said as they handed over the changed contract.

“You can’t go changing her contract for her,” That same staff member sputtered out.

“I can and I have. If you want to get fired, by all means keep protesting. I can and will walk away from KQ if you or other staff continue to cause trouble,” Hongjoong said.

“You’re going to this trouble for an omega. If you had gone with the nice beta, we wouldn’t have to deal with all of this nonsense.”

And that was where they stepped over the line. And where specific staff’s involvement that resulted in the chaos this morning was revealed. Hongjoong growled in anger at this information, and the younger four took to letting their frustration out on the poor (and not so poor) staff members. Hongjoong, who really seemed to work on instinct, pulled y/n close to him and led the omega out of the room to his studio, wanting to get away from the stress that their staff kept causing.

Y/n didn’t really have any choice but to let Hongjoong lead her away, watching as the alpha’s shoulders started to slowly relax, though his body was still tense. The captain of the group pushed open his studio door, pulling her inside before locking it and dragging both of them to the couch. Y/n was not expecting for the alpha to pull her down almost on top of him as Hongjoong pulled off the scent patch that he must have put on earlier while in the other van. The smell of bitter coffee and burnt vanilla permeated the room while y/n almost choked on the bitter scents.

“I’m sorry,” Hongjoong said, pulling her close and making her squeak in surprise.

“Sorry about what?” Y/n managed to get out, pushing away her surprise for the moment.

“For pulling you into this mess. I know I didn’t want anyone else joining at the beginning, and I surely didn’t want KQ to meddle with my group, but I’m grateful that you’re the one that we chose.” Hongjoong said, pulling her down at the end, burying his head in her neck to get better access to her scent, shocking y/n. 

She wasn’t expecting this today, even after what had happened the night prior. Where did this clingy Hongjoong come from? She couldn’t deny loving it, who wouldn’t want to be this close with Kim Hongjoong? But at the same time, this feels like something that should be reserved for packmates, not her, a random omega.

Her train of thoughts was broken by Hongjoong mumbling into her neck, “Why do you smell sad?”

“Sad?” She asked, confused.

“Yes, sad.” Hongjoong said.

“I’m not sad, Hongjoong-oppa.” Y/n told him.

“You smell sad, there must be something wrong. It’s okay, alpha is here.” Hongjoong said to her, his alpha feeling the need to try and make her happier.

Thankfully, for y/n’s poor heart, Seonghwa unlocked the door and let himself in to find the two on the couch.

“Hi y/n dear. Are you okay?” Seonghwa asked, to which she nodded.

“She’s sad.” Hongjoong told the omega, his face still buried in y/n’s neck.

Before Seonghwa could reply, two more members stumbled into the now unlocked studio. It turned out to be Yeosang and San, who looked sheepish at the stares being leveled their way.

“Hi hyungs, hi y/n,” San greeted the trio, “Hongjoong-hyung, looks like you’re getting comfy with y/nnie.”

Hongjoong didn’t grace San’s teasing with a reply, instead opting to reach out for Seonghwa, pulling the omega down next to himself and y/n.

“We’re here to fetch y/n. They’ve redone the contract with the new terms, and they want her to sign it.” Yeosang informed the duo.

Y/n nodded and tried to remove herself from Hongjoong, but was unable to. “Hongjoong love, you have to let go.” Seonghwa tried to coax the alpha into releasing the youngest omega.

“Don’t want to.” He grumbled, pouting.

“If you let go of y/n, and let her sign the documents, we can go grab her stuff from the trainee dorms later.” Seonghwa said, trying to entice the pack alpha into letting go. Honestly, Hongjoong’s behavior was not the norm for the alpha, he wasn’t very clingy to people he didn’t know well, and y/n counted as one of those people currently.

Thankfully, Seonghwa’s reminder worked and Hongjoong pulled his arms away from where they were wrapped around y/n’s waist. This allowed y/n to get off of the captain’s lap, unable to look at him while she felt her face heat up. She walked over to Yeosang and San, who promised the two eldest that they’d bring her back afterwards.

While y/n went off to go sign the contract, Seonghwa turned to Hongjoong, an eyebrow raised at his leader and pack alpha.

“What was that behavior about, hmm?” Seonghwa asked.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Hongjoong tried to deflect, but it wouldn’t work with his mate and he knew it.

“Yes you do, but if you want to deny your actions, then go right ahead.” Was all the omega said in reply, falling silent afterwards.

The two sat in silence until y/n and the other six members returned from her contract signing. The door opened slowly and Yunho was the first to step inside, followed by y/n and then San and the others were right behind her.

“Did it go well?” Seonghwa asked, to which y/n hummed and nodded.

“Her contract was altered the way that we wanted, and we all double checked before we let her sign it, but now y/n’s an official member of Ateez!” Yunho said, washing away any worries that the staff had sneakily changed the contract, and to which everyone celebrated her officially joining them.

However, the cheering was cut short by an interruption by one of the members.

“Can we go home now?” Wooyoung whined from behind the group in the doorway.

“Well that depends on what y/n wants to do,” San said, looking to the omega in front of him for her answer.

“I can go back to the dorms I’m staying in if you all want to return to yours,” Y/n offered.

“We were maybe planning to offer for you to grab your things from the dorm you were staying in, and bring them to our dorm, since you’ll be moving in soon anyways.” Seonghwa said.

Y/n looked around, seeing that there wasn’t anyone opposed to that idea, and she nodded, saying, “Okay, we can do that.”

This started another round of cheers and San wrapped his arms around her shoulders, pulling her back to him. 

“You’ll get to experience the craziness that is Ateez now. I hope you’re prepared for it. I’ll have your back if anyone gets too much, okay?” He told her, as they watched the others cheer and plan out the rest of their day.

“Who’s ever prepared for the craziness and chaos that is Ateez?” Y/n said in response, making San chuckle, feeling his chest rumble and making her slightly flustered at how  close she was to him, and to have this privilege of becoming one of them.

“Look at you two getting cozy here,” They heard from behind them, y/n pulling away slightly.

“Are you jealous, Mingi-yah?” San teased back.

“No, but hyung might get jealous.” Mingi said, nodding over to where Hongjoong was staring right at them.

Y/n looked over and saw the very intense stare from Ateez’s pack alpha, quickly looking away again. The stare was too much for her right now, she couldn’t keep eye contact with him. 

Mingi and San chuckled at her reaction, and y/n pouted in response, “Don’t laugh at me.” She slightly whined, annoyed.

“You’re adorable though sweetheart,” Mingi drawled, “You’re gonna have to learn to keep eye contact with hyung when he stares like that, y’know.”

“Well maybe one day I will, not today.” She mumbled, looking down at her shoes and the ground.

Suddenly everyone started moving, and San pulled her along, y/n stumbling as she wasn’t ready for the sudden movement. San stopped her from falling over, apologizing and instead moving to grab her hand instead. He guided her through the halls as they followed the other seven out of the company building and down to the same two vans that they had arrived here in. This time it seemed to be split between the maknae and hyung lines, and with San holding her hand, she joined the younger four in their van.

“The hyungs will meet us at our dorm, and the four of us will go with you to collect your things.” Jongho said to her as the van took off in the direction of the auditionee dorms.

“Okay. I’ll make sure to be quick so that you all don’t have to wait too long.” She said in reply.

“Mingi and I were going to come up with you, so you don’t have to carry everything yourself.” San said to her, smiling.

“You don’t have to do that,” She protested, “I can do it myself.”

“Let them help,” Jongho said, “They’ll whine about it if you don’t.”

Sighing, she nodded in agreement to letting them help. The two smiled brightly at her, and it was only a few minutes later that they arrived at the apartment building that housed the dorm she had stayed in.

After the trio exited the van, San motioned for her to lead them to the dorm. She took them up to the sixth floor, and down to the end of the hall. Typing in the keycode, the door unlocked and let them in, where they found the others packing up.

“Oh, you’re here.” One of them said, “And you’re special enough to have Ateez members with you too.”

“I’m here to collect my things. It was nice to stay with you for these few days, and I hope you have a safe trip back home.” Y/n said to them, not wanting to get into it with any of the auditionees who were now heading back to their homes.

She led the two men to her room, unlocking it with her key and letting them into the room. Because she hadn’t really had much time to do anything here, or go out and explore, most of her clothes and other necessities were still in her suitcase. 

She directed the two to put away the clothing that was strewn about the room as she reluctantly dismantled her nest, or an attempt at one anyways. Once she finished that, she moved to leave the room so she could collect what was left of her stuff in the bathroom. She found and grabbed everything, packing it in her toiletries bag and bringing it back to her room, where she found her suitcases packed, and her backpack waiting for whatever else she had to put in it.

“We packed everything else we could into your backpack, if that’s okay?” Mingi said, a bit unsure.

“That’s okay, I think you actually packed everything where I usually put them, so it’s less work for me,” She told him.

“Then let’s go, the others at our dorm are getting a bit antsy.” San said, grabbing one suitcase and pulling it along while Mingi grabbed the remaining ones, as y/n took her backpack.

The three navigated their way out of the apartment and down to the van, the two men packing her bags into the back of the van while she hopped in with her backpack. Once they were all back in the van, they headed to their final destination, Ateez’s dorm. Thankfully, they weren’t actually far from it, which is slightly concerning, but their building did have good security, so she shouldn't have to worry.

Arriving at their building, they found that Hongjoong was waiting outside. He greeted them as they climbed out of the car, and followed San and Mingi and the three grabbed her suitcases while y/n slung her backpack onto her back. Seeing as Wooyoung and Jongho had very little to nothing to carry, they lead the way into the building, stopping to get another keycard for y/n, before heading up to their dorms, y/n paying attention to the details this time.

Jongho unlocked their door, leading everyone inside, and while y/n was taking off her shoes, Hongjoong led San and Mingi away further into the dorm so that y/n’s bags could be left in her room for now. 

Seonghwa showed up in the hallway, greeting the three at the entrance of their home, “Hello you three, and welcome to your new home, y/n.”

“Thank you Seonghwa-oppa,” Y/n said, bowing to the older omega in thanks. 

Seonghwa waved off her thanks, insisting that it was nothing, and that they were happy to have her here with them. The two omegas and one beta lead her to the living room for now, promising that they’ll give her a proper tour later.

The trio found the other two ‘99 liners that hadn’t been in her van in the living room, Yeosang had taken to laying on the floor, while Yunho had situated himself in the only chair in the room.

“Welcome to your new home!” Yunho said, smiling at her and waving her over to sit on the nearby loveseat. 

“Thank you, Yunho-oppa,” she said, moving to take the seat he was pointing at, and Wooyoung moved to sit next to her, taking the remaining spot.

“Yah, stop hogging her, let someone else sit next to her if they want to.” Seonghwa scolded Wooyoung, making the other omega get up.

The moment the spot was free, both Jongho and Yeosang moved to sit next to her before freezing when they noticed the other. Jongho won that silent debate, and Yeosang took the spot in between y/n’s legs, after asking her for permission.

Wooyoung pouted at this, before Seonghwa pulled the omega down onto the couch with him, the younger omega sitting on Seonghwa’s lap and his head being pushed into the older omega’s neck. Wooyoung’s body relaxed so quickly once his nose was buried in Seonghwa’s scent gland, it was almost like watching a puppet with its strings cut.

Y/n quietly giggled at the sight, it was cute but amusing to see how quickly Wooyoung went quiet. The trio that had been putting away her bags in her new room emerged from one of the hallways, their leader smiling at the sight they came back to.

“It looks like everyone’s settling in well.” Hongjoong commented as the two behind him moved to find their own spots, Mingi gravitating towards Yunho while San moved to sit in the spot next to where Seonghwa and Wooyoung were, as Hongjoong took the final open spot, on the other side of the two omegas.

The nine of them stayed quiet for a while, just taking in the silence after a long day, and while they had promised y/n a proper tour, it wasn’t to be as one by one, they fell asleep. Y/n watched as Seonghwa and Wooyoung fell asleep, wrapped up in each other, and it wasn’t long before San joined them, his head resting on Seonghwa’s other shoulder. 

Mingi and Yunho almost fell asleep, however Mingi stood up, stumbling as he was fairly sleepy, and pulled Yunho out of his chair and down one of the hallways, to one of their bedrooms. 

Yeosang was next, and y/n felt his head lean more on her thigh as he lost the battle to sleep. Jongho chuckled next to her, the sound so quiet she almost didn’t hear it.

“He tends to do this, it’s always adorable.” He explained, whispering to her. 

Hongjoong, still awake, moved over to the two still awake, sitting down in between Jongho’s legs.

“This doesn’t usually happen, well not like this. This is usually how it happens in the pack nest, but it seems everyone is really tired today.” Hongjoong said to y/n, explaining further about days like this.

The combination of all of the scents in the room, all happy and content, made y/n feel sleepy. She had already had a very active day that was full of surprises, so this quiet downtime made her become very sleepy very quickly. She felt her head lolling to the side, and despite her attempts to stay awake, the comforting smell of a fireplace, as that was all she could think of it as, burning wood in a fireplace, a hand moved to pull her head onto their shoulder.

“It’s okay to sleep, y/n,” Hongjoong whispered, looking up at her from his place on the floor, some emotion in his eyes that she couldn’t place at the moment.

She felt her eyes get heavy, and the calming scents from those around her, lulled her into sleep. Hongjoong and Jongho watched as her breathing became slower and evened out, before the captain looked around at the others, smiling at how content everyone seemed right now. He looked back at Jongho to find the maknae looking down at him.

“You should sleep too, hyung,” Jongho whispered, just loud enough for the older alpha to hear.

“I’m not that tired,” Hongjoong started, before his body betrayed him, a yawn coming out of his mouth.

“You can come here and sleep, if you want?” Jongho offered, his voice unsure.

Hongjoong took him up on his offer, climbing into the younger man’s lap and resting his head on Jongho’s unoccupied shoulder, and like y/n, started relaxing as Jongho’s scent comforted him and made him grow sleepier.

“It’s okay hyung, I can take on your burdens for a little while, you can rest.” Jongho whispered into Hongjoong’s ear, and it was those words that convinced Hongjoong it was okay to rest for a while.

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[crowcryptid]

Gayass Maw called me a fart and killed me im going to bed bye

[nouearth]

red right hand.

pairing. henry cavill x male reader.

word count. 7.3k.

summary. if there was one thing to give your dad credit for (other than helping create your very existence), it was that he has an insanely hot best friend. it was a universal admiration your neighborhood shared with one another. though, how many actively feasted upon their fantasies regarding that hunk of a man? probably only you, because mr. cavill was more than a crush, he was an addiction. and on one summer day, mr. cavill realized that so were you.

content warning. college!reader, dad's best friend!henry, neighbor!henry, age gap, blowjob (r!giving), degrading, throat-fucking, choking, gagging, spitting, kissing, humiliation, body and muscle worship, rough-play, size difference, dirty talk, verbal, praising, size kink.

The warm wind fanned the sweat off your forehead when you slid your window open. The ledge stained your fingers with particles of dust. Grimacing at the fuzz and simultaneous stickiness, it also provoked a storm of laziness as steel reminders from your dad got caught up in the commotion: CLEAN THE HOUSE.

CAR MAINTENANCE.

STOP ORDERING TAKE-OUT AND COOK.

SORT THE ATTIC.

TIDY GARAGE.

CHECK STOVE IGNITIONS BEFORE LEAVING THE HOUSE.

LOCK THE DOORS.

Ya-dah, ya-dah…

Honestly, how could you check-off any of these tasks with this heatwave currently going on? You were sweating bullets, been sweating enough to bathe in your own salt for days now—which you technically were already doing. It was summer, the long-awaited season after the agony of allergies. A temporary relief to your studies as well, until the humidity hit you like a truck and made you realize that living back in a dorm wasn’t so bad. 

At least the building had a functional air-conditioner. 

“Uh-huh, yep.” Your dad’s voice was going in one ear and out the other as you rummaged through your cabinets for a snack. Cereal; stale. Canned meat; too heavy. Potato chips; not heavy enough. “Dad, you know you’ve gone on business trips before, right? This isn’t the first time I’ve been alone.”

“I know, but I’m just making sure. It’s a new house, and I’ve been watching these true crime documentaries about men leaving clubs and—“

“Well, the first mistake was going to a sketchy club in the first place…” You muttered, peering into the fridge, and then lingering, because refrigerator air has never felt so cooling against your skin. You duck your head to puzzle yourself into the cold box, dumbfounded that the heat had gotten you irritated enough to claim a bag of deli meat as your bunkmate for the time being. The sound of your dad’s frustrated sigh on the other line curled your frown into a smile, and you laughed, “I’m a big boy. Stop worrying, and go enjoy—Ow!“ You bumped your head against the door on your way out.

“How can I not worry when you just referred to yourself as a ‘big boy?’ Not even a man?!” You never realized how theatric the man was. It was like his presence never left the house, exaggerated hand movements and all wafting the smell of his homemade meals whenever he would scold you in his favorite place: the kitchen. You smiled at the fond memories.

“Good point—“ Though they were made at your old house, you were sure that once he’d returned, your dad wouldn’t be opposed to creating new memories of scolding your ass off on whatever trouble you’d get into. If you do, that is. You’ve grown since then, finding yourself too tired to socialize.

“Remember, spare key’s in the birdhouse. There’s a compartment at the side of it. Hopefully birds haven’t evolved enough to pick it open.”

“If they have, they’d be picking at our locks right now to kidnap me and probably feast on my body.” Luckily, the fridge was stocked before your dad had left. You crucified him for being overly-prepared at times, but for this month, it was an exception. You picked at a slice of deli meat and cheese, and stuffed it down your mouth.

“Not funny, (M/N).”

“I’m kidding, Dad. Lighten up! I know you’re nervous about presenting, but they invited you to talk to an audience for a reason. They like you. Just be yourself, and remember not to speak so fast. Have some water on standby too.” And speaking of the devil, you gulped down a glass of iced water to cool down your body as your dad chuckled in your ear.

“I know, I know, thanks.” A muffled sound on the other end filled the silence, sounds of people passing and cars honking passing through your ear. “Alright, my ride’s here. I’ll call as soon as I get to the hotel, okay? You better answer—Oh! I forgot to tell you! Henry’s coming over later to look at the car.”

“Henry—Oh, Mr. Cavill? He’s in the neighborhood?” The name rattled a familiar feeling inside of your stomach. Something rather warm, suddenly ravenous when you thought about the last time you saw him.

“Actually, he was the one that told me about this house! He lives down the street. But tool’s in the garage if he asks for them, okay?” 

“Y-yeah, okay. Got it.” You hadn’t seen him many times. Only when you’d come home from semester breaks, yet the mere mention of his name had you flustered as if he was a long-lost friend or something. 

“Okay, gotta go. Love you, and remember, lock your doors! Bye!”

“I will! Bye…” Your phone blinked back to your previous app after ending the call.

You knew he was your dad’s best friend; a divorced father and a bachelor unsurprisngly made a match in heaven.

He was someone that shared your father’s interest in tabletop games and comic books. A replacement for yourself you thought earlier on, but he was way more knowledgeable about those interest than you ever were. You grew up on your dad’s nostalgia. For Mr. Cavill and your dad? These memories altered them who they would be in the future.

He was a friend that would help your dad out on building projects, like that birdhouse he had mentioned. He was a charming man that built the PC you currently use after hearing you complain about the previous laptop you had. And best of all, his looks were as abundant as his kindness. Standing over six feet tall, with a chiseled face that matched an equally sculpted body; he’d been a little crush since you first met him, being the only man who was capable of rendering you utterly speechless.

And in present, the only man who had the power to tighten your briefs and shorts with only a passing thought of his body; muscular and athletic in all the right places. If only your dad could somehow muster up a beach day before summer ended. Either way, the image of his bare body excited you, the blood flow immediately rushing south in agreement. Your dick kissed your shorts at the thought water cascading off his hulking body like meltwater over an ice shelf, freezing you in your place to not-so-subtly gawk.

“Jesus…” Your body couldn’t catch a break, could it? With the ramping heat and the constant sweating, your erection only added fuel to the bonfire that was the pores of your skin. Your cock pulsed madly within the constraint of your briefs, teasing yet begging to be released, to be sheathed from its slick, because it knew you had the key to its relief.

Or rather, Mr. Cavill did.

It was pathetic. You’d been at this for a year now. As much as you were unfamiliar with Mr. Cavill’s disposition, it was certainly the opposite regarding his physical appearance. Though it hadn’t exactly occur to you when this crush of yours had been tiptoeing along the lines of obsession. 

Wait, was it an obsession..? No, no, it was just a crush. 

You hadn’t done anything wrong. All you had done was browse through his social media—he did follow you, and you mutually pursued—and stalked—no—scrolled through his posts. Thank god, he was an avid poster. Pictures of his selfies, his knack for grilling, his love for his pet dogs, his pride over his geeky hobbies, his friendship with your dad and mutual buddies—all of these pieces attributed to allowing you to get to know him more as you were rotting away on campus, missing life back at home. Like clockwork, looking at his feed brought a sense of comfort, a hope that maybe you could be part of his life as well.

“God, what I’d do to ride that mustache…” You blurted out your thoughts, hyper-aware that you were alone in the house. You’d been waiting for this. You’d been surrounded by your roommates 24/7, and then once break started, your dad wanted to insert himself into your schedules as much as he could before the next semester starts. 

As much as you loved them, you needed space. A space bigger than the privacy of your own room. You deserved the whole house to yourself after enduring months of agony from overdue assignments; stress from bickering roommates that led to chaos within the dorm. You haven’t jerked off properly in months, often resorting to a quick session that comforted you on the occasions you’d have to pull multiple all-nighters to get a project done.

You needed relief.

You needed pleasure.

“Fuck,” Your eyes had been fixated on Mr. Cavill’s social media feed as you stripped yourself free of clothing. On one hand, it helped your body cool off from the heat building in the house. On the other, you felt vulnerable, like someone could walk in on you any second, and god, was that a turn-on. 

A grid of his life displayed happily before you, and your thumb scrolled aimlessly in pursuit of multiple pictures ingrained in your brain that had your cock throbbing in your palm. You laid flat on the couch, earbuds fit snug in the canals after briefly switching apps to play your favorite porn in the background of your search. Your stomach sunk deep when the man began moaning in your ears. Hot like the blistering sun outside; you can imagine Mr. Cavill breathing against you like that, as you took his cock in like the video you had playing. Your balls pulled when the man grunted, “Right there,” and you couldn’t help but pull at the ache of your cock, then at your balls to fondle at the loose stretch of skin.

“Right there,” you repeated when your thumb paused at the desired video of Mr. Cavill. Another major part of his lifestyle was working out. Strength training, cardio, marathons. You name it, Mr. Cavill did it all, exceptionally well, and the crème de la crème of it all was that he bared his torso for most of his videos. “Fuck, you’re so big… Fuck, fuck…” 

It was like watching a warrior prepare for battle. Sweat dripped off the holiest parts of his body as he pumped his muscles with heavy weights. Grunts, heavy and lewd sounds filled your ears while Mr. Cavill powered through his body’s resistance. You wondered to yourself if he could take you like that. Force you to take him with brute strength like the weights in his muscular, veiny hands. You were stroking yourself to him, every part of him, palm slick with sweat and spit. Two fingers would get the job done, stretching you out in preparation for his cock. Though, you knew deep down that it would take more than that. Three, or maybe even four, considering the hunk of a man was seemingly built from metal. The video replayed multiple times before you remembered that he had more than enough content for you to jerk off to. You were barely five minutes in, but this was already more pleasurable than whatever you had endured back at the dorms. Your cock felt pleased, spitting out dribbles of thick pre-cum that loosened the stick of your palm as donation to your generosity.

“Fuck, Henry…” You rarely referred to him by his first name. It felt unusual. You were much younger than him. Addressing someone closer to your dad’s age felt rude, like you were trying to assert your dominance despite your age difference. You were many things, but disobedient was not one of them. However, you couldn’t lie. His name felt polishing to your tongue, something that could improve the taste of dreadful meals if one were to whisper it before taking a spoonful.

His name felt like a miracle.

Your sexual appetite was nourished by the frames of Mr Cavill’s second video. He was completely unaware he was bulging, free-balling in his sweaty shorts while he pursued his vitality through jumping jacks, lunges, toe-touches—cardio galore that made his heavy cock bounce in rhythm. You could tell he was large, gifted with insane girth to the point where you could make out the shape of his cock just from him stretching. And the smell; sweat sticking on thick curly hairs on his chest, and a happy trail that seemed to promise a world of musk if you ever had an opportunity to endeavor upon your curiosities. You were practically salivating for him, saliva pooling where your tongue sank, while your cock leaked. You pumped yourself quicker and harder at the frustration that your desire to taste Mr. Cavill’s cock would remain a pipe dream.

All that left you was your imagination, and your own musk. Pulling up at your glans, you squeezed out thick loads of pre-cum before swiping it with your thumb and tasting it off with a suck. Salty, bitterly pleasant on your tongue, and satiated enough to not let your libido falter at the disappointment that it wasn’t Mr. Cavill’s pre-cum, but rather smolder.

“Oh, fuck my mouth… I need that cock, Mr. Cavill. Please—“ The frames of the third video showcased him flexing his arms and torso. His body bursted with pride, veins surging through every fiber of muscle like they were charging him and his very existence. It was veiny too, wasn’t it? His cock. Large and veiny, like how you’d like it. You would struggle fitting him inside of your mouth while his cock veins pulsed with great pleasure knowing that it was Mr. Cavill’s kink that you couldn’t take him. 

No one could.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck—“ Your eyes rolled back. The slurping sounds from the porn increased by tenfold as you pumped the volume by a few decibels. Lewd, slick sounds you wished you could perform on Mr. Cavill himself violated your ear drums. Pleasure him. Thank him on your knees for being so kind to your father. For building your PC without compensation. For providing you temporarily relief while you were away on campus, and could only jerk off under the blanket. You were grateful for him. For Mr. Cavill. For his thick arms. For his veiny forearms. For his dashing good-looks. For his muscles. For his strong cock. You’d give yourself to him if you could. Worship every inch of his step, every inch of his body, and that still wouldn’t be enough to show your appreciation towards him. 

Your fist tightened. Your other hand had grown limp by now, dropping your phone to the floor by mistake, but you were too fixated on the pleasure your cock was receiving to retrieve it back. You could watch it from where you were laying, just like this, slickly twisting and pumping your cock to the sound of the porn, to the sound of Mr. Cavill grunting simultaneously as if his thick cock was being feasted on like a hungry beast. “Mr. Cavill, please—I’m going to—“

One earbud slipped from the sweat building on your body, but you were close. So fucking close to coming. And when you do, you’d come on your phone.

All over Mr Cavill’s pecs. His abs. His crotch. His face. Anywhere, as long as it was your friendly neighbor, because—

“Enjoying yourself, (M/N)?”

A voice from behind you alerted your body to jolt and whip around upon instinct to defend yourself. Naked or not, you weren’t going to die, not in the hands of a burglar.

Though, as soon as you did, you regretted it. You felt like stone. Cold, hard stone as all signs of life seemingly felt like it had been sucked dry out of your body, with your erection taking up most of the produce surprisingly as you confronted the intruder.

The six-feet, muscular, handsome, and familiar man of an intruder. 

“M-Mr. Cavill?! What—When did you—“ You were flustered. Radiant heat blooming like the season of Spring across several patches of your naked body. It also didn’t help that your porn could be heard from earbuds once you took the remaining one out, albeit a bit muffled. And your phone, it was facing the ceiling, looping the video of Mr. Cavill training over and over again. Right before him.

Your body was shaking, physically evident despite your efforts to conceal the tremors as the man stared you down, unfazed by the drama of it all. “Fuck—“ You didn’t know what to turn off first. The porn? The video of him working out? Or maybe dressing yourself should be a priority because—Mr. Cavill was still staring, blues lingering on your naked body, seemingly outlining every drop of sweat that followed the contours of your figure. There was movement that naturally caught your attention. 

It was his hand, large and muscular over the center of his shorts. Rubbing, squeezing, fondling at an evidently large mass that made you dry-swallow. You mustered up the courage to finally pause the porn, then clicked your phone off. “H-how long have you been watching?”

“Since the beginning.” He chuckled, stating matter-of-factly. “Your dad told me to come look at your car. Your garage was open. Thought you did that for me, but I guess you really just forgot about closing it considering…” He nodded towards your cock, licking his lips when it acknowledged him with a throb. “Was coming to get you, and I found you like this.”

“And you just watched?!” You sputtered out in distress, hastily dressing yourself back into your clothes, stumbling over your feet in the process. Sweat always made it more difficult to put on clothes.

“Well, I did call you for while I was coming in. You didn’t hear me over your video, and…me, I suppose.” It was smug. Amusing to him that you were in this state of embarrassment after being caught red-handed. You groaned, burying your head into your knees after sitting back down on the couch. The heat was unbearable, but to face Mr. Cavill after being caught jerking off to his videos, you were overcome with horror at the ghastly spectacle of the situation.

“Don’t tell my dad about this,” Your fingers scraped through your scalp out of frustration, but also to keep your head pressed to your knees as they interlaced around you. You refused to even spare one more glance at the man when you felt him practically hovering over you, a gentle smile riding along the coattails of his composure. “…please.”

“I won’t,” Mr. Cavill’s voice sounded clearer, closer than before. Right above you, but still, you maintained your position despite the pleasant scent of his cologne almost breaking away your focus. “Just as long as you suck me off.”

Those final words hit you like a truck. 

You were astounded, confused by the turn of the situation. It felt like a taunt, and it was treated as such because it worked. You whipped your head up upon Mr. Cavill’s demand, almost insulted because it was how guys on campus used to taunt you.

What you expected to grace your eyes with was his face; charming as ever with a mustache that was reliable in stirring immense feelings inside of you.

Instead, you were met with a face full of flesh, Mr Cavill’s heavy and large cock. It sported a strong curve, throbbing veins to prove its accelerating lust, with thick balls swinging low to entice you into a hypnotic state. If someone was to grade you upon your predictions, you’d score a perfect mark, because god damn, he was huge. Hairier than you’d expected, though just as arousing, if not more, because this was unexpected for Mr. Cavill as well. He would’ve cleaned himself a bit if he had a plan to meet you under these circumstances.

“I—You’re serious?” With the string of thick pre-cum dripping from the very slit of his head, it seemed like your question was answered. You could smell him. The musk of his pre-cum. It tingled your nostrils, enchanting you akin to what fresh pastries would’ve done for you on normal, non-libido provoking circumstances.

“Does it look like I’m kidding? Come on, I’m waiting. You didn’t even say ‘thank you’ to me in person when I built you that PC for Christmas. It’s the least you could do, right?” Without warning, he took ahold of his cock and tapped the center of your lips with it. Your orbs shook as you looked up at him, hesitant through the tremor of your lips as Mr. Cavill stared back, determined for you to accept his plea offer with some kind of answer—with your mouth preferably. “Been teasing me for so long… Think I didn’t notice the way you looked at me whenever I came over? How you kept massaging your cock under the table during dinner? Always in those shorts too… God, you were begging to be fucked with your thighs showing like that.”

“No—I-You’re my dad’s friend, I can’t—“ Your hand said otherwise with your fingers taking initiative on their own, wrapping over his large cock, right above Mr. Cavill’s fist. It was a two-hander, a fucking two-hander, yet your fingers struggled to close around his girth. “Fuck, you’re so…”

“Your dad doesn’t have to know, right? I won’t tell. You won’t either. We don’t want to hurt him, right?” One of his hands found its way to the back of your head while he took a step closer, bringing his cock closer to your face. Before you could pull away, there was true grit to the palm of Mr Cavill’s hand as he applied pressure to the back of your head, pressing your cheek flush to the underside of his cock. “Look at you, you don’t have the heart to say no, do you? You’re obsessed with my cock, aren’t you?”

“Y-yes, Mr. Cavill…” You were under his control. Locks of your hair bundled under a grip while he ground his cock against your supple skin, making you smell him; his musky cock, the sweat buried in the deep hairs of his pubic area. It was a glorious scene that returned your cock back to its original state of arousal by tenfold. 

“You’re going to be a good boy and suck my cock off, right?” Almost in your mouth. You parted your lips open to trap his cock into your mouth with the way he maneuvered your head like a rag doll, a brute strength your nape now, pulling and pushing your head as his cock rubbed against your face, but Mr. Cavill pulled at the last minute, right when you were one lick away from tasting meaty flesh. “Close your mouth. You will open your mouth when I tell you so.”

“I—I—Yes, please...” You were pathetic. He held you still, head tilted upwards to face the ceiling and his towering body while his cock and balls laid over your face like a table runner, a perfect heater to warm his meat. A t-shirt remained on his body, and that was a true testament to his appeal, being able to get you off like this half-naked. You reached down, back to fondling at your sore cock, at the blue balls you’d given yourself earlier, sniffing, inhaling the heavy delightful scent of his sweaty cock. Guess his house was having air-conditioning difficulties too.

“I can use your mouth however I want?” He dragged his cock over your face, the head leaking out pre-cum in midst of its journey to introducing itself to every one of your facial features, saving your lips for last. 

“Yes,” You gulped at his rousing speech, breathing in the drying musky pre-cum on the perimeter of your skin. “Please fuck my mouth, please—“

“If you’re good, then this can be a regular occurrence, yeah?” You slipped your shorts and briefs off again, jerking yourself off to simply the teasing taunt of his cock, tapping at your skin, brushing over your eyelids, pushing up against your nose. You felt humiliated. You’d been marked by Mr. Cavill, pathetically as it only took his huge cock to make you submit to him. “You’d like that? Sucking your dad’s best friend off?”

“F-fuck, yes…” His cock was a wand to your body. Every time Mr. Cavill was seemingly about to push into your mouth, you willingly opened it to no avail, even if it was obvious that he’d pull away. You could only get off on his scent for so long. He’d draw your tongue out when he squeezed pre-cum out the tip of his cock, right above your pink flesh. It would sink, drip, slowly like syrup, in thick strings, until it wasn’t anymore with the sudden obstruction of Mr. Cavill’s finger swooping in to nick the sticky web, and letting it waste away on the carpet. “Please, Mr. Cavill… I-I’ll be good…”

It was amusing to him, watching you desperately try to taste and watch him in any way you can, to the point of going cross-eyed as he would center his cock in your vision. He waved his cock like a flag as if he had conquered you. Humiliated you with several heavy slaps to your face, thick smacks that you took in whimpering grace because Mr. Cavill had stolen the resources to your insanity.

“That’s what I like to hear.”

Mr. Cavill didn’t waste a single second for you to prepare yourself. The pressure on your nape steeled, bruising to make you open your mouth and whimper, and maybe that was the point, because he seized the opportunity to charge his cock inside of your mouth without warning, making you gag on your own desperation. It was a forewarning. A brief prologue on how you should take his cock as he quickly pulled himself out to properly prepare yourself. In the meantime, he slapped your cheek multiple times with the spit you had already layered him with, cooing at how incredible hard and big he was against your dazed face.

“Fuck, your mouth is so warm. That’s it, you can take it. Good boy.” Saliva spilled out of your mouth like a popped water balloon when he pushed himself inside of your mouth again. You couldn’t control it. You couldn’t control what Mr. Cavill had stripped away from you with the strength he had on your neck. Not to mention, the mass of flesh gagging you into oblivion, leaving you completely incapable of stopping him, as if you wanted him to. “Come on, use your hands too. Don’t be lazy.”

“Mm-mmf…” A compliance that was muffled by a slur of slick sounds, but Mr. Cavill knew what you meant. Amusement played on the corner of his lips as you struggled to fit a hand around the base of his sticky cock, sloppily stroking what was left neglected by your mouth, or rather your inability to take in. You suckled on the head of his cock, plump and heavy on your tongue as it throbbed with every lick you provided him. Stroking its slit with the tip of your tongue, you then dug and slobbered over the salty taste of his pre-cum. “So big… Just like I’d imagined.”

You pulled away to marvel at the size of his cock, taking your time to lube his cock with your spit from tip to shaft before your fist flushed to his pelvis to slap his meaty cock on the pouch of your tongue, lewdly flinging your spit in the air. It was your favorite move, often reliable in coercing a reaction out of the men you’d sucked off previously. The roll of his eyes, the flex of his muscles, the grunt from his gut; you slobbered all over his cock, worshipping every inch with your mouth, polishing the cock knob clean with your tongue and stroking what you couldn’t with two deft hands. Mr. Cavill was no different, he was a man with needs like you, with needs like the rest of the men you’d given head to, and you exploited the hell out of it. You loved making them feel in power, making them feel like you were worth time out of their day, despite their original pleas to use your mouth.

He briefly pulled back to rest a kiss on your lips, one that you’d treasure for the rest of your life. Not only was it because it was your first kiss was him, but because of how delicate he was with you. Warm and inviting like he usually was, his large hands cupped at the end of your jaw, holding you as if you were made of porcelain. “Making me so proud right now, fuck. Take in more of my cock, would you? I like it when you gag.”

“Mm-hmm…” They always do. You mumbled against his lips, no longer needing his guidance to finish what you’d started. Your eyes were glued to Mr. Cavill, aroused by the look he was giving you. A famished stare that demanded to be satiated, by means of sheer persistence as you knew it was going to be difficult to down him with your throat.

Mr. Cavill drove a hand into your hair, cuffing the strands to keep you still, to keep you from pulling away, to dominate you. He watched you without an ounce of kindness, muscles flexing, cock and balls hanging obscenely as you found a better position on your knees with a throw pillow guarding you from bruising. “Want you to throat-fuck me, Mr. Cavill.”

“Fuck, who knew you had such a mouth on you…” He sturdied his stance, spreading his strong legs while manhandling your head between them. You licked a stripe over his balls, then the underside of his cock until your tongue reached the scorching skin of his precum-slicked tip. Approaching the end of the journey, your mouth opened wide to welcome Mr. Cavill back into your mouth, and like tugging on a loose knot, you drew out moans from within his gut, his body loosening in turn of your hot mouth. “Fuck, just like that…”

With a thundering heart, and a building pleasure so morbidly big, you sunk and lowered your head lower, taking in Mr. Cavill’s horse-cock like a fleshlight. Crimson rose to your cheeks, to your neck, as you strained to maintain him inside of your mouth. He was too big. You’ve utilized all the tactics you’ve learned on campus, on a few buddies, on your roommates. Breathe through your nose, relax your tongue and jaw, let your saliva drip out. Yet you’d barely taken a few inches more than you had done prior before a couple of gags alerted you to take a breather. Your head pulled back, but it was met with violent opposition as Mr. Cavill brought your head back down to further shove himself down your throat.

“Mmm—gggrgh!” Your body jolted in defense, stiffening your body into an upright position when you couldn’t refrain from gagging on his cock. Your hands braced on his strong thighs for balance, squeezing at the muscly flesh of skin to distract yourself from the uncomfortable stretch your mouth was receiving.

“Fuck, yeah. Fuck, fuck, just like that. You’re taking it like a good boy.” You were making him proud, so fucking proud. You coughed, gagging, almost choked on your own spit, but the stuffing of Mr. Cavill’s large cock simultaneously emptied your mouth of saliva as it all came flooding down your mouth in lewd webs. “Shit, look at that. I’m making your mouth water, aren’t I? Fuck, what a waste.”

He yanked your head back, pulling him out of your throat, and you had never felt such relief. Breathing, exhaling and inhaling deep to compensate for the prediction that Mr. Cavill wasn’t going to let you spare a second of abandoning his cock like that. Your eyes watered, reddened from straining your muscles to make him fit inside of your mouth. You knew there was a shift in the room when you looked up at him like that, glossy in the eyes, tremors involuntarily making your knees unsteady, coughing as you held onto his thighs. He towered over you, you were beneath him, beneath the ravenous gaze he simultaneously terrified and seduced you with. You couldn’t complain now. You did your job. You made him feel powerful like you’d wanted. Dominating, as his cock leaked in your spit, and spit your saliva back onto your face.

“You were fucking hungry for my cock, weren’t you? Look at you. You’re a bloody mess…” With one swipe, he gathered the layers of spit you had generously supplemented his cock with, and smeared it across your face. You took his humiliation with good grace, moaning at your loss of pride with every smear. It deducted the more he messily layered your face with your own spit, but as demeaning as it was, there was immense merit to the satisfaction on Mr. Cavill’s face. “Open up.”

“M-mm, ah—“ Your mouth opened with a vulgar sound. If Mr. Cavill had something to compare it to, it would be like sticking a spoon into a cup of jello, and then scooping its content out. Sweet and glorious to his ears, salty to your mouth as he bought your head forward again, and plunged his cock back down your throat, deeper, and further within the confines of your throat. You squeezed around him, eyes clenched tight while he brought your face flushed to his pelvis, the hairy bush of his public area gentle abrasive against your nose. He smelled as delectable as he tasted. A hint of spice, sweat, salt, you could lick at it if it was made into a popsicle, lap it up if it was in a bowl and you were on all fours, bowing to his feet.

Your cheeks bulged as your mouth churned internally to produce more slime to seemingly ease the slide of Mr. Cavill’s cock thrusting inside of you now. He was careless, half-bent over your head to lock you into a tight embrace while his spit-polished cock rubbed at either side of your cheeks, rut against the roof of your mouth, then thrust himself into the depth of your warm throat. You couldn’t have escaped if you had wanted to. He was too strong. Two hands unrelenting around your head while he packed his large cock deep into your mouth, pelting into your gags and whimpers with fast, sharp thrusts, the sound of his wet dick choking you mutually turning you and Mr. Cavill on. You want to quit, yet he was choking you too good. Water streamed down your cheeks. Whether it was your own spit, sweat, or tears, you couldn’t comprehend it because Mr. Cavill was uncompromising, refusing to yield for your comfort.

You were fucking grateful. That was what had been missing from your college experience. A man. Someone taking charge for once. Someone utilizing you like the whore you made yourself out to be. Mr. Cavill saw right through you, through your taunts from several breaks ago, and he was fucking furious for making him wait.

“Shit, I’m close,” Fucking your mouth furiously. You could get off like this. Fuck, no. You were getting off to this. Fucking your cock with your fist, doing your best to match the pace of Mr. Cavill’s hips. You wanted to look up, to watch his face morph from admiration to animalistic desire as he utilized your throat at his own disposal.

You blinked away your tears, even if they had stung, and gawked at how captivating Mr. Cavill was for being selfish, thrusting into your mouth with one hand keeping your face free of your hair from obstructing his view. A frown permanently framed his mustache, and his dark brows furrowed at the approaching climax. He wasn’t looking at you. Rather, he was scrutinizing your wet mouth as it was jam-packed with his cock. How could a mouth look so pretty while doing something absolutely obscene? How could a throat feel so tight, so addictive, even after piping his cock down its drain several times? How could you let him treat you like this, a complete stranger, completely violate and humiliate you on your knees, like a broken doll whose purpose was to fulfill a man’s deepest desires? Maybe he needed to have a talk with your father. Talk about how broken you were, and that you needed fixing. Spend a nights with him at his house, and he would help you rewire your brain. He’d fix you. Fix you with his cock. With his lips. With his hands. With his body. Your eyes rolled back at the thought, fisting your cock faster, twisting to his heavy grunts as he was nearing closer and closer to the edge of his insanity.

“Mfghm!” Your throat felt raw, the subtlest whimper scratching at your throat like claws on chalkboard. But you persisted, pumping your shaft vigorously, your ears lapping up Mr. Cavill’s constant appraisal for your performance. Good boy. That’s it. You’re taking my cock like how I want it. You want your reward? Fuck, sloppier. Spit on it. Spit on my dick. I like it sloppy. 

Sweat pebbled every inch of your skin. You couldn’t take it. It was coming. Your stomach sank and steeled upon the sudden rise of fulfillment, and you quickly released your grip after a final stroke before coming into the air. Thick ropes catapulted upwards, your cock throbbing with every pulse, and your balls emptying itself more and more with a bounce, a twitch, and a jolt. “F-fuck, ugh…”

“Fuck, yeah. Look at all of that cum. Fuck. You came that much just from my cock, look at that…“ Your body spasmed as the carpet soaked up your semen. His voice gruff yet gentle at the same time, making your cock twitch once more before softening. 

“Come on, not done yet. Suck me off.” He spat out, tugging your head forward after a quick breather.

Something in you clicked, and you began sucking his cock off like it was your job. Twisting, stroking at the slick shaft while nipping at the head while you caught up to your breath. Suddenly saltier on your tongue as some of your cum had landed on your hand before it was smeared across Mr. Cavill’s dick. You’ve never tasted yourself before, but it was a found contentment you didn’t expect to turn you on.

Then, you took one last breath, cleared your throat, and charged forward. Long, thick inches slid into your throat once more, and you’d hold yourself there upon his final warning, mouth agape, lips pressed into the fur of his pubic hair. Your tongue flattened at the underside of his veiny cock, and your nails dug into the back of his thighs as you felt a thick warmth rush down and coat the inside of your throat. His cock throbbed, and Mr. Cavill’s grunts emptied from his gut with every spill. You could feel every heavy pulse as Mr. Cavill came down your throat in heavy, creamy spurts. You didn’t want to swallow. Not yet. You wanted to savor him. Savor the taste of his cum. You’d pined for it for so long, for all you could know, this could be your last opportunity to properly taste him. Slowly, but surely, his loads rose and pooled in the back of your throat upon barricading it with a tighten of your trachea. The rest of his spurts emptied on your tongue as he pulled himself out, and milked himself to completion. 

“Don’t swallow yet.”

You nodded, panting, awaiting for his nuts to be emptied as he flung his cock a few times, hurling drips of cum and your spit over your tongue and face. When he was seemingly emptied out, his gaze fixated on his cum pooled in the back of your throat; semi-translucent and filthily swimming with your own spit, and then Mr. Cavill’s own saliva, as he then spat into your crowded mouth. 

“Now swallow.”

You whimpered at the vulgarity of this affair, yet you were highly-aroused by this shame you were feeling. Mr. Cavill’s gaze stilled, anticipating with calm amusement while petting at your cheek. With one clean gulp, you downed your guilt, scrunching your nose when the salty taste of his spunk throttled your tastebuds, and sighed in satisfaction.

“Does your throat hurt?” He was on his haunches, carefully examining your throat as if he had his hand around you from the outside. It was a surprising return to his normal self, at least, the man that you knew as your dad’s best friend. Caring and patient, as he tended to your neck with apologetic kisses, and a gentle massage around your nape, where he must’ve gripped too hard upon your jolted reaction.

“A little… Didn’t take you were one to be rough like that.” Your knees gave out, letting yourself fall back onto your butt knowing that the couch would catch your position.

“Not usually, no… You just… happen to rile me up for some reason.” He was smiling, joining you on the floor, and nuzzling his furry mustache into the crook of your neck as if he wasn’t choking you with his cock a few minutes ago. It was unusual, yet charming. “Seriously, don’t tell your dad, okay?” He whispered into your ear before turning your cheek to look deep in his eyes.

A meaningful stare, a beat of silence, before you spoke, “Only if you promise me something.”

“What’s that?” Mr. Cavill pressed a kiss to your swollen lips, another apology for stretching your mouth without much warning.

“You really meant it that this would be a regular thing if I did a good job?” Mr. Cavill scoffed at first. It was almost embarrassing. Were you being naive? Was this too good to be true? Your cheeks flushed red, and you solemnly casted your gaze downwards, defeated because that was that it felt like. The sound of rejection always came with a scoff, everyone knew that. 

“Well, it was going to be a regular thing even if you had accidentally bit my dick off.” He suddenly laughed at how susceptible you were by the smallest actions, and at this moment, you were surprised that maybe this crush wasn’t so one-sided after all. He teased at your frown, kissing the corner of your mouth until it was a smile, and then prodding at your sides when you resisted. “Come on, you couldn’t possibly think this was a one-time thing.” 

“Tempting…” You snuck a head in between his thighs, reaching for a certain tool that had brought in so much pleasure and pain to your body. “I don’t know… we don’t talk much. I don’t know you that well.” 

“Don’t.” Mr. Cavill teasingly warned, stopping you by taking ahold of your wrist. Though, one step too late, as you already cupped his flaccid cock, tormenting his balls with a few tugs and squeeze of your palm as an act of revenge for your throat. “Well… then let’s get to know each other. No problem doing that, right?”

“Mm-mm, guess not.” Pursing your lips, you nodded, feeling placated by his words.

He sighed into your mouth, kissing you again, licking at the inside of your mouth, tasting your tongue and then your cheek, to soothe his selfish stain on your body with the work of his mouth. 

“First, I want to hear you say ‘thank you’ for building that PC of yours before I promise you anything.”

“Jesus, we’re still on this?”

“Yes! Do you know how long that took me?”

“I didn’t ask you to build me one—“

“God, you’re an ungrateful brat.”

nouearth. please do not repost, plagiarize, or translate my works. and if you like this story, please reblog and leave a like!

[cheriladycl01]

Pushed Down and Down - Grid x Driver! Reader

Plot: Suffering with mental health issues as a driver isn’t easy - but when people actively don’t help it can only get worse.

Based on that one tiktok edit sound.

A/N: as someone who struggles with her own mental health this was a true comfort for me to write and reread. Drivers who talk about their mental health and how they do struggle literally have my whole heart (Lando, Lewis etc)

Warnings: Talk of mental health, depression, anxiety, etc, all drivers are a little mean to Y/N

From a very young age you were told you wouldn’t be able to do karting, and you wouldn’t get very far as it was strictly a man’s sport.

Your mum tried to sway your opinion as you were clearly the athletic type and get you into gymnastics or dancing. But the smell of the petrol and the adrenaline you got from going round the tracks was like nothing else.

Your dad on the other hand fully supported you, he was a mechanic so he did struggle to afford decent gear for you but you made do with what you had.

This however never stopped you, and as a child going into a teenager and young adult it didn’t affect you too much. You took your wins as and when they came and you worked hard for them and you took your losses as opportunity to learn from.

Oh how you wish you could go back to those days.

You proceeded to be asked in 2016 if you wanted to compete in British F4, you had your License and it seemed like you were this up and coming British talent.

You came 1st in the British F4 championship in 2017 right after Lando Norris and Max Fewtrell won the years before you. The two behind you being Oscar Piastri and Logan Sargeant. You didn’t win a race for the whole season, just pure consistency.

You then came third in the UAE F4 Championship in the same year. Oscar and Logan were also in that series with you. Logan being right on your toes coming in second place. This season you were close to taking your first win, but Logan had crashed you out taking the win for himself and leaving you down in P8.

Both Oscar and Logan of course moved up to bigger and better things in 2018. Both of them moving up to doing Eurocup Formula Renault whereas you weren’t offered anything.

In 2018 you competed in Formula 4 United States and came second place again. Your team let your American team-mate pass you on the last race of the season through team orders even though you were on equal points.

You took the loss and moved on because that just the kind of race driver you WERE.

In 2019 you were promoted to F3 and got to drive with Max Fewtrell, Logan Sargeant, Yuki Tsunoda and Liam Lawson. You came second and you actually were insanely close to Robert, but it never felt like a win. You were with Prema, and you fought tooth and nail.

In 2020, Oscar and Logan rejoined you in the feeder series and were in the same team as you as you remained with Prema.

Prema, unfortunately for you and Logan prioritised Oscar and with an insanely dominant year for Prema Oscar won the championship through the help of team orders. There were many chances for you to take wins but you knew you couldn’t get promoted to F2 just get, even though you spend to years in Prema and come second both times.

This was when Red Bull noticed you and backed you paying for the rest of your career which was lucky really considering your dad wouldn’t have been able to afford another season for you in F3 with all the debt he was already in.

2021 came around and Red Bull helped you further your career getting lots of sponsor shops along the way and finally securing you an F2 seat for the 2022 season.

In 2021 you finally won a championship, but you didn’t feel like it was a win. Everyone had something to say about this achievement, that you’d only won thanks to the team, and that it wasn’t driver capability. As a young 21 year old these comments really affected you going into the F2 season.

Once you got into F2 in 2022, you were head to head with Felipe Drugovich. Red Bull also came forward asking for you to become a reserve driver for Red Bull alongside your F2 driver Liam Lawson. You were back in the standings with Logan too, Oscar having won back to back championships and now becoming the golden goose on his route to F1 with Alpine.

This year halfway though the season you had to experience the unfortunate passing of your dad, the only true supporter you ever had. It was utterly dismal for the few races that came afterwards.

The season was closing out and there were only 3 points between you and Felipe with Theo and Liam not far behind. With a dramatic qually in Abu Dabi that had most of you at the back of the pack when starting the race, you prevailed winning the race and taking the championship.

You got out of that car celebrating only to see your team not there for you. You awkwardly celebrated with the team of the drivers from 2nd and 3rd place but you couldn’t understand why they weren’t there for you.

But he was there for you…

Christian Horner in his Red Bull team gear, white envelope in his hand that he presented you in the quiet room.

He was the first person to truly believe in you and see see potential apart from your dad and it was refreshing getting the contract that was going to sign you on as a rookie along with Oscar and Logan in the 2023 season.

F1

Liked by y/user, f1mia and others

f1: BREAKING: RedBull announce Y/N Y/L/N to drive for them in 2023 meaning all seats for the season have now been filled.

#f1 #redbull #womeninthepaddock

View all comments

user1: oh Lord I’ve followed her since F3, so proud of her!

y/user: this is a dream come true! I can finally tell my mum I made it!

lewishamilton: so proud of everything you’ve done to get women this far in the sport @y/user

user2: god they just keep on ruining this sport

redbullracing: So excited to have Y/N join us on the team!

-> y/user: I’m so thankful to you guys to be given the opportunity!

user2: oh this year is gonna slap.

maxverstappen1: welcome to the RedBull Family!

First was the Bahrain Grand Prix, it was your 3rd time in and F1 car and you were obviously very nervous. It was your first race weekend and you didn’t know where to place yourself.

The whole weekend didn’t really feel like your debut it just felt glazed over with Sergio Perez leaving and no longer being in F1. A lot of the team had hushed whispers around the situation, and Max tried his best to make you feel welcome but his awkwardness made that hard.

“So like what do you do, you drink beer?” Max awkwardly asks as you’d both been sat in the hospitality together waiting for Christian or one of the engineers to come grab you.

“Oh erm, no I don’t drink at all actually” you smile with a little furrow in your brows.

“Oh … right” Max sighs and thankfully that conversation was cut short when Christian came round the corner to collect you both.

You both were racing and for a rookie you had incredible tyre management making the agreed one stop strategy seemingly start to work despite the temperature on track. You were very quick, maybe even more quick than Max.

However coming out the pits, your tires are already starting to complain and tyre marbles are going left right and center.

Y/N Radio: What happened guys, my tyres are degrading so quickly I thought we agreed on hards?

Static was all that was received back.

Y/N Radio: Guys did you put me on softs?

Race Engineer: Sorry Y/N mess up at the pits, pit in 5 laps.

And once word got out to the other teams that they’d fucked up your race strategy and that you were basically free game your race was pretty much over.

P4 wasn’t bad considering the mistakes made, but you knew you’d could have gotten a podium on your first race.

“Y/N amazing first race in F1 you really know how to make an entrance to the sport huh?” The interviewer says cheerfully happy that you’ve done as well as you did.

“Yeah” you say with a smile.

“Not happy with the result it seems?” She pushes and you sigh.

“I’m of course so happy, getting P4 was amazing and I know my team are happy and I’ve made eveyone at home really proud. Thank you dad and I hope you’re watching! But it’s always a little … disappointing? I don’t really know if that’s the right word for how I’m feeling right now, when the outlook of something is going so well and external forces out or your control tamper with that it’s not a nice feeling. I’m really proud of the team today and of course Max had a great win today so we collected a lot of points for the team and remain top in the constructors” you explain and she nods slightly shocked with how open and honest you had been.

Eventually you were taken away by your PR manager who was starting to worry about what you were saying, a little scolding that you weren’t sure what for afterwards.

People spoke too, Lando and Oscar shocked you most.

“Y/N was kinda dangerous on track today, can’t believe she was that ballsy as a rookie man” Oscar said having know you the best driving with you for as long as he had.

“She’s talented for sure but I can’t help but feel like she’s gonna wash out” Lando admits with a sigh.

Was he right, would you have one good season and then that was it?

Things went the same in Saudi this time you managed to place your car in pole position, leading the race while Max had an unfortunate start from P15.

However after team orders came in to let Max take over once he got to a close enough gap behind you made you obey the team, not wanting to get on their nerves and make them regret choosing you. After that a botched pit stop and Oscar driving like a lunatic and bumping into your side left you down from P2 to P6

“Y/N what an incredible drive despite all that happened and you’ve hauled some good points for the team! How are you feeling?” The interviewer asks pushing the mic closer to you.

“Hot, I’m so hot right now” you joke trying to lighten the mood, wiping the sweat away from your forehead.

“Yeah I can’t imagine with this heat and the fact that the car is incredibly warm here” she smiles back and you take a breath before answering the second question.

“Yeah I mean today didnt go as planned. I got pole, I was on track to win, I did everything right but I just don’t think it was meant to be today and you know I’m going to fight really hard in Australia and see where we can get us hopefully something better than what I’m doing now” you say with a polite tight lipped smile and nod before going to the call down room.

You sat against the cold plastic door of the room head against it as you held in your tears. You always told yourself to never cry over a loss as you can’t expect to win them all. But this was supposed to be your race and you can’t help but feel like if you had Max behind you defending the incidents with the pits stop wouldn’t have occurred as you wouldn’t have done that second pit stop that cost you time.

In debrief you couldn’t believe what you were hearing.

“Are you kidding?” You laugh looking towards Max and then back at Christian.

“You didn’t move out the way from Max quick enough and you should have caught up quicker! What were you even thinking out there colliding with Piastri like that!” Horner announces making your cheeks flush a little red from embarrassment.

You didn’t think the collision with Oscar was your fault, but maybe it was.

Then you’d heard Daniel talking to Carlos, and your thoughts continued to spiral.

“She’s a tricky one mate, can’t see her having that seat for long” Daniel admitted to Carlos at the restaurant they were at with some of the other drivers.

Y/N was sad when she didn’t get an invite seeing as many of them were there but she didn’t take it to heart having fun eating alone while people watching.

“Yeah, I wonder how many times they have to tell her team orders” Carlos had added.

The next race was Australia.

You had the faster car, better starts and you beat Max going into turn one. It was a ballsy move on your part but it was clean racing, no damage done.

Race Engineer: Y/N give back position now

Y/N Radio: But I have the faster car Zayn, I got fresher tyres and my deg is fine. I have the stats don’t tell me I’m wrong when I’m the one in the car

Race Engineer: Y/N Max is fighting for the championship, team orders slow down and give position back

And so you did, you gave Max his position back and trailed behind him creating a DRS train behind you, Hamilton and Alonso not being able to pass you to potentially overtake Max.

After this race you started to keep a mental health diary and your coach thought it would be a good idea to see a therapist to help with your quick thinking and decision making on track, of course not for your mental health and you start to struggle with coming to the terms that Max needs a second driver and that’s what Red Bull hired you for.

So you became his second driver.

Constantly being criticised by the team and Horner, constantly having Max tell you that you need to be a second driver for the season and that’s it. Nothing else. Having interviewers wondering why you keep having these near misses.

When your home Grand Prix the British Grand Prix came around you’d just about had enough of being called a second driver. You took matters into your own hands. You spend hours in the sim working out the best angle for the corners of Silverstone and seeing how much you could push the provisional car down the straights.

When it came to qualifying you smashed everyone out the park in all three sectors. The media were buzzing at your stone face for the duration of the weekend.

“Y/N what an amazing qualifying for you, you were really flying out there. And your starting on pole tomorrow with Max behind you, is there going to be team orders to let him through?” The interviewer asks smiling at you.

“I mean there have been the whole season no?” You laugh with less sparkle and glimmer in your eyes than the start of the season.

“Yes, so you’re saying Max will be let ahead tomorrow!” She asks and cock your head to one side.

“He’ll be asked yes” you nod before you leave.

Race day came and you did not listen to team orders.

Race Engineer: Y/N let Max through, then we’ll pit you first to defend the lead while Max pits.

Y/N: what about, no? Come on guys, I’ve done everything for the team you’ve wanted me for. Just let me race him.

Race Engineer: Max will race you too hard, you risk loosing both the cars Y/N let him through.

Y/N: im sorry, but i have to do this for me, to prove I’m as good a driver as i try to be.

Race Engineer: Y/N don’t do this.

And with that you celebrated your first race win. Max had ended up DNFing when he got a little caught behind and skidded onto the gravel trap trying to make up too much time to catch you.

It was a full Brit Podium, you Lando and Lewis. You were thankful you had both of them there to celebrate with you as your team didn’t show up again. Probably all consoling Max on his first DNF of the year. He wasn’t happy at all and you could tell.

“Are you okay?” Lewis had asked you as you guys had stepped away from the podium. The man wasn’t blind and could see the disappointment on your face when no one was there to congratulate you on your first win and celebrate with you.

“M’fine” you say shortly before leaving and going straight to your drivers room, tears following. You spend hours writing away in your self help book. But you couldn’t wallow it was time to take on the words of Taylor Swift in her Reputation Era.

You never thought something you loved so dearly could kill of your spirit so quickly and easily. But Max go tougher as the season went on. Only allowing you one more win in spa where you once again ignored team orders. Max was incredibly unhappy with you up there on the podium and you just knew the media would have something to say about the awful tension between you and Max. He didn’t celebrate with you in Spa only the third place podium which happened to be Charles.

The Red Bull team member immediately celebrated with Max and Charles, as much as you tried to join in however you weren’t able to get close enough. You were royally fucked off.

Singapore felt like a breath of fresh air for you when it happened, it was a new feeling that had your toes curling as you pressed on the brakes knowing that Carlos and Lando were leading with you hot on their tales and Max being nowhere in sight.

Celebrating with them felt different, but everyone could tell that the happy bubbly girl who they’d started the season with was no longer apparent.

The season closed, and honestly your team, Max and Christian all seemed like 2024 wasn’t worth sticking around for … as a great driver you owed it yourself to find your worth in F1 and that wasn’t with Red Bull

Taglist:

@littlebitchsposts @hockey-racing-fubol @laura-naruto-fan1998 @22yuki @simxican @sinofwriting @lewisroscoelove @cmleitora @daemyratwst @lauralarsen @the-untamed-soul @thewulf @itsjustkhaos @purplephantomwolf @chasing-liberosis @summissss @gulphulp @starfusionsworld @jspitwall @sierruhhhh @georgeparisole @youcannotcancelquidditch @tallbrownhairsarcastic @ourteenagetragedy @peachiicherries @formulas-bitch @cherry-piee @spilled-coffee-cup @mehrmonga @eiraethh @curseofhecate @alliwantisadonut @dark-night-sky-99 @i-wish-this-was-me @tallrock35 @butterfly-lover @barnestatic @landossainz @darleneslane @barcelonaloverf1life @r0nnsblog @ilove-tswizzle @laneyspaulding19 @malynn @viennakarma @landosgirlxoxo @marie0v @yourbane @teamnovalak @nikfigueiredo @fionaschicken @0picels0 @tinydeskwriter @ironmaiden1313 @splaterparty0-0 @formula1mount

[ellastone-olsen]

Would it be possible if you could do a g!p wandanat x female reader with sex pollen?? Its okay if you cant, just an idea if you have nothing else to write🫣🤭

Blue glow - WandaNat

DO NOT COPY ANY OF MY WORKS. MINORS DNI 18+ ONLY

Summary: Curiosity and alien flowers work wonders.

Pairing: G!PWandaNat × fem!R

Warnings:NSWF,SMUT SMUT SMUT, handjob, blowjob, breeding kink, threesome, cockwarming, dirty talk, after care

DISCLAIMER: ENGLISH ISN’T MY FIRST LANGUAGE SORRY FOR GRAMMAR OR SPELLING MISTAKES

Word count: 1.7k

AN: hi anon! I’m glad to see my first request thank you! honestly, until that moment I didn’t know what sex pollen is and I had to turn to google lmao

"What is that?." You asked looking at the strange plant in the pot. "Have you decided to take up gardening? Tony, I thought you weren't old enough to act like my grandma." You stop laughing when the man looks at you sternly, apparently not appreciating the jokes about his age. “This, by the way, is a plant unknown to science (at least on Earth), which I personally grew from seeds strictly for research and not what you just said.” “Okay let’s say it’s like this, let me take a closer does it smell like something?” You also kept a couple of cacti in your room at the Avengers headquarters, which recently bloomed by the way. As soon as you stood up and approached to the pot, a man blocked your way. “Are you crazy, what did I just say? Don’t touch this thing, I don’t know if it’s poisonous or not.” You looked at him sternly and muttered under your breath so that he could also hear, “You said not to touch, not to smell.” The attempt failed.

late Friday evening. Everyone went to their rooms or left the headquarters altogether. There was silence everywhere, only the sounds of Wanda’s steps were heard somewhere in the corridor. The woman had almost reached her destination when she saw some kind of blue glow in the darkness, “What the fuck...”. She came closer and examined some kind of plant that vaguely resembled a flycatcher, but with more spherical “traps.” Then she suddenly remembered...

“Y/N, Natasha, come here let’s hurry up. Y/N, you told me about something in Tony’s office. Check it out, Natasha take a look too.” Apparently the witch was very impressed by the flower, because she excitedly pulled both of you by the hands towards the light source. And where did she get this passion for flora…

“Wanda, we were already getting ready to go to bed, what did you see there?” Nat suddenly fell silent, looking at the strange light. “Did you seriously drag me out of bed for this succulent or what is this?!” She clearly did not share the witch's interest. “Oh, you’re right, this is the flower I told you about. Tony takes such good care of it, and apparently it’s...bloomed? Let’s take a closer and look, it’s cool,” Nat rolled her eyes but followed you two. You raised your face to the flower, wanting to look at it, when suddenly... the ball of the bud opened releasing pollen into the air, apparently from which the light came.

There is absolutely everything around in this stuff, you can hear Natasha’s exclamations: “Don’t breathe in this, it can be poisonous. Damn it, I told you not to come here.” The three of you cough, covering your faces, and go out into the corridor, shaking yourself and each other from the remaining dust. “Now you make me need to take a shower again.” The woman grumbles something else while Wanda calms her down, you also want to answer, but suddenly this feeling comes.

If there was a mirror in front of you right now, you could appreciate how quickly your pupils are dilating, as if you were a drug addict on a high (technically you were), beads of sweat are rolling off your forehead and this pulsation between your legs is as if you were given a dose of an aphrodisiac multiplied by five times. Oh no this is definitely not normal, you need to tell Wanda and Natasha what is happening apparently because of this cute glowing flower. While you were in your thoughts you didn't notice how the swearing died down and both women also noticed the changes.

When you turned your head, you saw two women looking at you with hunger and tents in their pants. Your mouth watered at the sight of the obvious bulge on both of your girlfriends and you impatiently walked over to Wanda, clinging to her like a lifeline. "Oh God, I don't know what it is, but I need you both so bad." Natasha came up from behind, pressing her rock-hard dick to your ass, her arms wrapped around your waist and the redhead’s whisper was heard in your ear. "Oh don't worry baby you'll get what you want.Damn I'm going to die if I don't fill your pretty pussy at least twice. What do you think Wanda?"

You feel the soft material of the sheets as they throw you on the bed, watching as they take off their clothes and look at you as if you were their prey. Your own panties are already hopelessly ruined, lub flows down your thighs at the sight of your girlfriends.

You quickly take of your clothes after which Nat takes you in her arms, pressing a kiss on your lips, you feel her cock poking into your stomach and dripping with pre-cum. Wanda, meanwhile stands behind stroking her length at this spectacle. "Mmm..Nat please." You rock your hips to rub against her cock, but you are suddenly pulled to your feet and forced to your knees.

"No no, first you're going to take every inch of my dick into your mouth, baby." The tip of her cock pressed against your lips and you obediently open your mouth and shake your head along entire length. Wanda can’t just watch anymore and comes up to you, takes your hand and places it on her pulsating length. "Come on baby, jerk off Wanda you can't leave either of us needy. Damn Wanda her mouth feels so good around me. That's such a good cocksucker." You move your hand and rub your thumb over Wanda's sensitive red tip as she begins to rock into your hand. Tears well up in your eyes when Natasha grabs your hair and shuts your mouth. Wanda helps you jerk her off and grins, “What is it baby girl? Is Nat’s dick too big for you? You’re so beautiful, now I want to cum all over your face.”

Natasha began to shamelessly fuck your mouth, running after her orgasm, the head of her dick hitting the back wall of your throat every time. "That's itmbaby, I'm going to cum in your beautiful fucking mouth and you'll swallow every drop. Wanda, are you close? Cum with me." Your hand was thrown away so that Wanda could jerk herself off, cumming all over your face, ropes of Natasha's cum hit your throat and you breathed through your nose as you swallowed every drop as you were told.

You took a deep breath as the redhead pulled out of your mouth and wiped Wanda's release off your face. When you were lifted from the floor, a small puddle of your arousal remained on it, your legs did not obey and your knees were red. You were already dripping and the pitiful whining and pleas left your mouth without hindrance. “Please it hurts so much, I need you to fuck me so bad.”

"What do you think Wanda, I think she deserves to have you fill her pussy." The witch got off with a simple nod as her two strong hands forced you onto all fours on the bed, allowing her to position herself behind you so she could start pounding into you without warning. "God Nat, her pussy was made for my cock, so greedy and tight. You need to see how well she takes me." Nat, meanwhile, spat on her hand for extra lub and stroked her red sensitive tip, appreciating how good the two of you looked. The long-awaited feeling of filling and Wanda’s quick thrusts drove you crazy, you put your hand under you, stimulating your swollen clit. "Yes yes thank you thank you so good fuck I'm gonna cum can I cum?" You know that with the tip of Wanda’s cock deliciously hitting that nice spot inside you, you wouldn’t last long, and having received approval, a minute later the orgasm hit you with incredible force. "Oh yes Y/N you squeeze my cock so well. Oh my God, cum for me like that, cum all over my length." The witch praised you.

You were turned over again and your back touched the cool sheets. Wanda pounding into you hearing a cute whine from your mouth, "Too sensitive. It's too much." "Oh baby girl you can take it. I need to filled this tight pussy so badly. You want my cum inside don't you? Do you love this cock?" "Yes yes I love so fucking much!". Natasha continued to jerk herself off when a cute little idea popped into her head that she only bothered to tell the witch about. The women looked at each other and Wanda nodded in approval of the plan.

The witch's thrusts became faster and she exploded, releasing her load inside you. “Oh yeah baby fuck take all my cum!” The feeling of fullness and how good it was, was the only thing you could think about. Wanda, meanwhile, pulled out of you, giving way to the redhead. Natasha turned you around, taking you by the hips and jerking off her cock, she stuck only the tip inside you, filling you even more. "Oh fuck fuck I'm so full fuck Natasha!" “That’s it my little greedy girl, I know you love it when I fill you up .” The only sounds in the room were heavy sighs and Nat's little whining as she pulled out and looked at the beautiful picture in front of her.

You were lying on your shared bed, Wanda took napkins from the nightstand and carefully wiped all the liquids from your thighs, kissing you and telling you how good you are and how much she loves you. When the witch finished, Natasha threw a robe over your naked body, picked you up, kissing your cheeks and carried you to the bathroom so they could both take care of you the way you truly deserve.

Sitting in a hot bubble bath, you asked, “How do we tell Tony about the pollen effect of his science experiment?”

[rhaenyratargcryen]

i want to hold you close, skin pressed against me tight | logan howlett/wolverine

masterlist ❈

summary: drifting from town to town and never lingering in one place for too long has served you well since you began to realize something might be...different, about you. you've never been able to put a finger on what exactly that difference is, until you end up at the same bar as a mysterious, albeit deeply captivating, stranger. author's note: this literally came from an idea of a reader that could share their own feelings through touch, which then snowballed into an arguably too long one shot (if i'm not careful, that's what i'm going to become known for hahaha) i recently rewatched x-men (2000) after seeing dp&w (twice) and haven't had time to rewatch the others. i know at the end of the first movie, logan leaves the school - so i feel like this would take place, hypothetically, either after he returns/before x2, or between x2 and x-men 3. idk it's not that deep seriously just imagine early 30-something year old hugh jackman's wolverine while you read this <3 kind of still a shithead, not yet entirely traumatized lol!!!

pairing: logan howlett/wolverine x f!reader word count: 10,353 (uhhhh hahaha next question) warnings/tags: pWp (with, y'all!), sloooow burn, user rhaenyratargcryen had to google everyone's powers multiple times just. be warned

18+/mdni i am sooooo serious and please don't repost with or without asking for permission. i'm not into that kind of thing, if you want to share pls reblog!!!!

title is from she wants revenge's "tear you apart"

It’s a Sunday, when Logan finds you. Or, you’d soon come to find, perhaps it was you who had been the one to find him.

You’ve grown accustomed to becoming a familiar face at every shitty bar in every small town your drifter lifestyle drags you to, and this hole-in-the-wall in the Hudson Valley that smells slightly of piss and even more of cigarettes is no different.

The motel down the street that you’d unpacked your menial possessions into is the perfect distance from the dive — you could walk home at the end of the night, and not worry you’d find yourself in trouble with a stranger. Well, the wrong kind of stranger.

Sitting at the end of the bar, you’re nursing your third drink in the fading light of the afternoon as it comes through the row of windows to your right when the light blinks out, abruptly, and you look up to find yourself face to face with a very ruggedly-handsome man with…mutton chops, you think? You snort. They haven’t been in style for centuries.

Your gaze drags across his face, down to his torso, then rests for a beat too long to be appropriate on the way his jeans sit low on his hips, a bit too tight on his thighs if he was to ask you. He stiffens under your wandering eye, watching you carefully as your attention returns to his — begrudgingly, considering he’s disturbing your peace — beautiful face.

He’s hot, you’ll give him that, but you try your best to glare and look unapproachable; it’s a Sunday and you’re drunk on bottom-shelf whiskey, trying desperately to communicate that you’re not quite in the mood for conversation with a stranger at the moment. 

This man will not take a fucking hint. 

He gestures to the seat directly to your right. “Mind if I sit here?”

You glance pointedly at the rest of the seats at the bar, which are all notably empty, but you say nothing and grunt your indifference. This guy doesn’t look the talkative type, but you really hope he isn’t looking for a chat. Luckily, he sits down silently and gestures to the bartender, who seems to recognize him and pours him a finger of whatever you’ve also been drinking.

From the corner of your eye, you can see that he’s picked up the glass and swirled the liquor around in it, but before he can take a swig, he opens his mouth with the glass practically pressed to it and mutters, “You know what you are?”

“That’s an odd fucking thing to say,” you remark, pulling your glass closer to you and closing both fists around it, turning to look directly at him. Your heart stutters as you watch the left side of his mouth curl slightly into a smirk. “Wanna explain to me what the fuck you mean by that, dude?”

The man grunts and throws back his whiskey, swallowing it in one go. Before you can get another word in, he lifts his left hand up, flexing his forearm, and you watch as three shiny, silver pieces of metal pierce through the skin between his knuckles with a sharp snikt sound.

“What the fuck,” you rasp, pressing a hand flat down on the bartop to push yourself up and away from him in the seat next to you, knocking your own drink over in the process. No one else in the bar seems fazed, like he comes in here and does this — whatever this is — often. He doesn’t move, doesn’t make an attempt to come closer to you than he is, and eventually your heartbeat calms down, and your flight response becomes a fight response. You bristle, a bit pissed off at what you read as an attempt to scare the shit out of you for fun.

“What’s your problem?”

“Ain’t got a problem, bub,” the man murmurs, leaning against the bar and grinning, the claws retracting. He wipes the backs on his knuckles off onto the thighs of his jeans, blood staining the denim red. “Was just trying to get you to do whatever it is you can do.”

You thank the bartender, who has dropped a rag in front of you to clean your spilled liquor and replaced your empty glass with a full one. 

“Sweetheart, I could smell you the second I stepped foot through that door. I haven’t seen you around here before, you new in town?”

Smell you? You’re about one more strange statement from him away from losing your goddamn mind. “I’m gonna need you to elaborate on what you mean by smell. Please.”

He leans closer to you, that smirk on his mouth a provocation, so close that you can practically taste the whiskey on his breath. “You ever heard of mutants, dollface?”

—————

Now, seeing as that wasn’t the kind of conversation you wanted to have in public, you had tried to push him — Logan, his name is, you learn — back by his chest, but the man was an immovable object. Probably a good thing you’d ultimately decided it wasn’t worth trying to hit him.

“Excuse me,” you’d uttered, slapping a twenty dollar bill down on the bar top and slipping out of your seat carefully, quickly realizing how drunk you really are. When you right yourself, you turn to him and angle your head to the door behind you.

“We can have this talk somewhere else, yeah?”

Logan had looked up at the bartender, muttered, “Add hers to my tab?” and palmed your money to give back to you, following you across the room. When you’d tried to object, Logan had held his hand up and told you your money wasn’t good here anymore.

Now, you lead him through the door to your room, stripping yourself of your jacket and kicking at the dirty laundry on the floor at the end of the bed at the same time.

“Want to tell me what the fuck that was all about? Do I know you or something?”

“No, sweetheart,” Logan says, unzipping his moto jacket and slipping his arms from the sleeves, revealing a crisp white t-shirt and biceps thicker than your neck. You subtly try to shake your head, snap your attention away from them, but he smirks, catching your eye. “You don’t know me. But I think you’re like me. We’re drawn to each other, you know. It’s like some sort of…beacon, a homing device. I was coming to the bar anyway. I knew what you were, second I saw you.”

“And you think I’m…also a, what, a mutant?”

“Not think. Know. You seriously can’t think of a single thing recently that might have felt a little, I don’t know, off? Can you see things you couldn’t before? Have you been hungrier? Felt more on edge?”

You squeeze your eyes shut, trying and failing to think of any big change, but you come up short. Shaking your head, you glance back up at him. “No. No, everything’s been the same. I’ve been on the road a bit, moving from place to place, but that isn’t unusual for me.”

“Any particular reason you chose Westchester County to land on?”

“I don’t know…I just,” you blanch, realizing he’s right, except it hasn’t been one big change – it’s been little by little. “I felt drawn east.”

Logan considers this for a moment; you can see the ditch between his eyebrows deepen with thought, before he seems to come to some sort of conclusion.

“I think you been in fight or flight for a long time, trying to survive on scraps and strangers’ generosity. Let me guess. No family left? Nowhere to call home? Somethin’ big and bad happen to you?”

You say nothing and he watches a scowl slip across your face, humming when he realizes he’s cut deep, to the bone.

“C’mere,” Logan murmurs, and you take steps backward as he comes toward you, the backs of your calves meeting the bed. He holds his hands up, palms facing you. “Hey, okay. I won’t hurt you, I promise. I’m not in the business of scaring little girls.”

“I’m not a little girl,” you scoff, staring at him out of the corner of your eye as he advances, albeit a little more slowly, on you.

Logan shakes his head. “You’re still much younger than me, sweetheart.”

“What? You don’t look older than 31, maybe 32.”

“Yeah, well. Looks aren’t everything, okay? I’m just — I’m not in the business of scaring girls. I wouldn’t’a let you bring me back here if I was going to hurt you; that’s not who I am.”

You suppose you don’t have much choice but to trust him. 

“I wanted you to come here,” Logan breathes, hands returning to his sides. He gives you a look, asking permission to move closer to you, to touch you, and you tip your head forward in a slight nod. “So I can do this.”

He grasps your forearm in his hand, places your palm on his bicep, and immediately winces. White flashes in front of your eyes, and a sharp pain nearly splits your head in half. You gasp his name, beg him to stop. When he pulls your hand from him, it almost looks like the print of it has been burned into his skin.

“I have a friend who’s an empath,” Logan murmurs, pupils blown, once his heartbeat has recovered to its resting rate. “She has to touch someone, to affect the way they feel. It’s good for, you know, calming people down in situations where they might be worked up. You, on the other hand…”

Logan trails off and you shake your head, bringing your arms up to fold across your torso, shivering gently. “What? I’m what?”

“I think, when you touched me, you made me feel what you were feeling. You were scared of me, huh? I could feel it, immediately. I could taste copper in my mouth, I started sweating.” Logan laughs softly, running his fingers across the skin of his right hand. “My palms are still sweaty.” 

He’s still staring down at his hands, at the stretch of skin on his arm that still stings with the feeling of you. Your eyes rove over his handsome profile, at his strong nose. His jaw ticks when he looks back over to you, one eyebrow curled.

”Sorry,” he adds. “I didn’t know it would hurt you.”

Already walking past you, Logan gestures toward the bed. “Sit,” he orders, and you blanch and do as he says. He digs a cellular phone out of the front pocket of his jeans and ducks his head, disappearing wordlessly into the bathroom, shutting the door behind him.

Groaning, you fall back onto the bedspread. Fuck, this whole ordeal has sobered you up, and quick. Why is there a strange man in your bathroom? You could make people feel what you’re feeling? What was going to happen now?

You run through every possibility — you could leave before he comes back, abandon your stuff, take your car and run — but by the time you come to any sort of conclusion, Logan emerges from the bathroom. 

“C’mon,” he says, sliding his jacket back over his arms, zipping it up and gesturing toward the door with his head. “Got somebody who wants to meet you.”

You sit up straight and look around at your belongings. Logan seems to take this hint and starts gathering the articles of clothing strewn across the room, along with those still somehow neatly folded in the motel dresser, ignoring your protests and stuffing them in the suitcase open on the floor against the wall. After a few moments of watching Logan pull together your worldly belongings, you fumble with the drawer on the bedside table, open the bible, and pull out your passport and an indeterminate, but large, amount of cash. Logan eyes it but says nothing, and when you zip your suitcase closed, he picks it up for you without a word.

“You won’t need to come back here,” Logan mutters as you slam the tailgate on your truck closed. He points to the room you’d just left, then rounds to the driver’s side of your truck and starts walking across the parking lot, looking over his shoulder to shout, “You can leave your key in the room. There’s plenty of empty beds where we’re headed.”

“And if I don’t want to go?”

Logan stops and turns back to face you, his jaw set. “Pretty soon, people’ll figure out what you are, sweetheart. And they won’t take to you as nicely as I have.”

You snort. Nicely. But you know he’s right. It seems like things are a little different around here, for people like you. But you know that now you know what you are, that will change. As you’re trying to figure out what to say to him, Logan starts backing up.

You’re still unsure of how to talk to this man you’d only recently met, who’d already had a hand in changing your life fundamentally, but you hold a hand up, asking him to stop. He does. He watches you carefully, probably trying to decide whether or not you’re going to run away. You’re still not sure yourself.

“How did you know that you needed me to touch you?”

“Call it gut instinct.”

“It didn’t hurt, by the way,” you murmur, turning to look at him. A few paces away from you, one of Logan’s eyebrows arches, and you wring your hands together.

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah. It felt good.”

—————

The place you’re headed — plenty of empty beds, he’d said — is less than a ten minute drive from the motel you’d been staying at, it turns out. Logan had told you to wait by your truck while he went back to the bar to pick up his bike, then drove ahead of you all the way there, your headlights illuminating the back of his body. Wrought iron gates await you, and they ease open as you pull up the long gravel drive.

Logan drops his kickstand and leaves his motorcycle directly in front of a large set of wooden doors, and you slow nearly to a stop, trying to decide where’s best for your truck. Logan’s one step ahead of you and dismounts the bike, pointing you toward a line of cars on the other side of the little lot, following you on foot as you shift into park and turn the vehicle off.

“What is this place?”

Logan is popping your tailgate open when you open your door and he pulls your suitcase from the bed — the act takes him little effort, you notice. You thank him and try to take the case from him, but he shakes you off and leads you to the building.

“It’s a school,” Logan says, pushing through the front door. Immediately you’re greeted with the sound of children’s laughter, of feet running on wooden floors, of voices echoing off walls in the distance. You catch the door as it closes behind Logan, trying your best not to be distracted by the subtle opulence of just the foyer.

Logan drops your suitcase by the front window, then unzips his coat, removes it, and hangs it on the coatrack to his right. “We’ll figure out your room situation soon, but I wanna take you down to meet Charles first.”

“Charles?”

“He owns the place,” Logan mutters, crooking a finger to indicate for you to follow him. “He’ll want to see what you can do.”

Pursing your lips, you decide to press your luck with Logan. “What about what you can do? Is it just the claws?”

Logan smirks, coming to an abrupt stop in the dark hallway. He turns to face you, and you can see his teeth shine as he smiles. “What? You hoping for somethin’ else, a bigger show than I gave you earlier?”

You stand your ground with him, but your heart is racing, and he cocks an eyebrow like he can tell. He relents, shrugging.

“I heal pretty fast, too.”

Charles’ office is behind the last door on the left, at the end of the hall, and you’re shocked when Logan knocks, rather than entering the room like he belongs there.

“Come in,” you hear, then realize you hadn’t actually heard it. It’s more like you’d felt it knocking around the inside of your skull. Your heartbeat picks up again.

“It’s okay,” Logan says out of the corner of his mouth. “He does that sometimes.”

The door opens, and you’re met with an almost-empty office — only a bald man sat behind a large wooden desk.

“So,” the man says, folding his hands upon the tabletop. No hello. No, it’s lovely to meet you. “You’re an empath, are you?”

“I — I guess?”

“Hm,” he murmurs, glancing at Logan, who stands behind you and to the left, slightly.

“She is, Chuck,” Logan assures Charles. “I felt it myself. She can show others her emotions, make them feel what she feels. She was scared when she met me — had my heart racin’. I could see myself through her eyes.”

He hadn’t told you that part, and you worry he’d noticed that your heart hadn’t only been racing because you were afraid. Charles clicks his tongue, and surveys you, your dirty shoes, the wild look in your eye, and clears his throat.

“If you wouldn’t mind, young lady, I’d quite like to feel for myself, as well.”

A blush heats up your face and you step forward, throwing a tentative look at Logan over your shoulder. He nods, dispelling any fears, and you step forward until you’re standing at the edge of Charles’s desk. You reach across, shaking, and take the man’s hand in yours.

“Oh,” Charles murmurs, his pupils dilated. “That’s certainly new. You’ve no need to be afraid, dear, we only want to help you. As I’m sure Logan told you, it’s a dangerous world out there, for our kind.”

“And we’re safe here?”

“Yes.”

Logan brushes past you and rounds Charles’s desk, leaning down to murmur something in the man’s ear. You can hear their hushed, hurried voices, but can’t make out what they’re saying, and the longer you stand there as an onlooker, the more out of place you feel. You shift your weight from your left foot to your right foot and look out the window as they talk.

The sun is setting outside — the late summer glow illuminating the office, warming your face — and you decide to clear your throat, drawing the men’s attention back to you.

“If it’s alright, I’d like to be alone for the night. I think.”

“That’s alright, yes,” Charles smiles, raising a hand and curling his fingers inward. The door opens behind you, and you jump. “This is a lot for one day, I understand. Logan, if you would show our guest to a spare room? One in your wing, perhaps, in case she is in need of anything.”

You glance at Logan and watch him nod, then turn and wink at you. You roll your eyes at him. He doesn’t know you, and the familiarity with which he interacts with you is unnerving, but at the same time, you find him intriguing.

It’s almost like the man you met at the bar and the man guiding you out of this room are two entirely separate people. The man from the dive was overeager, compensating for being the one thing there that was out of place. This man is relaxed. This is his home.

You wonder as you watch him if this is who he really is. 

“Charles is telepathic,” Logan murmurs, almost as if he can also hear your thoughts racing. He glances over at you, holding your eye a beat too long. “He’s also telekinetic.”

“Hence the door opening on its own.” You pause. “And the creepy voice inside my head.”

Logan chuckles, shrugging and bending down to retrieve your suitcase from where it now sits at the bottom of the staircase. You watch the muscles in his biceps flex, your mouth suddenly going very dry. “You get used to it. People say he can read every mind within a two-hundred-and-fifty-mile radius of wherever he sits. Can’t imagine all that noise all the time.”

Humming your consensus, you follow him, gaze trapped between his broad shoulders. Even the back of his neck is enticing. “If he could read my mind, why wouldn’t that have been enough for him to know?”

“There’s something different about what you do,” he says, guiding you up the stairs to the second floor and down a long, carpeted hall. “It requires touch. Charles can read your mind, sure, but there’s more to your influence than just your thoughts. It’s baser, more animalistic.”

Finally, the two of you come to a dead end, and Logan opens the nondescript wooden door to your left. He walks inside without waiting to see if you’ll follow and places your suitcase down on the end of the twin-sized bed against the farthest wall.

“You need anything, I’m two doors down across the hall, okay? Seriously. Anything.”

You haven’t moved from where you stopped in the doorway to watch him, one fist pressed against the frame you’re leant up against. He brushes past you, so close you can smell his cheap aftershave, the whiskey on his breath still lingering, though he hasn’t once seemed drunk. The hint of something more pungent. You open your mouth — before he gets too far, you want to ask him the question you haven’t yet had the courage to voice.

“Logan?”

The man pauses, his face inches from yours. Your gaze flicks between his eyes, then down across mouth, to where his throat moves as he swallows. “Hm?”

“Why are you helping me?”

What you mean is, You don’t seem like a generous man. What you mean is, I’m not afraid of you, but I haven’t yet decided if I can trust you. What you mean is, Why me?

He pauses, considering your question, then places one hand on your bicep and squeezes. His eyes are wet, like someone who remembers too much and not enough. Before you can catch your breath, he’s moved on, that same hand now wrapped around the doorknob of his own room. A small smile graces the lower half of his face. It doesn’t quite reach his eyes.

“I got a habit a’ pickin’ up strays.”

—————

The days pass by quickly, and they’re exhausting. There’s a war brewing, they all say. A war none of you had ever asked to be a part of, but have no choice in joining. You wake daily before the sun rises, called downstairs to do endless exercises to strengthen your control over your ability, you’ve come to think of it as. The problem is that you’re not sure you’re capable of the things they need you to be capable of.

“Can we stop, for today?”

You’re bent at the waist, arms dangling, both hands clutching the opposite elbow. It helps you decompress. This isn’t physically tiring work, necessarily, but the mental strain is undeniable. You’re avoiding Charles’s gaze, which you know will have a disappointed glean to them.

“What, can’t handle it already?”

You perk up at the sound of Logan’s voice, and when you turn your head towards it, you see him walking towards you across the yard, light wash jeans slung low on his hips once again. The sleeves of his white tee are rolled up, straining against the corded muscle of his biceps, the collar cut into a V at the front.

Since you first met him, you’ve learned a few things about Logan: one, he’s Canadian. Two, he can drink you under the table, and he will absolutely let you drink yourself to sleep, but he always makes sure you end up in your own bed at the end of every night. And three, his powers are more than just the claws: he has a regenerative healing power, alongside superhuman strength, and superhuman stamina. The thought of that last one makes you blush.

You spend most evenings with him on the floor of your room, drinking cheap whiskey while he chain smokes and deals you in after every round of cards he kicks your ass at.

“Need to work on your poker face, darlin’,” he always says, smirking and shuffling the cards again with his lithe, thick fingers. 

And on the nights when you can’t find sleep, he sits up with you in your room, reading Hemingway and Steinbeck and Fitzgerald, even some Stephen King, while you curl up on your side and let the even sound of his breathing lull you unconscious.

You get used to each other’s presence. You don’t talk much while you sit together – is there really anything more to say? He’d clocked you that very first day. You were alone in the world, before, but not anymore.

He doesn’t do this with anyone else, you notice. Allow them into his small circle of trust, or whatever this is. You’re friends, you think. He hasn’t let himself have many of those.

You’ve also learned a few things about yourself, the most important being that with some practice you no longer get a splitting headache using your ability; that you can control when and how you use it; and that you’ve been meditating on some other, perhaps more enjoyable and creative ways, to make use of it.

Although you’d tried to deny it from the start, unfortunately — mostly for yourself — the attraction you feel toward Logan is unshakable. He’s rough, and sharp, and impermeable, but he seems to have a soft spot for you. You can’t tell if it’s the circumstances under which the two of you met that have him feeling that way, but you’ve developed a fun back and forth over the last few weeks.

“What, sweet cheeks,” Logan pokes at you, left hand on his cocked hip. “Is it that hard for you, still?”

Shaking your head, you grin at him, one hand cupped over your eyes to block the sun behind him. You turn to glance at the back of Charles’s chair, already heading away from the two of you. Your attention falls back on Logan.

“C’mere, then,” you murmur, standing up straight and mirroring his body language. One of his eyebrows arches and his canine teeth appear as his smile widens. “I’ll show you how easy I can get it goin’.”

As he crosses the remaining bit of yard between you, that smug look on his face, you channel fury. You push every ounce of attraction and good will you feel toward Logan out of your mind, and you think: anger. I’m angry. At my circumstances. At what the world does to people like me. At how much I’m underestimated — at how much I underestimate myself.

By the time Logan has made it to your side, hand already outstretched, you’ve made up your mind. And you place one hand on the side of his face.

Immediately, you feel heat, but the cracking headache from that first day you’d met never comes. Instead, you feel an ache deep in your gut, a wave of want, of assurance that you’re where you need to be, with exactly the right person. You hold your palm against him for another minute and his face falls forward, towards your chin, before he wraps his hand around your wrist and pulls it away, gasping with relief when you let him go. 

Logan’s cheeks are flushed, and when he looks back up at you, chest heaving, you realize he hadn’t felt your anger. You didn’t have much to be angry about — sad, sure; scared, yes — so anger must have been the wrong emotion to pull from. You’d wanted to get him worked up, but not like this.

Instead, you worry you’ve just ruined any ounce of trust the two of you had built between you. He shoves his hands into the pockets of his jeans and leans away from you, his eyes running from the top of your head, down to where your own hands now sit at your sides.

“I’ll talk to you later, kid, okay?”

Logan doesn’t let you respond, instead turning to leave you standing, heart falling, lost in your head in the middle of the yard, while all around you birds chirp and children play.

—————

“Well, well.”

You jump, the back of your head snapping against the top of the inside of the fridge, and you groan, pressing the heel of your hand to the now-tender spot, pulling it away to see if you’ve made yourself bleed.

“Burning the midnight oil?” Logan laughs, padding across the kitchen and rubbing a hand against the top of your head where you knocked it. “Sorry, bub. You okay?”

“I don’t know. Ask me in a few minutes when my eyes uncross.”

You’re too focused on the feeling of his fingers against your scalp to think about anything else. You glance down at Logan’s flannel pajama pants and his bare feet. He grabs you by the shoulders and steers you against the kitchen island behind you.

“Lemme get you some ice.”

You watch, back pressed to the edge of the counter, as Logan pulls a tea towel from one of the kitchen drawers and a tray of ice from the freezer, popping them out onto the towel and folding it into itself, wrapping the tail to give you something to hold onto. You prop it against your skull — instant relief. You eye him warily, accusatory.

“What are you down here for anyway?”

“Same thing as you, I think.”

Logan refills the tray with water and places it back into the freezer, and this thoughtfulness surprises you, you’re embarrassed to admit. You wouldn’t have thought him to be so considerate. Then again, he had just handmade an ice pack for you. Your eyes glaze over and your mouth goes dry just watching his fingers work. 

You haven’t seen him for days, not since you’d accidentally let him feel…whatever it is you feel for him. Every day when you’d gotten out of bed, even when that was before the sun rose, he would always already be gone from his room, the door open and his duvet cover tucked neatly underneath his mattress. He hadn’t taken any of his meals in the dining room with the rest of your peers, hadn’t joined in on any sparring sessions like he usually loved to do. His bike had stayed parked outside — you’d kept an eye out for it every day. You’d begun to worry that something had happened to him.

The silence starts to dig into you. You can’t help it; you have to break it.

“Thought you died, I didn’t see you for so long.”

“Yeah, well. I had some shit to take care of.”

You scoff at that. “I saw your bike outside, Logan, you never left the school. What kind of shit did you have to take care of?”

Another beat of awkward silence, and you can’t stand whatever wall has come up between you. You want to knock it down.

“You remember what you said to me in that bar?”

“What’s that?” Logan looks up at you, a sharp look in his eye. A warning, almost, but unfortunately, you’re feeling a little bolder than usual. Perhaps you’re concussed.

“You said that we were drawn to each other because of our abilities. I think maybe that wasn’t the only reason we found each other.”

He leans back against the freezer and stands quiet for a moment, his chest rising and falling with each steady breath. His dark eyes regard you in the dim light of the kitchen.

You step forward into his space, one hand coming up to press against his chest, through his shirt. The other, the one holding his makeshift ice pack, lands at your side.

Logan’s breath catches in his throat at your touch and he swallows around it, his heart stuttering under your palm. He’s waiting for the feeling to rush into and overwhelm him. It never comes. 

Logan exhales, then reaches up to tuck a stray strand of hair behind your ear. Your cheeks flush a furious red and he chuckles at the feeling of it against his fingers. You’re tempted to shift your hand over to touch his skin, to fill him with this rush of unexpected desire you feel, but you can’t quell your thoughts that that would be a bad idea. Even though the position you’re in right now might be regarded as a bad idea, too.

Since you met, he’s made it abundantly clear he doesn’t see you as anything more than a friend — if that. But you’ve been replaying the other day in the training yard in your mind, and you can’t shake the feeling that maybe he’s got the same desire you do.

“You know, you’re right,” Logan murmurs, and you cock your head, looking to his face for an explanation. He takes the towel full of ice from your hand by your side and holds it against your head for you. “What you think about me, it’s all true. I’m not a nice man.”

“I don’t know. You say that, but you seem pretty nice to me. You took me in. You’re helping me understand what I am, what I can do. Logan, fuck’s sake, you tuck me into bed when I drink too much.”

Logan laughs softly, tilting his chin to take you in from a different angle. Your heart squeezes in your chest.

“I just can’t figure you out. You act all mean and tough and scary, but I see the way you look at me, and I’ve only known you, what, a handful of weeks? I see how you are with some of the students. I see how you are with Charles. You got some deep, dark past you don’t want anyone knowin’ about, sure, but you’re a nice man, Logan. You’re soft on me. I can tell.”

Considering you for a moment, Logan’s lips parts to respond, then he thinks better of it. His eyes fall from yours to the way your chest expands with every breath. You’ve wondered about you and him, and that one look gives you all the courage you need to say it.

“Since I got here I’ve had this feeling, that with you and me, there’s something bigger. Tell me you feel it too, that I’m not goin’ crazy. And if you don’t, Logan, tell me that, then. Anything to stop this awful, sick feeling I get whenever you walk into the room.”

You wait to see if he’ll tell you to fuck off, that he doesn’t see you that way. That he’s soft on you, sure, but this is as far as it can go. Instead of saying anything at all, he surges forward to claim your mouth with his.

The kiss is hesitant, at first, before Logan can figure out whether you’re going to push him away or not, but when you open your mouth to deepen it, it turns furious. It’s all teeth, tongue, Logan’s hips caging you in and driving you back against the counter behind you. He’s got one hand wrapped around your waist, the other gripping the countertop, and when you carelessly bring a hand up to rest a hand against his cheek, Logan gasps against your mouth. The towel full of ice finds its way into the sink.

Shocked, he peels himself from you, panting. You hadn’t thought about whether you’d project or not when you’d touched him — and if his blown-out pupils are any indication, he’d felt it. All of it. The ache deep in your gut and the clench of your thighs. The flare of your nostrils as his scent hits you, heavy and earthy and masculine. The undeniable way you fit against him, your chest pressed to his, the shock of his hips aligned with yours, like you were made for one another. You want him to have you, have all of you, and with your palm still pressed to his skin, he knows.

“Is that really what you want?”

It’s practically a growl, and you pull your hand from him, allowing him to recover, but only slightly. He’s got himself worked up all on his own. 

You can see in his face that he wants you, too. You nod, bring one hand down to clutch the waistband of his pants and tug him forward against you again. He groans, gathering some of your hair in one hand and gripping it tight. 

“Sweetheart, I’m not exactly a — a gentle guy.”

“Somehow I don’t believe you.”

Logan laughs, breathy, and tilts his head back to take you in. He throws a glance down at your hand tucked into his pants, the backs of your knuckles pressed against the swell of his stomach. “I didn’t have you pegged for the fuck-me-in-the-kitchen type.”

“I’ll let you take me back to your bedroom, if you want.”

Whistling lowly, Logan leans his face in close to yours, the tip of his nose nudging against your cheekbone. “And if I told you I wanted to take you right here?”

“I’d tell you that’s fine, too,” you swallow, angling your face up to try to press your lips to his, but his grip on your hair stops you. He grunts, tugging a little harder, so you have to look into his eyes. They’re soft, wary. For all the talk he talks, he’s a man of few words when it matters, and you can tell he can’t believe you’d want a guy like him. You’re not exactly a gentle girl, either, but he sees how much more the world has gotten to him than it has to you. You’ve still got the potential to be someone who wouldn’t want him.

“You really want me?” You hear the unspoken emphasis. You could have anyone else, and I can’t see why you’d pick me. 

“Since the day we met,” you mutter, his breath against your mouth driving you insane. “Logan, please kiss me.”

He brings his other hand, the one that’s been holding your hips in place this whole time, up to press against your cheek, and he closes the distance between you once again. The hand still gripping his pants tugs them forward, and you can feel his insistent cock where it’s now pressing against you. You moan into Logan’s mouth and this seems to drive him mad, holding your head in his hands like you’ll float away and driving his tongue against yours, languid and fluid but at the same time persistent. 

“C’mon, doll,” he says when you break away to gulp down a breath, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “I got a queen bed in my room.”

As Logan drags you out of the kitchen and to the wing of the mansion where the two of you live, practically a world of your own, you trace your fingers down his back over the top of his shirt. His body shivers under your touch and he laughs, turning to look at you as he pushes through into his bedroom.

“Hey, yeah,” you murmur, watching him drag his shirt up and over his head, exposing his bare chest and the patches of short, wiry hair growing there, the vein on his lower stomach that leads your gaze down to wonder at the bulge in his pajama pants. You tear your eyes away and meet his smug stare. “How come I gotta sleep in a twin?”

He laughs at you, reaching out to curl his fingers around the bottom of your sweater and lead you closer to him. He hums, muttering, “Don’t worry about it.”

Then he’s kissing you again, your eyes closing at the sensation of his mouth against yours. His hands are underneath your shirt, skirting across your bare back and now you’re the one shivering under his touch. His fingernails scratch gently against your skin and you moan again, sighing into his open mouth. He smiles before pulling away, only slightly.

“Feels good?”

You nod, flexing your fingers at your sides. You can’t remember the last time someone touched you so sweetly. He catches sight of your hands and runs the tips of his own fingers down your arms.

“It’s okay, sweetheart,” he says, mouth close to the shell of your ear. He tucks his teeth around it, too, gently, but you cry out at the surprising sensation. “You can touch me.”

You nod and place an open palm against his sternum, his bare skin heating beneath your hand. You want him to feel the way your mouth has dried at the thought of being beneath him in his bed. You want him to know just how far you’ll let him go. When you open your eyes to look at him, a different beast entirely has crossed his face. His mouth curls into a self-satisfied smile.

“Hm,” Logan grunts, nostrils flaring, teeth baring further.  “I can smell how bad you want me, baby. Could down in the kitchen, too. I can feel how tense I make you. Do I still scare you? Huh?”

You shake your head, whisper, “No,” your voice hoarse. “You don’t scare me, Logan.”

“No, I didn’t think so. I don’t even think it scares you, how much you want this. I think it excites you. Think you been wonderin’ what it’d be like for a while, huh?”

Logan’s arm tightens around your waist and pulls you flush against him, your hand trapped between your chests. You gasp, the warmth of his body flooding yours, filling you with heat, with want, which then rushes into Logan, his eyes rolling back at the sensation. 

“I wasn’t sure about you when I first met you,” he bites out, tilting his head to meet your eye again. “But fuck if I wouldn’t move heaven and earth for you now.”

Your heart stutters at the admission, the reassurance that you’re not alone in the way you feel about him. You peel your palm from his skin and sigh in relief when his gaze softens. Logan pushes his face into your neck, lips pressing tenderly to your pulse point, forcing a soft groan from your mouth. You feel him smile against you and when his teeth graze that same spot, your knees buckle beneath you.

Tucking your hands back between your chests, you push Logan gently away from you and he goes willingly, a sharp contrast to the man who was rooted to his barstool the first time you’d tried to touch him. The look on his face would frighten you if he hadn’t spent so much time convincing you he wouldn’t hurt you. His expression is dark, contemplative.

Logan’s eyes watch, hooded with desire, as you back away from him, your knees buckling when the backs of them hit the edge of his bed. As soon as you sit, he begins stalking toward you, your heart racing against your sternum, and you meet his eye just as he reaches you. Taking your cheek in his hand, he angles your face up and watches as your eyelids flutter closed. His hand travels down, fingers running over the side of your neck and cupping the warm flesh where it meets your shoulder.

“I can feel your pulse,” he murmurs into the warm air between you. “It’s racing.”

You gasp when you feel his hand search out your heartbeat through your chest. Opening your eyes to meet his again, you see that the desire in his face has been replaced with something that looks frighteningly close to affection.

He grasps your wrist, thumb rubbing against the soft, sensitive skin above your pulse there, and guides your hand to press against his own heartbeat, a mirror to yours, thundering in his chest, too.

“You do this to me. Not because you want me to know what you’re feeling, sweetheart, because this is how I feel.” He swallows, voice thick in his throat. “I want you so bad.”

The confession comes out rasping, like the words had been ripped from his chest. Your hand trails down his bare stomach, the backs of your knuckles dancing along the planed ridges there. The skin beneath your fingers jumps when you skirt across it. Pushing your fingers into the waistband of the flannel pants, you groan at the sensation of the heat coming off of his skin. “This okay?”

“Fuck, baby, you’re askin’ me if this is okay?” Logan’s hand comes up to cup your cheek once again, and you glance up at the grin on his face. It lights up his eyes. It’s like Logan’s fighting two different parts of himself: the very human desire to be gentle, to be careful, and the beast inside of him that wants to tear you apart.

Laughing, you tug down on the elastic, cheeks heating when you don’t feel another waistband. He’s bare beneath, and as you’re eye-level with his hips, you come face-to-face with his flushed, heavy cock as you strip the fabric from him. The tip of it weeps as you palm him, stroking him gently so his foreskin pulls back and reveals the crimson tint of it. You can’t say you’re shocked by the size of him, considering how large a man he actually is.

“Fuck, Logan,” you breathe, mouth watering, and you know the way you’re looking at him would be a bit embarrassing if he wasn’t looking at you the exact same way, his lashes fluttering as you push the adrenaline coursing through your veins into him. He wraps one big hand around yours and squeezes, groaning at the sensation.

“Here, baby,” he says, pulling your hand from his cock and placing it into your lap. He laughs when you whine in protest, stepping out of his pajama pants entirely and leaving himself naked. You’re still fully clothed and it almost pains you. “Plenty a’ time for me to stuff myself down your throat later.”

The way he says it has a low, fuzzy warmth rushing into your gut, but you quit your protesting when Logan kneels on the floor at your feet. “Lean back.”

You do as he says and inch yourself further up the bed, knees still hanging over the side of the mattress, anchoring yourself to his bedspread with your elbows. Logan crooks his fingers into your own pants, kissing the skin he exposes as he pulls them down, down, leaving you in only your tee shirt and soaked-through panties. He eyes them as you unconsciously angle your knees outward, but ignores your desire completely, instead leaning up to bite the hem of your shirt and drag it up and over your stomach.

Gasping, you rush to pull the fabric from the grip of his teeth and pull it over your head, tossing it to the floor beside the bed and cupping the back of his head in one hand, fingers tangling themselves in the hair at the base of his neck. You ease him upward, his palms pressed into the bed next to your waist, and pull him into a searing kiss, hoping to communicate how you feel without saying a word. Logan pants into your mouth and squirms out of your grip, pupils once again blown wide. He leans down to press his lips to the base of your throat, your elbow falling back to the bed to hold yourself up. 

Your gaze follows his descent down your torso, watching as Logan drops a kiss to your breastbone, to the areola of your right breast, then to the one of your left. His lips engulf your nipple and you moan softly, biting your bottom lip when he flicks his tongue across it. He drags his lips down your stomach, settling against the knot of one soft peak of your hip bone. He bites gently and your stomach clenches at the feeling. When you place a hand against his cheek, his eyes flutter shut, his nostrils flaring at the feeling flooding his body. The pleased, humming warmth he’s making you feel. 

“Logan,” you whisper, watching him continue down, mouthing at the skin on the inside of your thighs, kneading the soft flesh there. “Please.”

“Please what, honey?” You can feel him smirk against you. “Gotta use your words.”

“Please put your mouth on me.”

“Am putting my mouth on you,” he says, smug, and you gasp, tossing your head back when he bites you again, this time enough to make your delicate skin bruise. “Whaddaya want?”

“Want you to fuck me.”

“With my mouth?” Logan tuts, bringing one hand up to pull your panties to the side and expose your warm, wet flesh to the cool air of his bedroom. Your hips twitch. “You sure?”

You angle yourself up, trying desperately to find his mouth and claim it yourself. He laughs at the desperate want plastered across your face. “Oh, fuck off, you god damn tease, just fuck me.”

Logan shakes his head, leaning in to lick along your wet cunt and a sharp, bright cry rips itself from your chest. Your thighs try to close around his head as he presses his thumb into your pubic bone and holds you open, laps at your clit, but he growls and grips one in his hand, wrenching it away from him. His eyes shine up at you from between your legs.

“Why’d’ya wanna do that, huh, baby? You want me to fuck you so bad, don’t make it hard on me,” he murmurs, wrapping his lips around your clit and suckling gently while you cry out. He carries on like that for quite a bit – just his mouth against the most sensitive part of you, fingers pressing into your thighs. Your legs shake and you cover your mouth with your hand; you worry about coming too quickly until he eases up, pushing one finger inside of you to fuck you with.

Your hand grips the hair at the top of his head, and Logan groans at the pressure. Hissing, he presses his palms flat against the insides of your thighs to wrench them further open, encouraging you wordlessly to hook your feet across his back. When he’s satisfied, he crooks a finger around your panties and pulls until they tear, the shreds of fabric no longer an obstacle in the way of seeking out your pleasure. 

“Want me to make you come?” The question is asked with his mouth pressed against your cunt, and you gasp, back arching, at the feeling of his words. “You wanna come on my tongue?”

You nod furiously, writhing as a second finger works itself inside of you, curling upward to meet head-on that spot inside of you that sends sparks behind your eyes. Your heels dig into the skin of his back and you reach down, blindly fumbling for Logan’s hand. He smiles wide and takes it, tangling his fingers with yours as your hips rut against his face. 

He talks you through it between strokes of his tongue against your clit, his fingers pumping in and out as he tells you how good you are for him, how good you feel for him, how he can’t wait to feel you around his cock. You throw an arm across your eyes and whimper, hips twitching as you come down, pulling his hair and crying out for him to let up. He places one last kiss above your cunt, smiling as you gasp, and leans back to admire you.

Logan places your feet on the floor and plants his hands beside you, using the mattress as leverage to hoist himself up above you. He grins down at you and for however fucked out he already looks, you know you must look a thousand times worse.

“Hi, gorgeous,” he murmurs, leaning in for a kiss, giving you a taste of yourself by easing his tongue into your mouth. You can feel his cock, weeping and solid and insistent against your hip. Fuck. 

You groan against him, your lips stretching into a smile as he kisses you languidly and reaches out to help you wrap your arms around his neck. “Here.”

Standing, Logan holds your body close to him. Your head notches into his neck and suckles there while he pulls you up the bed, settling you against the pillows underneath him. He props himself up on one hand as his knees push against the insides of your thighs, opening you up for him.

One hand on your flushed cheek, Logan fists his cock, smiling down at you. “Y’alright there, sweet cheeks?”

“Head’s fuzzy,” you murmur, reaching out to grip his hips with your hands. “Want you.”

Logan smirks, leaning back on his heels and running a hand through his hair, scalp sweaty. Your own fans out behind your head. He gawps down at you. “Look like a goddess like this, you know.”

Your blush deepens and you push a hand against his stomach. “Stop.”

“You do,” he smirks, leaning down to plant kisses across your face, down your jaw, to your neck. “Mm, so fucking pretty when I’ve just made you come. Smell so good.”

You gasp when he presses his mouth right behind your ear, gripping your hips. His cock drags across your stomach, a heavy reminder of his own neglected desire. You reach down to fist a hand around him and tug, pulling a groan from him.

“My girl want me to fuck her proper? Hm?”

Open-mouthed and with a heavy gaze, you watch as Logan sits back and fucks himself up into your fist, hips stuttering when you tighten your grip. His chest glistens with sweat, heaving as you push the burning feeling in your veins through to him. He gasps, stretching a hand down and holding your wrist still.

“Hey,” he growls, head thrown back. “Play fair.”

“Why should I?” He’s glaring down at you now, which only eggs you on. You shrug. “S’fun to watch you come apart like this, big strong man.”

Logan groans, pulling his hips back, and his cock falls from your grasp. “I’ll show you comin’ apart, baby.”

Sitting back on his heels, Logan wraps his hands around your hips and jerks them forward until your cunt is close enough to him that he would barely have to move his own hips to fuck his cock into you.

“You got a condom?”

“It’s okay,” you whimper, shaking your head. “Don’t need one. On the pill. I’m clean.”

Logan looks down at you, trying to gauge what headspace you’re in, if he should grab one anyway – and you shake your head. “Don’t need it, please.”

“It’s okay, it’s fine,” you repeat. He smiles, squeezes your hips tight. He nods, bringing one hand down to grip himself and ease toward you. Runs the head of his cock down your cunt, getting himself nice and slick, up and down and up again until you’re a panting mess, wiggling your hips. It’s torture. “Please, Logan.”

“Oh, now you’re askin’ nice?”

You groan, wild-eyed, and he wants to laugh at the look on your face but he chokes it back. You need him – bad – and he can’t say no to you.

“Alright, baby,” he says, hushed, gripping your thigh with the hand not currently around his cock. Guiding himself to your entrance, Logan pushes his hips forward, groaning as the head of his cock disappears inside of you. Despite how wet you are, the stretch burns, your body unattuned to his size. He presses forward, bit by bit, licking the tip of his thumb and pushing it against your clit to ease your discomfort, and you gasp at the feeling, eyes rolling back. “Shh, shh, it’s okay.”

Once he’s fully seated inside of you, he pulls your hips flush to his, leaning down to press himself to you completely. Hand still pressed to your clit between you, Logan circles his hips, watching your face, how you react. He watches your eyelids flutter, watches you pull your bottom lip between your teeth. He gives a shallow thrust to gauge your readiness, and you moan, low, in the back of your throat. 

“S’okay,” you grunt out, hands braced against the outsides of his thighs, eyes trained on his lips. “Fuck, please. I’m so wet, Logan, please, please fuck me.”

Logan groans, your words going straight to his cock, twitching inside of you. He grips your waist in his hands and gives another exploratory rut, this time short, puncturing. Your breath is pushed out of your lungs. He rocks his hips back once again, pressing forward slow before punctuating the thrust with a sharp jolt, shocking the air from you once again.

Your nails dig into his thighs and he nods, his forehead rubbing against yours. “Okay baby, okay. I’ll fuck you, yeah. This what you want?”

His hips ease back, pulling his cock from your warmth almost all the way, before thrusting back in, deep, to the point. Then again, and again, and again. Your head has fallen back, Logan having to hook an arm around the back of your neck as you’re forced up the bed.

“You’re so warm, pulling me back in, sweetheart, so fucking wet for me. I’m gonna fuck you so good, you’re so tight, god, like you were made for me.” 

“Fuck,” you whisper, mouth pressed to the side of his face. Your cunt tightens around him and you whine. “Already fuckin’ me so good.”

“You gonna come for me, baby? Yeah?”

“Yeah.” And you are. Again. You’re gonna come for him again. His cock is driving into you so fast you can’t escape the warm sensation in your gut – and you don’t want to. It feels so good, it’s like your whole body has turned to goo beneath him. You press a kiss to the underside of his chin, his beard scratching at your lips, but you don’t care. 

“Yeah, baby? Can feel your cunt tight around me, can feel you ‘bout to come.”

“Gonna come, Logan,” you gasp, reaching one hand up and gripping the headboard as tight as you can, but your elbow still folds, your arm putty with the pleasure. He brings his other hand up from your hips to hold you by the top of your head, to keep you from slipping further up the bed, and your hands instinctively come around to clutch his shoulders.

Immediately the pleasure coursing through you lights every nerve ending in his body fucking alive. You feel him tense beneath your fingers, pulse quickening.

His hips snap down onto yours, his cock dragging up against that rough spot inside your cunt, as your orgasm floods through you. You hardly register the deep rumbling coming from his chest as you cling to him. Logan’s breath comes gasping as the feeling of your orgasm floods through him, too, hands gripping the flesh of your ass to hold you in place while he fucks down into you.

His eyes are closed tight, stomach clenching, and when you drag one hand down to rub circles on your clit, he buries his cock deep inside of you and holds himself there. 

You scratch your nails gently down Logan’s back as he basically whimpers into the air between you, leaning up to catch his lips with yours as he rocks his hips, stuffing himself deeper, until you feel him come. He groans and spills himself into you, hips glued to yours, occasionally quavering with the aftershocks of his own orgasm.

“Fuck,” he huffs once he’s back in his body, one hand against your cheek, brushing your hair away from your mouth so he can press a kiss to them. His eyes search for yours, bright and enlivened. “You okay? Huh?”

You nod, your head loose on your neck, and he laughs. “Fuck,” he repeats. “That was fucking crazy. Is that how it feels every time?”

At that you sheepishly shake your head, eyes coming up to meet his. No, that’s not at all how it feels every time. You can tell by the look on his face he’s trying not to seem smug about that.

“That was good, though,” he murmurs, his face softening, “fuck, that was so good.”

He seems more relaxed than you’ve ever seen him. You cry out when he pulls his cock from you, still holding your face and whispering sorry, baby, sorry. He presses a kiss to your mouth between apologies.

He unfolds himself from you and stands, running a hand through his hair. Pulling his pajamas back up over his legs and his shirt over his bare torso, he tells you he’ll be right back, and you must fall asleep after that because the next thing you know you’re curled up on your side while Logan runs a warm, wet washcloth across the inside of your thighs. You hiss at the sensation and he nudges a hand against your hip until you roll over onto your back.

“You sure you’re okay? I didn’t hurt you or nothin’?”

“Mhm,” you murmur, reaching for him and he obliges, dropping the cloth to the floor and crawling up the bed to wrap himself around you, slinging your leg over top of his. “You just wiped me out, s’all. And who thought you’d be so fuckin’ talkative in bed.”

He laughs and presses his lips to the end of your nose, his nose grazing your forehead.

You pull at his shirt and kiss him square on the mouth, a thank you for making you feel so good. So safe with him. Your bare chest is pressed to his, and you know he can probably feel how fast your pulse is racing, arms wrapped around your back. You still in his grip when you feel something pressing against your bare stomach.

He’s hard again. A fire reignites somewhere low in your belly, your mouth watering, and when you catch his eye, he grins, like he can read your thoughts.

“You wanna put that mouth to use now, sweetheart?”

[jackiepackiee]

I have a request! Can we have atsushi, dazai, ranpo, chuuya (+yasano, if desired you can cut out some characters) with a fem!ballerina s/o

ex: does big roles, (giselle, black swan, clara) and their opinions about her profession. ty!

𝐵𝒮𝒟 𝓍 𝐵𝒶𝓁𝓁𝑒𝓇𝒾𝓃𝒶! 𝑅𝑒𝒶𝒹𝑒𝓇

𝒲/ 𝒜𝓉𝓈𝓊𝓈𝒽𝒾, 𝒟𝒶𝓏𝒶𝒾, 𝑅𝒶𝓃𝓅𝑜, 𝒞𝒽𝓊𝓊𝓎𝒶, 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝒴𝑜𝓈𝒶𝓃𝑜

𝒲𝒶𝓇𝓃𝒾𝓃𝑔𝓈 - 𝒩𝒶𝓊𝓇

𝒯𝓎𝓅𝑒 - 𝒽𝑒𝒶𝒹𝒸𝒶𝓃𝑜𝓃𝓈

Atsushi Nakajima

Whipped

You’re dating for a bit, and he’s seen your practice

But when you invite him to the stage door for a quick good luck kiss before his first show, he’s in AWE

Your costume?! He almost dies

You’re perfect!

(His fav is Sleeping beauty when you’re Aurora)

So when he finally sees you on stage, music and lights and dance

He almost passes out

If it wasn’t for the fact he had to watch you, he would’ve gotten some air

He’s just so in love

He loves to come to rehearsal

So well behaved, completely silent

Just watching you the entire time, in amazement

He doesn’t have money to offer for costumes or lessons, but he will be the biggest supporter in your life

He is however confused by everything

He isn’t very artisticlly intellectual…

And when you first break in your shoes, he screams

He thought you were wasting money and destroying them… if only he knew

He’ll give you massaged each night after shows, especially if you also had a matinee

Dazai Osamu

He is no longer as serious, but he will become the most reserved and mature gentleman you know when he sees your shows

People will think he’s a regular at these events, and everything will look at him with awe

And his attention will only be on you

Obviously he’s going to look at the other performers, but his eyes are glued on you

Secretly bored when you’re not on stage

He’ll see you, but after that he is childish again

Picking you up into his arms, probably coughing from the smell of hairspray in your hair

“Gosh, I can’t breathe! Your hair is perfect, but this is too much.”

And if the ADA happens to be there too? Don’t be surprised

He is always talking about you when work is boring

Atsushi thinks it’s the coolest, and is looking at your like you’re a goddess

(He’s like your son, and he looks up to you. Dazai loves that)

Back to ballet, he will kiss your cheek

But nothing else, he hates to ruin your makeup

And when you come home after?

He holds you all night after a show

He’s a master at anatomy and will massage you your body in every place needed

Before show texts “break a leg, but not actually! Cant wait!”

Overall? A fan, but more of a lover

Ranpo Edogawa

Most people think Ranpo has no attention span, and they’re mostly right…

But! He is fully able to focus on your performance

Loves your darker roles

But that’s mostly because he thinks that darker characters have more depth

This man is a thinker, and while he loves your dancing he prefers the story

And adores the way you are able to tell a story or send a message by your body movement

He loves more feminine roles too, but he appreciates your beauty more than he can focus

That’s the only reason he can stand the shows

Because he can obviously tell the entire story before the first dance sequence is over

You shine on that stage, and he’s infatuated

His eyes are OPEN

After your show, he’ll smile like a little kid

That maturity he had at the show? Gone, he’s himself again

Loves the shows about mysteries

This guy will ask Poe to write a show, and have him hire a choreographer to make a new shoe just for you to star in and for him to enjoy the story

His childish behavior is love, and intense affection because he’s so happy with how well you did

He praises you, so take it

He doesn’t do that for anyone else

Chuuya Nakahara

Classier than ever

Goes to each show with a box seat, sitting alone or with Koyo

Everyone thinks “oh, that guy is so mysterious”

Thinks you’re literally a light in his life

A bright beauty in his dark world

And when you walk onto that stage, he is focused on you like a hawk

Not scary, but such attention to detail that his stare is unbreaking

Not looking at a single other performer, unlessss they are your friend and you tell him about them when you’re rambling about your rehearsals

He’ll give them a glance, but only because he wants to be ready for every single topic of conversation you may wish to have

And when you’re done? He tells you to come out to see him in your costume, even if your director doesn’t allow that

He’s Chuuya Nakahara, he gets what he wants from anyone

He wants to give you a kiss when you look like a doll, dressed up perfectly

He hugs you, and tells you every time

“You were incredible. Go get more comfortable darling, I’ll wait outside the backstage. We will talk in the car. Maybe a little treat is waiting?”

The treat is always exactly what you want

Necklaces? Dress? Tickets to something? It’s there, at the moment you would love it most

Always helps you wash your hair when you get home

Running warm water in his fancy shower, hands making quick work on your hair and all the products that held it together

Will buy one of those high tech foot massagers for when you’re done

He hates how you’re in pain

And will do anything to make you feel better

Because you’re perfect, and he loves you

Yosano Akiko

Brags to each and EVERY member of the agency

Makes all of them attended at least one show

(Her favorite is black swan, you’re just sexy in that one 🤷🏻‍♀️)

If you could see her from on stage while you’re preforming (obviously you can’t) you’d see her paying more attention to you than she has to anything in her entire life

You’re the dainty and sweet girlfriend, and she’s your badass man-killer woman

She is incredible at anatomy, and gives you the best tips on warming up

Best ways to strengthen and grow your muscles without getting larger

Ugh, she’ll put her hands on your waist while teaching you how to twist and turn to stretch a certain way

You know how she loves shopping?

She will make at least one date a month a shopping date

Making sure to buy the most high tech and recommend leotards for practice

New shoes that need breaking in?

She owns at least 14 hammers

Nails? Gone. Foot board? Snapped into shape.

Thinks you’re PERFECT but is the best shot talker of the others?

The girl who thinks she deserved the lead, but didn’t get it so she hates on you?

Yeah, a glass of wine and Akiko will tear that girl to shreds with insults

But she’s supportive!!

Pretty girlfriend x sexy girlfriend life

[devildom-moss]

October poll story

Barbatos - Monster kink

(Barbatos x gn!MC)

(NSFW) (top!Barbatos / bottom!MC) (NSFW tags: monster!Barbatos - non-canon/enhanced demonic features including increased greed and lust, claws, sharp teeth, forked tongue that matches his tail, bigger tail, and bigger "tail"; sex involving magic; no specified sex organs for MC; oral - receiving; penetration - receiving; tail penetration; double stuffed by one man - tail and penis penetration simultaneously; technically masturbation; mild bloodplay, mild primal play; begging; multiple orgasms; seriously judging myself at this point CNC - Somno; mild temperature play; implied being used as a human sex toy; no lube - but tail is naturally wet, so mostly no lube; no condom; overstim - receiving; creampie; mentions of very trusting sex)

(other tags: Plot heavy - in the first half, then it basically all erotica, everyone is annoyed with Solomon poor guy kinda?)

Word Count: +4,600 new longest fic for me?

When you heard that Diavolo was going on an overnight trip without Barbatos, you knew you had to go to the castle and get as much alone time as you could with your favorite butler. Considering that Diavolo was also being left in Lucifer’s very capable hands during the trip, you figured Barbatos wouldn’t be in the anxious state that typically overcame him when Lord Diavolo wasn’t under his close watch. So, when you turned up unannounced at the castle that morning only for Little D. no. 2 to answer the door, something seemed off. You tried not to worry, though. Barbatos was probably preoccupied with one of his many tasks.

“Well, if it isn’t Number 2, how are you doing today?” You smiled and patted his head.

“MC! I’m so happy to see you! Are you here to visit Mr. Barbatos? Ooh, I wonder if he’ll come out of his room for you. No one has seen him at all this morning, and when I knocked on his door to check for him, I heard this weird noise before he asked me to leave him alone. Can you believe that? Well, I thought maybe he wasn’t feeling good, so I brought him some tea – now, it wasn’t anywhere near as good as the tea he makes, but when I brought it, he told me that it wasn’t necessary. I left it at the door, but guess what? When I checked back, the tea was cold and untouched. I don’t know what to do, and I didn’t want to call anyone yet because that seems like something Mr. Barbatos would get mad at me for, but since you’re already here, maybe you could check on him and make sure he’s okay.” The monologue recounting this morning’s events spilled from Number 2’s mouth quickly and with no room for interruption.

Without much thought, you had followed Number 2 in the direction of Barbatos’s room – some attempt to physically follow along with his story as your brain processed the information. You let the words absorb into your mind, fishing for a relevant question. It was already past 10AM. Barbatos was always up and about by now. “Did he sound sick?”

“Can’t say. If not sick, he definitely sounded strange – like he was talking with his mouth half-full or something.” Number 2 hummed and tilted his head to the side. “Or, you know how when you bite your tongue or burn it on your soup because it smells too good not to eat it right away – even though Mr. Barbatos warned you to be careful and let it cool?”

“Sure.” You shook your head and stared down the hall. Barbatos’s room was just a few doors down.

“Anyway, I think something is wrong, so I’d really appreciate it if you could look out for Mr. Barbatos. If he really is sick, you’ll take care of him, right?”

“I’d be happy to.”

“Great.” Little D. no. 2 stopped in front of Barbatos’s door and turned around to face you. “I’ll leave it to you. I’m sure the rest of us can find a way to keep the castle running while you tend to Mr. Barbatos, so don’t worry about anything else!”

“Thank you, Number 2. You’re so reliable.” You could tell how worried and eager to help he was. Number 2 nodded and left you outside of Barbatos’s door. You stood there silently for a second, listening for any strange noises or coughs, before gently knocking. “Barbatos, it’s me. Can I come in?”

“MC?” Your name was quiet and muffled.

“Barbatos? I’m going to enter, alright?”

“Wait. I –” he started to protest in an unusually slurred speech, but it was too late. You had already opened the door.

Barbatos’s eyes seemed to glow in the dim light of his bedroom. He had backed himself against the nearest wall. His typically gloved hands were bare, revealing sharp, claw-like nails. One of those hands shot up over his mouth. You heard his tail thump against the wall a few times before he grabbed it with his free hand, stilling its aggravated motions.

“What’s wrong?” you asked him cautiously. He looked different – more demonic than usual.

“Solomon,” Barbatos responded with his hand still over his mouth, only exacerbating his strange enunciation. He was frozen in place.

Of course. You sighed and shut your eyes. What did he do this time? You closed the door behind you and took a few steps into the room. Barbatos eyed you with every move – even as you reached into your pocket to pull out your D.D.D.

“I’ll call him, okay?”

You waited for the phone to ring once before you put it on speaker. Solomon picked up in seconds. “MC, my adorable apprentice, what can I do for you?”

“What the fuck did you do to Barbatos?” you asked him aggressively.

“What do you mean?”

“Something’s wrong with him, and he said it’s your fault.” Technically, that was a bit of a jump considering the facts you had at hand, but it was a logical conclusion.

“What’s wrong with him?”

“Let’s see, slightly glowing eyes and the sudden appearance of claws to start. And – if you don’t mind me adding, Barbatos – his tail looks bigger than before.”

“His tail . . .is bigger?”

“Longer. Thicker. Girthier. Do you need more adjectives?”

“Just his tail?”

“For fucks sake. I didn’t strip him down and give him a full body exam.”

Solomon hummed. “Anything else?”

“He sounds weird – like he has a lisp.” You glanced over at Barbatos, whose cheeks had grown pinker since the beginning of the call. He dropped his hand slowly and opened his mouth, revealing sharp teeth and a long, forked tongue that looked like his tail. A shiver shot down your spine, and you let out a shaky breath before adding, “that’s new.”

“What’s new?” Solomon asked, unable to disguise his intrigue.

“Sharp teeth and a forked tongue.”

You heard a breezy laugh on the other end of the line. “So, good news: I figured out what happened. I accidentally swapped the magical tea blend I made for Barbatos with the one I made for Asmodeus. Oops.”

“Oops?” You sighed while Barbatos let out a low, guttural growl.

“Asmo asked me for a tea to enhance some of his more demonic features for a photoshoot. It seems Barbatos got Asmo’s tea, so Asmo – oh, speak of the devil. He’s calling.”

“Add him to our call.” You looked over at Barbatos, wishing you could apologize for Solomon’s behavior silently.

“What gives, Solomon? Your tea was a total flop. I tested it as soon as I got up this morning. I wanted to check out my enhanced demon features before the shoot tomorrow – maybe indulge in them a bit on my own. Nothing has happened. You promised quick results. I’m still my same, gorgeous self, and all your stupid potion did was give me the urge to organize all of my make-up and tidy half of my closet. I was really depending on you to come through for me here.” Asmo complained, clearly annoyed by Solomon’s failure.

“You basically made Adderall tea for Barbatos?” you asked, staring between Barbatos and your phone.

“Barbatos?” Asmo questioned. “Also, hey, MC~! Are you calling to yell at Solomon, too?”

“Pretty much, yeah.” You nodded.

“Can I speak?” Solomon added quickly, coming to his own defense since no one else was going to. “First, Barbatos asked for something to soothe him and enhance productivity so he could make good use of his day without Diavolo. Second, we had a little mix up, Asmo –”

“ – we?” you interrupted.

“Okay, I had a mix up. You have the blend I made for Barbatos. Barbatos took some of yours. MC is with him now.”

“Ooh. Enhanced demon form Barbatos sounds sexy. Does he look sexy, MC?” Asmo cooed.

“Focus, Asmo,” you responded, too embarrassed to admit the truth. Well, the truth other than that Solomon clearly sucked at making magical Adderall.

“Asmo. I have plenty of the magical blend I made for you left over. I’ll bring it by in a bit, alright? Will that resolve everything on your end?” Solomon’s voice sounded sweet, but there was a grave calmness to it.

“Yes.”

“Then hang up and wait for me, please.” Asmo did as Solomon asked, leaving the sorcerer to clean up the rest of his mess. “As for you and Barbatos, MC, I’m afraid there isn’t much I can do to reverse the effects. Depending on how much he drank, it should wear off anywhere within a few minutes to a full day. Until then, I suggest you leave Barbatos alone. All of his demonic senses are heightened – that includes his urges. He may be dangerous to be around until the effects clear up.”

You looked at Barbatos. His glowing eyes were wide and damp, and his gaze hadn’t left you once during the entire call; even when you looked away, you could feel him staring. His knuckles were white from gripping his tail so tightly. He was even trembling slightly. “No. I’m sorry. I can’t do that. He looks miserable like this. I’m not leaving him. It’ll be fine, just trust me.”

“MC.” Solomon wanted to warn you against it again, but there was no use in arguing with you. “Be careful and call me if you need me.”

“Alright, and Solomon? Learn how to label your shit.” You said it sweetly, but he knew you were livid.

“Sorry! Don’t be mad.”

You hung up the phone and returned your attention to Barbatos. He backed away, pressing his shoulders flush against the wall, as you approached him. It was hard to believe that this was a more demonic version of Barbatos. He seemed so timid and scared. Slowly, you reached your hand out to smooth his hair down. His low growl echoed off the walls like there was thunder muffled inside his chest.

Barbatos gulped and opened his mouth to speak, showing you a glimpse of those magic-sharpened teeth and that tongue – now forked and dyed black and aqua. Overcome by a sudden shyness about his new state, Barbatos covered his mouth again to speak. His breath was unsteady, and his words were quiet. “You should go.”

“But you look miserable. Isn’t there something I can do to help?”

Barbatos dropped his hand, and his gaze followed, landing on the floor. “Help? Please don’t tempt me when I’m like this. I’ve been holding back since you walked into that door – since I first caught your scent from down the hall, if I’m honest.”

You inched closer, testing the waters – testing his control before you cupped his cheeks in your hands and searched his face. When you finally caught his gaze, you realized up-close how unusually terrified he was. You’d never seen him like this, and it only made you want to protect him more – to soothe the fear this spell had pulled from him. Barbatos bit his lip, and for a second you worried he might draw blood, but he didn’t.

“Please,” Barbatos begged with a shaky exhale. You rubbed his cheek with your thumb, hoping to ease his mind. “Don’t touch me any further. I’ll only want more. I won’t be able to stop myself.”

Greed. That was his innate sin. You knew that, and it had never been a concern – even when he lost control. There was always a spark of fear – worry on the lighter days – in his eyes when you caused his composure to faulter. It flashed like lightning. Sometimes, you had to wonder if you had seen anything at all or if your eyes – if his eyes – were playing tricks on you.

The love Barbatos offered was a love that said, “I would like to cherish you always. I will treat you sweetly, and if I must be rough, it will be thoughtful and restrained.” He had never pushed your limits – never even toed the line – unless you asked him to. Now, he was warning you that he did not know his own limits. A dark, selfish, possessive need in him threatened to take everything you would offer him and then some. Barbatos was pleading with you to turn him down, to not indulge him. This was your last chance, and you knew it. All his willpower, reduced into one last-ditch effort to dissuade your trust in him – a final, feeble, “please.”

When you brought your lips to his, it was over. Until that potion wore off, he could indulge his greed until he was sick and bursting with sin; until every ounce of it had spilled over into you, you had committed to take it.

Barbatos wasted no time deepening the kiss. His forked tongue slithered into your mouth, wet and oddly cool compared to the heat of his breath. It wasn’t unpleasant; in fact, you felt a slight shame in how erotic you found this strange new sensation. His tongue entwined with yours like it had never done before. Barbatos also found himself aroused by his new abilities – even more so when you moaned for him. Eager to explore further, Barbatos plunged his tongue deeper down your throat until you could barely breathe. You felt seconds – millimeters – away from gagging on him and pressed against his chest, trying to break the kiss.

Barbatos pulled away, allowing your lungs to recover, but the desperation on his face was worse than ever. Panting and ravenous, he spoke in half-growls: “More. I need more.”

His impatience displayed itself in the way he stripped you of your clothes – reckless with buttons and balling the fabric up tightly in his hands. All the restraint he had went towards refraining from tearing your clothes to shreds. He needed access to more of your body, and with every bit of skin he revealed, Barbatos licked, sucked, and bit part of your exposed flesh.

The feeling of his cool tongue gliding up your forearm made you shiver. Barbatos sank his sharp teeth into your shoulder, breaking the skin and sending a tingling pain through your body. He soothed it by running his soft tongue over the bite mark in slow circles before he licked a trail up your neck, paving a path for him to place hickeys along. Time was lost to you between Barbatos sucking your neck and pawing at your naked body. The sensation of his claws gently scraping along your lower back left you arching into him.

When Barbatos was satisfied with his assault on your neck, he dropped to your chest, marking you and teasing your nipples between the prongs of his tongue. For someone who claimed to be unable to control himself, he sure was taking his sweet time building up your pleasure. If he hadn’t dipped between your legs when he did, you might have found yourself reduced to begging for him.

Barbatos took in the sight of how aroused he had gotten you. His breathing was labored, causing his chest and shoulders to heave. He had waited long enough. You felt his tail wrap around your thigh and pull you closer until you were right in front of his face. His warm breath primed your body for that first, slow, tender lick. Followed by another. Then, one more before his tongue was swirling circles around you. He sucked and licked you ravenously, moaning repeatedly into your body. Barbatos’s moaning was peppered with the occasional growl – reminding you, lest the lust caused you to forget, that Barbatos was an untethered beast.

He clawed up your thighs in the same ravenous manner. Claws sank into the flesh of your ass and thighs, scratching you and pulling you back against him whenever you had squirmed too far away for his liking. You couldn’t escape the constant barrage of stimulation and pleasure. Barbatos refused to stop until he pulled an orgasm out of you. Even then, he overstimulated your sensitive skin with a few teasing licks, cleaning up some of the mess he had made of you. Your knees buckled, but Barbatos got to his feet and pulled you close to support you.

You had not even caught your breath nor come down from your high before Barbatos was kissing you again. He slipped his cum-stained tongue back down your throat, ensuring that you tasted yourself. A low growl rumbled deep in Barbatos’s chest that shook you to your core. The storm had not passed. You weren’t even in the eye of it yet.

As Barbatos continued to kiss you, the familiar sensation of his tail wrapping around your thigh caught your attention. This time, instead of pulling you close, he pulled your legs apart. Had he not been holding you tight, you would have stumbled with the sudden jolt. The silky tips of his forked-tendril-like tail teased between your legs in gentle alternating strokes, occasionally lingering to cup you for a few seconds before the pressure slipped away. Barbatos was building you up all over again. You gripped his shoulders, simultaneously trying to ground and support yourself.

Despite the cloud of lust disorienting him, Barbatos recognized the signs of your weakness and dragged you towards his bed. Even as he pulled you across the room, his tail refused to stop teasing you and preparing you for what was to come. Barbatos had no sooner finally stopped kissing you when your back hit his mattress with a soft thud. Staring up at him, you saw a distorted image of the demon you adored. Maybe it was the enhanced demonic features and those glowing green eyes, or maybe it was the look on his face that told you he was not quite the same Barbatos. His hunger for you had never been this strong – perhaps it would never be this primal and ferocious again. Repressing any fear or hesitation, you wanted to revel in his uninhibited lust.

Fortunately, Barbatos’s tail had a natural wetness to it that aided in the insertion. He lacked the clarity and patience to apply lube before the tips of his tail squirmed into your body. Barbatos delighted in the way your face contorted in pleasure – how you bit your lip to hold back a moan. The prongs of his tail felt cool and soft as they stretched you out, applying pressure to the most sensitive places inside of you. You writhed under him, but it wasn’t enough. He needed to touch you more.

Barbatos scratched his claws gently down your ribs and towards your navel. He fucked deeper into you with his tail and applied slight pressure to your pelvis with his palm, stretching his fingers out above your stomach. Those claws loomed threateningly above your skin while his tail pumped in and out of you. You thought his tail had looked bigger than before, but now you could feel just how much thicker he was. However, you only had a few seconds to dwell on the size before the threat of claws came to fruition and dug into your stomach. The outermost layer of skin split for him, and five distinct pink marks appeared on your stomach; he nearly drew blood. You whined at the pain, but the way your back arched and your muscles tightened told Barbatos that you were in more pleasure than pain.

A brief flash of normalcy came when you heard Barbatos chuckle and saw his lips tug into a wicked smile. “Are you cumming again?”

The noises you were making as another wave of intense pleasure overtook you were the only response Barbatos needed. He was kind enough to slow the movements of his tail as you tried to bring yourself down. It wasn’t fair. Barbatos was making you feel incredible. You were supposed to be the one taking care of him, but there you were, stripped and writhing on your back. All the while, Barbatos was still fully clothed – barring the lack of his standard gloves which had already been removed prior to your arrival. You wanted to make him feel good too.

You reached out for his pants, trying to undo them so you could at least touch him, but Barbatos took hold of your hands and stopped you. “Please, let me focus on you for a bit longer. Please?”

There was no sweetness in his begging – only desperation. It was less of a plea and more of a demand. Refusal seemed off the table, even if you chose it, but you couldn’t. You could hardly refuse Barbatos when he said “please” under normal circumstances – and even less so when he stared at you with such wanton desire.

Barbatos entwined his fingers with yours and held your hands while he watched you come apart on his tail. The way you rolled your hips to get him to press the spot that left your mouth agape was so cute. If he had been gifted with more patience and less greed, Barbatos would have relished in the sight of you fucking yourself on his tail and using him – especially in the exhausted, fucked-out state you were in. Did you realize how flushed you were? Could you feel how hot your skin had become? Were you aware that you had scarcely stopped whimpering and moaning for him in the last few minutes?

“You’re taking it so well,” Barbatos cooed. His affectionate gaze held your attention, even as he pulled another intense wave of pleasure from you. Something about the dim glow of his eyes captivated you. “You’re doing such a good job for me, but can you keep it up?”

Barbatos slid his tail half-way out of you as he dropped to his knees at the edge of the bed. He was trying to go back down on you, but with no opportunity to recover, you weren’t sure how much more you could take. You tugged his hair and stopped his lips and tongue from overstimulating you, earning a whine from him.

“Barbatos, I need you to fuck me now,” you demanded. You couldn’t take another round without at least making him cum once.

Barbatos savored that desperation in you – even if it was just a fraction of his own. He nuzzled your inner thigh playfully. “Just one more taste?”

“No.” You pulled his hair again and made him look at you. “I need it now.”

“Very well.” Barbatos pulled his tail out of you completely and got to his feet. For a second, the way he spoke was so calm that you believed the tea must have been wearing off. Those shining green eyes stayed fixed on your body as he removed his clothes, tossing them into a dark corner of the room. Perhaps the storm was showing signs of passing.

When Barbatos dropped his pants, you couldn’t keep your eyes off the bulge in his underwear and the damp stain, but he didn’t stay contained for long. He stripped fully, finally releasing his cock. He was so hard, and he dripped precum onto the floor. Your mouth watered. Well, if Solomon asked again, it wasn’t just Barbatos’s tail that was bigger than usual. However, you had already taken his tail; you could take this, too. You wanted it.

Your eyes glanced back up at Barbatos’s face as he aligned himself, rubbing his dick against your entrance. Those glowing eyes caught yours, stalling your breath. Even in the dim lighting, those eyes now seemed to be the darkest thing in the room. A low, satisfied growl escaped Barbatos – the last warning from a predator closing in on his prey. The storm was not over, you had merely found yourself in the eye of it for one brief, relenting moment.

He rocked his hips into you, relying on precum and the combined fluids from you and his tail to lubricate himself as he slowly pushed every inch he could get into you. You gasped. The sensation was so different from his tail – so much warmer, pulsating and throbbing inside of you. That initial slow thrust was for your benefit, but it was not intended to set his pace. Barbatos quickly picked up speed, transitioning into rapid, shallow thrusts that repeatedly rubbed against your walls. Still, he seemed to be focusing on maximizing your pleasure.

“I need more,” Barbatos warned you, but you were drowning in too much pleasure, moaning and panting beneath him, to register his warning.

Instead, you whimpered at the shock of Barbatos slipping his tail inside of you. The forked ends swirled around Barbatos’s cock as he continued fucking you, stimulating you both at the same time. It felt like thick, cool, squirming ridges around a hot, throbbing core. Not even an advanced toy could do this to you. But it wasn’t enough for him. Barbatos reached down between your legs to stimulate you further – somehow lucid enough to take care not to scratch you. His touch was light and gentle, contrasting his other insatiable actions, and making your head spin. It was all too much for you. You came again, tightening around Barbatos as you did. He kept fucking you through it.

A pleased moan escaped Barbatos, signaling that he was close. His hands slid up your body slowly, and then, without warning, he clawed down your sides and grabbed your hips. A stinging sensation immediately followed. He gripped your hips so firmly that his claws broke the skin as he forced himself so deep into you that it almost ached. Barbatos gave you a few more deep thrusts before he bottomed out and held you in place. He pumped his cum into the deepest parts of you, filling you up.

Barbatos lolled his head back with a sigh and a smirk. His chest heaved. It took you squirming against his pelvis for Barbatos to realize that he was still holding your hips up against him. He slid his cock out of you, released his tail’s grip around himself, and gently laid you back down.

You looked so blissful and exhausted, but Barbatos had just gotten started. Simply looking at your flushed face and heaving chest was making him hard again. He caressed your cheek; some of the blood he had drawn from clawing at your hips smeared onto your skin. Barbatos leaned down and licked up the mess. When your cheek was clean once more, Barbatos whispered into your ear, “I’m so sorry, lovely. I’m not done. Do I have your permission to keep going?”

His words floated around your hazy mind. You smiled at him affectionately with your eyes half-lidded and reached up to stroke his cheek. Exhaustion was overcoming you. “Yes. Take whatever you need until you feel better.”

“Even if you fall asleep?” Barbatos asked with some of the timidness from earlier.

“Even if I pass out. Even if it hurts. Even if I cry. Be as greedy as you have to be with me.” Maybe you were cum-drunk. Or maybe you just wanted to make Barbatos feel better. Either way, you resigned yourself to being used for the next few minutes or hours or days.

“Thank you, my love.” Barbatos kissed your cheek sweetly.

You watched the dim glow of his eyes dreamily, focusing on them until the rest of the room began to disappear. With your body spent, all you could do was whimper as you felt Barbatos enter you again. Even the pleasure began to dull as you let yourself slip further into the haze. His deep growls and panting were the last thing you heard as your mind fell silent.

Your last thought before a sweet dream swept over you was that, without a doubt, Barbatos would be a mix of grateful and apologetic when you woke up again.

In the morning, Barbatos would ensure you were hydrated, well-fed, and tended to. He would be an affectionate, doting butler for you. And then, someone would have a hefty price to pay.

A/N: I did not think this was going to end up so long, but please enjoy. I am worried I got a little too carried away here. . . but this was still the less deranged Barbatos monster kink idea. Anyway, requests are open and will be until the end of Nov. 5th. And I hope this one does something for some of you.

[byhuenii]

SATIVA

synopsis! pool party at the x mansion..is it getting hot in here or is it just you? (WC: idk..) pairing! logan ‘wolverine’ howlett x fem!reader warnings! usage of name instead of yn. reader has curly hair cause i said so. pul. not proofread LOLL. probably ooc.🧏‍♀️ a/n! IS IT HOT IN HERE OR IS IY JUST ME??? IM SO HIGH ON SMOKING ON THIS WEED

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sun was out and so was that pool the school had been hiding away during the cold winters, sun was out so were the chairs where you could lay down near the pool for the rest day. the sun was nice it was pretty hot but it was nice compared to the cold harsh winters. ororo had been running around with a camera taking photos of everyone and everything. “how many pictures have you taken so far roro?” your elbows propped you upwards so you could see her

“so many, the memories of these will be amazing i mean look at them” she hustled her way over showing off the pictures. it had only been you ororo and jean outside watching the kids play in the pool. scott was with charles he said he would come later, logan he was still off and on about coming. “roro you should take a picture of us together” a smile exploded on the girls lips sitting down right next to you, “cheese!” she said before clicking the button on the camera

“we look so cute, i’ll definitely need to get all these printed out” ororo was just happy to be here. it was a real from all the madness and crazy things that had been happening in everyone’s lives lately

you smiled at the enthusiasm ororo gave off, you had blinked and she was already off to the other side taking pictures of the kids playing chicken fight. “ah jean! when is scott coming?” you asked the red head who had taken up the duty as life guard, “he said he was just going to talk to the professor but who knows” she shrugged, “what about logan? is he coming” jean wore a tiny smirk

the tone in her voice was a flirty but also witty you couldn’t help but laugh “he was off and on about this i wouldn’t be surprised if he isn’t coming” you wore your heart on your sleeve. your tone said you didn’t care but the body language and the way you constantly looked at the door you wanted him to come, he deserved it the most

jean looked at the pool and looked at you “you sure know how to summon people, your man is here” she gave you a slight nudge to the shoulder.

he had always been handsome and mysterious but right now he just had that energy to show why he was mister tall, dark, and mysterious. the white tank top he always wore somehow looked even more attractive in the sun. he had swim shorts on he came prepared. the way his muscles were practically glistening in the sun was unreal, “you’re drooling [nickname]” jean teased

you hadn’t even realized you were gawking, thank goodness for glasses so he couldn’t see where you were looking (putting on sunglasses so they don’t know what i’m looking at) “i’m not gawking!” you defended yourself when in fact you were gawking at him. “if you weren’t gawking you’d realize he’s coming closer to us” jean lipped her laughter patting your thigh

the way you composed yourself should be eligible for a world record, your mind was literally freaking out. you swore it wasn’t that hot did it get hotter? “logan you finally decided to join us” your words came out somewhat like a squeak much to your embarrassment .

“of course not bub. its not every day we get to see you in clothes that isn’t your suit and casual attire” he wore a smirk. his usual gruff still rested on his face, he smelled like alcohol but that was his normal smell at times

your face feels like it got sunburned why was it so hot, you looked away kinda flustered mouthing the words ‘help me’ to jean who pretended to ignore you looking at the kids,

“is that your way into trying to get into my pants howlett?” you rolled your eyes with a small smile on your lips, “did it work?”

you cleared your throat adjusting the sunglasses that rested on your nose, “maybe. maybe it did” logan had a quiet chuckle you almost missed. he had a bottle of chilled beer in his hand. “do you want to sit down?” you let the spot next to you

logan shook his head “it’s okay sweetheart, i’m sure you’ll need it more than i do” he was mocking you. he was definitely mocking you, that coy smile he had while drinking his beer.

“just say you two like each other” ororo came from behind taking a photo of the two of you, logan had been looking down at you with the coy smile beer to lips but his eyes were soft. they were always soft to you. your face was flushed so there wasn’t much need for him to see your eyes,

you stuck out your tongue to the white haird female who sat next to jean showing off the photos she had taken of you and logan, logan’s eyes wandered off to the pool

“you look like you’re ready to jump into the water” you had placed your sunglasses on top of your curls. eyes squinting to adjust to the light that suddenly blinded you, “nah. not my kinda thing” he shrugged placing his beer down on the mini table near your chair

“is the little kitty too afraid of water?” he mocked you so you teased him it was only fair, he looked at you with a raised eyebrow. “aren’t you one to talk, been sitting here like a princess”

“so a princess and her kitty that’s too afraid of water” you quipped

“oh yeah?”

“i knew you had animalistic tendencies but being afraid of water is—lo put me down.”

logan’s calloused hands scooped you up like the princess you truly are throwing him over your shoulder. your pleased fell dead to his ears. his arm was wrapped around your legs tightly so you wouldn’t be squirm and try to run off “what’d you say sweetheart i can’t hear you” he walked to the edge of the pool, “logan. don’t you dare” your plead became funnier to the man.“but wasn’t i supposed to be the one afraid of the water” he said with a low rumbled chuckle. “i’m sorry i’m sorry please” you were holding onto the man, he would never let you go you knew that “WAIT WAIT MY SUNGLASSES—LOGAN”

he had loosened up the grip he had on you jumping into the pool you didn’t even have time to throw your glasses on the floor. you had inhaled quiet some water, your eyes were closed shut when you had forcefully jumped into the water, you quickly resurfaced back to the top trying to catch your breathe, you had a little coughing fit with all the chlorine intake

your eyes opened up looking around you, the top of your head felt a empty as you felt it. your glasses weren’t there. you looked around to find logan with them on behind you. “fuck you” you snarled swimming over to him, his arms wrapped around your waist pulling you close to him. the white tank top logan wore clung to his body outlining his abs and defined chest

ororo was taking many photos, her toothy grin as wide “smile!” she said. logan’s hand had scooped you up bring him to his chest, his arm rested under your ass. “is it getting hotter here?” you mumbled looking at ororo with a flushed face from just being thrown in the pool and logan’s gesture. “all you bub”

“i like your sunglasses. look good on you” you scoffed wrapping your arms around his neck, “thanks stole them, i think i might keep them” you stuck out your tongue at his comment, your hands snaked their ways to his face fixing his wet hair. his hair tuffs were still there slightly,

“do you actually like me?” you didn’t mean for the words to just slip out but they did, what ororo said had crossed your mind until now. his gestures were different but in a way you found comfort in them. “i do bub i really do, just not trying to fuck this up” he put the sunglasses on his head, he wanted you to see his desperation he carried. “may i?” he asked leaning his head against yours

a smile graced your lips giving him a nod. a nod was all he needed his lips smashed onto yours. it was passionate yet sweet, you wore a smile that grew even bigger. the sound of a camera clicking caused you to pull away.

“finally. i was tired of you two not saying anything” ororo chuckled, logan rolled his eyes as you hid your face in his neck peppering it with small kisses.

all he knew was that he had finally had the girl he had wanted wrapped around his arms giving her kisses that she deserved. he was definitely taking you out on a date after this maybe he’ll get some help from ororo just so the date is perfect, oh and that photo too. he’ll need copies of each and single one them together.

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a/n — idk what i did i just kept writing lol

[froggybells]

Home (Is Wherever I'm With You)

(a/n: I smell a seriessss!)

tags: Gojo x Reader, Megumi thinks of reader as his mom (but that's for later hehe)

part 1!

part 2 —> here

It was a normal day. Well, as normal as it gets with someone like Gojo Satoru as a teacher. The second years were already accustomed to Gojos “unique” style of teaching, but first years Nobara and Itadori were still… let's say confused. Now obviously, out of all the students, Megumi was the one who could best predict Gojo’s antics. Knowing him for the better part of his life, he knew his teacher’s extravagant personality would eventually begin to repeat.

Megumi was 6 when Gojo first found him. Megumi was also 6 when Gojo scooped him up and took him back to his apartment. Normally, you’d think a 6 '3 man carrying a small child over his shoulder, while the child was obviously not happy, would garner some attention. But in all of his Gojo-ness, he simply would swoon the people around him.

“Honey! I’m home” He yelled from the entrance of your apartment. “Satoru, You said you would be gone for 30 minutes, it's been-” You were cut off by the sight of your boyfriend holding a small raven haired child, who would obviously be anywhere else but here. “Did you kidnap a kid?! I knew you were crazy, but this is something else!” You quickly wiped your hands on your apron, rushing over to see if the small boy was ok.

“I hardly doubt this is a child, Y/N. He acts like an adult!” Gojo laughed. “It’s easy for you to say since you act like a child.” the small boy grumbled, heading towards the exit. Gojo put his hand on the kid's head, stopping him from moving, but not breaking eye contact with you. “Y/N, I told you, this is the best way to have leverage over his clan, and-” You cut him off there, not wanting to hear what he has to say. “YOU KIDNAPED A ZEN’IN?!” You screeched.

“I told you about this in bed the other day! You agreed it was a good idea!” Gojo retaliated. “It was pillow talk! I wasn’t taking anything you said seriously!” “LISTEN TO ME!” Megumi said, punching Gojo on the leg. “I need to go home now! My sister is waiting for me!” You looked at the small boy, and then at your boyfriend. “There were two of them and you only took the boy?! Real classy, Satoru.” Gojo threw his hands up in defense. “The other one isn’t-” You interrupted him. “I’m kidding. I can tell this one has the Ten Shadows.” You observed the small boy. Gojo was right, he appeared more mature for his age.

“Alright kiddo,” you began, kneeling down to match his height, “Let’s go get your sister and some extra clothes, okay? You both can live here with us for a few days, and if you don’t like it, we can arrange something else for you.”

[sunshine-and-moonshine]

141 NSFW Headcanons

Requested: No

Warnings: NSFW, spanking, choking, pet play, age gap, dirty talk, exhibitionism, Degradation

Price

Favorite Kinks:

Spanking

This one is fairly obvious, I think. It combines with his authority kink while also showing you your place. Sometimes he likes to combine it with humiliation and spank you in front of his Sergeants if you’ve been particularly bratty or aggravating for a longer period of time. But overall, even if you were perfect, he’d find the littlest things to punish you over just so he could hear your whimpers every time his hand or belt came down on your ass, gets all smug when you can’t sit properly for the next few days.

Cock Warming

Speaking of sitting, this one is a kink that Price just loves. For a variety of reasons but the main one is that he likes to see you squirm, panting and whimpering, trying to rock against his cock for any kind of friction to satiate your need but every time that you do he ends up smacking your ass as punishment along with giving you a stern order to stop moving. The way your eyes go all dumb and teary gets him going but he’s more than satisfied to just have you hold him in your tight walls. For now.

Scent

Should start by saying that this man has the nose of a bloodhound. Subtle scents that most other people wouldn’t notice are like a punch to the face for him. No scent goes unnoticed by him. But he didn’t think it could be a kink til he met you. The smell of your skin after a shower, after a jog, after sex. It’s all so intoxicating to him. Your natural scent and the smell of your various hygiene products. He’ll get pissed if you, say, switch up your usual choice of perfume. Will bitch and moan about it til you hop into the shower to scrub it all away and come back out so he can bury his face into your thighs and just smell.

Favorite Positions:

Him standing with you bent over the bed

This position is usually accompanied by his hand on the back of your neck and another one your hip, absolutely wrecking your insides and not giving you even an inch of room to wiggle away from him. Grunting and growling as he tells you to take it like the good little slag you are. He likes the position because of the power but also because he likes to see your ass jiggle with everything thrust.

You pressed face first against a wall with him behind you

This position also plays into having power over you, keeping you still. He adores how there’s nowhere his body isn’t touching you. Pressed against you so close that it feels like you can’t breathe. Like you’re being crushed but in the best way as he fucks into you from behind. This one is more saved for quickies or bouts in his office though, as he does usually prefer you spread out on his bed, surrounded by his things.

You laying on your side with him kneeling and your legs curled over his hip

This is one of Price’s softer positions. One of few that actually gives you room to breathe. Hunched over you, breath tickling your ear as he goes slowly in and out, one of his hands holding yours, fingers intertwined as he tells you how good you’re taking him. So sweet for him, so perfect. Just stay nice and still for him, Lovey. That you’re his, always was and always will be.

Most Common Dirty Talk:

“Shhh, Love. You can take it. Just stay nice and still for me.”

“Bend over, Love. I can’t let your disobedience go unpunished.”

“Stop wiggling, or I’ll have to find ways to make you stop.”

Gaz

Favorite Kinks:

Age Gap

I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again. Gaz is a Milf/Dilf fucker. God, he goes feral for an older person who is just so goddamn beautiful. Laugh lines, crow’s feet, streaks of grey hair. He is just….he’s such a simp. Staring very respectfully from between your thighs, absolutely fucking wrecked with lust.

Thigh Fucking

There is a lot going on in Gaz’s brain but all of that fucking disappears the second he sees a nice pair or thighs. The thicker the better, god help his soul if they squish together and leave absolutely no room in between. His dick is hard and his brain is gone, and he will take every opportunity to fuck them and absolutely cover them in his cum, making sure to take a pretty picture after. (It becomes his Home Screen and yes, he changes it every single time he gets a new one. So like, every other day.)

Marking

This kink is one of the lesser ones among his favorites but it is still very prominent. But his methods of marking are actually not. He prefers more subtle marks. His dog tags around your neck, his name written somewhere on you, his cum sprayed all over the crotch of your underwear. Little things that taunt him throughout the day and drive him crazy with lust.

Favorite Positions:

Cowgirl

This man is a power bottom and I will stand by that. Making you ride him, his hands on your hips guiding you at the exact pace that he likes, watching his tags bounce against your sweaty chest with each drop, in love with the way you shudder when he bucks up into you every once and a while or just grabs your ass and starts manually lifting you instead of just guiding.

Reverse Cowgirl

Yes, it’s incredibly similar to the Cowgirl position but Gaz thinks that’s it different enough to make note of. And god does he just love to see the way your ass jiggles with each bounce, wanting so badly to grab at it but knowing his hands will get in the way so he has to settle for your hips, growling and repeatedly interrupting his own rhythm with a few harsher thrusts just to see how loud the sound of your ass clapping can get.

69

The perfect mix of your thighs around his head and your lips around his cock, he literally could no ask for a better position. His only problem with it is that he can’t angle himself to bite at every inch of your thighs like he usually does, but he’ll settle for scratching down the back of them. For now, at least.

Most Common Dirty Talk:

“Fuck. You feel so good, you know that? So perfect for me.”

“This must be what Heaven is, these beautiful thighs wrapped round my head.”

“Just-Just let me fuck them a little, please? Need to cum so bad, Love. And you get me all hot and bothered just looking at you.”

Ghost

Favorite Kinks:

Wrestling

I’d imagine this to be a newer kink of Simon’s, probably discovered during some self defense lesson. Both of you breathing heavily, sweating, one of you pinned beneath the other. In other situations it would be annoying or perhaps scary but with you…with you it was exciting. He’ll go out of his way to spar with you from then on, neither of you commenting on his hard bulge being rubbed against your ass whenever he manages to pin you down.

Choking

The intimacy of you letting him choke you is something that gets to him in a way few things do. Letting him hold your life in his hands, trusting him to treat it delicately, to treasure it. Believing whole heartedly that he’ll return it instead of just taking and taking and taking until you’re….gone. It’s not often he gets that kind of trust and it goes right to his cock (and his heart).

Collaring

Possessive mixed with humiliation go brrrrr. Simon just fucking loves walking you like a dog, his name so clearly visible on the tags clipped to your collar. Calls you his good little fuck puppy as he’s buckling up your collar, black leather digging into your neck just the slightest bit. God, and the way you whimper up at him. He’ll never get enough.

Favorite Positions:

Him standing and you lifted against a wall, your legs around his waist

A display of strength along with the ability to keep you tight where he wants you, clinging to him for dear life as he slowly rocks up into you, the pace torturous, entirely too lazy for you but perfect for him. The nice slow drag giving him the ability to feel every inch of your insides, the sound of your heat trying desperately to suck him back in music to his ears.

On his back with you laying on top of him, laying against his chest

Simon likes this position because of the way he can feel to it heart racing, thumping wildly against his chest as he moves your hips for his own pleasure, groaning and huffing in your ear like a beast instead of a man, convinced there’s nothing more heavenly then the feel of you against him, your hole gripping him tightly, a fight to even move.

Him sitting with you on lap facing off to the side, leaning against his chest

This position is usually reserved for nights of cock warming at the pub or poker with the rest of the team. One of his hands under your knees, pinching you when you get a bit too squirmy for his liking or soothingly petting you when you start to whimper with need. He’ll tell you the others have no idea what you two were doing but…it was pretty obvious.

Most Common Dirty Talk:

“Who said you could speak?“

“On your knees now, Pet.”

“Spread your legs, show me what I own.”

Soap

Favorite Kinks:

Pet Play

Puppy Boy. God, he’s so dog coded. Call him your precious boy or your mutt, either way his dick is getting hard. Put a collar on him, make him hump your leg, give him a cute tail. Anything, anything at all. He’s yours! Your mutt, your puppy, your dog. Fiercely loyal and obedient, willing to choke and die at your command.

Exhibitionism

Yeah, Johnny’s such a freak in the bedroom and while it isn’t 100% the same outside of the bed, he is still pretty freaky when walking about. God, and the thrill of being in the halls, balls deep inside you were anyone can see, rutting so fast and deep like he was gonna die any second if he didn’t cum.

Degradation

This is kind of a double edged sword because Soap loves to both give and receive nasty words. You’ll snap at him that he’s just a filthy mutt when he’s going too hard and fast and he’ll just give you a wolffish grin and say that you must be a bitch in heat then, letting a mutt like him mount you and fuck you full.

Favorite Positions:

Doggy

A bit self explanatory, goes with the pet play thing and he also just likes how he can rest his face on you as he’s thrusting, drooling all over your skin as he pants and groans, occasionally biting and sucking whenever he can reach. In his mind, there is simply not a better position to be had. Might actually get a bit pouty if you want to do a different one.

Face down ass up

Once more, very similar to the first one but to Soap there is a very important distinction. That being that he can stare at your ass as he fucks you, spank it more freely, claw at it as much as he wants. Or he could hold your face down in the pillows by the back of your neck and get an even deeper angle.

Him kneeling as you sit, your knees up to your chest

This is his most common way of eating you out just because of how much access it gives him. He can lick all over your sex, suck, bite, spit on. It might be a bit uncomfortable for you but you’ll have a hard time thinking through just how much of a mess he’s making of you. Which is just how he intends for it to be.

Most Common Dirty Talk:

“Please don't stop, please please please please please.”

“Feel so good, Love. Please lemme cum inside, gonna die without it.”

“I need it. Need you. Please, just fuck me!”

[dawn-in-neocity]

“best friend” (™️) 127

[requested]

denial is a river in egypt that is your man.

mark and haechan’s are here!

taeil

is so sickly in love with you. thinks no one notices but it’s obvious by how he just looks at you. or how he perks up whenever your name is mentioned. is there for you whenever, wherever, however you need him. pats his shoulder for you to rest your head on. could never get mad at you. genuinely thinks you’re the funniest person on earth. takes you out for late night dinners (dates. they’re dates. and they’re very romantic.) only a matter of time before he confesses.

johnny

openly and unabashedly in love with you. the most patient human when it comes to you. gives you the space to figure out what you need to. shows his love in small ways still. helps you out with little tasks/errands when you’re really stressed. will deliberately make a fool out of himself just to see you smile. lives for the way you lose your train of thought when he leans in close. gets flustered when you’re cuddling and you point out his fast heartbeat under your ear.

taeyong

you’re kind of his everything tbh. he considers you in everything he does. constantly tells you how much he appreciates you and how important you are to him. trusts you wholeheartedly, like keys to his place, password to his phone trusts you. you guys are always out and about doing some random fun activity he found out about online. has a polaroid of you in his wallet. customizes bags and shoes especially for you. falls asleep in your lap like a cat when he’s tired.

yuta

your number one hype man (and enabler lol). “fuck them all, do what you want.” lots of endearing pet names. does this thing where he holds your face in his hands and sighs deeply when he can’t kiss you. sends pics of his new nails. takes you to concerts! loses it a bit when you wear his clothes. loves trying out your hobbies/interests. no other explanation for him knowing how to make perfect macarons other than being down bad for you.

doyoung

you guys have been married for 50 years give up the act please. gets all weak in the knees when you kiss his cheek. genuinely clueless about how nervous he makes you though. gets all shocked when you’re flustered as if he isn’t LITERALLY wiping dessert off your lips. feels safe enough with you to let you take care of him how he does for you. lots of night strolls and long conversations. loves holding hands and is always reaching for yours, it’s the cutest thing ever.

jaehyun

his pupils could physically turn into hearts when he sees you. so gentle with you, from the way he talks to the way he touches you. still will give you his honest opinion about anything tho. serenades you on karaoke night. kisses the top of your head often. says your name a lot even in casual conversation. very no-bullshit when it comes to what you have even if it doesn’t have a title yet. smiles at you bc you’re cute. smiles harder when you poke his dimples.

jungwoo

literally just your boyfriend, no other way to spin it. constant sleepovers (just move in atp??). deep sense of peace when you’re together. shows you and communicates his emotions immediately and clearly, he’s NOT w the petty shit. you go to his place to nap together before y’all go out. does not spare other people a second glance, he’s all yours. loves you and all of that; also thinks you’re super hot. says he loves going to your place bc everything “smells like you.”

[bettyfrommars]

Dirty Metal Summer

a Dirty Dancing au

Part 1: Big Girls Don't Cry

Eddie x fem!Reader

MASTERLIST PLAYLIST

It's 1987, the same year the movie Dirty Dancing was originally released. 21-year-old reader is spending the summer with her dad and aunt at an all-inclusive resort in Indiana while she figures out what she wants to do with her life. After that summer, nothing will never be the same. Eddie is in his late 20’s and works as maintenance staff, he is also the frontman for the house band, begrudgingly delivering top 40 hits for the guests, and a secret third thing. When work is over, there is a completely different scene happening at a place the employees call The Hideout. Wayne is the head maintenance man, Chrissy is a metalhead, and a few other surprises. Bonus: Steve as a sexy, tattooed musician because I can't help myself.

my blog is always 18+only, MDNI please. The only warnings for the first chapter have to do with mention of a death of a parent, mention of grief, allusions to depression, a tiny bit of aggression, and alcohol consumption. But please read chapter warnings as the story progresses, because there will be angst, hurt/comfort, violence (fighting), and smut. Reader is called Bird as a nickname.

A/N: this is a rewrite of an OC fic I wrote over a year ago, and damn, I really needed to change a lot because my writing has evolved so much. I know I posted a snippet last week, but it's all been changed. Thank you to those who have been excited about this, I know Dirty Dancing is a cherished film, so I am treating this retelling with reverence, while adding some creative spins, and I truly hope you enjoy. The ST characters in this fic do not know each other in the same way they did in the show. For instance, Eddie, Steve, and Chrissy all grew up together, but I do my best to stick with their original character traits. This first part lines up very close with the film, but after that, it diverges and becomes a bit different. Same story line, but also not.

Part 1: Big Girls Don't Cry

word count: 6.3k

The soft murmur of a talk radio station hummed in the cement gray Mercedes-Benz 560, with your dad behind the wheel and his sister, your aunt Kim, in the passenger seat.  From the backseat, you stared out the window with your headphones on, wishing for rain.  The scenery was what you would expect from a place on earth that everyone considered idyllic, but you’d been exposed to so much lush greenery with that bright blue, theater backdrop of a sky for the last hour that you were starting to get a headache. 

You pushed your wayfarer sunglasses up to rub the bridge of  your nose, and then flipped the tape over in your Walkman before clicking it shut to press play.  You were listening to a mixtape you’d made especially for the trip, the spine even said “road trip from hell”, but the first one on side b was Everywhere by Fleetwood Mac, and you closed your eyes for the next several songs.  You were doing your best not to think about how you’d be trapped in BFE Indiana for a whole month.

You were also doing your best not to think about how your mother would not be home when you got back, or worse yet, the fact that you would never see her again.  Never feel her generous hugs in those Laura Ashley dresses, smelling of Shalimar; never hear her voice at the other end of the line reminding you to eat something.  

Your aunt said your name and your eyes snapped open.  It was perfect timing because tears were beginning to form at your lash line. She had turned around in her seat and was trying to get your attention.

You pulled your headphones down around your neck.  “Sorry?”

“The lake,” the expression on her face harbored more excitement than you’d ever felt in your entire life.  “Isn’t it gorgeous? We’re going to get pedicures at the spa tomorrow, I already booked it.”

You glanced at your father’s stoic profile and then back to Kim. You felt bad for your aunt, getting stuck on a trip with two sad, mopey fucks who were too depressed to get excited about the things that thrilled normal people.  You were the walking wounded.

“Pedicures, great,” your smile did not reach your eyes, but she didn’t seem to notice, as her enthusiasm doggedly refused to wane.  

It had been almost four months since you lost her, and the world was still too…bright.  Everyone was so talkative and alive and you couldn’t relate. 

You looked out over the smooth expanse of lake that was nestled perfectly in the trees like you were in some type of miniature scale model rebuild of a town.  Your aunt asked your dad, Owen, if he was still listening to the news, and when he shook his head, she changed the radio station to a golden oldies station and was satisfied with the tune Big Girls Don’t Cry by Frankie Vallie.

“You’ll love this cabin, Bird,” your dad said to you as the Mercedes crested the hill and began to maneuver down to your destination on a narrow, two-lane highway flanked with towering trees.  A big green and white sign welcomed them to Hawkins Landing.  “There’s a whole top floor where you can set up for your lessons.”

You turned away, back to the window, hiding the way your nose wrinkled.  You thought maybe a perk of this getaway would be to have a break from practicing the cello you’d been tied to for over a decade, but no luck.  He’d been forced to give up his dream of being a musician, and now you were expected to carry the torch for him.  

You tried to come up with one thing you did in life that was not to please someone else, or boost some idea they had about you, and couldn’t come up with squat.

Besides reading.  And taking long walks with music to clear your head.  Those two were yours, and they could only be taken from your cold, dead, hands.

From the Hawkins Landing brochure your aunt had given you, it was clear that the property was enormous.  Some 30 or 40 guest cabins scattered around, a main house that functioned as a hotel but also housed two different restaurants.  A golf course, boat rentals, tennis courts, an outdoor theater, and a third restaurant situated on the water.  Along with the full service spa, there were indoor and outdoor swimming pools, plus any class you could imagine wanting to take, from salsa dancing and water skiing, to chess and crochet. 

Hawkins Landing was like a camp for adults who enjoyed alcoholic beverages.

There was a security checkpoint at the main entrance with two guards inside.  The taller one with the neatly trimmed red beard recognized your father from the jacket cover on one of his many books.  Thrillers mostly, horror if you squint.  He nervously asked for an autograph, but Owen was very polite, adjusting his tortoise shell glass as he took the black marker that the guard was offering him.  

After the checkpoint, it wasn’t long before the road opened into an expansive rose garden with a large fountain dead center, and the big main house with its wrap-around porch just to the right.  You pushed your sunglasses up to get a look at the people mingling around, getting the idea that the median age there was 45, and it was mostly families.  

The guards had given your dad a foldout map of the property and told him to check in at the main house to get the keys to the cabin they were staying in. The car moved at a crawl at the roundabout, and then came to park where a sign announced new guest check-ins.  

Your dad told you to sit tight while he went in to grab the keys, and your attention trailed off to a black golf cart with a white awning that wheeled in like a racecar and took position in front of the Mercedes.  It sat there close to the curb, idling.  You could see there was a woman behind the wheel, and she was looking straight ahead, giving you her profile.  Chin length, dark gold hair, just long enough for a ponytail, and the words “Hawkins Landing Staff” written in yellow cursive on the back of her navy blue jacket.  Where her sleeve was pushed up at her elbow, you noticed some type of tattooed lettering there, and her fingernails were painted black.  

Up ahead, you caught sight of someone strolling down the sidewalk toward the car with a hand in his pocket. It was a guy with honey tipped chocolate hair styled in a pompadour with a curl that bounced at his forehead, wearing tan chinos and a maroon, button down short sleeve with the square bulge of a pack of smokes in his front pocket. A tattoo peeked out from the V of his shirt, and there was another design on his bicep. He wore a pinky ring on one hand and rolled a toothpick around in his mouth as he sidled up to the golf cart to say something to the woman driving it.  They bumped knuckles and talked for a bit like they were very familiar, him with one foot up on the running board of the cart.

“Steve, there you are,” from the open window, your attention bounced to a short, dark haired woman who’d just come out of the building and stood alongside your dad on the sidewalk.  A closer look told you that her name tag said Joyce.  

The guy with the toothpick in his mouth straightened, smoothing the front of his shirt with his hand.  “Hey Joyce, I was just—”

Apparently uninterested in what he was about to say, she took him by the crook of the arm.  She introduced you all by your family name, and let him know that you were “her special guests”, and you assumed that had to do with your dad being a famous author, or maybe she said that about every new family.  While you chose to not do much else than offer a small wave from the back seat like you had no autonomy, Kim got out to greet them properly.

“This is Steve,” Joyce gestured to him with a Vanna White hand. “If you ever want to take guitar lessons this summer, he’s one of our best.”

“Or, if you just want to have some fun,” Steve’s eyes seemed to be searching Kim’s face, and then he shrugged. “I mean, I run the boats on the dock too, so if you want to ski or—”

Kim got flustered and tried to find her words, fussing with the lapel of her corduroy jacket in a way you’d never witnessed before. “I’m…I mean, sure, who wouldn’t want to be on the lake at a place like this?”

Kim hated boats and got seasick very easily, so you found her new interest amusing.   

Joyce politely waved Steve off and he went, albeit reluctantly, backing up with slow steps to wave farewell.  The smile stretching across his face grew wider the longer Kim couldn’t take her eyes off of him. When he was finally jogging up the sidewalk to get to where he needed to be, Joyce continued to try and sell Kim and your dad on the resort, even though you were already booked for the month. 

“Sunday night is Bingo night. There’s karaoke in The Antler Room on Tuesdays and Thursdays, and you need to check out our house band if you can.  They’re playing tonight on the back patio, and the rhythm guitar is sensational.  She used to perform with Vixen and Lita Ford,” she handed over the necessary keys and pointed the way to get to the cabin on the map.  

“Just follow us,” Joyce said, hopping into the golf cart next to the girl with the forearm tattoo.  

They led the way down a long, winding stretch with lush lawn and manicured hedges on either side, littered with people coming up from the pool in their bathing suits.  There appeared to be a Tai Chi lesson happening on the lawn near the rose garden, and some type of painting class going on just above them on a balcony.  

Made you wonder why summer people always had to stay so busy.

The cabin you’d be staying in was down a side road, tucked at the end of a private driveway with a view of the lake. It had five bedrooms, which was more than enough, but one of them would immediately turn into Owen’s writing room so that he could work on his latest novel.  

You were careful to tuck your Walkman into your bag as the Mercedes coasted into its parking spot.  Squinting up at the place, you were somewhat distracted by how much you liked the creepy, old feel of the whitewashed cabin, and you underestimated how far from the curb you were when you stepped out, stumbling to the side.  

The girl with the forearm tattoo caught you in both arms, preventing you from putting all of your weight on your twisted ankle.

“Whoa,” she moved her supportive grip from your waist to your elbow as you righted yourself.  “You okay?”

Your heart shot into your throat, and then you coughed a laugh, covering your face. “What a way to start the summer.”

She said her name was Robin, and there was a polite handshake exchange. She tripped over her words a bit.  “It’s not every day that someone falls for me.”

“Well, I’m pretty clumsy, you might need to stay close,” and the two of you shared a self-conscious laugh as you led the way to the trunk full of baggage.  

When you reached in to grab your suitcase, Robin teased, “hey, that’s my job,” before leaning further in to take the oddly shaped black hard case, the satin of her jacket skimming your arm. She struggled with it at first, but then held it up by the handle and gave you a sideways look.

“This yours?” She asked, cocking one eyebrow up. “You’re a musician?”

“No, well, yes I am but no I, I play the cello,” you stammered, not sure why it was hard to get the words out. “But here, I can carry that. It’s big and heavy and—”

Robin winked.  “I got it,” and then she snatched another suitcase with the other hand and shuffled by you to make her way up to the porch.  

Once you were all settled inside and Joyce had explained all of the amenities, you and Kim pushed back the curtains and watched the two go from the living room window. Just before they took off in the cart, Robin sent you a wave.

“She looks like a nice girl,” Kim had her arms folded over her chest. “Maybe the two of you could—”

“I know you’re worried about me, okay, but I don’t need to make any friends this summer,” you were holding the case for your cello in front of you with both hands, using it as a metaphorical barrier. “I like being alone.”

By the time you put your stuff away in the bedroom you’d be staying in, your dad was already typing away in his writing room, you could hear the keys of his Selectric click-clacking.  

“I’ll be back in a bit,” you called across the rustic but spacious cabin living room.  “I’m going to look around the main house.”

Kim barely caught your words as she was struggling with her glasses to read an ingredient label as she put some dry goods away in the kitchen.  “Mhmm sounds good, have fun. Be back in time for dinner, we have reservations at…whatever that place is called. Your dad knows.”

You tapped the Swatch on your wrist and gave an absent wave over your shoulder.

With your headphones on, you made your way down to the main sidewalk that split off in two directions, bordering either side of the swimming pool and tennis courts.  You found the bike path that wound down along the lake to the boat dock, and then up into a lush pocket of dense forest.  Two teenage girls on rollerblades almost crashed into you as they bolted around the bend, giggling.  Trying to decide if you wanted to go toward the water or into the woods, you watched a staff member veer off onto an uneven stone pathway and your curiosity was piqued.

Creeping along in their wake, you marched up a hill for what felt like forever, with Bring on the Dancing Horses by Echo and the Bunnymen playing in your ears, until you realized with a start that you’d already arrived at the main building.  It loomed up ahead like a mansion from some old gothic romance novel. 

You continued to plod your way along the trunks of trees, until you spotted a group having a chat on the wide porch, and took a few steps back.

They were all leaning against the railing in a semicircle, facing each other,  so that you could see the Hawkins Landing Staff on the back of a few of their navy jackets.  

One of them was Steve from earlier, next to him was a girl with a blonde ponytail, and then two others.  

“I met that author guy today,” Steve took a drag and then blew the smoke up in the air, away from everyone’s face.  “The one who wrote Darkness on the Hill, that one they made into a movie.”

You realized that it was your dad he was talking about. 

Not looking where you were stepping, you caught your toe on a tree root and your arms windmilled before you were able to find your balance, floundering to duck behind another tree.  Your mouth opened in a silent scream, trying not to gasp at the pain in your foot.  Grimacing, you turned the volume down on the headphones that were around your neck to better hear what they were saying.

“That actor from that one show about law and order is staying in cabin 8,” the girl with the ponytail said.  “Housekeeping says he finishes a bottle of whiskey a night.”

But then, there was another voice. “Now that sounds like a great fucking vacation to me,” followed by the heavy footfalls of boots on wood as a new person approached the group.

The sight of the new arrival made you feel like your brain was wiped clean—-the whole world came to a screeching halt.

Swallowing hard, all of your attention tunneled on him; his long dark hair with bangs that crowded his eyes, a thin but muscular build, tattoos scattered over his exposed arms, and a leather jacket hooked over his shoulder with one finger. He combed a hand through his hair as he walked, chunky metal rings catching the light, and headed over to the blonde girl.  You took note of every movement as she passed him her half-smoked cig and he gave her a quick kiss on the temple.  

Was that his girlfriend?

He stepped back to introduce the younger guy he had with him.  “This Jamie, my new maintenance trainee,” he used the hand holding his smoke to point to each one on the balcony individually.  You really didn’t pay attention until he got to the blonde one.  “...that one there is the lovely Chrissy, and the moody one with the hairy chest is Steve.  They’re the other musicians I told you about.”

Jamie had short black, curly hair and a hoop piercing in one ear.  He lit his own smoke while the metalhead started in with a story about a pump exploding at the pool house, complete with wild hand gestures.  

“Hey, there the fuck you are.  I’ve been looking everywhere for you losers.”

Another voice, another person making their way down the long stretch of squeaky wood planks from the front of the building.  You stepped closer, snapping a twig under your foot, eliciting a worried lip bite.

Everyone stayed right where they were, but for Eddie who moved in front of Jamie in a protective way.  The guy approaching at a stroll had very nondescript good looks with his wheat blonde hair in a tight cut that looked freshly trimmed.  While the others were dressed more casually, this one wore a white dress shirt and tie with black trousers, as if he had some fancy place to be.

“You talking to me?” The metalhead flicked his cigarette ash and stepped forward to meet the new guy before he could come any closer to the group. “Cause, if so, you might want to change your tone, precious.”

“Eddie, don’t,” Chrissy said, and then she stood up, addressing the guy in the suit.  “Jason, what the fuck do you want?”

Eddie, you moved your lips, whispering the name to yourself.  His name was Eddie.  

Jason put his hands up in mock surrender.  “Why so hostile?” He turned to Eddie. “Joyce has been trying to find you for an hour.  There’s a toilet backed up in one of the cabins, and trash that needs to go to the dump. Sounds to me like you’re having a hard time doing your job, Munson.”

You scuttled like a crab, moving to a spot where you could see their faces instead of the backs of their heads.

So that you could see Eddie’s face. 

Steve checked his watch and pushed off of the railing to snub his cig out on the bottom of his shoe.  “I gotta run.  See you bastards at the show tonight,” he said in passing, shoving both hands into his trouser pockets.  He walked right into Jason, shoulder checking him, before casually going on his way.  Jason shot him an evil look.

“Well,” Eddie took a deep breath. “Tell Joyce I got the message,” and then he motioned for Jamie to follow him.

“Too bad we can’t take you out with the rest of the trash, freak,” Jason mumbled, loud enough for you to hear every word, and a tension crackled in the air.

The metalhead stopped dead in his tracks and drew his shoulders back.  

When he finally turned on his heel, he wore a satisfied smirk, inclining his head, as if he’d been waiting for Jason to say something all along. 

Chrissy moved as if she were about to go over and break up whatever was about to happen, but one of the others put a handout and stopped her.  

“Just keep sending your laundry home to mommy, baby boy, and leave the real work to me,” Eddie said, and then he flicked the butt of his cigarette at Jason’s face. 

Jason moved his head just in time so that the hot cherry missed his cheek by a hair and bounced off the wall behind him, spraying sparks.  Chrissy and the others snickered at how beet red Jason’s face got, but he didn’t say another word, he just waited for Eddie and Jamie to be far enough away before he went back around to the front entrance.

When the coast was clear, you stood and made your way to the path again.  With a curse you realized you were going to be late for that dinner reservation, and picked up speed to a slow, sad jog. 

You found yourself thinking that maybe being trapped at Hawkins Landing for the summer wouldn’t be so bad after all. 

—----

Your aunt Kim gave you an exasperated look when you all finally sat down for dinner, being that you’d made everyone 20 minutes late for the reservation.  There didn’t appear to be a single open table when you arrived, but Joyce had made sure to keep the one by the window facing the gardens open for your party.  She came around to introduce the guy who was to be your waiter, and you sat up a little straighter in your seat when you realized it was Jason from earlier.  The way he’d been dressed out on the porch made sense now, as his uniform was the same as all of the other waitstaff.  

Near the end of the meal, Joyce returned to the table in her black pencil skirt and fitted jacket, but this time, she was with a guy who you could tell wanted to look like Don Johnson in Miami Vice, but it came off more as Gary from Weird Science.  

“I'd like you to meet Troy, he’s the son of Mr. Brenner, the owner of the resort,” there was a reluctance about her, as if she’d been forced at gunpoint to introduce him.  

Troy stared at you with an uncomfortable intensity, making your attention fall to your plate.  

“I’m in charge when my father isn’t around,” Troy said with a smug grin, putting his hands in his white trouser pockets, and you spotted some type of metal retainer on his teeth.  

Joyce cleared her throat, annoyed that his statement was far from true.  But she recognized that it was part of her job to indulge the little shit.  

“I just graduated with a business degree from Georgetown,” he gloated, giving you a wink.  “This place will all be mine one day.”

Your father exchanged a look with your aunt over his chocolate mousse.  

“Well, it’s nice to know someone else your age here, isn’t it, Bird? Maybe you two kids should go have some fun tonight,” Kim chirped.  

If your aunt wasn’t so far away, you would’ve kicked her under the table. 

Troy bent at the waist so that his face wasn’t far from yours.  “I’d love to show you around after dinner, if you’re interested in a tour?”

Before you could issue a vague excuse like, “sorry I can’t, I have a headache,” Kim spoke for you again.

“I think that’s a great idea,” she even clapped her hands, applauding it. 

In the end, you went with him to make Kim happy, to get her off your back, hopefully for the rest of the trip.  

An hour or two with a pretentious prick wouldn’t hurt you.

—-------

Troy wasn’t bad company, but he was quite full of himself.  He had interesting stories about his extensive travels, but then he also told awkward stories that were possibly fibs about how many models he’d dated, and expanded on how he wanted to be married with two kids by the time he was 30.   

You, on the other hand, couldn’t imagine thinking that far ahead, and he wouldn’t let you get a word in edgewise.  

You followed close behind through the huge, busy kitchen of the restaurant you’d just dined in, and he tried to hold your hand when he introduced you to the head chef, but you were sly, and pulled it away to cross your arms over your chest.  He gave you a tour of the ballroom and took a stroll through the other restaurant on the opposite end of the building that had a much more relaxed feel, low lighting, red carpet, and a bar at the center.  

You went down to the boat docks and walked along the pier. The stars were breathtaking, but Troy didn’t notice, he was too busy trying to convince you to go out on his boat with him.  You declined, taking a page from Kim’s book to mention a freshly born curse of violent seasickness.  

You had your elbows on the railing at the pier, enjoying the velvet reflection of the crescent moon in the lake, and you could feel your jaw grow tense under the weight of Troy’s stare. 

On the verge of telling him you were ready to head back to your cabin, the sound of music drifted down from somewhere on the property. 

Yes, no mistaking, it was Take Me Home Tonight by Eddie Money, but it was being executed with someone else’s voice, and whoever that person was had some serious pipes.

And then there was the distinct sound of a feminine voice chiming in with the parts from the song Be My Baby Now by the Ronettes in the chorus.

"Is that a live band?" You turned away from him to try and find the source of the music.  It wasn’t coming from the restaurant on the water or any of the cabins to your right.  

"There's a cover band every Friday out behind the main house. You want to check it out?" He held the crook of his arm out to you and hesitated before you took it.  His ego sufficiently stroked now that you wanted to spend more time with him.

Around the side of the building, overlooking the golf course, was a huge, fenced in back patio garden area with a private hot tub and pool for hotel guests.  Troy led you through a white arbor wound with ivy to find that there were plenty of people mingling, drinking, and dancing.  The area was mostly manicured lawn, with stone pathways meandering around from a concrete floor that was right in front of the small riser that was meant to be a stage. You imagined that a million weddings had taken place there. 

At the door was a bar, and Troy got you a flute of champagne, which you downed with abandon and asked for another.  While he was getting your second glass, you made your way along under several boughs of white string lights to get a view of the stage and who was performing the top tier Eddie Money cover.

Just as you stepped into the crowd of people shuffling to the beat, you stopped dead in your tracks.

There he was at the mic: Eddie the metalhead.

Guitar slug low at his hips, wearing a tuxedo with light blue cummerbund and bow tie, his hair neatly combed back and fixed into a knot at the back of his head so that you could really see the curves of his face. If you didn’t know any better, you’d think he was performing the song against his will.

The rest of the band were dressed similarly, and you instantly knew the one strumming the bass guitar as Steve, and the woman on backup vocals rocking on the rhythm was Chrissy, who wore a conservative skirt and flats. There was also a keyboardist and a drummer, both of whom you did not recognize.

“What’s your major?” Troy asked, breaking your reverie to pass you the glass of champagne. “In college?”

You were confused for a second but then, “oh, I took the year off to…figure some things out.” The full truth of it was that you had dropped out completely and had no intention of going back.  

“I spent a summer in Greece my freshman year,” he offered, unprovoked. “The women there are, wow, so smoking hot.”

The song finished and Eddie took his tuxedo jacket off, rolling up his shirt sleeves to his elbows, exposing the scattered tattoos you’d noticed earlier.  He leaned over to whisper something to Chrissy, motioned at the drummer, and then stepped back into place, brushing a loose wisp of hair off his cheek.

“Find someone special for this next one,” he told the crowd, and was answered with a rush of murmurs.

The first notes to In Your Eyes by Peter Gabriel, a slow song, lit up the space, and your stomach tightened, fearing that Troy would ask you to dance. As he escorted you to the floor, you tried to keep your head down and stay to the back of the crowd, but Troy kept maneuvering you closer to the stage. 

I get so lost, sometimes

Days pass and this emptiness fills my heart

When I want to run away

I drive off in my car

But whichever way I go

I come back to the place you are

You watched the performance from over Troy’s shoulder and followed his lead, shifting from foot to foot.  You were mesmerized by the muscles in Eddie’s hands as he played each note, and the way Chrissy came in like an angel on the chorus.  

He’d captured the attention of everyone in the garden at that moment, and there was a group of women watching him from the sidelines, whispering to each other, possibly about how they wanted to eat him alive.

They were all thinking the same thing you were: Eddie was magic.  

He liked to close his eyes when he sang, so you weren’t expecting him to be staring right at you when he opened them again.  

All my instincts, they return

And the grand facade, so soon will burn

Without a noise, without my pride

I reach out from the inside

He wouldn’t break eye contact, so you eventually had to; the intensity of it was giving you butterflies.

Troy stepped back and tried to get your attention.  “Did you hear anything I just said?”

You nodded, but your gaze only drifted back to Eddie.  Troy followed your line of sight and then dropped both of his hands with a frustrated cluck of his tongue.

"What the hell is he doing up there?" He hissed to himself when it dawned on him that Eddie had been behind the mic that whole time. "That's our goddamn maintenance guy. He shouldn't be up there."

In a huff, Troy pushed through the crowd and headed over to one of the other staff members against the fence. Bird could see him shouting and pointing over at the stage. Whatever the staff guy said did not seem to cheer him up a bit, and he came back to your side, shrugging his shoulders.

"I guess our normal front man Drew has the flu," he reported back. "It's just so hard to find reliable help these days."

Eddie was making the song his own, and that was what you liked about it.

“Let’s get out of here,” Troy put his hand on your lower back to escort you out. “The music sucks.”

—--

It was 9:30 when you made it back to the main foyer, standing in the middle of the lobby next to an obnoxious floral arrangement, when Troy tried to get you to go back to his cabin and watch a movie, only to get respectfully declined.

“Don’t worry about your parents,” Troy said, brushing his finger over your chin. “They know you’re with me, so they’re probably the happiest parents at Hawkins Landing.”

The guy had quite an ego on him, you had to give him that. It was unsurpassed by most. 

In the end, you got away, and as soon as your Mary Jane’s hit the cobblestones outside the front door, you could feel yourself trotting at a quicker pace, eager to put some distance between you and Troy and everyone else, for that matter.  You didn’t stop until you were far enough away from the main hotel to be able to check over your shoulder and not see it through the trees.

It was then that you realized that you had a free chunk of time, and you could do with it whatever you wished.  Your dad would think you were still with Troy, and as long as you made it back to the cabin before midnight, they wouldn’t worry.  

As much as it was the dead of summer, Indiana by the water had very cool nights, and you buttoned up the jean jacket you were wearing just as you noticed a yellow sign on a lamppost to the right that said: Staff Quarters, No Guests Allowed Beyond This Point

And that made you want to venture in even more.

You checked around to make sure there was no one there to notice that you blatantly ignored the sign, and just kept going.  The path at your feet changed from stone to a well-worn dirt path through the grass, and it wasn’t long before you could hear the sound of music erupting in the distance.  

You passed by staff quarters, a few weathered red cabins with white trim, lined close together, and there were some people hanging out on their porches who gave you curious looks, but didn’t seem too concerned with your presence. 

Following the source of the music, you descended down into unknown, poorly lit territory that no longer looked like it was part of the Hawkins Landing property.  

(song playing in the distance is Dangerous Meeting by Mercyful Fate)

It was then that you noticed a pale yellow light coming from the windows of a building up ahead.  Just as the dirt path turned to gravel, you identified the music you were hearing as heavy metal, and it was bolstered by distinct shouts and cheers, even a high-pitched scream or two.  

“Hey,” a voice startled you from out of the dark and you jumped. “What are you going out here?”

Heart racing, you spun around to find out it was Robin.  

She was struggling to carry several things in her arms as she walked and you rushed over to her.

“Where did you come from?” You asked, grinning ear to ear at how glad you were to see someone familiar.

“My cabin is right over there,” she bucked her chin in a direction behind you.

She had a crossbody bag over her shoulder, an amp in one hand, and she was juggling two guitar cases, one of which she fumbled, and you managed to catch it before it hit the ground.  You wrapped your arms around the hard case with the Scorpions sticker on it, silently offering to carry it the rest of the way.

“You don’t have to—” Robin started, adjusting the bag over her shoulder.

“I want to,” you looked back up at the house where the music was coming from, assuming that was where she was headed.  “I carry that big cello around all the time, remember? I’m used to it.”

Robin moved her jaw from side to side and she looked conflicted.  “You’re not supposed to be here.”

Your eyes were still locked on the house hidden in the trees.  “What is that place?”

“Listen,” she gave you an imploring look. “I will get in so much trouble if they find out you came out here. Your dad won’t want you here, trust me.”

Her warning did nothing to squelch your curiosity. “I’m a big girl, I go wherever I want. Plus, I won’t tell anyone.”

“Besides,” she gave you a knowing look, raising her eyebrow. “If your boyfriend Troy finds out you were here, Brenner will fire all of us.”

“He’s not my boyfriend,” you snapped.  But then, softer, you added, “I barely just met him tonight.”

Robin wasn’t in the mood to try and rip the guitar out of your hands, and so, with a heavy sigh, she caved.

“Fine,” she sighed. “But stay close to me, okay? You’re not at the resort anymore, sweetheart.”

You nodded, waiting for her to lead the way.

She took a step forward and then stopped and turned on her heel to point at the instrument in your arms. 

“Be extra careful with that, it’s Eddie’s baby. He’ll grow horns if anything happens to it.”

----

Hi! If you are familiar with the movie Dirty Dancing, you have an idea about what scene is coming up next. I've really enjoyed lining up certain events with the movie, but things will obviously be different in this because I want it to have some surprises in store for you.

Every chapter from here on out will start with a list of the songs, ones that will give hints for what to expect. I wanted to make music a big part of this fic, because it was a huge deal in the movie, and the original soundtrack is still dear to me.

as always, thank you so much for reading and interacting with this story! Comments and reblogs are deeply appreciated. or send me an ask and let me know what you think ❤️

------

taglist: @tlclick73 @micheledawn1975 @kurdtbean @katethetank @elvendria @spookysqaush86 @somethingvicked @stylesxmunson @laurenlokirby @sapphire4082

[eevees-hobbies]

Heloo I just read your post about the bold reader and I was like HSKFMMSDKDK

can I request hayato suo with the reader who can make him flustered and put on in his place?? Like she leads the relationship? Thank you!! Nsfw or sfw is fine:3

Authors Note: Hi, Anon! I wanted to take my time thinking about this specific scenario because while I don’t consider myself a Suo girlie, I love writing for him, and I’ve grown to love the version of him that I’ve crafted. I probably have him one degree away from being a Yandere, if we’re being honest. Anyway, I’m turning this into a thirst response for now. Still, I also might continue this at some point because it deserves the time and respect to dive deeper into the complex relationship that Reader has with Suo.

Also, my friend Evie did an excellent job encapsulating a similar ask using her style, and I can’t recommend that piece (and everything else she makes) enough. 

Let’s get into, babe 💕

Content Warning: Fem! Reader x Hayato Suo. Teasing, dirty talk, fem! receiving oral, obsession, overstimulation, hands-free orgasm. Minors Do Not Interact

Word Count: 1.1K

Control is paramount to Suo’s identity as he’s very well aware of what happens when he loses control: people can get seriously hurt or worse. So it’s essential for Suo to remove any variables that might compromise his cool—and sometimes detached—demeanor. He keeps people at arm's length with ever-changing stories and blatant lies, and it works because no one has come close to cracking the mystery that he is.

But the variable he couldn’t control for? You. 

At first, he found himself avoiding you. You brought out feelings within himself that he’d always try to swallow like bile threatening to come up. Vulnerability? Good for others but not for him. 

When he couldn’t avoid you because you were absolutely everywhere—you weren’t everywhere, you two just have a gravitational pull towards each other like a planet to its moon—he found himself increasing his meditation. 

He’d close his eyes, willing himself to breathe, clear his mind, and…there’d you be. As clear as day in his mind's eye with your sweet smile, the sound of your infectious laughter that makes his heart flutter, and your intoxicating smell. 

As soon as you started to permeate his thoughts, even during the sanctuary of his meditation sessions—something that had never happened before—he knew he was a goner.

And if someone affects you this badly, they have to be yours, right? It would be absurd to see you with any of the imbeciles that pine after you. He almost laughs himself silly at the thought of them thinking they have a chance with you: his love, his moon, his reason for breathing, his everything. 

If you’re familiar with my work, you’ll know how I describe your intimacy with Suo. He’s a pure pleasure dom; if you’re not coming undone on his tongue or fingers until you’re a sobbing and begging mess, well, he simply has to try harder, and Suo has the stamina to back that threat up. 

He considers himself an expert of you, your body, and what makes you cum so intensely that his well-equipped arsenal of depravity has you doing your damnest to crawl away from him and to safety.

“Where do you think you’re going? I’m not done with you, Dove. Now get back here and spread your legs like a good girl.”

And you’re into it because Suo is your type of crazy—what you two have simply wouldn’t work if that weren’t the case. If a man isn’t obscenely infatuated with you, is he really your man, am I right? 

But sometimes a girl likes to be in control, ya know? And outside the bedroom, you have Suo wrapped around your finger. You say jump, and he asks if you want him to do a backflip on his way down. You use that sweet little voice to ask him for a kiss? He’s on top of you in an instant—and even to Suo, an instant isn’t quick enough. So, while he may have control in every aspect of his life, you are a dangerous variable that supersedes his free will.

But inside the bedroom? He’s much less willing to let you take the reigns; in fact, it might even be a point of contention initially. As you reach for his waistband, you underneath him entirely naked, and he, fully clothed as he comes up from between your thighs, preparing to plant a kiss on your luscious lips; he stops you as your finger coils around the elastic, silk fabric of his pants.

“What are you doing? This is about you.”

So, in what scenario will he finally let you take over? If you ask nicely, bat your eyelashes and use your sweet, honey-coated voice, perhaps, but that’s not always guaranteed to work. 

The best chance of getting what you want? When Suo has been working at your pleasure for hours, so much so that his cock is twitching in his pants, eyes shrouded with dark, swirling shadows of desire, and he’s ready to ruin you by sinking into you—he’s uncharacteristically more easily influenced in this state. He’ll do anything you say because, god, he just wants to feel you in any way he can; lips wrapped around his cock? Yes, please. Deep in your silken, cum saturated guts? God, please don’t make him beg because he just might. 

So when you tell him to lay down for you, and he falls backward onto the bed without questioning your intentions, you can finally have your way with him. 

And as you hover over his face, flirting your swollen pussy lips over his hungry mouth, ruby-toned eyes staring—pleading—up at you between the warmth of your plushy thighs for a taste, you’ll know that you’ve got him right where you want him.

“Eat my pussy again like a good boy, Hayato, and maybe I’ll touch your cock.”

His breath will hitch because fuck he loves when his sweet girl talks filthy like that, and as his tongue once again dives into your folds—his licks desperate—he’ll buck his hips into the air imagining the feel of your pussy—his pussy—wrapped around his dick.

And if you continue to talk to him like he’s a plaything for you—like his pleasure is an optional afterthought at best and unnecessary at worst—until you get what you want in a tone that almost sounds like you’re above him? His eyes are rolling back, and his hands are clawing at the sheets under him.

“Suo, I just want to fuck your tongue with my pussy all night. Will you let me, baby? Let me use your tongue to cum?”

“Y-yes, baby, use me, please. I’m yours to have.”

And before you know it, at some point between the licks, the whimpers (from him), and his bucking into the air, he’ll groan into your cunt because that intense feeling that he was so desperately trying to stave off finally washed over him and he just couldn’t help himself. You’ll look behind you, eyes bright with amusement and something a bit more sinister, as you watch geyser upon geyser of cum shoot from his hiccuping, over-sensitive cock until his seed smothers his well-groomed pubic hair, abs, and puddles beneath him. 

You’ll be so proud of yourself for reducing the Hayato Suo into a hands-free orgasmic mess. 

But here’s a warning: Suo will only be more insatiable after that, flipping you over with ease, making you wonder how in control you truly were, and after a heated kiss to your lips and feeling his already hardening cock dragging against your folds, you’ll be right back to where you started: at the mercy of someone who thinks that pleasure is infinite.

[hope-you-brought-kneepads-bitch]

Killing Wanda Pt2

Summary: Picking up where we left off here, you’re pretty sure Wanda is going to be happy learning what you’ve done, that is until an interruption puts a stop on your plans

Warnings: 18+ Minors DNI angst and suggestive language and adults themes

Words: 3,000 or so (I’m writing on my phone and can’t put everything in a word count thing)

A/n: Also reader isn’t Russian but she’s lived with Yelena and Nat all her life so she’s picked up a lot of Russian words

A/n: Any silly mistakes are my own and my own fault

You liked walking through the streets at night, just you the slight wind moving the trees and the only real noise would be through foxes and other animals coming out at night, you loved it, and right now walking back to Wanda’s house to tell her she was free from her stalker made you love it even more

Finally reaching your destination you smiled at the bedroom light still being on “awe she waited up for me, such a sweet girl”

You were great at climbing, not because you were an assassin but because when you were younger you and Nat would have races to the tops of trees, you’d always win of course, not that you’d ever let Nat forget it

You quickly swung up the trees to Wanda’s balcony like you were in some kind of weird Romeo and Juliet show “Wanda?” You knocked gently on the door seeing Wanda turn to you from the bed and getting up to open the window to let you in “you’re back” Well that wasn’t the nice sweet voice you were expecting

“Oh? Are you annoyed princess? Did I take too long?” You laughed jumping through the window and taking you jacket off flopping down onto the bed “I’m exhausted, he didn’t put up much of a fight and it went pretty smoothly, one shot to the heart, died instantly, are you happy?”

Wanda didn’t speak in fact you couldn’t even hear her anymore, you opened your eyes and sat up seeing the source of your incoming headache “why hello Natalia, why are you here? And why do you look as angry as ever?”

The woman sighed “Y/n we talked about this, I told you to stay away from Wanda”

You shrugged “yeah but you didn’t say for how long, how was I supposed to know it meant longer than 2 days?” You tried hiding your smirk but it definitely wasn’t working

“Okay my mistake I thought you had common sense but I see now that’s definitely not the case so I’ll move on, why did you kill a man?”

“Why wouldn’t you kill a man? They’re annoying and smell odd”

You heard a giggle from the other side of the room “that was funny Y/n I like it”

“Thanks Yel I knew you’d appreciate that”

Natasha stood from her seat and walked towards Wanda brandishing a knife to her throat, she’d make you take things a lot more seriously even if it was harsh

“Hey no! You pulled your gun from your waistband forcing it against the back of Nat’s head “don’t you dare Natalia, remove the knife” when she didn’t you pressed harder “I mean it!”

The woman laughed “you were given a job to kill her, a job that involves mental and physical torture too, and yet you’re here threatening me, the woman you’ve known since birth, but sure let’s protect the target”

Wanda was trembling, the knife was close enough to start cutting into her neck if she breathed a little too much “she’s not a target Natalia, step down now”

Wanda’s eyes met Natasha’s fiery ones and she sighed letting the knife down and moving out of the way for you to run to Wanda holding her tight until her breathing calmed “it’s okay detka I’ve got you I promise you’re okay”

Wanda closed her eyes just trying to calm herself down while you held her, how could an assassin be so sweet?

“We’ll see you at home Y/n, the doors will be locked until tomorrow and I’ll be at Maria’s for the night”

Nat dragged a reluctant Yelena out of the room leaving you and Wanda alone

After a few moments Wanda gently pushed you away and sat on her bed “Wanda?” You tried stepping close

“Stay there” Wanda snapped and you listened, standing back waiting for another instruction “tell me who put the hit out on me, tell me who did it then-then you can stay with me for the night but then never see me again, you’ve caused me so much stress these last few weeks and it needs to end”

You opened and closed your mouth unsure on what to say but finally coming up with something “if I tell you I want something in return”

Wanda nodded “go on”

“I want to have you for the night, if it’s truly the last night I’ll see you then I want to see you and hold you and touch you in the way I’ve always wanted” you’d sat down next to Wanda and rested your hand on her thigh “let me have that Wanda”

Wanda didn’t say anything as she looked up to your lips and kissed you, the kiss soon turning heavy with your hands in Wanda’s hair and Wanda climbing onto your lap legs on either side of your own

“ty takaya krasivaya, lyubov' Moyà” you said breathlessly moving your hands to take Wandas shirt off revealing her gorgeous lace red bra “are you going to just keep talking or are you going to fuck me like you want to”

You didn’t responded just moved Wanda from your lap reluctantly and stood up to remove your clothes

When the glass shattered behind you Wanda jumped seeing blood seep through your clothes “Y/n?”

You looked at Wanda then down at your side “get-get under the bed” you whispered

“What?” Wanda asked “get under the bed!” You screamed holding onto your side and reaching for you gurn turning to the window hiding under the window sill “if this is Natasha doing this I’m going to be royally pissed off” you glanced at bed seeing Wanda under it and her face full of concern

“I’m fine Wanda I’ve been shot before doesn’t hurt after a while just a dull ache” you were clutching your side trying to hide the clear pain written all over your face “Wanda can you see the shooter from your view? Tell me when they’re reloading”

She nodded watching the window and after the last shot they were reloading “they’ve stopped”

You leapt up leaning on the window aiming your gun to the figure and shooting off a few shots hitting them in the shoulder and chest, you fell down onto the ground and Wanda crawled over to you “Wanda no stay there I’m fine” you whispered trying to shoo her back under the bed

“They’ve gone down Y/n it’s fine you got them”

“Damn right I did…I’m a great assassin” you tried laughing but the bullet didn’t let you “fuck me that hurts”

Wanda laid your head in her lap and cradled you “I’ll call Yelena from your phone okay? But please stay here and don’t move much okay?”

You nodded letting the sleep engulf you “sleepy time then” closing your eyes you felt a heavy throb take over your head and you thought you couldn’t feel any worse and yet here it was, hopefully it will ebb away.

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

“Y/n? Y/n?! Wake up I can’t keep living with Nat on my own, she doesn’t take me for Taco Bell like you do” Your eyes fluttered open just as a harsh slap was given to you forcing you up

“Yelena what the fuck?! Why did you slap me??” You rubbed at your face and went to get up but a hand pushed you down, Wanda

“Did you see her slap me?”

Wanda giggled “yes pretty sad for you”

You groaned “god that’s embarrassing, anyway why can’t I get up?”

Yelena rolled her eyes standing up “you were shot dipshit, literally 2 hours ago, anyway the bullet is out of you, I’ve cleaned the area and numbed the area so you should be fine for 3 more hours, now come on, you and Wanda need to go to the safe house”

“A safe house? Why do I have to go?”

Yelena sighed “Wanda you’ve just been shot at, and I’m damn sure they were aiming for you, a good thing really Y/n seemed to be stood in front of you, as I think of it, why was she stood in front of you?”

You managed to stand to your feet with Wanda’s help stretching a little to loosen your limbs “we were talking and she was sat on the bed and I was stood clearly”

Yelena looked between yourself and Wanda “I see, but when I appeared and saw you on the floor, of course I was scared but Wanda just had her jeans on and a red lacy bra, and she looked disheveled, as though she had been made out with sexually”

Your smugness shone through and you couldn’t hold it in “it would’ve been more sexually but I got shot, total cockblock”

Wanda slapped you on the arm dropping you and going to pack a bag since she had to relocate due to a crazy shooter “let’s just go, since I have too move my entire life it seems”

Yelena nodded and left the room to start the car leaving you two alone “Wanda?” You asked and she looked at you “what?”

“I’m sorry about this-

Wanda held her hand up “no don’t start Y/n I’m so confused, you ask me for sex after I say you need to leave me alone after tomorrow, I agree then all of a sudden you got shot, very suspicious isn’t it” she snapped

You were shocked, what a fucking switch up and it did kinda piss you off “you think I planned this? I planned a shooting, are you dense?”

Wanda slammed the drawers closed “you know what? You’ve messed up my life for weeks! Stalked me, flirted with me, pretty much harass me every time you see me I’m sick of it!”

“Come off it Maximoff you love it! You don’t push me away, haven’t reported me to the police and always leave the door open for me, it’s your own fault!” You gritted your teeth feeling the numbing cream wearing off and the sharp pain coming back

Wanda just shook her head taking her bag and leaving the room “just leave me alone when I’m at the safe house!”

“No” she stopped at the door looking back at you “what?”

“No I won’t leave you alone, for now maybe until we both calm down but not forever, you’re mine, you belong to me and I’ll be damned if I’m letting you go” you had moved towards a surprised Wanda and clutched Wanda’s shirt in your palm “you’re forgetting who I am and what I do, do you want to know who wants you dead?”

She managed a small nod and you just laughed leaning in close to her ear “no one, no one wants you dead Wanda, no one thinks you’re that important to spend money on, even to kill, so you were right I did plan it, crazy right?”

Wanda shook her head “but the shooter…you’ve been shot-you’re lying! You made me believe someone was after me! And then made me think I was crazy for suggesting the shooter thing!”

You kissed Wanda’s neck and breathed her in, it sounded cliche but you loved it when they were scared “you are crazy Wanda, now get to the safe house before I drag you there myself”

Wanda’s voice quivered “bu-but if there’s no one after me why do I need to go?”

You pulled away and let go out of her shirt not looking her in the eyes “because now you’ve pissed me off Wanda, that safe house is to keep you safe from me now, until I calm down you need to stay there and wait for me, like a good girl”

You left the room ignoring Wanda’s quiet sob and marched past a surprised Yelena “oh what’s going on?”

You stopped “take her to the safe house don’t say a damn word to her until I get back”

“When will you be back?”

You shrugged “I’m going to stay with Nat and Maria it’ll be a few days, make sure she eats and drinks just don’t say anything to her” you stormed off leaving a still surprised Yelena

“pochemu mne vsegda prikhoditsya prismatrivat' za det'mi?”

[togrowoldinv]

Come and Find Me

Natasha Romanoff x Female Reader

Your objective is always the same: to take Natasha Romanoff down. But you never can seem to accomplish it

Warnings: Smut! 18+ please! Kissing, cursing, oral (N and R receiving), enemies that are lovers

Note: Obsessed with the idea of enemies loathing in public and longing for each other in private, so here’s this. Enjoy it!

Natasha Romanoff Masterlist 1, Natasha Romanoff Masterlist 2, Main Masterlist

You aren’t always proud of what you do. No. Certainly there are times when you wish you had never gone down this path. But life isn’t easy.

It’s not supposed to be.

So, you found a way to make it through. It’s not honest work, but it’s something you’re good at. You can take targets down with ease. One look at you and they’re usually putty in your hands.

Except for one. Natasha Romanoff. The woman is elusive. You have tried a few times to get her to fold, but you never succeed.

She drives you crazy. Both because you can’t take her out and also because you feel an insane attraction to her.

The redheaded woman sits across the room from you at the bar now. You are here to try one last time to take her down. And your intel about her being here was correct.

You wonder how she looks so good under the dim lights of the bar. Her red hair shines as her soft green eyes sparkle. She laughs at some joke that probably wasn’t even funny.

Her smile lights up the room. You wish it was you who made that happen. You push the thought away as soon as it rises. Not right now. You need to focus.

Taking a sip of your drink, you walk across the room to Natasha’s table.

“Excuse me,” you say, directing your attention to the man. Not the woman. “May I speak to the lady? She’s an old friend of mine that I’d just love to catch up with.”

“Oh,” he says. He looks toward Nat. She shrugs. “I’ll give you a moment while I order us another round.”

He stands up looks you over a little too intently before he walks away. Jerk.

“What do you want?” Nat asks. She emphasizes the ‘you’ despite knowing she could call you by name.

“I just want to talk,” you lie.

“Y/n,” Natasha says, leaning forward. Her breasts spill out of her dress and onto the table. You glance at them. She notices.

“Natasha,” you say, leaning forward in the same manner. Your suit jacket prevents her from getting the same look at you though.

Still, Nat smirks. She takes a sip of her drink.

“If you give me the information I need, I’ll spare you,” you tell her.

“I think you’ll spare me anyways,” Nat quips back.

“And why’s that, Romanoff?”

“Oh, I don’t know. Because you’re attracted to me,” Nat says.

Her eyes bare into yours. She knows it’s true and so do you. But you know she’s attracted to you too.

“We can do this the easy way or the hard way,” you say. You place your open hands on the table. A sign you won’t strike first. “Your choice.”

Natasha chuckles. It should piss you off but it doesn’t. It just makes you smile.

“The easy way is never easy, y/n,” Nat says. “You know that though.”

“I do.”

“I’m kind of busy right now though,” Natasha says.

“I see that,” you say, glancing at the man at the counter. “He’s into you.”

“He’s an idiot,” Nat replies. “He’s giving me everything.”

“And will you do the same for me?” You ask her.

“You’ll have to kill me for me to give you anything,” Nat says.

She leans in closer than before. You can smell her sweet perfume lofting off her neck. Her lips twist into a grin.

“I really don’t think you’ll kill me, detka,” Nat whispers.

“Natasha,” you whisper back. “Not here.”

“Then where?” She asks.

“I’ll send you the address. 20 minutes. Lose the idiot,” you tell her.

Natasha nods and shifts back into her seat normally. You stand and leave the bar. Nat watches you go.

This always happens. It’s why she’s so elusive. She uses your attraction to her against you, but you can’t find it in yourself to care.

You text her the address and settle into the safe house room. You aren’t supposed to tell anyone about this location, but you break the rules for her.

Natasha shows up exactly 20 minutes later. She knocks on the door and you open it.

“I can’t tell you anything,” she says as she walks past you.

“What’s new,” you joke.

“You still want to do this?”

“Yes. Do you?”

“Yes.”

Natasha walks to you and places a hand on your face. She brushes your cheek with her thumb and moves it to your lips. Your lips part slightly.

Nat takes that opportunity to kiss you. Her plump lips feel like a dream. It’s always like this. You kiss her back.

She moans as you deepen the kiss, moving her hands to push your jacket off your shoulders.

“I really loathe you,” you tell Nat as she takes your breasts in her hands. Through your shirt she can feel your nipples hardening.

“Seems like it,” Nat says with a smirk.

She unbuttons your shirt and kisses down your chest with each button. She drops to her knees and undoes your pants as well.

“I also long for you,” you tell her.

“I long for you too,” Nat says.

Nat pulls your pants down and buries her face between your lips. She licks and sucks at your pussy as you squirm above her.

“Nat,” you whine as she pulls you closer and closer to your peak.

“Mmm,” she moans against you.

You push her head further into your center and she picks up her pace.

“Fuck, I’m coming,” you say as Nat’s tongue brings you to orgasm.

Natasha’s strong arms keep you from falling as you come and she cleans you up. She stands up and you pull her in for a hungry kiss.

“You know, I could kill you easily right now,” you tell her between kisses.

“Then you couldn’t fuck me,” Nat says. “And I know you want to do that.”

You sigh and push her back onto the bed. You push her dress up her thighs and bury your face between her legs. Her thick thighs suffocate you as you lick at her pussy.

“Fuck,” Nat mumbles. “If only we weren’t enemies, then we could fuck like this all of the time.”

You take her clit in your mouth and she groans, biting her lip in pleasure. She watches as you bring her closer. You take your time now.

“Now, I loathe you,” Nat says. “Just do it.”

“Patience, Natasha,” you say against her.

She sighs but you pick up your pace anyways. Nat comes against you.

You move up her body and kiss her again. This time with the taste of her on your tongue.

“Can you stay?” You ask.

“For a little while,” Nat replies.

“That’s all I ask.”

You lay next to her and gaze into her eyes. Before she leaves, you go a few more rounds before you fall asleep.

Natasha kisses your forehead and leaves you a note. When you awake, you see it on the bedside table.

Come and find me -N

And you will always do just that.