#crack baby for me is about losing my virginity too early

[medicineteeth]

[starshipsofstarlord]

Conference Room

Pairing | Bucky Barnes x reader

Summary | Bucky gets a surprise when he realises that things that were looked down upon, and people were often disgusted by in his day and age, are wanted in this one.

Warnings | includes smut, blowjob, cum facial, Bucky being an insecure bb, swearing

Requested ✖️

Quick link to my masterlist, if you’re interested in reading more of my crap 😬

Everyone filed out of the meeting room, one by one disappearing into the maze of the compound. Bucky watched you with tender eyes, slowly following behind, as you headed for the door.

But instead of passing though the threshold, so that you could make your way on route to the kitchen, in order for you prepare yourself a well deserved drink after sitting through the small conference, you closed the door, and pushed down the latch.

The action itself made Bucky stop in his footsteps, and fix you with a confused expression. He wasn’t sure why you had locked the two of you in here. Only moments ago you had been on a group call with Fury, and now that he had signed off, all of you had been free to leave.

But that freedom that all the else had fled feebly towards, served a much different price to that for which you specifically had in mind for him. “Sergeant Barnes, I think the two of us need to have a little talk; our ears only.”

Bucky gulped, remaining upon the spot that he was stood in. He racked his mind for reasons that you would want to do this here, and not in one of your bedrooms. It would only make things more difficult for when he left the scene, heartbroken by you cutting him off, and finally pushing him away.

It was inevitable that it would happen somewhen; but it was too early. Things were finally running smoothly, he felt content and happy, and as though he were making a good difference to the world, which is all he ever wanted. However, it appeared that all of that was about to come tumbling down at his feet, in the same very moment.

The two of you hadn’t been dating too long, just short of three months. And during that time, the pair of you had never once gotten obscenely intimate. So in your case, as he viewed it, you really had nothing to lose. But he couldn’t pin point as to why you were dressed in a sly smile, and creeping ever so steadily towards him as though you had a surprise.

“Doll.” He spoke softly, thinking that it would be the last time he had the opportunity to describe you with that pet name. From the way that he addressed you, your expression quickly became more innocent and happy.

As you got closer to him, you wrapped your arms around his middle, leaning forwards and pressing a kiss upon his material covered chest. “Baby.” You greeted him, moving to his lips next, and pressing a fluid peck upon them.

“What are you doing?” He unsurely asked, his voice cracking in the meanwhile, and his face scrunching up into a confused frown. Your hands rubbed down his chest, and plucked the band of his trousers, over again in a repeated motion.

Sucking your lip into your mouth, you looked up into his sky blue eyes, reading them for any signs of him being affected by your actions. Rather than feeling aroused, it seemed to make him confused, which was not at all your intention.

“You seemed tense Buck.” Your hands raked their way back up to his shoulders, soothing any apparent tightness that were held within his muscles. “I thought maybe... I could help loosen you up.” Fluttering your eyelashes at him, Bucky lightly groaned, rubbing his lips together as he mulled over what the pair of you could possibly get up to in this room.

His hands went down to the button of your jeans, but lightly, you slapped his hands away, doing the same to him, and undoing them. As your fingers toyed with the zip that helped the denim be adjustable to his size, your other palmed him through the blue material. “This is about you James. I want to make you feel good.”

Again, he swallowed his own saliva, he paid the utmost attention to your every movement, completely compelled with how you tossed your hair to the side by simply moving your head. “You want me to suck your cock, I promise I’m good at it.” A giggle erupted from your mouth, and Bucky clasped your chin in the feather light grip of his vibranium hand.

He pulled your lips to his, warming them up before slipping his tongue inside. It had been a long time, though he hated to admit it, since he had done anything even slightly sexual, and a part of him was afraid that he wouldn’t last long.

But the other was excited, back in the forties , blowjobs weren’t often digressed. The idea had always appealed to hun, however no dame had ever wished to dirty their knees before him, and take his sufficient length down their throat. It pained him a little, knowing that like most people he had encountered through his life, that they would take from him, but never return it with an ounce of kindness.

He’d perceive it as a dream come true, the woman that owned his entire heart, independently wanting to pleasure him in such ways that were looked down upon in his day. “Are you sure?” He pulled away, desperate for some clarity on the matter.

“Yes, of course I am.” You smiled, drawing him in for another locked lip session. After a minute or two of tasting his tongue, you trailed your direction down, running down his chin, and then his neck, until you completely dropped to your knees, rutting your hand against his growing cock.

Right then, from that image alone, Bucky swore that he would die. That innocent expression that was entailed upon your face had him mentally cursing, and he couldn’t help but groan to himself in a relaxed manner as you pulled his jeans down to his ankles, leaving only his boxers as the final barrier.

Lightly, you pressed a kiss to where you guessed his tip to be through the cotton, gently running your tongue down the shaft, and lower down to where his balls were stationed. “Y/n, please stop teasing.”

“Tell me Bucky.” Your fingertips cascaded up and down his v line, warming him up to what was to come(pun intended). “Have you ever been sucked off before?” His heart rate picked up, as he furrowed his eyebrows.

“How did you- that punk!” He said in reference to Steve, realising that he must have let the detail slip to you. But he couldn’t be made really, if the captain hadn’t digressed his secret to you, then he may have waited longer to experience the enthralling and dirty, as it had been known to be, engagement.

Without any pressure, you pressed your teeth upon his cock, dragging his attention back towards you. “Now that is no way to talk about your dear friend, I’d say he did you a favour.” He was getting ready to grumble in his Bucky manner, but was hit with your gasp as you suddenly pulled his boxers down, his dick slapping upwards, having your entire focus.

Reaching forward with a hand, you wrapped it around the mid section of his shaft, your palm hardly fitting around his girth. “It’s so big.” You gaped at the sight, moving your hand up and down to gouge a reaction out of the super soldier above you. His head leant back, his eyes screwing shut as he realised just how sensitive he was. He felt like a virgin all over again.

An obscene and loud moan was pulled from his mouth as you ran your tongue up his shaft, humming at the taste of his intimate skin. With the encouragement of his lie noises, you directed his tip towards your lips, rubbing it upon the cushioned flesh, before sinking him halfway in your mouth.

“Holy fuck!” He exclaimed, reaching down and on instinct entangling his metal hand in your loose hair. As though you were doing nothing, you innocently looked up at him with wide doe eyes., although he could feel you hollowing your cheeks around him, as you began to bob your head.

Only then did he realise how experienced you must have been within this department, for he noticed how you didn’t struggle nor gag the slightest around him, and it appeared that you were enjoying it as much as he was.

One of your hands planted itself on the thickness of his thigh as your other found homage with fondling his balls. His chest rapidly moved as he felt every slither of your tongue around him, and as you pulled slightly back, you began dipping it in the line of his slit.

“Baby, slow down, or I’m going to cum.” With his words heard, you took him out of your mouth, wrapping your hand around his saliva soaked rod, and began pumping him rapidly. For a moment, he swore his head was going to explode as he saw you stick your tongue out, awaiting his load that was soon to be delicious.

“Cum Buck. Want you to cum for me.” It was impossible for him to hold back any longer, and thus, his seed flew over the expanse of your tongue, whilst the rest spurted over one side of your face. “Hmm.” You mumbled, swallowing that of it that you caught, and scooping a swipe into your mouth.

“I swear to god that I’m in love with you.” He spoke breathily as you stood up, both of your faces flushed from the activity. He pulled you in for a few pecks, to which you could do nothing more than stare into his oceanic pools.

“Well that’s encouraging.” You laughed, reaching down and tucking his softening cock back into his boxers and jeans, giving it a loving pat before pulling away. “I love you too Bucky Barnes; always.”

“The conference room though, really?” He asked with a bemused laugh, causing you to shrug. “You’ve got to walk out of here now.” He said, motioning to the mess on your face.

“That is something that I didn’t think of.” You responded, your eyes darting a around the room, until your eyes landed on the box of tissues that Tony had brought in at the start of the meeting. Thank Thor for his cold! “Grab me some paper towels from the corner would you babe?”

He sent you a pleased, and you’d say very satisfied smile, before stepping back, and heading in the direction of the desk, picking a few sheets out of the cube, and walking back to help you clean up. He felt like he at least owed you that much.

[spencersawkward]

*concussions and confessions//spencer reid*

summary: a near-death experience encourages Spencer to admit his feelings for his best friend, even at the risk of ruining their relationship.

pairing: Fem!Reader/Spencer

content warnings: oh boy there’s a lot. i’ll start with the nonsexual ones-- choking (again, not sexual), blunt force, violence, some angst. ok time for the fun ones-- unprotected penetrative sex, masturbation, sex dream, oral (male receiving), slight dirty talk, creampie. lmk if there are more that i missed! 

word count: 5.4k

A/N: hi omg so i actually combined two requests for this bc i loved the concepts and i didn't wanna do one and not the other. i hope i do both of these justice hehe thanks for sending them! also sorry if the unsub scene sucks-- i don’t usually write that way, so i tried my best. 

request(s): omg if you need ideas for baby spence can you do a one shot where he's the girls best friend (she's not in the bau) and they are in love but neither of them admit it and he is really hurt in a case or almost dies or something traumatic and only when he gets back they confess their love... and then have sex 😏 ive been thinking about this concept alot 😌

can’t stop thinking about baby spencer (like s2-s4) & his girl best friend losing their virginity to each other... can you write a one shot on this please?

masterlist

"when are you coming back?" you ask over the line. you're lying on your bed, legs in the air while you talk to your best friend. it's been a long day for you, but a longer day for him. it's always a longer day for him. 

"you know that I don't know the answer to that question." Spencer's voice is soft as he attempts to keep quiet. he's two hours ahead and, despite the fact that you're both night owls, the person he's rooming with tonight isn't. 

"I know, but there's this Korean film festival that starts tomorrow and I was hoping you would be here to translate for me." you examine your nails while you talk. Spencer lets out a disappointed sigh. 

it's only been a few days since he left, but it's been a week since you last saw him and it feels like a long time. whenever he's not at work, you two are joined at the hip. ever since you first met a few years back at a poetry convention in DC, it feels like he's the only person who understands you. which is weird, because you couldn't be more different as individuals. 

"you should bring one of your other friends." 

"bold of you to assume I have other friends." you joke. Spencer chuckles to himself and your heart flutters. you love his laugh more than anything in the world. 

"I thought that was just me." he says. 

"oh, it is just you," you reply flatly. "I was trying to make you feel better."

you can practically feel Spencer smiling through the phone. although you tease him pretty frequently, he's sometimes able to get in his own shots. it's what makes your friendship interesting.

"hey," you add before he can say anything more. "how's the case going?" 

Spence starts to detail the whole thing, and you listen intently, the timbre and smoothness of his voice comforting you as you slip beneath the covers of your bed. you like the way he enunciates his words, his strange manner of speaking, because it lulls you to sleep. 

you know he's talking about horrible things, but something about the sound comforts you deeply. when he's not around, you're wishing you had it bottled up. 

he lays out their profile as it stands, and you fall silent. it's getting pretty late and you have to be up early for work tomorrow, so it would be a good idea to get some real rest. plus, Spencer needs to sleep, too-- even though he probably won't. 

you remember times when he'd call you at three in the morning, his mind whirring as he played chess against himself and asked if you wanted to hang out so he could teach you how. you hate chess, but of course you said yes; you'd been head over heels with him since your first conversation.

eventually, you feel yourself start to drift off. you don't even really know what he's saying; all of it blends together until you're laying there, one cheek pressed to the pillow and the receiver against the other. 

"Y/N?" he says your name abruptly and your eyes, which have been slowly drawing shut this whole time, fly open. 

"yeah?" 

"go to bed."

"what? no, I'll wait until you're done." you shift. 

"I could hear your breathing change." 

"then why didn't you just hang up?" you giggle. he goes silent for a moment and you wonder if he cut out, but then he responds. 

"I wanted to say goodnight." 

it's like a cage of butterflies is unleashed in your stomach. you wrinkle your nose as you get nervous. god, you miss him. things would be so much better if he was back. not like he'd be in your bed even if he was, though.  

"then say goodnight." you prod. he lets out an awkward little sound. 

"now I can't because you made it weird." 

"how did I make it weird?" 

"I don't know, you just did." he's so clumsy, your face heats up. you want to keep talking like this until morning.

"goodnight, Spence," the words sound reluctant, but you try to cover it up by teasing him further. "see, was that so bad?" 

"oh my god, Y/N--" he tries to sound exasperated. 

"no goodnight back?" you raise an eyebrow even though he can't see you right now.  

a lengthy silence again. "goodnight."

"that's what I thought." before he can protest, you end the call, settle into the covers. moonlight beams on the walls of your apartment, and you start to think about your best friend. about all the nights spent curled up on his couch with two bowls of popcorn, his ramblings about how much he loves his job and him asking about yours. 

he's a great listener. every time you talk, he nods along like he's hanging off every word. it's nice to feel heard that way, to have someone care. and he's fun to hang out with, too. you've met his team before and they all talk about how hard it is to get him to go out, but they don't see the same side of him that you do. 

Spencer is nerdy and cute and kind and sensitive. he makes you feel special. he's everything that you've ever wanted in a person. but it's not like it would matter, anyway. he hasn't really shown interest in any girls-- much less you. even if he did, you're scared of ruining the friendship. 

the fallout of not having him around at all... it would destroy you. and something, even if it's torturous, is better than nothing. 

which is why, as you sit there and remember being around him, your fingertips creep below the comforter. a familiar routine, they move over your stomach, until they reach the waistband of your panties. for a moment, you hesitate. it's wrong. he's your best friend. but he doesn't need to know that this is how you handle the ache he puts between your legs. 

as your index finger slides down your slit, you feel the wetness already forming. Spencer's hands, his mouth. the thought of his lips pressed to yours while he fucks you, holding your body like it's delicate. 

you don't know exactly how it would feel because you've never had sex, but you want to find out with him. he's never done it, either. you don't care; all you need is to have him inside of you, to see how he looks when he's on the edge. 

your mind wanders to the image of him parting your legs and rolling his eyes into the back of his head. the sensation of him filling you up. falling apart. 

you slide a finger inside, gasping at the way your walls tighten and your imagination runs wild. that tongue, lapping and making you squirm, your fingers twisted in his soft hair. he's so sweet; his attentiveness would make your legs shake. you want to look into his eyes while he does it. 

you add a second finger, curl them and brush over the most sensitive part. the pressure of his hips grinding into yours. your body curves up at the way you start to finger yourself, the other hand stimulating your clit. it's almost overwhelming, the way his name tumbles from your lips over and over. 

you've never wanted someone so badly in your life; he belongs in your bloodstream. the sounds he would make in your ear before finally cumming and collapsing on top of you, spent. you want to tire him out and then do it all over again. 

you're greedy on the edge, indulging in every single image of him you can conjure up, every dirty thing you'd say. finally, you feel yourself fall, the orgasm intense as you bite back groans of pleasure and work through the high. it's amazing. 

you sit there, panting, feeling your heart beat in your chest. some things can't leave your head, they're so sinful. and the worst part is that you don't regret it in the slightest. 

...

Spencer can feel his pulse practically leaping against his throat as he makes his way through the empty warehouse. he should have waited for backup; he knows he should have, but it's too late now to go back and change things. 

he clutches his gun, pointing it in front of him while his eyes flicker wildly across the space. he's moving between enormous aisles stuffed with crates, not knowing who else is around. they said the unsub brought his newest victim here-- Spencer came first because was closest to the site-- but he hears nothing aside from the uneven rhythm of his own breath. 

every step is careful. he's thinking about how close the rest of the team must be. based on their distance from the station, they should arrive within six minutes-- but that doesn't account for the time it takes to put on their bulletproof vests, to get to their cars. 

truthfully, he doesn't know if he's going to have to do this on his own. and that scares him the most. 

there's no point in worrying. he swallows the lump in his throat and presses his back to one of the crates. there's a scraping noise a ways off that causes him to freeze. because of the echoes of the warehouse, the origin is indiscernible. he doesn't breathe, eyes darting between each of the openings into the aisle. 

after a minute of pure silence, he peels himself away and turns to head back out. 

and that's when the sound of wood cracking against bone startles him; he hears it before he feels it, but it's obvious when he crumples to the floor. like knife points pressing into his brain at all angles, the shooting agony in his skull. 

he starts to clutch at his head, only to be yanked off the ground by a meaty hand and thrown against the side of a crate. 

"fucking feds." the guy is enormous. gargantuan. he keeps his arm across Reid's throat, pressing down enough to restrict his airway. but Spencer can't even concentrate on the guy's face further than its rough outlines. his vision is going in and out, fuzzy at the edges from the blow to his head. 

he definitely has a concussion. 

"I..." he trails off. the huge FBI logo on his vest is a dead giveaway. 

"all alone?" the unsub has breath like rotten fish, spits each word into his face. "I won't even need my gun." 

Spencer's head lolls to the side and he catches sight of his own weapon lying helplessly a few feet away. there's no way he could get to it in time, even if he got out of this guy's chokehold. 

he tries to think of a way to talk himself out of this; after all, their profile said he'd be more susceptible to negotiation, but that's kind of hard to do with someone's forearm slammed against your trachea. he presses harder and Spencer sees stars. his glasses hang almost off the bridge of his nose, centimeters from falling to the floor. 

he starts to realize that he's going to die, defenseless and alone, in a warehouse. at the hands of a man who kills women because his Viagra doesn't work. but this doesn't incite the kind of panic Spencer always predicted he'd feel. the lack of oxygen in his brain causes him to go delirious. 

he misses home. his mom and his old house, even though things were hard. he misses Y/N, his team members. he wishes his team was here; he should have waited for them. he should have told Y/N how he feels. now she's never going to know. 

Reid is so out of it, he doesn't even notice the pressure being relieved from his throat until he collapses on the ground. the unsub falls, too, his cheek smashed by the force of the abandoned wooden plank. 

it's hard to tell what's happening until Reid lifts his head to see Morgan standing above him, preparing to handcuff the criminal.

"kid," Spencer never thought he'd be so glad to hear his voice. "what happened?"

...

you practically crash into Spencer's apartment the next evening, flinging your body through the front door with your spare key. 

"Spence?" you call out from the entryway. everything still looks the same, but when his colleague, Penelope, called you today to tell you that Reid had gotten a concussion after a run-in with an unsub, you rushed here as soon as you could. 

"in here." he calls from his bedroom. you don't hesitate, your feet carrying you there. you've been anxious all day; he didn't call last night or even text like usual. you were on the verge of panicking when Penelope called. 

of course, you knew that was the risk with Spencer. he knew the risk, too. his life would always be in the balance when it came to the cases, but he'd gone through so many at this point, you weren't thinking about it. if you did, you wouldn't be able to focus on anything else. 

when you walk in, the first thing you see is Spencer laying in bed in his silk pjs. there's a stack of unread books on his bedside table. his glasses sit on top. he's just laying there with his eyes closed. 

"oh my god." you mutter, dropping your bag on the floor and walking over. he opens his eyes with a slight smile. there's a purple bruise forming across his throat, light but definitely there.  

"hi." 

"what the fuck happened?" you ask the question you've been wondering the whole way here. 

"he hit me with a plank." Spencer explains, the phrase coming out like he's still confused about it. "I'm fine, just a mild concussion and a bruise because he choked me." 

you take a second to assess if he actually means that he's okay, or if he's trying not to worry you. he stares at your expression for a second. 

"Y/N, I'm really fine." 

"you don't look fine." you gesture to the fact that he's laying in bed. 

"my body is sore, but nothing's wrong with me. I just can't look at screens or read." this last part makes him much more melancholy, it seems. you reach down and ruffle his hair playfully. 

"sounds like a nightmare." 

"it is." he cracks up. 

"I'm glad you're okay." you sigh. your heart rate has slowed to a reasonable pace now that you know he's fine. Spencer gives a ghost of a smile, and when he pats the empty spot on the bed beside him, you kick off your shoes and climb over his body to sit down. "so... did you guys get him?" 

"the unsub?" he turns his head to look at you. something is in his eyes that you can't read. "yeah, he's in custody. we saved the girl he abducted, too." 

"well, aren't you a hero?" you grin, pinching his arm. 

"ow!" he flinches. "don't hurt the patient."

"oh, so now you're injured?" you giggle softly. his smile fades a bit, gaze trailing from your face to your legs. it isn't lustful or anything, more like he's taking in your existence. it still makes your heart flutter. 

"I wasn't really a hero, anyway," he sighs. "I got knocked down before I even found her." 

"oof." you wince. 

"yeah, it's sort of embarrassing. I went in by myself and--"

"you went by yourself?" you clarify, turning to face him. of course he did. 

"yeah." he avoids your gaze. 

"Spencer, I work in a stationery shop and I know you're supposed to wait for backup." you deadpan. he snorts, staring straight ahead at the wall. his hair is flat in the back from where he's been resting it against the headboard. 

"he would have hurt her if I had waited." he explains. your heart softens a bit at this. you know Spencer has a problem with saving people; sometimes he doesn't think things through. but you know that it's only because he cares. 

you smile gently, appreciating what a beautiful person he is. you don't understand how other people don't see him how you do. your hand reaches for his suddenly, and you find yourself snuggling into his shoulder. 

Spencer doesn't usually like touch, but he welcomes this, dropping his own head to rest on top of yours while you both stare at the wall. his silence feels heavy, more than it usually does, and you wonder what he's thinking. 

"I'm really glad you're okay, Spencer." your tone is low, like it's a secret. 

"you already said that." 

"shut up." 

"you care about me." he sing-songs with a smile, and you know he means it in a friendly way, but you don't care. it brings warmth to your cheeks. 

"whatever. you care about me, too." 

he lets out a slight chuckle. "when I started to black out, I thought of you." 

your heart leaps, even though the reason is pretty dark. "oh, yeah?"

"mhmm." he hums. 

"nobody's ever told me that they thought of me in their last moments of life before." you tease. there are so many things you'd like to say, but know you can't. he smells like himself and coffee beans, his skin warm beneath the silk of his pajamas. 

"I'd hope not."

"anything in particular?" you wonder aloud. 

"what?" you feel him tense beneath you, and that's how you know there's something he's not telling you. 

"were you thinking about anything in particular?" 

"someone's full of themselves." he jokes. you smack his arm.  

"humor me." more than anything, you want to hear his thoughts. you know you're reaching, but you don't care. 

"just..." he pauses, the next words coming out almost too quietly to hear. "things I never got to say to you." 

"like?" now you're intrigued. 

"no way." he laughs and you groan, turning and realizing that you've both sunk deeper onto the bed and are now practically lying down. 

"c'mon," you prod. you've flipped onto your side while you watch him, his eyes directed at the ceiling. "what if you'd actually died?" 

Spencer gives you a look, and you wish you could snap a picture of his face. the gentle features, the warmth in his eyes. he stares at you differently than before, and it makes your stomach flip again. "I, um." 

you start to trace your index absently down his forearm, where his sleeve has incidentally gotten rolled up. his skin is soft. you know that this isn't a friendly thing to do, but something inside you craves his touch right now. you almost lost him; you can't imagine how horrible that would be. 

"I wanted to say that I--" he gulps, muscles in his shoulder tight beneath your cheek. "well, I care about you, and I... I really love you." 

it's not the first time he's said it, obviously in a platonic sense. what affects you is that he's acting like it's a big deal. 

"I love you too, Spence." you smile softly. his chest rises and falls faster, his face tensed. 

"no, I mean--" he turns onto his side, using the action to distract from his own nervousness. he holds your gaze and you forget how to breathe as he speaks. every syllable is serious, but you note his fingers fidgeting at his side. "I'm in love with you." 

it's like all the air in the room has been sucked out. you swallow, unsure of how to react at first. you don't believe what you're hearing, simply because it doesn't make sense. you've been friends for a while, now, but Spencer has never made a move to ask you out or acted like he wanted anything more. 

your heart swells. 

"you're in love with me?" the words even feel surreal on your tongue. he takes it as rejection.

"I shouldn't have said that, I'm sorry." Spencer rubs his eyes with the heels of his hands, his expression turning to a cringe. he's about to sit up to hide the red in his cheeks, but you pull him back down by the shoulder. 

"not so fast, crazy boy." the corners of your mouth are turning up into a grin. you can't help it; every nerve in your body is alive. Spencer loves you. he feels the same way. 

when he sinks back down onto the mattress and sighs, preparing to say something that rescinds the statement to erase any awkwardness, you grab his face and turn it to yours. you don't kiss him, only force him to look. 

"I'm in love with you, too." 

his eyebrows fly up in surprise. "r-really?"

"yes." you nod. 

he takes a second to process this. you see about five different expressions pass over his face, each one reminding you of how earnest he is. and it's absolutely adorable. 

"well, that's good, isn't it?" he clarifies. you pretend to think on it. 

"I'd say so, yeah." 

he smiles. a genuine, rare one that makes your veins feel as if they're full of glitter. you're on Cloud 9. 

"can I kiss you?" you ask him quietly. he seems surprised at this, too, like he never thought you'd want that, but then nods eagerly. 

you close the gap between you on the bed, holding his jaw in one hand while the other rests on his forearm. your lips meet softly at first. he's cautious, scared of pushing you away. he hasn't kissed many people before. but he's good at it, letting you take the lead. 

there's no way to adequately describe kissing Spencer. every bone in your body turns to mush, immediately craving more contact. you slide your tongue across his full bottom lip, and he lets you in. his affection is the most loved you've ever felt. because sure, you haven't had sex, but you've kissed people before. 

never like this. 

one of his hands goes up to wrap around your forearm tenderly before he shifts to lie on his side. you wrap around each other, turning the kiss into a full-body embrace as you breathe in. you want more. your leg swings over his torso so you can pull yourself closer, and he groans into your mouth when your pelvis presses against his. 

the kiss gets more heated, his hands carefully but hungrily traveling down the curve of your waist. you flip so that you're straddling him without breaking any contact. 

you don't really think about the way your hips begin to rock against his, your pussy involuntarily working for friction. there are so many happy chemicals in your brain right now, you giggle against his mouth when his body bucks up into yours. he groans. 

"Y/N..." he breathes softly. his hands move from your waist to your thighs, afraid to dig his fingertips in. 

"what?" you sigh, licking over his bottom lip again. he moans at the way you keep grinding on his erection. 

"I wanna--" his eyelashes flutter when he gasps. "I wanna touch you." 

"do it." your palm is resting tenderly against his cheek. he responds by finally holding you down, sliding his body up a bit to grind against your center. you whine. "touch whatever you want, Spencer." 

his cock twitches in his pants and you push the hem of his shirt up while he uses one hand to massage your tits. the voracious, curious nature of his attention makes you sigh, touching his stomach. he feels perfect beneath you. 

soon you're grabbing at each other without any regard for grace. he's so horny, he's pawing at whatever he can while you do the same to him. the kissing gives way to straight panting while you look at each other. 

"can I suck your dick?" you whisper. Spencer's eyes widen. you've never seen him nod so fast. 

you press your mouth to his one more time before inching down his body, sucking on his clavicle, then his stomach. careful to avoid the purple marks on his neck. he watches you intently, memorizing the details of this moment for later. when you reach the waistband of his pants, you peek up. he strains against the material. 

your mouth drops open and you draw your tongue over the clothed bulge, maintaining eye contact. Spencer throws his head back. his voice is high. "oh my god, oh my god." 

you smirk, licking it again. he clenches his jaw. "I'm gonna c-cum if you don't--" he tries for words, but he's mewling and moving against your mouth. you pull at his pants, hooking your fingers in his boxers and bringing them down, too. 

Spencer bucks into the air when his cock hits his stomach. it's big, precum leaking helplessly out of the tip while he whines. you want him now. 

"wow." you smile. he stares at you, tensing his stomach as you wrap your hand around his length. he's trying to keep quiet, but as soon as you spit on it and start to pump him, his head falls back into the pillow. 

you draw your tongue up the underside, paying special attention to the veins, reveling in his reactions. he looks like he's ascending to heaven when you start to suck on the first couple inches.  

"o-oh, fuck..." he keeps moving his hips off the bed for more, so you sink down further onto him, hollowing your cheeks and moaning. "Y/N..." 

you groan in response, feeling yourself get wetter with every sound he makes. you can't believe this is happening, the way he threads his fingers loosely through your hair in an attempt to touch more of you.

he tries to keep his eyes open while you suck, but they squint with pleasure. he's a mess for you, shuddering gently when you take nearly all of him into your mouth. 

before he can cum, you pull your mouth off of him with a satisfying pop. Spencer moans. 

"was that okay?" you ask carefully. this is the extent of your sexual experience, and you want to do more with him, but you aren't sure how he feels. your best friend stares back at you like you've turned his world upside down. 

"y-yeah," he replies. his face is flushed. "definitely okay."

he's throbbing, occasionally twitching against his stomach as he waits for more stimulation. you eye him carefully. 

"what do you feel comfortable doing?" your voice is smooth. "we can stop now, if you'd like." 

"I--" he chokes on the word. "I don't wanna stop." 

"do you want to have sex?" you ask. Spencer bites his lip, whines. 

"mhmm." 

"I wanna do that, too," you breathe out, straightening up and pulling your shirt over your head, unclasping your bra, before getting to work on your shorts. you know you're practically dripping. he's been more vocal, but you feel like you're going to implode from the desire. "but I need to tell you something." 

"what?" he tugs your arm, coaxing you back to him and touching you greedily. you giggle as you kick your shorts and panties off somewhere in the room. both of you move like awkward teenagers. 

"I'm a virgin." you say. 

Spencer frowns. "really?" 

"yeah," you lick your lips. "so you need to be careful." 

"o-of course." he blushes, getting nervous again. "you know I'm a virgin too, right?"

"I know." you smile. he returns it sweetly, and the commotion of your bodies slows for a moment. you're so happy, you could cry. 

"what?" he breaks the comfortable silence. 

"I'm excited," you shrug. he's got his hands on your waist, rubbing his fingertips over your skin. then you remember something. "wait, are you allowed to have sex with your... injury?" 

"it's fine." he reaches up and kisses your throat with an urgency. 

"did the doctor say that?" your eyes roll while he sucks on your neck. he groans and pulls down on your waist so that your stomach presses against his cock. he ruts. 

"second opinion from me." he pants. you tap his cheek playfully, move up his body until your core brushes him. he whimpers when you reach between your bodies and grip his length in your hands. 

"you ready?" your voice is low. Spencer squeezes your thighs, eyes moving between your tits and your face. 

"yes." he sighs. you position it, slicking him in your pussy while he wraps an arm around your waist and moans for more. your chests are pressed together, looking into each other's eyes while you slide him into you. 

you have to go slow, the intrusion causing your jaw to drop. you don't breathe. he's got his eyes rolled into the back of his head.  

"Spencer." you whimper, dropping your head onto his chest when he's fully inside of you. his fingers rub patiently over your back. 

"are you okay?" his voice is laced with a moan, trying to resist thrusting. 

"yeah, just a second." you wiggle a little bit to test the boundaries. it hurts, but it also feels good. your clit is begging for more pressure, so you start to roll your hips. Reid moans loudly. 

"Y/N..." he whimpers. "don't stop." 

"you want more?" the need in his voice makes you hornier, and you increase the pace, despite the slight pain. you're so wet, he slides in and out without much effort. 

"so-- much more." he's gasping, hands on your thighs as he watches your naked body writhe on top of him. he's never been more aroused in his life, spurred on by your scent and form and the tightness that keeps clenching around his cock.

he understands why people love sex so much, now. he wants it every day, wants to fuck you in every position and pleasure you. the sounds you release in his ear, whines and praises, he would do anything for more. walk to the ends of the earth to feel you cum on his cock. 

his hand finds your ass, squeezes it. 

"this feel good, Spence? fucking your best friend?" you talk dirty and he twitches. you're always so sweet, the words coming out of your mouth for him are going to send the genius into a tailspin. 

"mhmm," he holds you down so that he can thrust up. speaking at all is a struggle with the way he's feeling. "perfect." 

you start to say something else, but he hits a certain angle and you let out a quiet yelp, hips jumping at the pleasure. "I'm gonna cum." 

Spencer gets a rush of relief because it's taking everything in him right now not to absolutely lose it inside your pussy. he's hanging on by a thread. "me, too." 

you use your position on top to stimulate yourself. both of you chase your orgasms roughly, the rhythm you created degenerating into clawing excitement. 

"cum inside me, Spencer." you beg him. it sounds like you would do anything to feel it, that sensation that you've never experience but have always imagined. and Spencer, his own head foggy with ecstasy, nods and opens his mouth to let out a loud groan. 

"Y/N, fuck fuck fuck-- I'm--" he shoots his load inside of you, rutting wildly and letting his head drop onto the pillow while he pants. you can feel it. strange, lovely jolts of his seed spreading. your hands, which have been resting on his shoulders, tighten and you reach your climax. you flutter around him, both of you still moving to ease the intensity of the high. 

it's remarkable. you're crying out, having the most mind-blowing orgasm of your life. you never thought your first time would be like this. but you're glad it is, muscles tightening and releasing with the mixture of emotions. 

you collapse fully, him still inside. 

neither of you speaks. his heartbeat thuds against your ear, and you hold onto him like letting go would be the end of the world. you can't believe you could have lost him. you don't want to think about it. 

"sorry I came so fast." Spencer apologizes breathlessly. you can feel his cum dripping down your entrance when he slides out. 

"I don't care." you mumble. both of you stay there for a while, his heartbeat changing to a pace that reminds you of genuine excitement. like a hummingbird. 

"we can try again, sometime." he offers. you lift your head to rest your chin on his chest. his skin is flushed, pupils dilated, hair messy. such a pretty boy. 

"we should try multiple times." 

he gives you a cheerful smile, and everything starts to fall into place. you took each other's virginity. "Y/N?" 

he likes to say your name, and you love to hear it. "yes?" 

"are we dating?" the bluntness of the question makes you giggle. you don't hesitate. 

"yeah." 

“good.”

taglist (lmk if you wanna be added/removed!): @reidsconverse @voidsfilm @xoxomgg​ 

[starkerobsession]

The Vacation (Starker Smut)

I actually wrote this back in September when I was on holiday in Greece with my boyfriend, so you can see where I got the inspiration.  I’ve just been too lazy to type it up till now.

Anyway, this is pure smut so.  Also I know that there’s no way Tony Stark would ever book an all-inclusive package holiday but it’s fiction so let’s just pretend.

Synopsis: Peter and Tony are on vacation and Tony contemplates taking Peter’s virginity.

CW: Peter is 16, Daddy Kink

Tony opened the bedroom door, taking Peter’s hand and pulling him inside.

“I finally got you all to myself,” Tony said, closing the door behind them and pinning Peter against the wall. Peter looked up at Tony with a naughty glimmer in his eye.

“What are you gonna do to me?”

Tony leaned closer so their faces were only inches apart.  “What do you want me to do?”

Peter answered him by closing the gap between them, throwing his arms around Tony’s neck and kissing him hungrily.  Tony kissed back enthusiastically, pinning Peter even tighter against the wall.  It felt so good, he thought - he’d been dying to do this all day.

It had been a long day.  They’d woken up at the crack of dawn to catch an early flight from New York to Greece.  They’d made up some lie about important Stark Internship stuff that required Peter to travel abroad.  Aunt May wasn’t the slightest bit suspicious.

Tony knew it was risky taking his underage boyfriend on a romantic vacation but after losing him and being painfully alone and without Peter for five years, all Tony could think about now was spending as much precious time with him as possible.  Plus, if not for the snap, Peter would be 21 now anyway.  At least that’s how Tony tried to rationalise their relationship to make himself feel less like a pervert.

It had been a long flight but due to the time difference it was morning again when they arrived at their hotel.  They’d quickly unpacked and went for breakfast, and then they’d spent the entire day relaxing by the pool.  Tony had hoped they could be open about their relationship while hanging around the hotel but thanks to the brightly coloured wristband around Peter’s wrist, everyone would know that Peter was a minor.  Hence, Tony had been waiting impatiently all day to kiss his boyfriend, who he thought had looked hotter than ever all oiled up and shirtless all day sunbathing.

Peter had had a few cheeky cocktails which was more alcohol than he’d ever consumed in his life, so he was a little buzzed.  Tony had tried to protest to Peter drinking but Peter had responded with, “I’m too young for you, but you don’t seem to mind that.”

Back in the room, the kiss was getting more and more heated and Tony was definitely horny.  He and Peter had never had sex before, mainly because Peter had never brought it up and Tony knew he was a virgin so he didn’t want to push Peter into something he may not be ready for.  But right now, his dick was hard, and he had to use all his willpower to pull out of the kiss before he ended up doing something he might regret.

“What do you want to do, Kid?” Tony asked.  “We could watch something or play games or we could have a few beers from the minifridge since you think you’re all grown up now.”

“I’m actually really tired but go on, give me a beer.”

Tony reached into the fridge and opened a bottle of beer.  “Sure you can handle it?  Beer’s a man’s drink.  Not man as in Spider-Man, but man as in adult man.”

“Sure I can, Mr Stark.  I’m 16, not 12.”  Peter rolled his eyes and took the bottle off Tony.  He took a sip and almost instantly spit it out.  “EWWWW!”

Tony snorted and took the bottle back from Peter.  “Not so tough now, are you Kiddo?”

“I really wish you’d stop calling me that.  I’m your boyfriend.”

“You love when I call you that.”

Peter blushed.  “Whatever.  I’m super tired.  Can we just like, have an early night?”

“Of course, baby.”

They got changed and climbed into bed, turning the lights off.  Tony put his arm out and Peter cuddled up close to him in a spooning position.  Tony gave Peter a soft kiss on the temple and wrapped his arms tighter around Peter.

“Goodnight,” Peter murmured quietly.

“Goodnight, Kid,” Tony whispered.  He closed his eyes and really, truly, tried to sleep, but all he could think of was that Peter’s ass was pressing right up against him, and it was impossible to ignore.  He tried to think of anything else, so as to stop himself getting a boner.  He thought of work, of cars, of what he planned to eat tomorrow for breakfast, of-

-Fuck, he thought, as he felt Peter push his ass even tighter against his groin.  Maybe it was an accident, but maybe Peter was horny too?  God, the thought of Peter being horny made Tony even more horny and he...

Again, Tony felt Peter grind his ass against him.  He was sure Peter could feel his erection now - how could he not?  Tony felt like he would come any second.  He decided if Peter did it one more time then it definitely wasn’t accidental, and he would fuck the kid senseless for being such a tease.

The air around them felt almost electric with tension as Tony waited and waited, hoping Peter would push against him one more time.

Finally, when Tony had almost lost all hope of it happening, he felt Peter grind against him again, and almost instantly, Tony grabbed him by the hip and thrust himself hard against Peter’s ass.

“Mmm,” Peter moaned, gripping the bedsheets.

“You’re such a little tease, aren’t you?” Tony said against Peter’s ear as he thrust again.  “Feel what you’ve done to me.”

Peter moaned again as he felt Tony’s hard dick push against him.

For a while they continued this, both of them moaning and getting increasingly more horny.

Finally when Tony couldn’t take it any longer, he spoke.  “You want me to fuck you, Kid?”

“Mmhm.”

“Say it.  Tell me what you want.”

“I want you to fuck me, Daddy.”

That word sent Tony over the edge.  He thrust hard against Peter and groaned.  “You loved that today, didn’t you?  People thought I was your daddy.  They thought this was an innocent father-son vacation.  Little did they know I was planning on fucking you so hard tonight that you won’t even be able to walk tomorrow.”

Peter bit his lip to hold back another loud moan.  “Go on then.”

Tony grabbed Peter forcefully and dragged him to the edge of the bed. “Get on your knees, now.  On the floor.”

Peter did as he was told, kneeling on the floor between Tony’s legs.

“You ever given a blowjob before, Kid?”  Tony asked, pulling his cock out so that it was right in front of Peter’s nervous face.

Peter shook his head.  “I’ve never done anything like this before.”

Tony put his hand on the back of Peter’s head, fingers curling in his hair.  “It’s easy.  Just open your mouth and let me fuck you.”

“What if I’m bad at it?” Peter asked.

“Bad at getting your mouth fucked?”

“No.  I mean... actually, you know.... sucking it....   What if I’m bad at that?”

Tony shrugged.  “You have to learn some time.  Practice makes perfect.”

“Okay, um-” Peter leaned a bit close and hesitantly reached for Tony’s cock.  He gripped it firmly in his hand and squeezed it a little.  “-So I just... put it in my mouth?”

“Yes, baby.”

Peter guided Tony’s cock into his mouth, moaning as it got deeper and deeper down his throat.  He hadn’t even started and his jaw was aching, but he was hornier than ever.

Without so much as a warning, Tony started slowly thrusting inside Peter’s mouth, the head of his cock hitting the back of Peter’s throat, making him gag.  Peter grabbed Tony’s legs for support and tried to relax his throat as Tony’s thrusts got harder and faster.

“Mmm, you’re such  good boy,” Tony groaned, physically pushing Peter’s head down so that his cock went further down the boy’s throat.  “That feels so good baby.”

Peter couldn’t really respond other than making a sensual sound around the cock in his mouth.

“Your turn,” Tony said, letting go of Peter’s head.  “You suck it.”

Peter slowly pulled back completely, gasping for air.  After a few seconds he put the dick back in his mouth and started moving his head back and forward over the shaft.  He tried his hardest not to graze his teeth against it, and he was so focused on keeping up the pace at which Tony had been mouthfucking him earlier, that he was sure he was doing it wrong.

He glanced up at Tony to see that he had his head thrown back and eyes closed, and he looked to be enjoying whatever Peter was doing, so Peter continued.  His knees were getting sore, jaw aching and he had tears in his eyes when Tony finally gestured for him to stop.  Peter pulled his head away from Tony’s dick, a string of saliva attached to his mouth.  Peter hastily wiped it away in embarrassment.

“Where did an innocent little boy like you learn to suck cocks like a pro?”

Peter shrugged, trying not to show how proud he was of his apparent blowjob skills.

“Now it’s your turn to relax,” Tony said, pulling Peter up and guiding him to the bed.

“What are you gonna do?” Peter asked.

“I’m going to fuck you, but first let’s open you up a bit, yeah?  You’re a virgin so you must be pretty tight.”

Peter exhaled slowly and nodded. 

“Right,” Tony said.  “Take off your clothes and get on all fours in front of me.”

Peter nodded.  “Yes, Sir,” he said, as he stripped and got into the doggy position.

“You sure you’re up for this, Kid? Tell me if you’re not.  It’s more than okay.”

“I’m ready,” Peter said.  “Please.”

“Okay,” Tony replied.  “Just tell me if it’s too much for you.”

“I will.”

“I’m going to use my fingers to open you up.  I also have some lube so it shouldn’t be as uncomfortable.  Okay?”

“Yes,” Peter said, trying not to show how nervous he was.

Peter could hear Tony opening the bottle of lube and he braced himself.

“Going in now,” Tony said, and Peter suddenly felt two of Tony’s fingers press against his hole.  “Relax, baby.  Just relax.”

Peter tried to do as he was told, exhaling and trying not to panic.  Tony pushed his fingers in a little bit, and even that was enough to make Peter gasp.

“Good boy,” Tony said softly.  “You’re doing so well.  I’m going to push deeper, okay? One, two three...”

Peter let out a groan and grabbed the nearby pillow to squeeze.  It felt so weird.  Not exactly painful, but very uncomfortable.  Tony pulled his fingers out completely and then pushed them back in.  He continued this for a while, fingering him slowly and gently, until Peter was enjoying it rather than wincing from the intrusion.

“That’s all there is to it, Kid.”

Peter laughed.  “Yeah, except your dick’s a whole lot bigger than that.”

“You can take it,” Tony said, lining his cock up with Peter’s ass.  “You literally helped save the universe.  I think you can handle getting fucked in the ass.”

Peter felt the head of Tony’s cock as it rested against his entrance.  It felt so big - too big - to be able to fit inside him.  He closed his eyes, waiting for the inevitable pain that was to come from having something so big inside him. 

Sure enough, Tony pushed gently inside him, making him draw a sharp intake of breath at the pain of being spread open.

“Mr Stark,” Peter gasped.  “Wait, Mr Stark.  Slower.”

Tony slowed down.  “Does it hurt?”

“A little bit.”

Tony stopped completely, letting Peter get accustomed to the feeling.  “You tell me when you’re ready for me to continue.”

Peter nodded and tried to steady his breathing.  He was already getting used to the feeling - it was like Tony’s fingers but just more intense.  After a while of composing himself, Peter nodded.  “Okay,” he said.  “I’m ready.”

Tony started moving again, slowly.  Peter was so tight, Tony was struggling not to just immediately come inside him.  And the sounds Peter was making were almost sending Tony over the edge.

Tony continued at the same pace until he felt Peter begin to push back against him.

“You want me to go harder?” Tony asked.

“Yes,” Peter groaned.

“Yes what?”

“Yes please, Daddy.”

Tony grabbed Peter’s hips and slammed hard into him, their bodies smacking together loudly.  Peter cried out and for a moment, Tony thought he’d gone too far, but then he heard Peter say, “harder,” and he continued thrusting harder and harder into Peter’s tight hole.

“You like that, huh, baby?” Tony said breathlessly between thrusts.

“I love it, Mr Stark.”

“You’re so naughty, aren’t you?  Letting a man more than three times your age fuck you raw.”

Peter seemed beyond words at this point - he just groaned loudly and gripped the bedsheets.

“I need to come,” Tony said.  “Where do you want it?”

“Inside me,” Peter said.  “Please.”

Tony had hoped Peter would say that.  Just the thought of Peter going to sleep tonight with cum leaking out of him made Tony so horny...

He thrust deeper and harder and the slapping sound of their bodies crashing together was so loud and obscene, paired with the squeaking of the bed and Peter’s loud moans.  Tony was sure everyone in the neighbouring rooms could hear everything.  Somehow, that made it hotter.

At last, Tony gave a final thrust and came deep inside Peter.  It as quite possible the greatest orgasm of Tony’s life, and he was saying that was a lot of experience.  He stayed put, his dick completely inside Peter, till he was sure that every last drop of his cum was inside the kid, filling him up entirely.

“I’m going to pull out, and I want you to turn over and make yourself come, okay?  I want to watch my own cum drip out of you while you touch yourself.”

“Okay,” Peter said.  Tony slowly pulled out and Peter turned onto his back as instructed.  Tony watched as Peter’s grabbed his own cock and started stroking it.  He could see Peter’s abused ass hole, which seemed to be throbbing still from being fucked  He watched as his own cum slowly started to leak out and onto the bedsheets.

It took less than a minute for Peter to come - he had been ready to come since he’d given Tony a blowjob.  Ever since the spider bite, all of his sense had been heightened, so this had been extremely intense for him on so many different levels.

“Mmm, good boy,” Tony murmured, watching the cum spurt out of Peter’s dick.  Peter caught his breath and then smiled up at Tony.

“That was soooo good.”

“I know,” Tony said as they cleaned up and started cuddling again.  “That was honestly the best sex of my life.”

Peter snorted in disbelief. “Yeah, right.”

“No, really.  You may not be the most experienced, but I love you, and that’s what makes it perfect.”

Peter smiled shyly and cuddled in closer to Tony.

“I love you, too.”

“Goodnight, Kid,” Tony said, kissing Peter gently.

“Night,” Peter replied, falling asleep almost instantly in Tony’s arms.

As Tony drifted off, holding the boy he loved, he knew this was going to be the best vacation ever.

[wienerbarnes]

Hayloft

Pairing: 40s!Bucky x Reader

Word Count: 2,460

Warnings: SMUT 18+ !!!!! if u are a minor dni w this or my blog plssss, also getting caught... if that bothers anyone

SONG (Spotify link): Hayloft - Mother Mother

A/N: based off of the song hayloft by mother mother! some nice smut in a barn for yall😌 enjoy!

MAIN MASTERLIST

Bucky kisses you sweetly behind the club, the jazz seeping through the cracks of the backdoors the two of you snuck out of and the cold air having no effect on  you as you embrace each other.

Bucky thinks you look like a dream in red, his arms tightening around your waist, bringing you impossibly close as he continues to kiss you deeply, tongue slipping out to tease your lips and ask for a taste. Your soft hands feel gentle and loving, one on his shoulder and the other holding his cheek, and he doesn’t want to move from this spot.

The hand moves from his cheek to his hair, a bit damp from sweat as they’ve been dancing all night, and shivers run down his spine as your nails scratch against his scalp. He pulls away from your mouth, knowing his lips are tinted red as your lipstick is a little out of place, and moves to plant wet kisses down your neck. He buries his face into your neck, sucking on the sweetest spots of your skin and you breathe out next to his ear, the sound causing his hands to grip at your waist.

He moves up and takes your ear lobe into his mouth, a hand moving lower to rest on your behind and you mumble out, “Come to my house.”

“Whenever you want, darlin’.”

“Now.”

He pauses. He pulls away slightly to meet your eyes. He imagines the implication you're making but can’t possibly believe you want him to go over to your parents house at ten at night.

“I’d be happy to walk you home, baby,” He begins, wrapping the arm that was touching your bum around your shoulders lovingly.

“We have this little barn next to the house. I want you to meet me there tonight.” You tell him.

Barn. So you must not live in the city. He’s lucky he asked to use the car tonight.

“I need to grab my friends so we can leave in her car, she’ll drop me off first. And I’ll wait for you in the barn.” You explain further.

“Okay.” He finds himself agreeing.

He knows the area where you live. Far from the city, but a nice, quiet, private area for a family to live. Something he’d like when he’s older.

He didn’t think he’d be driving miles away for a girl he’d only met tonight at the club, but he also didn’t think a war would be on the way, and who knows what’ll happen after that. He thinks he needs to start living a bit more adventurously and doing things his mother would frown upon. Like driving to dame’s house late at night and sneaking into her parents' barn to cop a feel.

He sighs to himself as the roads get lonelier and lonelier, signifying he’d be arriving soon. He feels like he’s about to lose his virginity all over again, he’s so damn nervous. He turns the headlights off and slows down as he sees the barn in the distance. The last thing he needs is to wake up your family with the purr of his engine and by shining lights through their windows.

He parks a small walk away, hiding the car underneath a tree. He shivers a bit as the wind night wind blows; you held onto his jacket at his request.

Very quietly he approaches the barn and he slowly drags the door open, slipping inside to see a few lanterns lit, illuminating you, perched up all pretty on a bale of hay. You’re in your undergarments, a silky dress that exposes your shoulders and gives him a view of your cleavage, the hem ending at the middle of your shin.

Your hair is a bit more put together than it was at the club and your lipstick is cleaned up and bright as cherries once more.

“Wow.” Is what slips out of his mouth, only realizing he said something when you giggle.

You stand from your seat and walk over to him, grabbing his large hands in your own and leading him back to where you were.

“We need to be real quiet; we can’t wake my daddy up.” You whisper.

“I’ll keep you quiet, babydoll, don’t you worry.” He whispers back, leaning down to kiss her.

Her hands raise to his shoulders as she gently pushes him down, encouraging him to sit where she was previously, and he does. She kisses him again when she takes a seat in his lap, straddling him. The dress shifts and rides up over her knees as Bucky’s hands immediately move to her hips.

He kisses you the same way he did outside the club, soft, wet lips pressing against each other over and over again, his tongue slipping between your teeth and playing with your own tongue.

His fingers inch from gripping the skin on your hips, down to your soft thighs, to the hem of the dress, moving it up slowly, almost to keep you from noticing. You pull away and your lips latch onto his neck, trailing all around the area, leaving red prints in your wake. He takes the opportunity to peek down and shakily move the dress up past your hips, exposing the thin, red underwear covering your modesty.

“Christ.” He mumbles, a reaction to the combination of the little number you have on and the feeling of you sucking a love bite onto his neck.

A giggle into the warmth of his neck, “You like?”

“I like,” He groans back, lifting the fabric higher and higher until you pull back to remove it, exposing a red bra, the lacey details on the trim and the bow in between your breasts giving him goosebumps.

“Your turn, Bucky.” You pinch at his sides, and he can’t help but plant another kiss on you.

He starts undoing the buttons on his shirt but he’s so damn nervous his fingers twitch just a little too much. You help him, soft hands glide over his rough ones, and he can’t help but take advantage and reach to grab at your hips again. He squeezes at the soft flesh under his fingers while you undo the buttons for him, only pulling away when he has to slip the shirt from his shoulders and remove the white cotton top he had on underneath.

“You’re a dream, doll, you’re so beautiful.” He compliments, feeling himself melt under your touch as your hand drag and scratch lightly across his chest, shoulders, and back.

He scoops you up and shushes you when you squeal a little too loudly - after all, he doesn’t want your daddy to wake up - and lays you down on the hay, ignoring the little twigs that poke at the both of you.

Your legs are tangled together with his as he slips his tongue in your mouth and yours in his, hands roaming each other's bodies as though it’s the first time either of you have done this before. He reaches a hand under your back and you arch it a bit, allowing him to unhook your bra and press your chest to his. He feels your hardened nipples through the fabric against his chest and he swallows as he finally tosses your bra to the side.

He doesn’t waste any time in diving down and capturing a nipple in his mouth, licking and sucking and kissing while his other hand gropes and squeezes at the opposite breast. You gasp and shiver under him, the combination of the cold, night air and the warmth of his hands and mouth making you shake and sweat all at the same time.

Switching between your breasts to ensure they receive equal love, Bucky thinks he’s obsessed. Your skin is delicious; so soft and smooth and heavenly, he could kiss it and bite it and lick all day long if you’d let him. He’s so consumed by you that he doesn’t even realize you’ve unbuckled his belt and undone his pants until he feels a small hand grasp at his shaft and begin to rub.

A small moan escapes him and you press your lips to his to quiet his noises. You keep rubbing and rubbing and rubbing, feeling him get wetter and slicker with every touch. His hands stay at your chest, but his focus turns to kissing you deeply and passionately.

Your other hand joins in his pants, reaching a bit further to caress at his balls. He can’t take it and doesn’t want to embarrass himself so early in the night, so he sits up and plucks your hand out of his pants and steps off the hay. He kneels on the ground in front of you and you sit up on the haystack, hands reaching to cup his face so as to not be away from his skin for too long.

Desperate kisses laid on his cheeks and mouth as he tugs at your hips so you’re sitting at the very edge, knees spread open for him to fit between. His rough hands hook around the hem of your underwear and tug, the sound of the stitches stretching hitting his ears and he tries to tug them down your smooth legs, your soft lips making it hard for him to concentrate.

He grabs the hands that are on either side of his face and kisses them sloppily, bending down a tad further on his knees in order to hook beneath your legs and bring them up and on his shoulders. A gasp sounds from you as he dives in, licking between your legs like it’s his last meal.

So many men at the mine and his father’s friends talk about it; about putting your mouth on a woman like this. He remembers hearing it for the first time as a teenager, blushing at the conversation but feeling proud that his father didn’t kick him out of the room, deeming him old enough to hear such topics.

They’d talk about how they loved it, how they hated it, and Bucky thinks back on his father’s friends, the ones who couldn’t stand going down on their wives, and how stupid Bucky thinks they are.

He could eat you like this forever. You taste, your smell, the way he feels your thick thighs clench around his head, the muscles flexing beneath his fingers as he keeps one hand on your thigh and the other wrapped around your stomach to keep you in place. You’re perfect.

He glances up to see you have a fist in your mouth, eyes shut tightly, using all your might to keep quiet, and it makes Bucky shiver, tingles flowing through his spine to his groin, and he moans into your heat.

As much as he’d like to feel you come in his mouth, he doesn’t think he’ll last long enough to even get inside you. He reluctantly pulls away and sloppily kisses you, half-hazardly pulling down his slacks and underwear the rest of the way down, tugging off his socks in the process.

You lay back on the hay stacks once more and he props one knee up, the other leg keeping most of his balance on the ground. He hooks your legs around his body, the limbs tangling together, tied up in knots, as he rubs his dick through your folds, slicking himself up even more.

It’s not long before he pushes in, slowly, because he hears your pained whine at his size. He hears himself moan, louder than he had intended to let out, and bites his lip to hold it in, remembering what you said about your daddy.

He leans forward, caging you in, and one of your soft hands grip at his forearm, the other scratching at his back, silently begging for him to start moving.

He pulls out almost completely before thrusting back in, moving in and out and gaining speed as he hears your gasps and moans in his ear.

Veins are bulging out of both his arms, your nails creating crescent shapes in his skin. Continuing his pace, he brings his head out of your neck where he was planting sloppy kisses and looks at your face. Eyes closed and eyebrows brought together, your mouth is open and the red lipstick you had on earlier is now almost completely gone, the tint still present on your lips. He knows where the lipstick went, he has it on his own face, on his neck, down his body, around his fingers, prints around his cock - he lets out another small moan at the thought of it.

He feels your legs tight around his own, restricting his movement, so he hooks one of your legs in his elbow, bringing it up higher and moves his own leg onto the bale of hay, immediately moving to quicken his pace, fucking you harder and faster than before.

A loud moan escapes you at the feeling of him so deep inside you, no time given to adjust, and in the moment, Bucky’s free hand slaps over your mouth, moans now muffled by his rough palm.

Little do the two of you know, it was already too late. Your daddy creeps outside the house, shotgun in hand, after being woken up by noises coming from the barn. It’s those damn cats again, he thinks. He knows it’s those damn cats, but he still needs to check.

He creeps outside to the barn, clad only in his long johns and a t-shirt, and hears the noises clearer as he gets closer.

Everything happens so fast.

Your daddy swinging open the door to the barn, the sound of a shotgun cocking, your loud gasp at being caught, Bucky’s curses as he quickly pulls out of you.

“What the hell?!” Your father screams.

Bucky doesn’t dare answer, only snatches his pants and shoes off the ground and fumbles to collect himself, simultaneously trying to make his way to the exit as quickly as possible. He didn’t even grab his underwear, his bare ass and semi-hard cock uncomfortable in his slacks from tonight.

He doesn’t focus on that feeling for too long though, not when a bullet flies past his head and into the wood behind him. He runs, one hand carrying his shoes and the other holding his pants up, not even buttoned or buckled.

“You better run, Buck!” He hears your voice call out, sounding more amused than scared, and he assumes this kind of thing has happened to you before.

Another shot rings out into the air and Bucky considers himself lucky to have missed it. Unlike you, it seems, this is his first time getting caught having sex and then being shot at.

You gave him one hell of a night to remember, though.

[starconsumer444]

Just found you and already smitten with your dark content. Could you maybe write either Kuroo/Suna/Tendou/Bokuto (whichever u choose) brother or stepbrother catching sister/stepsister trying to masturbate but not knowing how so they edge her relentlessly until she agrees to let him have sex with her because he's tricked her thats the only way she can really cum the first-time? Finishing with a nice cream pie?

Older Brother!Suna (18+)

A/N:Thank you thank youuu~ I’m sorry I didn’t go with the “relentless” edging, I just did it one time because it was getting long and I have a sick and twisted sadomasochistic habit of writing from the late hours of the night until the early hours of the morning and getting dead tired half way through. I’m not sure if that was all that great in comparison to my other works, but I really hope you enjoy it nonetheless.

(CW/TW: Incest, Virginity [Suna makes it hurt too, but there is an orgasm <3], Coercion, Dubcon, Edging??? Or just flat-out orgasm denial...,Age gap??? [Reader is 18, Suna is 25] Fingering, Creampie, Absolutely Clueless reader..., Masturbation, Suna is an asshole in this one, Deception, Manipulation and PLEASE TELL ME IF I MISSED SOMETHING!!!!)

Unfortunately for you, university wasn't all that it was talked up to be in terms of sex and anything else really. You went into your first year thinking you were gonna lose your virginity, make new friends, go to frat parties, and just have all-around wild experiences. Suna, when he was in school, would always come back with cool stories to tell you, and had a new girlfriend every break he got. To have cool experiences like your big brother was the only reason you wanted to go, but unfortunately for you, it was none of that. Maybe it’s because you’re not an athlete like him, but it was studies, a newfound coffee addiction, and a roommate that never seemed to go anywhere. All that on top of your dead social life, absolutely miserable..

When Suna came to pick you up from the airport so you two could spend the holidays with your parents (a tradition no matter how old either of you get), you told him all about it. Sure, you didn’t grow up particularly close with him being seven years older and all, but he was still your older brother and no topic seemed to be off limits with him, so it was nice. He wasn’t the most doting older sibling and definitely not the most talkative either, but he was good for listening. Really, listening was his strong suit.

You told him about your lackluster social life and your mountains of schoolwork, but, even knowing he wouldn’t mind, you didn’t tell him about the sex stuff. Why would you? He’s your older brother. He shouldn’t know things like that about you.

Needless to say, you go home for winter break a sexually frustrated virgin. Maybe, if you had tried a little harder with the people at school it wouldn’t have come to this?

The house had been dead silent when you decided to, for the first time, attempt to masturbate. You were sure no one was home, not your mom, not your dad, and not your older brother, Suna. Still, you could’ve at least checked before you completely stripped your lower half.

It wasn’t going well, you had two fingers inside yourself and you didn’t feel anything. You felt like a doctor doing a self-probe at best. It just felt... wrong? But this is how the girls in porn do it, right? There’s no way you’re getting this wrong. You’re doing exactly what you see; moving your fingers in and out, even curling them a bit… What could you possibly be doing wrong?

Suna watches you silently from your slightly cracked door.

Pitiful, he thinks.

He was just coming by to ask if you wanted anything from the store because he was headed out. He didn’t expect to see his little sister struggling with her fingers in her cunt. He can postpone that walk to the corner-store to bond with his little sister.

He doesn’t even bother knocking to spare you the humiliation, just pushes the door open and lets himself right in.

You notice him immediately and let out a loud scream, closing your legs and trying to hide yourself by turning away from him. You want to disintegrate. Your body is burning up with embarrassment.

What does he want? Why now?

You feel his weight make your childhood bed dip and you can feel the warmth radiating off his body. One of his calloused hands caresses your thigh and you don’t move away from it the way you know you’re supposed to. You’re frozen.

What is he doing?

“Suna, get out!” You turn to look at him and grab his wrist to stop him in his tracks. Can’t he take a hint? “What are you-”

“You’re not doing it right.” He pipes up. In the back of his mind he knows this is wrong. He shouldn’t be doing this with his baby sister.

“Huh?” You’re clearly lost.

“I’ve done this before, let me help you.”

It takes nothing for him to separate your legs and settle himself in between them.

“You’re still a virgin?” His fingers slide gently up and down the wetness between your folds and it draws a sharp whimper and a harsh nod from you.

Suna is twenty-five and has enough sense about himself to know this is wrong. He’s not going to try to rationalize it. He’s just taking a golden opportunity even if that opportunity is his little sister. He has a knack for corrupting innocent girls like you; it’s fun for him even if it’s sick and perverted.

The dirty feeling you get having your brother touching and eyeing your most intimate parts is intense. You want him to keep going, but you know you should tell him to stop.

“Suna, this isn't okay.”

He shushes you but nods his head.

“I’m just helping you.” He says matter-of-factly. “It’s not like you can make yourself cum. Let your big brother help you, okay?” He insists and pushes two fingers inside your hole.

You scoot back out of shock and let out a surprised yelp, “O-okay,”

If he hears the nerves in your voice, he doesn’t do anything to acknowledge it. All he does is scoot closer and offer a gentle smile, the same brotherly one he gave you when he left for college and you cried wanting him to stay. That smile.

It feels so different when he fingers you. He’s not being as rough as you were and he’s definitely more practiced; you’re sure there’s tons of girls he’s done this too. It feels good, especially with him rubbing pleasant circles into your clit. You shouldn’t like this as much as you do.

“Feel better?”

“Mhm,”

He starts to speed up, and you clap your hand over your mouth to stop the moans from being too loud in case you two weren’t the only ones home. His fingers are like magic and you don’t know how to react.

With the stimulation to your clit and his fingers inside you, above cloud nine is where you are. You’ve never felt like this, and there’s a tinge of guilt about it being with your brother but this is too good.

As cute as you look with your heaving chest and your eye’s starting to unfocus, he knows he’s not done with you. When he feels you start to spasm around his fingers he pulls them out, because this may be his only chance to use you, his little sister.

He brings his fingers to his mouth and licks them clean like the perv he knows he is. It leaves you staring with your mouth hanging open, clearly searching for the words.

“What?” He asks, feigned puzzledness all over his expression. “You taste good.” He chuckles inwardly, you cringe internally. That’s not what you were going to ask, though.

“No…” You can’t look at him, so you look down and play with the sheets on your bed.

“Come on, what is it?”

“I think I was going to cum… and you-”

“That’s dumb, you can’t cum from being fingered.” There’s a seriousness in his tone, you take it as fact; he knows he’s lying.

“But the girls in porn-”

“It’s porn, it’s not realistic.”

You’ve heard that before. You guess it’s true, especially if Suna says it. It must be.

Thank god for shitty sex ed, he muses internally because without it, this wouldn’t be possible.

“Do you wanna cum?” He asks curiously.

All you offer in response is a meek nod. You’re not actually certain on going through with your brother making you cum, but if it’s anything like the way he made you feel just now… maybe, it’s not so bad.

He tells you to lay down, and you do so without hesitation. With your legs splayed open over his thighs, it feels grosser knowing your brother has an even clearer view of you. You wish you had the self control to just say no and end this.

He pulls his sweats and underwear down; if your heartbeat wasn’t going crazy before it definitely is now. His dick is thick and long. He’s rock hard, his tip is pinker than the rest of it, and there’s clear stuff leaking out. It looks like it’s going to hurt, even looks like it’s hurting him right now.

“Suna, wait is this-” You don’t know how to finish. “I’m a virgin.”

“I know, you told me already.” He’s not really paying attention to you. He spits on his hand and rubs it all up and down his length. It’ll hardly help more than the fingering, but it’s a kindness he’s willing to give his little sister. “Just… relax. I’m not gonna hurt you.” He says as he leans over you, guiding his length to your entrance.

Immediately you clench and shut him out.

“I-I’m sorry I just-”

“It’s fine, just relax like I said.”

You do, and he starts to push in. It burns. Stings? Something like a mix of those two.

Even if there was lube for you to use, Suna wouldn’t have offered. He likes the way his baby sisters' face contorts  in pain and confusion. You look cute losing your virginity to your big brother.

“AH-” It’s a sharp, pained exclamation coming from you as your hand pushes at his chest. Your legs are thrown over his shoulders now and he’s impaling you slowly inch by agonizing inch. You can feel him stretch you, but you don’t want him to stop, you’ve waited so long for this.

One of his hands rests on your lower stomach and you beg him to do anything to make you feel better when he’s all the way in. He rubs at your clit and leans over to kiss you like you’re his girlfriend.

Without warning he starts to move. It’s nothing but shallow and slow thrusts that have you feeling every inch of him. If it’ll make you cum, you can handle it. All you want is to cum. Combined with his fingers working on your clit, you’re sure you will, right?

Your moans are soft, even if it doesn’t feel that great. The girls in porn moan all the time, it’s the right thing to do.

When he feels like he’s been kind enough, he starts to move faster. You start to get used to it and your legs start to shake from the combined stimulation and strain from being bent at such an angle.

It’s like magic. Your orgasm washes over you,your eyes roll into the back of your head, your body shakes and your back arches off your soiled sheets.

Shock is plastered on Sunas typically inexpressive face. He didn’t expect you to actually...

His little sister is so sensitive. Most girls wouldn’t climax like that their first time. There’s an unspoken sense of pride in this for him. Still, he’s not stopping until he cums too.

You’re whining and squirming up under him, pushing at his hips and moving his hand away from your clit like him continuing is killing you after you’ve worked through your first orgasm. He assures you that’s how it’s supposed to feel and you’re supposed to wait until he cums too.

Once more, you’re laying there in discomfort and he’s getting off to it. Suna knows he’s wrong for it but he just can’t bring himself to care. Not when he’s so close. He especially doesn’t care when he sees your horrified expression as you feel him paint your walls with his warm cum. He’ll make sure you don’t get pregnant later, but for right now he wants to savor this moment.

[honeymoonjin]

ᴘᴀɪʀɪɴɢ: ot7 x reader || ᴡᴏʀᴅ ᴄᴏᴜɴᴛ: 9.8k || ɢᴇɴʀᴇ: smut - rated 18+

sᴜᴍᴍᴀʀʏ:

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banner designer @jamaisjoons​ 

ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢs: voyeurism, exhibitionism, filmed sex, sex toys, bondage, blindfolds, use of safeword (yellow, not red), aftercare, pet names, praising, degradation, controlled orgasm - delay/denial/forced, oral (m receiving), masturbation, face fucking, loss of virginity (wink wonk it’s our namjoonie), however not full sex just a bj

DAY FIVE

“Going outside again today, Namjoonie?” Yoongi questions with a teasing grin.

Namjoon sighs morosely at the thunderous downpour of rain visible through the kitchen windows. “It’s over for me,” he announces sullenly. “I’ve lost.”

You pause, spoonful of rice hovering in front of your open mouth. “So your prompt was ‘the outdoors’, huh?”

A miserable cry leaves his throat before he buries his face in his arms, slumped at the dining table where a few of you have gathered for breakfast. “Damn it,” he whines, muffled by the thick cable knit sweater he’s wearing. 

You’d woken up early to a crack of thunder; the weekend storm apparently descending upon the villa earlier than expected. For once, you’d had to help Jungkook work out the heating system, cranking it up until you could smell the quickly-heating dust that had gathered from lack of use. 

Yoongi, also an early riser, had announced that a day like today required a hot breakfast, and you’d helped him prepare a basic stew and some steamed rice as you were gradually joined by Namjoon, Jin and Hoseok. You’d waited a bit for the remaining two contestants, but the wafting aroma of beef and potato quickly broke your patience.

You finish your mouthful with a chuckle, leaning over to rub his back. “But now that you’re already going to get the penalty, you may as well do whatever you want.”

Namjoon’s body is still for a few moments as he considers this, before the faded purple of his hair jostles with a nod. “I guess so,” is the reply that comes from the crook of his arm.

You grin. “It’s okay, it’s not like you’re the last one. Hoseok hasn’t gone yet, and I swear Jimin doesn’t even wake up before midday.”

Hoseok narrows his eyes at you challengingly but before he can retort, the youngest makes a noise of disagreement in his throat. 

“Oh, he’s not sleeping,” Jungkook answers breezily between cheeks stuffed with rice. “What? Yesterday I wanted to ask if I could borrow one of his shirts for my stream this week - you know, that see-through pink one he wore over a white shirt? - and he didn’t answer when I knocked so I opened the door-”

“Jungkook,” Yoongi and Jin cut in simultaneously, faces turned down in disappointment.

“Wait!” Jungkook protests. “It’s not as bad as it sounds! I just stuck my head in the door and he was in the bathtub-”

“He gets a bath and I don’t?” Hoseok asks incredulously.

“Hobi-hyung, please,” Jungkook whines. “Not the point. So like, his hair was covered in white stuff and he had this bright green clay mask on his face and a black one all over his hands and the water was like pink, but still see-through and I could kinda smell rose and maybe tea tree oil but then he was yelling at me to get out and then I got a text saying if I told anyone he’d-” Jungkook pauses, his excitement fizzing out suddenly, replaced by a look of pure fear. “Oh, I probably shouldn’t have said all that. Let’s pretend that never happened.”

Jin looks like he wants to ask for more information, but Hoseok huffs, shuffling in his seat impatiently. “Who cares,” he spits petulantly. “He isn’t fucking Edward Cullen; just because he’s mysterious doesn’t make him hot. I can be mysterious.”

Yoongi gasps, pointing at Hoseok’s feet wordlessly. That alone is enough for the younger man to let out a pealing yelp, stumbling up out of his chair and jumping on his feet, frantically patting himself down as he wide-eyes the floor. Yoongi begins chuckling, a dry cackle that spreads to the others at the table, and Hoseok deflates, sending him a withering gaze.

Sitting back down in defeat, though not without glancing down one last time cautiously, Hoseok huffs at Yoongi, mouth sticking out in a pout. “You’re lucky I’ve already found my arch nemesis or it would be you, Yoongi-hyung.”

“What a relief,” Yoongi replies in sarcastic monotone. 

Hoseok frowns, before cheering up again to send you a bright grin. “Hey, Y/n, are you gonna go out to the confessional booth today?”

“Real subtle,” Yoongi murmurs lowly.

Ignoring him, you shake your head. “It’s raining,” you reply, “I’ll get wet.”

“I’m sure you will.”

Hoseok tuts, the dull thud of his foot stomping making Yoongi fight to prevent a smile. “Stop it, hyung! You’ll give it away!”

“It’s okay, Hoseok,” you assure, “it doesn’t really matter if you lose. The penalty is just spending the week in the bunk room. If you think about it, it’s like a sleepover.”

The doms eyes slide back and forth as he considers this. “Okay!” he announces cheerily. “My prompt is the confessional booth! If everyone else says theirs, we can all hang out together!”

You swear you could hear a pin drop. Namjoon looks like he’s feeling sorry for himself again, Jungkook and Jin are both avoiding his entreating gaze, and Yoongi just stares at Hoseok unabashed, smirk deepening as the silence stretches out.

After a minute of dead air, Hoseok frowns. “Fuck you guys. I wanted to sleep on the bunk beds anyway.”

Feeling bad for him, you stand up, collecting the empty bowls around the table and taking them out to the kitchen. “It’s okay, Hobi,” you chime, “if everyone else succeeds for theirs then I can keep you company.”

Hoseok’s eyes go wide, before he turns to Namjoon. “Buddy, you gotta fuck her outside. Let me have this.”

Namjoon pales, staring at the rain outside which continues to bucket down. “We’ll catch a cold.” 

“Fine, I’ll just make sure I don’t lose,” Hoseok insists, standing up himself. 

You walk back towards the dining room. “What are you gonna do, ma-Hobi!” You squeal as your body is suddenly lifted, swung over a shoulder. 

“Woah, hyung, you’re strong!” you hear Jungkook gush as Hoseok carries you without so much as a grunt. “That’s so cool!”

“Hey!” you try to snap, but with your body folded over a bony shoulder and hair dangling on end, you can’t imagine the heat of your comment is felt by anyone. “This is kidnapping!”

“Not really,” Jin calls out in a bright tone, “he’s not taking you off the property.”

You kick your legs in the air in frustration, blood rushing to your head. “Fuck you! You can go fuck Yoongi without me next time!”

“As far as threats go, that’s not strong,” Jin retorts, his voice carrying over the three shocked parties. “Fucking Yoongi would be a pleasure.”

“Thanks, Jin-hyung.”

“No problem.”

You feel your cheeks heat up with the added blood and your eyes ache, so you give up the fight, instead batting your fists against Hoseok’s ass in protest. “Hurry up, John Cena,” you grumble. “Either let me down or take me to the confessional room before I pass out.”

“So demanding,” Hoseok tuts, but before you know it you’re shifting, getting tugged down and up and sideways, vision spinning sickly until you’re resting, bridal style, in Hoseok’s arms.

You pout up at the dark-haired man. “Hobi, I feel seasick now.”

He grins, lips quirking into a heart shape. “Are you that wet already?”

Your head lolls back as you kick your legs weakly in his hold. “Stop it,” you whine. “Being mean.” 

“Poor baby,” he jibes, and calls out a cheery goodbye to the others, walking you out to the outside dining area where you’d spent that first night, and following the house around until you arrive at the garden shed that houses the confessional room. Once he lets you down, he checks his phone, wincing at what he sees. “Shit. Producer Shin is getting impatient.”

Even with all the excess blood in your head, you pale at the thought of the friendly middle-aged man that operated the camera in the room. “He’s not waiting there, is he?”

“No,” Hoseok dismisses distractedly, typing out a reply, “I exiled him to Sejin’s caravan out front. He just doesn’t like leaving his post for too long in case others want to film.” After he pockets his phone, he glances up at you, a strange dark flicker in his eyes. “Get inside and sit on the stool. Wait for me.”

Your mouth drops at the sudden change in his tone, his demeanor. “Why should I have to wait?” you protest. “You’re the one that wants me in-”

You jump when a sudden smacking noise rings in your ears, sharp and thin. In front of you, Hoseok has simply clapped his hands together once, but the fright as well as his sudden seriousness has your words dying in your throat. 

“I don’t appreciate subs that talk back,” he says slowly, each word enunciated and clear, like he’s reciting an important law. “So go inside, sit on the stool, and wait.”

“Yes, sir.” The honorific is meant to be a final sarcastic sign of defiance, but you find yourself meaning it as you say it. This isn’t Hobi that you can joke and laugh with. This is a glimpse of what he’s like at his job at the dungeon. Of what he’s like when he’s Master.

His back straightens and his face clears in approval, but he doesn’t praise you for it, simply standing in stoic expectation for you to follow his order.

When you get inside, you feel his eyes on your back like two hot pinpricks, but you don’t dare look back, leaving the door open a crack as you sit on the stool.

The room itself is cramped, with just enough room for the stool, the camera, and a seat behind it, empty for the first time since you’ve arrived. You’re used to seeing a producer sitting behind it, open from eight in the morning until midnight; Producer Shin doing the early half and Producer Kang in the evening. Both were friendly, middle-aged men. Shin was divorced and Kang was happily married with two kids in primary school, and after you’d gone through whatever thoughts were on your mind and whatever questions fans had sent in, both men would often switch off the camera and chat with you about whatever topic felt interesting at the time. 

Though it wasn’t broadcasted like your interactions with the other guys, you really had found good company in the two of them, as well as Sejin. On the Tuesday after Namjoon had walked out on you, you’d even gone out the front door to the caravan where Sejin resided, joined by Shin as the two ate dinner. While the two of them, Sejin especially, preferred not to know any extra information about the game just to maintain a professional distance, but that didn’t mean they didn’t give you a hot cup of tea and a portion of the Chinese food they’d ordered in and distract you with chatter about a k-drama Sejin was watching. 

Used to them, it feels strangely empty in the confessional room with that empty chair, more so now that you’re restless with anticipation, eyes straining to see outside the sliver of door you left open. 

He leaves you for a long time. Whether it’s on purpose or not, or whether you’re just feeling the drag as you wait, you don’t know, but it seems like hours of being on full alert before the sudden metallic screech of the door opening gives you a fright, heart racing as he steps inside. 

You gape as he casually steps behind you, a hand on the back of your head locking you in place when you try and look back at him. The glimpse you got was enough to see that he’d changed clothes slightly; bright yellow sweater replaced with a black leather jacket open over a see-through black shirt. The sight of him in your mind flashes every time you blink like an afterimage. Beyond the all-black ensemble, the tight ripped jeans and the heavy boots, perhaps the picture that stays behind your eyelids the longest is that of his hands. You didn’t have enough time to see, but he was holding what looked like a small rucksack, like the kind you’d take swimming or to play tennis. Somehow, you imagine what it contains isn’t so innocent.

You swallow as his fingers press on your scalp, splayed out. “Face the front,” he commands, and his voice brooks no protest. Once his hand leaves you, you remain still; hyper aware of the effort it takes to keep your eyes ahead, staring at the wall behind the Producer’s chair. “Arms.”

Pausing, you stare dumbly down at them as they rest on your lap. “What?”

Hoseok lets out a light sigh, like he’s exercising great patience, and taps your elbow. “Behind your back. Both of them.” 

You follow his order, a shiver running through you when his hands, calloused but limber, grasp your wrists tightly. He ties you up in silence, the cool caress of silk making your eyes slip shut in bliss. While you definitely have an interest in it, your experience in bondage isn’t particularly vast, and you marvel at how such a simple tie changes you. With every swish of fabric against the delicate skin of your wrists, your nerves all over your body sing out, need pooling between your legs. Your shoulder blades are tucked back, opening out your chest, and even in a thick hoodie and leggings, you feel deliciously exposed. Your forearms are crossed over in the hollow of your back so that the tie binds your wrists together. Instinctively, your fingers wrap around your opposite forearm for support, and knowing that there’s no back to the chair, that you’re now open on all sides, has your heart-rate picking up. 

You feel your arms tugged as he tightens the knot with a flourish, before slipping two fingers under. 

“Wiggle your fingers,” he instructs, and you obey. “Try to get out.” You pause for a moment, but then pull in opposite directions, attempting to wiggle yourself out, but to no avail. “Good.”

You swallow again, fighting against the dryness of your mouth. “What are you-” Your eyes fly open wide as his hand claps over your mouth, pulling your head back to rest against his chest as he looks down at you. You make a noise of protest, but he shushes you, brows in a straight line of disapproval.

“I ask the questions, princess. You see that chair?” He points ahead, and you try to nod but fail as his hand keeps you still, your breath coming hot through your nose. “That’s where the producer sits and asks you questions. So the only thing I want to hear from you are the answers to my questions, and your safewords if you need them. Understood?”

You try and nod again; this time, he unwraps his fingers from over your mouth and lets you catch your breath. “Yes, sir,” you confirm, voice small.

“Do you remember your colours, princess? Can you tell me?”

You lick your lips where they’ve gone dry. “Green for go, yellow for slow down and red for stop... Sir.”

If he catches the pause where you almost forgot to say his title, he lets it slide. “Good. Let’s begin.” 

You’re left dazed when he lets go of you and steps away in one swift motion, stepping to the side. You force yourself to keep your gaze ahead, unsure if the command from earlier is still in effect, but your eyes strain to make out the peripheral of him bending over the rucksack, rifling deep inside it. Your stomach curls at the sounds that emanate; the soft thuds of glass and silicone, the jangle of metal, the rustle of fabric. 

Finally, he stretches up again, and you suck in a breath when his hand finds its way to your mouth again, this time wrapping tightly around your jaw and turning your face to look up at him, at the small device he’s wiggling in his fingers. 

“Do you know what this is, princess?” Hoseok grins, and your eyes focus in on the small metal object. It’s short, a stubby cylinder. On closer inspection you notice a small remote tucked in his palm. A remote-controlled bullet vibrator. You nod as much as you can in his iron grip, and his eyes twinkle. “Are you gonna be a good girl for me and let me put it in?”

Your heart stops, blood rushing south as your desire skyrockets. “Yes, sir,” you gasp needily, unable to help yourself rocking your hips against the smoothed top of the wooden stool. 

Hoseok tuts at your movements. “Good girls stay still,” he chastises, and you freeze, feeling your jaw ache once he lets go.

As it turns out, ‘in’ doesn’t mean inside of you, but rather in your panties. Your fingernails dig into your forearms with the effort to not move, biting down hard on your tongue. He steps in front of you, hands dipping shamelessly to the front of your leggings, fingers tugging at the elastic and releasing, letting it snap onto your front. You hiss in a breath through your nose but don’t speak, remembering his rule. Going back, this time his hand slips under both layers, and you can’t help the whine that comes out when you feel cold metal against the heat of your core, sliding over your clit. Frustratingly, he himself doesn’t touch you, only placing the vibe before removing his hand, patting over your crotch where you can see the obscene bulge, straight down the middle. 

You let out a breath, brows furrowing with want, but he simply walks away, leaving you tied up and waiting as he sits behind the camera. 

He looks entirely in his element, legs spread and leaning back in the chair, fingers running over the control in his hands. In front of him, slightly to the right so his face isn’t blocked, is the camera. It’s still set up, black lens staring you down from its position on the tripod. You watch with baited breath as he leans over and turns it on with a little electronic beep, Your pussy clenches at the thought of him filming this, not for the show but for himself. 

How he’d take it to his room, booting up his laptop and locking his door. He probably sat much like he is now when he jerked off; legs wide to make room for his hands. Watching you moan and writhe, hands trapped behind you and chest pressed out as the metallic whine of the vibrations is just barely audible through his speakers. Would he drag it out, wanting to savour every last minute of the video, stroking himself slowly so as not to cum too soon, or would he be frantic, desperate, panting alone in his room as he tries to orgasm in time with you, spilling all over himse-

An unbidden cry leaps from your throat as you’re taken off-guard by the sudden voltage between your legs. Your thighs snap shut but the pleasure continues, Hoseok watching raptly as your shoulders twist, the instinct to pull your arms forward even as soft silk holds firm. “Hobi,” you whine imploringly. 

He ignores you, ramping the vibrations up enough that the noise fills the room; a constant high-pitched whirring that rings in your ears even as you clench your thighs around it. Though you’d enjoyed the odd vibrator yourself, you were sure Hoseok knew full well that there were always a few high settings that were quite simply too much. It overstimulates you before you’ve even orgasmed, so much you can’t take it. 

“Hobi!” you cry, curling over yourself as if you can escape it. Belatedly, in your electrified brain, a puzzle piece clicks into place. “Sir! Sir, please, turn it off! It hurts, please!”

You go lax, shuddering when it stops suddenly; the only sound in the confessional room coming from your heavy breathing. 

“Oh, princess,” he soothes in a warm voice, “don’t worry. Sir will help you learn. Think of this as training, hm? I want our time together to be enjoyable, but it’s important that you know how to behave. Sir would rather reward you than punish you. That’s fair, don’t you think?”

You straighten up awkwardly, the weight of your arms crossed over your back making it difficult. He’s patient, smiling once you face him upright again. “Yes, sir. Thank you, sir.”

His eyes glimmer at that, and your core clenches, all too aware of the powerful motor resting over your clit. You wanted him to be happy with you, not just because you want a reward, but because you know just how unbearable his punishment would be. “Here’s the plan: I’m going to ask you some questions, and you’re going to answer them. If I don’t like your answer, you know what happens. Understood?”

You feel your arms and thighs break out in goosebumps at the thinly veiled threat. “Understood, sir.”

“Then let’s begin. We’ll start with an easy one, hm? How do you address me?”

“Sir.”

“Correct. When should you speak?”

“When spoken to,” you answer automatically, but his head cocks to the side, raising the remote meaningfully. Your mind scrambles. “Wait! And if I have to use the safewords, sir.”

The hand holding the remote lowers again as he nods. “That’s right. I can punish you for forgetting the other rules and move on, but if you ignore that then we can’t play at all, princess.” Hoseok smiles placidly. “Those are the ones we’ve already learnt. Let’s see how good your instincts are.”

You take in a deep breath, eying up the remote warily. This was uncharted territory, so the chance of you making a mistake just went right up. Rather than making any comment, you bite your tongue and wait for him to address you. 

“When do you get to cum?” Hoseok asks in an authorial tone. 

You pause for a moment, not wanting to blurt out something wrong. “When Sir gives me permission?”

He smiles placidly. “Good. Now; normally with my subs, they come only by my say-so. But I know for you, that isn’t reasonable given you have to play with the others. However there is still something I expect to have control over. Think for a bit; I’ll give you time. What can you not do without my permission?”

You stare at him imploringly but he just waits for your answer. You rack your mind for some clue, running over his words. He only wanted you to cum with his permission, but he was saying sex with the others was fine. So it wasn’t like you couldn’t cum at all without him around... You blink, feeling cold dread settle down your back as you come up blank. “I don’t get it, sir, I’m sorry.”

“That’s disappointing.” Even as you brace yourself, the powerful vibrations shock you to your core, more intense than you remember them. Hoseok’s eyes remain on you as you rock your hips and wiggle your torso, body trying to escape the overwhelming sensations even as you know you can’t. He holds you like that for what feels like an eternity, though it can’t be more than a minute or two. Finally, just as you feel like you’re going to fall apart, he takes mercy, and the vibrations cease, leaving you gasping. 

“The answer I was looking for,” Hoseok explains coolly, “is masturbate. You are not allowed to masturbate as long as I am in the show. If you want that release, you’re to come to me, and I’ll decide if you’ve earned it. Is that clear?”

You open your mouth for a disingenuous yes, but he beats you to the bunch.

“And if you break that rule, don't think I won’t notice. I have mercy for mistakes but I don’t take well to direct disobedience.” 

You deflate, lips turning down in a frown. It takes you a moment to commit. “Yes, sir.” 

“Good.” His eyes glint proudly at the power you’ve handed over to him, and you clench your thighs together, not wanting to admit just how much that look affects you. “I have one last question for you. What would you like from me?”

This feels like a question with no right answer, but still you hesitate. Ask for too much and he might chastise you. “A kiss, please, sir,” you try tentatively.

Hoseok’s eyes crinkle slowly as he smiles, standing up. “How romantic, princess.” You turn your chin up in anticipation, toes curling as he sidesteps the camera and moves closer, leather jacket shifting to reveal tantalising slips of skin, covered by the black sheer mesh. Once in front of you, he bends down painfully slowly, close enough that your eyes slip shut, the lightest brush of his lips on yours and-

He chuckles above you as the vibrations reappear with a vengeance, making you jerk violently and curse.

“Sir! Please!” you cry. Each time the vibrations come, they’re more insufferable, like they’re breaking down your defenses one pulse at a time. “Sir, please stop it, it’s too mu-uch!”

Hoseok turns it down, but not off, so that a gentle thrumming keeps you shuddering. He reaches behind you to tug your hair, pulling your head up to face him as he stands above you, tutting. “Why would I give you what you want?” he asks rhetorically. “You didn’t answer all my questions correctly. Maybe next time, hm?”

The vibrations are now the exact opposite of before - too low to bring you close to your high. “Hobi, plea- Sir, please, make me cum! I tried my best!” You round your eyes and pout, trying to plead with him. 

Though he tries to hide it, his poker face falters for just a second. Just a twitch of his eye, a softening of his jaw, but you know you have him. 

You let your voice soften even more, the sweetest begging. “I’ll be good for you, sir. Please just let me cum.” 

Hoseok lets out a sigh, eyes melting. “Just this once, princess,” he allows, “Sir will go easy on you since you’re just learning.” He smiles at the way you moan in relief once the vibrations pick up again, the divine middle ground between too much and not enough. With your senses so heightened, it’s no surprise to feel the coil in your stomach quickly tightening, egged on by the fond way he strokes your hair, brushing it off your face to drink in your reactions. “Are you going to cum for me?”

“Y-yes, sir,” you breathe, hips rocking as much as you can without compromising your balance. It’s an overwhelming feeling having your arms still tied behind you. The thought that you aren’t in control of your own pleasure. Considering his prior rule, it doesn’t surprise you that he started with a scene where you didn’t even have the choice to cum without permission. Every time the silk tugs at your wrists or the metal vibe slides slightly with your grinding, it just reminds you of how you’re fully at his mercy, and you can’t wait to feel what that’s like once you finally cum. It’s not quite enough though; so wet, the metal slips more than you’d like and it frustrates you when the pressure isn’t enough, or is in the wrong place. You hiccup a sob when he turns the vibrations up just one more level, so close to your edge you could cry. “Ho-hobi, please, I need more.” You sniff at the way his brows tick. “Sir,” you cry desperately, legs widening in invitation. 

Hoseok lets out a low grumble as his jaw flexes. “You’re lucky I’m going easy on you,” he announces, before dropping a hand down and cupping it over your center, pressing the vibrator right over your clit. “You better cum now, princess, I’m getting impatient. You wouldn’t want Producer Shin to walk in right now, hm? Poor man just wants to do his job, not deal with whiny little girls like you who just want to cum. Do you know why I’m not fucking you right now, princess? Because I know you couldn’t help yourself from making a mess. I bet you’re sopping wet in those panties of yours.” 

With every sentence, Hoseok grinds the heel of his palm over you, jostling the vibrator against your swollen clit and before you know it, you’re cumming, leaning forward and burying your head in his chest as you latch your thighs around his hand, cresting the high. 

He holds you there the whole time, vibrator jumping up another level to make you let out a squeal. As your vision begins to clear and your body returns to normal, the vibrations make you jump and whimper against him, arms flexing aggressively as you fail to pull your hands in front of you, no way of stopping the assault of sensation- unless; “Sir! Turn it off, sir, please!”

Hoseok takes mercy on you and the vibrations cease. As you gasp for breath, the sheer fabric of his shirt itching your cheek, you feel his palms slide over your shoulders and down your back, warm even through your hoodie, and reach for the length of silk. You make a low noise of disapproval at the feeling of being untied, not wanting the scene to be over, but he just shushes you gently, pressing a kiss to the crown of your head. 

Your shoulders twinge once your hands fall to your sides, and you follow his instructions to roll them out as he massages the muscles. While his fingers aren’t as heavenly as Taehyung’s, it does ease the ache, and you let him sit you up as he fishes the slick metal bullet out from between your legs, smirking at the way you shudder when his knuckles brush against your sensitive clit.

“Now, princess,” he announces lowly, “Shin will be coming back soon, so we need to head out. But I still have one last lesson for you. Are you able to keep going? It’s nothing too crazy, I promise.”

You swallow the dryness in your throat that’s come from your heavy breaths and nod, a soft smile gracing your face with the satisfaction of a good orgasm. 

Hoseok hums, pleased, and pats your cheeks warmly before holding up the black silk. “One of the most important things in a scene,” he explains, brushing your hair back with his free hand, his knuckles light against the sensitive skin of your neck, “is trust. So we’re going to take a walk back to the house together, princess. Only you’ll be wearing this.”

Your breath hitches as the silk comes over your eyes, cool on your lids and temples as he ties it in a knot at the back, tight enough that it won’t slip but making sure it isn’t catching your hair or digging in. It’s a new kind of vulnerability, having your hands free but your sight prohibited, and you find your head tilting up blindly, seeking him out in the void.

“Oh, Y/n,” you hear him chant in a whisper, “you have no idea how beautiful you look right now.”

You shiver, hands clutching at him, slippery fabric and sharp teeth of a zip scratching your palms. “Sir,” you say, no words coming to mind but his title as his hands grasp your sides, lifting you off the stool. You stumble a but, hands flying out to steady yourself in the darkness. Your heart races when you realise your hands are empty, and as you wave them around, it’s all open air, feeling deep like a crevasse. “Hobi?”

Hoseok ignores the slip, his voice coming slightly to your right, but at a distance. “Follow my voice, princess. I’ll keep you safe. Come.”

Your mouth hangs open and your feet feel leadened to the floor. As fear begins to roil in your chest, you slide your feet forward, shuffling closer, hands scanning the air in front of you. With no sight, every inch feels like walking up to the edge of a cliff, hands grasping for contact that never comes. Your breath hitches, lungs not expanding fully. “H-hoseok, yellow,” you gasp, eyes tearing at the fear that grips your heart. “I don’t like it.”

“Okay, shh, you’re alright, I’m here,” Hoseok comforts, his voice closer, and you let out a sob of relief when your hands touch the mesh of his shirt, elbows buckling as he pulls you into a tight hug. The restriction on your ribs falls away the moment his chin rests on the crown of your head and his hands rub soothingly at your back. “I’m so sorry, princess,” he murmurs gently, “too far, hm? Are you still okay with the blindfold?”

You sniff and nod, bottom lip trembling so much that you don’t dare speak.

“So not being able to touch me was too much? That’s okay, don’t get upset, we don’t have to do that. Do you think you could walk to the house with me if I hold your hand? Would you like to try that instead?”

As he speaks, he slips a hand into yours, squeezing tightly. You take a steadying breath, feeling those sickly stresses fade away. “I wanna try, Sir,” you decide, voice only wobbling a little. 

“Are you sure?” You hum in confirmation, and he rewards you with another soft kiss to your forehead. “Then let’s go, princess. Walk this way with me.”

It’s still scary stepping out blindly, but Hoseok reassures you every few moments, and his hand is like an anchor in the black ocean, keeping you steady. His hands are surprisingly slender, but they just fit into yours all the better, warm and strong and tugging you along slowly. 

The first thing you feel once you leave the shed is the spots of rain on your cheeks, air fresh with moisture. Rather than be a negative, however, the lighter downpour soothes you, as well as gives you an incentive to walk faster. 

There’s a slight lip where the patio begins, and once Hoseok guides you to step up on it, the rain ceases to hit you, now a soothing patter against the eaves of the house and the roof over the outdoor dining area. The swish of a glass sliding door, and finally you’re led inside, Hoseok warning you about furniture you’re close to so that you don’t trip. 

Even as it gets easier with time, you still let out a heavy breath of relief once he slides back a chair at the table and helps you sit, unwinding the knot and baring your eyes to the world once more.

You blink, wincing at the bright lights of the kitchen and dining room, feeling Hoseok’s hands on you, warm voice praising you. Strangely, your mind feels more fuzzy now that it’s over, and you tell Hoseok, rubbing your eyes to try and get your vision to focus on his face.

“Probably subspace,” he answers, taking the chair next to you and holding out his hands, palms up. You frown blearily at him and he just laughs, reaching out for your wrists. You look down and let out a noise of surprise. All your struggling has left harsh red lines circling your wrists, and you hiss as Hoseok gently rubs them, pressing in an almost clinical manner like he’s making sure you haven’t hurt yourself. “Typically the trust exercise alone wouldn’t make someone fall that much, but I suspect cumming first had gotten you halfway there.” 

“Okay,” you answer dumbly, making his lips quirk in a smile, letting your wrists down. 

“I’m going to get you a drink of water and something sugary and then we’re going to sit down at the couch and watch a movie together, okay?”

“Okay,” you say again, head feeling heavy. Perhaps you’d lie rather than sit on the couch, but he doesn’t need to know that.

“You did so well for me today, princess,” he praises. “I’m so proud of you.”

“Thank you,” you slur happily, waiting for him to duck into the kitchen and retrieve the supplies.

And so for the rest of the morning, the two of you curl up together on the couch, gradually joined by the others, until all eight of you are watching Paddington 2, Jungkook furiously playing a game on his phone to hide the fact that he’s tearing up at one of the climaxes. 

It’s easy to let time pass like this; long after you feel fully clear and coherent again, you remain safe in Hoseok’s lazy embrace, his head resting against yours and his arm wrapped around your shoulders. Jin and Yoongi bicker about the movie choices as the day goes on, and Taehyung demolishes enough snacks to clear the pantry, but you and Hoseok just relax, enjoying the mutual comfort after your scene.

In fact, you barely notice the afternoon drifting by until Jin stands up and announces you order in some dinner, because it was too late to cook. True to his word, it was almost 8pm, and you didn’t fancy waiting until 10 or later to eat. 

It’s not you, or even Jin or Yoongi, but Jimin that notices Namjoon’s change in demeanour. The eight of you are crowded around the coffee table cross-legged (or, like Taehyung, lying on his stomach) in an uncommon silence founded by the delicious food you’re all stuffing into your mouths. 

Not all, apparently, as Jimin’s voice breaks the silence. “Namjoon-ah, why aren’t you eating?”

The silence changes, then. No longer the contented hush of eating, but the frozen uncertainty of a social faux pas. You’d only known each other five days and already Jimin was using a very familiar term, one that normally you wouldn’t dare use to someone older than you. Namjoon, however, doesn’t seem offended, but rather sends the younger man a grateful look. 

“I’m just not hungry,” he weakly explains, staring mournfully at the steaming dishes in front of him.

“You didn’t eat lunch either,” Jimin points out, making you raise your brows. You’d seen on many occasions that Jimin was an observer - the memory of his hand around your throat still makes you shiver - but to hear it directed at someone else’s wellbeing impressed you. 

Namjoon just shrugs. “I wasn’t hungry then.”

Abandoning his own meal and ignoring the gawking stares from the others at the table, Jimin reaches out with his chopsticks, piling food from all of the dishes into Namjoon’s bowl. “You’re going to sit here and eat with us, Namjoon, and then you’re going to tell whoever you feel comfortable telling why you’re upset.”

Namjoon’s face falls, guilty. His fingers fiddle with the hair tucked behind his ears as he watches his portion grow. “I don’t want to be a burden,” he mutters softly. 

“You aren’t a burden,” Jimin says firmly, sending him a firm look and sliding a set of chopsticks his way. “Just say thank you and eat.”

“Thank you, Jimin,” Namjoon says in a small voice, grabbing a piece of pork cutlet first, biting into the crunchy crumb. 

With a quiet smile, Jimin turns back to his own food, continuing to dig in. As if that’s the signal for the rest of you, the group returns to their bowls, a satisfied silence falling once again. 

After a few mouthfuls, Jin sets his cutlery down, wiping his mouth on a stray napkin. “I think all of us are probably facing some challenges in this situation. No matter who gets voted out and when, we’re the only ones we have right now, so let’s be honest with each other and support each other. We shouldn’t expect Namjoon to be vulnerable with us without being able to do the same. So I’ll start; one thing I’ve been worrying about is that I’ll get my own feelings in the way - whether that’s affection or jealously or competitiveness - and not be able to give you all objective advice. I want you all to see me as a person you can talk to and a shoulder to lean on, so I’m worried if I get too in the game I may no longer be able to do that.” 

Finished, Jin returns calmly to eating, pulling a long trail of cheese ramen into from the bowl into his waiting mouth. To your surprise, it’s Jungkook that speaks up next; the boy having kept quiet this whole time. 

“I’m worried-” he begins, before his nose twitches violently like he’s fighting the urge to tear up. “I’m worried that I’ll miss you guys. If I get voted out or any of you get voted out. Like; once the competition is over we can still hang out at stuff sometimes, and we can still talk, but it won’t be the same.”

You coo as he presses the back of his hand to his nose, blinking hard. Sitting beside him, you leave your own food and wrap your arms around him in a sideways hug, resting your head on his shoulder. He sniffs, but his head tips to the side to lean against yours, and you feel his body relax into the embrace. 

“I worry about that too, Jungkookie,” you admit. “Though my biggest fear is that whoever I vote out each time will hate me for it. I know it’s hard not to take things personal. It’s going to be an impossible decision every week, and I don’t think I could handle it if you got angry and didn’t want to speak to me again.” 

“That won’t happen,” Taehyung answers certainly. “You’re so cool, Y/n, and getting a bunch of hot people to fuck you every week is the dream, but I would never want to be in your decision. We all know it’ll suck more for you than it does for us.”

You smile as the other guys at the table nod in agreement, letting out a low hum as Jungkook’s shoulder jostles beneath your head, the boy reaching forward to grab his bowl. As he lifts a hunk of white rice to his mouth, you poke him in the ribs, opening your own lips. 

Though you can’t see his face, Jungkook scoffs and you can picture the reluctant grin he must sport as he changes angles, lowering it to your mouth instead. You hum happily once the warm rice fills your mouth, but it soon turns into an indignant squeak as Jungkook pulls out a cut of cooked pork with his chopsticks, eating the much better morsel. He chuckles, feeding you the next strip, and the two of you sit contentedly like that, feeding each other as the conversation continues.

It seems like it’s Hoseok’s turn. He has his gaze internal, biting at his lip. “I’m terrified that I’m gonna fuck up and say something wrong or do something wrong and then people at my work will think I’m a bad dom. I swear I’ve read Y/n’s limit sheet a million times but I still messed up today.”

“Hobi,” you sigh, voice soft with empathy, “that wasn’t your fault. And you handled it perfectly. Please don’t feel bad.” 

Though you know the others have questions - Jimin especially is staring hard at Hoseok, not angry but burning with curiosity - nobody asks, simply letting things move on. Yoongi pats Hoseok on the back from beside him and looks towards the center of the room.

“My concern is with the editing team,” Yoongi explains. “We don’t really have any way of knowing how much is going to be shown in the episodes on the website, and I don’t want people to watch this and get altered perceptions of things. I’m sure it can’t be avoided, but I do sometimes wonder how much the audience even sees.”

“I bet if one of us takes our clothes off, they’ll air this part,” Jin offers between mouthfuls of meat. “If you ever want to make sure something gets on the show, just remember it’s a porn website. I bet I could get five minutes of me talking about the economic state of Poland on the show if someone was going down on me at the time.”

Namjoon chokes on a sip of his water and you laugh heartily at the satisfied grin on Jin’s face. Always one to lighten the mood, the eldest seemed relieved at the way Namjoon blushes, but still chuckles, looking less anxious. 

“Alright, then,” the virgin announces shyly. “I’ll get it off my chest. I’ve wanted to make my move this whole week but I keep chickening out. I’m worried that I’ll get to Sunday and not have done anything.” 

You straighten up off of Jungkook. “That’s easy, Namjoonie. I’ll just make a move for you. After dinner, let’s go to your room.”

He chuckles nervously, but the whole room burst into a joyous cheer when he nods at you. 

“Namjoonie, you casanova!” Hoseok jokes, but you can see how his eyes glimmer with pride, all the guys genuinely happy for him.

Namjoon senses it too, and some of his nerves seem to dissipate. He laughs, rocking his fist like a small punch of victory, and sends you a grateful smile. “Anyway,” he says once the celebration calms down, “we still have Taehyungie and Jimin to hear from.” 

“I’ll go first,” Taehyung insists, jumping up from his spot lying on the floor to sit instead, placing his hands palms-down on the table like he’s divulging state secrets. His eyes narrow, his voice lowers. “My deepest, darkest fear is that either I or Jimin-hyung will get voted out before I get the chance to give him a massage.”

Jimin rolls his eyes as everyone oohs at the confession, but he can’t hide the upwards twitch of his lips. “Go on, then,” he allows, cheeks plumped as they fight to hold back his grin. “I need to be loosened up to admit my feelings anyway.” 

Taehyung hoots, springing up and stepping around limbs and bodies until he’s sitting on the couch behind Jimin, legs on either side of the older man’s body. “You’ll have to take off your sweater,” Taehyung announces, fingering the cream-coloured fabric around his shoulders, “it’s too thick.”

Once again Jimin surprises you by actually removing his sweater, delicately slipping the ends of the sleeves over his wrists before lifting it up. He’s not shirtless - underneath the sweater is a thin cotton tank, tucked into his white jeans - but it’s the most skin you’ve seen on him, and you gape at his bare arms, lithe and pale. 

The atmosphere in the room has changed very suddenly, everyone’s eyes on the pair as Taehyung rubs his palms together, warming them before laying them over Jimin’s shoulders with an excited grin. Jimin sighs almost inaudibly, lips parting as Taehyung begins to work his magic. 

“Tell us then, hyung,” the masseuse requests, “what’s eating Park Jimin?”

Jimin’s lids flutter, the tension returning to his face with a frown. “That none of you would like me. That I’d get voted off just to make things less awkward for the rest of you.” 

Taehyung’s hands freeze, his face falling. “We love having you here, hyung,” he insists lowly. “You’re a tough egg to crack, but I bet you’re a softie deep down. We’ll get there.” 

“Thank you,” Jimin replies shortly, feeling considerably uncomfortable with the eyes on him for once. “I do hope that wasn’t the end of the massage, Tae, you barely sat down.” His tone is flat, but he lifts his head up to send the younger boy a sidelong grin. 

Taehyung winks back at him, gently turning Jimin’s head back to face the front. “Of course, not, that was just the warm-up. You’ll be so relaxed when I’m done, you won’t be able to walk up to your room.”  

Jimin lets out a little laugh as Taehyung begins pressing his fingers in more deeply, the flesh rippling beneath his touch. The masseuse, however, glances up to the rest of you, jerking his chin away like he’s asking you all to leave. Privacy, he mouths, and you fight the urge to nod in understanding.

Jimin probably wouldn’t let himself relax like that if all of you were just sitting there staring at him; you can see the way he nibbles lightly on his bottom lip that he feels out of his comfort zone. 

Jin takes the first iniative, letting out a satisfied sigh and standing up. “I’m full,” he announces, “who’s gonna come help me do the dishes?”

And like that, you all clear out and leave Taehyung and Jimin behind, Jimin’s shoulders dropping in relief when he thinks nobody can see. Instead of helping clear up, Jin tells you to take Namjoon upstairs, and before you can really comprehend it, the two of you are sitting on the end of his bed in his room, kicking your legs out awkwardly. 

“Well,” you say after a moment, Namjoon jumping slightly like he hadn’t expected you to speak, “how would you like to do this, Namjoonie? Lying down, sitting up, standing?”

He swallows, fiddling with the ends of his hair. “I think sitting,” he answers. “Could we, um, do it under the covers?”

“The blowjob?” you ask in surprise, and Namjoon nods, cheeks bright red.

“Nobody’s seen me naked before, and it doesn’t matter if I get disqualified for not showing everything because I’m going to get the penalty anyway for not doing it outside.” 

“That’s fine,” you coo, “whatever makes you comfortable. How about I turn away while you get undressed?” 

He nods, and you face the wall, listening to the sound of him hastily undressing, like he was worried you’d get impatient and turn around. 

“You do realise I’m going to see you naked anyway?” you call out. “I can’t suck your dick with my eyes shut. Well-” Your voice lifts up as you consider it. “I suppose I could.” 

Namjoon laughs, and you let yourself smile proudly at the sound. “You can turn around now,” he instructs, and you do, smile widening at the way he sits up in bed, pulling the covers up over his chest cutely. 

“Namjoonie,” you sigh, stepping over to perch on the side of the bed, “I don’t want to push you if you aren’t ready. Are you sure about this? I don’t mind waiting.”

He mulls it over for a moment, chin pressing out as he tenses his jaw. “I think I’ll be fine once we get into it, you know? I’m ready.”

“Then let’s get into it,” you announce, fishing out your phone. 

Out of the corner of your eye, you see Namjoon’s shoulders deflate. “What are you doing?”

You smile softly, selecting a romantic playlist to set the tone a little; a slow, soothing guitar and husky male vocals emanating from your phone. “Setting the mood,” you answer, placing it on his nightstand and turning to him. “You’ve kissed before, yeah?”

Namjoon nods, his eyes widening once you stand up, shimmying out of your clothes. “I- y- mhm. Oh, god.”

“What?” you ask innocently, like you didn’t just get naked in front of him. This whole ‘being filmed 24/7’ thing had done wonders for your body confidence, and so you boldly straddle him, the duvet being the only thing that separates you. “We’ll just start with something you know, then.”

He makes a little muffled squeak of surprise when you press your mouth to his, but it shocks you just how quickly he seems to calm down and kiss you back. Perhaps he was a natural, or he had more experience than he’d let on, but in  few short moments he begins to take control of it, deepening it and making your mind hazy with slips of his tongue. 

“Wow,” you gasp out between kisses, “how did you learn to - mmph! - kiss like this?”

“Sorry,” he replies, voice already husky with arousal, “I’m excited.”

“Good,” you chime with a light giggle, “are you excited all over?”

“N- Yes,” Namjoon admits, stricken.

“So soon?” you question teasingly.

“I’m sorry,” he repeats, pulling away and clenching his eyes shut like it pains him. “You’re really pretty.”

To hide your blush, you slide a hand down his chest and stomach. “Do you want me to touch you now?”

He nods quickly, jerky motions as his hands fist at his sides. “Shit, can you- This duvet was a bad idea, I shouldn’t have-”

“Hey,” you interrupt softly, standing up off him. He makes a low noise of loss and opens his eyes, widening when he’s visually reminded of just how naked you are. “We can take the duvet off, don’t worry. It’s easier this way, too.”

Once he nods his consent, you flip the covers back, revealing his naked body.

Your mouth drops open. “Jesus fucking Christ.”

Namjoon frowns, brows knitting together. “That’s not a good reaction,” he says unsurely, hands tucking over his hardness. He’s huge - big enough to rival Seokjin’s - and he’s practically leaking precum like a faucet, his tip looking so red it must be painful. 

“Oh, I can assure you it most definitely is,” you gush. “God, I’m so lucky. How did I get this lucky?” you ask yourself in wonder, stradding him again. This time, you sit lower so that you can bend over and take him in your hand, marvelling at the weight of it. 

With that simple touch, Namjoon’s head falls back and knocks loudly on the headboard, making him hiss. “Y/n, if you don’t put your mouth on me now, I swear...”

Your eyes widen, mouth in question falling open in shock. “So Namjoon’s a baby dom, hm?”

He lifts his head off the wall, staring at you like he can’t believe the words that came from his own lips. “Sorry, was that rude? I’m going crazy, I want you so bad.” 

“Don’t apologise,” you croon, running a single nail lightly up his side, “I like it. I’m going to suck you off now, okay? Tell me what feels good.”

He nods, a small amount of his prior nerves returning, but before they can take over, you dip your head, wrapping your lips around his tip and simply sucking off the precum that pools there. 

“Fuck! God, oh my god,” Namjoon all-but shouts, and you can’t help but chuckle around him. “Don’t laugh,” he chastises, a hand winding its way in your hair to pull it back from your face. 

You glance up at him, lips still on him, and slowly sink down, letting his hardness fill your mouth all the way to the back. He’s barely halfway in, but when you flick your tongue against one of the veins on his underside, it looks like he’s reached nirvana. You pull up, licking your lips, and use your hand to spread the wetness around his length. “Good?”

“Good, just keep - fuck - keep going.” You grin when his lips press together and he visibly forces himself from saying please, now that you’ve said you liked his dominant streak. 

Always one to please, you drop your mouth onto him again, this time building up into a bobbing rhythm, a salty tang hitting your tongue as sweat and precum mingle. As you jerk off what can’t fit in your mouth, Namjoon curses lowly and his hips rise off the bed, pushing himself deeper so that his tip begins to breach your throat. You gag in shock, but he just groans louder at the obscene noise. 

Expecting him to do it again, you try and relax your throat, but instead you feel tugging on your scalp as he pulls you up by your hair. He’s still slow enough to be painless, but he seems more comfortable taking some control and it makes you grin when you get pulled up off him, sucking air into your lungs. 

“I want to try something,” Namjoon admits with wide, lust-ridden eyes. “I won’t push if you don’t want to.” He swallows, fingers tightening in your hair. “Can I fuck your face?”

Your mouth drops open even more, but your grin only broadens. “Fuck, yes,” you enthuse. “Is like this okay, or do you wanna change positions?”

“Like this,” he says, and his other arm moves down so that he can hold your head with both hands, fingers brushing back the hair that’s fallen in your face. “Just hit me if it’s too much?”

Your heart warms at the thought of him worrying about your safety, and you nod, taking the initiative to lean down, opening your mouth to rest his tip on your tongue, glancing up at him.

“Okay,” he breathes, and begins. 

Rather than fucking up into you, he first starts by guiding you up and down on his cock with his grip on your head, each time a little lower, a little deeper down the back of your throat like he’s readying you. After only a few pulls up and down, his head tips back again, smacking noisily against the headboard as he speeds up, eyes shutting in pleasure. 

It’s only once his eyes have closed that his hips begin to thrust up too. Like he’s letting himself get lost in the pleasure and just feel. You get lost in it, too. It’s easy to go passive like a doll, just focusing on the way he fills your throat. The way he hisses when you gag, and moans when you swirl your tongue in time with his thrusts. 

Your eyes tear up with the intensity of it, breathing through your nose and trying not to cough on him, but you’re in heaven, a hand slipping down between your legs to give yourself some much-needed friction.

It’s once you start touching yourself that everything suddenly happens much faster. The rush of pleasure makes you moan around him, which makes him open his eyes blearily to look down at you, slowling his thrusts when he sees your hand between your legs. Once he realises what you’re doing, he curses again, and his hips pick up their speed, surpassing it until you’re gagging on every thrust, your jaw aching and tears streaming, but still you rock against your hand and moan onto him, caught in the pleasure of feeling, watching, and hearing him fall apart as you fall apart yourself. 

As you grow close, a hair’s breadth away from orgasm, you reach your free hand between his legs and cup his balls, softly rolling them in your grasp. 

Namjoon shouts as he reaches his orgasm, and suddenly he’s pressing you still against him, cumming down your throat with a stream of intense groans, thighs shaking. 

You can’t catch your breath; his cock triggering your gag reflex but staying deep inside you, and it’s that desperation, that lack of control that brings you over the edge yourself, soaking your hand and the sheets below it with the force of your orgasm. He lifts you up as you’re riding your high, spent himself, but the sudden rush of oxygen to your lungs only heightens your pleasure, and you collapse, face pressed against his stomach as you cum and suck in air and cum some more.

Your own legs are shaking by the time you finish, core throbbing with aftershocks, and it takes all of your energy to push yourself up beside him so that you can lie against his bare chest again. 

The room is filled with nothing but panting for a few moments, your fingers lazily tracing patterns on his chest as his arm wraps around you, holding you tight. 

Namjoon is the first to speak, his voice low even in the silence of his bedroom. “Will you stay?”

You swallow back the hoarseness in your throat, using your foot to hook the duvet back up and over your lower halves, snuggling closer to him. “I’ll stay.”

TAGLIST

due to issues tagging the main post, tags will be in the comments.

[thejudgingtrash]

Virgin Percy and chad Annabeth omg

Here you go, love! :D Also kids feel free to stay away. It’s sfw/nothing explicit is going on, everyone is an adult but obviously there are small references about sex.

Let me swing that cliched trope, anon! :D also thank you again Torie @percyheartsannabeth ^^

Red Solo Cup (WC: 2.4k)

It didn’t come as a surprise to Percy that Annabeth rushed past him into his apartment and threw herself onto the sofa. She basically was at home at the Jackson’s and a more than welcome guest. “What happened?” Percy asked.

“Broke off with Ethan,” the blonde shrugged and grabbed his cherry coke. Another boyfriend that the college freshman dumped, another nonchalant reaction from his 19-year-old friend. Percy had learned early on not to ask Annabeth why her relationships didn’t work out. His best friend would rage into a monologue for hours and talk about every little detail. Every single one.

From the small size of a penis, to the number of warts her ex’s grandma had. Every detail. Percy had been burned more than once before.

“Well another one bites the dust,” the young woman said and turned her favorite show on. Percy had to admit. He was jealous. Whereas Annabeth was living her fullest and free as a bird with relationships and flings, he didn’t. Instead of hanging out with new friends, he stayed in and babysat his sister. His interactions were mostly limited to group chats. The Dominican rarely got out. Percy didn’t know whether it was social anxiety speaking or just an extreme case of introversion.

He looked okay, passable. According to some of Annabeth’s girlfriends he was cute and looked exotic, although he didn’t like that word. Having light eyes and a deep complexion shouldn’t count as looking exotic. Percy wasn’t built like his cousin Charles Beckendorf and he also didn’t have the charm of Annabeth’s ex Luke Castellan. Or the coolness of Annabeth’s latest fallen boyfriend Ethan Nakamura. But he was passable. More than fine. Not a huge slob, a great listener, an amazing cook and a great friend. So how come he never had a real relationship. How come that he never had been kissed, that he still remained a virgin to that day? Was his quietness that off putting? Percy just hoped that he wouldn’t join the crazy ranks of 40-year-old incels spewing their bullshit online and potentially harming people. He just wanted to find his soulmate he could cover in his baking goods.

“What’s going on?” asked Annabeth who was confused at his silence. Percy was usually way more talkative and would fight for the remote control because he hated watching her dramas.

“I don’t know. I’d really like to meet someone to talk to,” he confessed and didn’t dare to look her in the eyes.

“Huh? What do you mean? We’re talking right now.” She took another sip from his drink.

Percy rolled his eyes. “That’s not what I meant. I’d like to have a relationship. Explore crushes and love and all of that.”

Annabeth was surprised. She didn’t know that being single annoyed him that much. “Oh please. Relationships are overrated. Trust me.”

“It’s not just that. I haven’t got any experience.” Percy was a terrible flirter. Sweaty palms, accelerated heartbeat, and stuttering. Middle school and high school had been hell. “I haven’t even kissed someone and I’m nearly twenty!”

“So what? You’re making a deal out of this. It’s so weird and just not like you. That literally doesn’t matter in the grand scheme of life. Don’t force it. When you’re ready, you’re ready.” His friend shrugged. “Also, if I remember correctly, we have kissed before.”

A sloppy wet kiss that Percy buried deep into the darkest pits of his mind.

“Come on, Annabeth.” Percy rolled his eyes. He almost would have been offended if he hadn’t been so tired. “That was in ninth grade and part of truth or dare.”

Annabeth crossed her arms. “I still think that counts!” she disagreed.

Percy just sunk into the sofa and sighed. “Alright. How many people have I kissed that haven’t been you?”

Annabeth remained quiet. Percy had a point. He really didn’t go out to meet new people. Meet new friends or acquaintances. Meet someone who he could see as a date. The blonde felt uneasy and licked her lips. Her gaze rested on the young man next to her who had a sour expression on her face and continued watching Grey’s Anatomy against his wishes.

“Okay, Mr. I’d like a relationship. There’s a party next week at Reyna’s,” Annabeth started and caught his attention.

“You want to have some experiences? That’ll be the place to be and see what you’ve got. You’re in?”

Percy had to admit. He felt uneasy and nervous. But then he sealed his fate and nodded.

“Okay, let’s go to bed, I’m tired.” Annabeth and he sleeping in the same bed was a habit they had ever since they were nine and it never stopped.

The week passed. Seminars and classes had been attended and assignments were half way done. Friday evening was the time where everyone was finally letting loose. Percy was getting ready in his room.

Annabeth’s advice was a text she had sent an hour earlier which only said don’t show up naked, wear something comfortable. Not particularly helpful. He settled for a white dress shirt and dark jeans. Perhaps too much, perhaps too little. He wasn’t a party person so he wouldn’t know. It wasn’t much until he saw Annabeth in front of Reyna’s house where people were already drinking and laughing in front of it. She was speaking to a little group of people and seemingly cracked a joke as they began to laugh.

“Percy!” She waved him over. She looked good in her jeans and the dark crop top. Lose golden curls that rested on her shoulders. The group dissolved and entered the house.

Annabeth examined him. “You look good,” she smiled.

“Likewise.”

Annabeth’s mouth was agape. Then she laughed. “You really need a lesson in flirting. Let me be your teacher.” He’d rather not. Annabeth in hunting mode was something you only wanted to witness once.

As soon as they stepped into the house, they were greeted by clouds of weed, sweat and cheap alcohol. A brunette shadow walked up to them.

“Perseus! You made it!” Reyna hugged him and he stiffly hugged her back. Yes, he was that bad with people. Even people he had known for years.

“Hi Reyna,” he laughed. Reyna raised an eyebrow and looked at Annabeth. The native Puerto Rican thought that Percy would bounce like he always did.

“Reyna!” Thalia, Reyna’s girlfriend called for her.

“Okay, see you guys around.” Reyna excused herself.

Annabeth turned to Percy. “Alright. Let’s scout and watch out for some prey for you.”

“You’re making it sound like you’re Bear Grylls ready to fight for some survival shit.” Percy was weirded out. Party Annabeth was scary.

Annabeth laughed and slapped his shoulder. “That’s basically the spirit.”

He followed her into the living room which was full of drunkards shouting and grinding over the worst DJ Khaled remix that he has ever heard. Before Annabeth could talk about the plans she had in her mind for Percy, the fates had other intentions for them.

“Oh hey! Annabeth, right?” Some blond schmuck approached them. He looked like a trust fund baby that has never heard the word no in his life before.

“Octavian! Oh my god, it’s been a while!” They hugged and Percy felt incredibly awkward. Being the third wheel was not fun.

“Who’s that?” Octavian eyes the tall young man behind her.

“Oh, that’s just Percy, don’t mind him.” Ouch. That hurt.

“I’m going to get myself something to drink. You two have fun,” Percy decided. Annabeth waved and promptly forgot about him.

Percy fought his way to the kitchen. He had forgotten how rude drunk and high people could be, especially when they loved to block paths. As he entered the kitchen, he ran into someone. A young woman with auburn hair and a frown on her face.

“Oh, I’m so sorry, are you okay?” He asked and helped her stand up right.

“Oh yeah. I’m just tired of this place. Why did I agree to come to this party?” she sighed and was glad that the cute stranger wasn’t part of the annoying drunk crowd.

“I feel you. I hate this,” he sighed. They both shared a smile and a laugh.

“Why did we agree to this?” she giggled.

“I guess we like to torture ourselves,” Percy chuckled. She was nice. Found an instant liking to her. “Percy,” he introduced himself.

“Call me Calypso,” she smiled. An instant connection had been made.

“Want to drink something? Non-alcoholic that is?” Percy proposed and hoped that his voice didn’t crack.

“Gladly,” she left and took his hand.

It dawned Annabeth slowly. She had forgotten something. Didn’t she come to this party with an intention? Not just drinking and dancing. But something else. The college student had been talking to Octavian, danced with him, talked a bit with his friends and now they were alone again. It was abundantly clear that he was interested in a short fling.

“Oh fuck,” she remembered what she had forgotten. Or more who she had forgotten. Percy. Where was he?

“Huh?” Octavian asked.

“I’ve got to check in on a friend, don’t move, I’ll be right back,” the blonde smiled and winked.

“Oh, alright.” Octavian said. He was trapped in Annabeth’s web. Just the way she liked it.

Annabeth looked out for Percy. She had seen her friends Piper, Clarisse, Hazel and Reyna again but none of them had seen him. Annabeth checked her phone. Apart from Instagram stories that had been shared frantically, no new messages. Percy was the type to text her immediately should he leave. Hell, he would have told her in person.

She reentered the living room with a frown on her face. Her gray eyes scanned the area and actually found his messy black haircut on the dancefloor fairly easy. Percy and dancing. A smile slipped onto Annabeth’s face. Then it dropped. Percy wasn’t working it in the middle of the room alone. He had his hands around the waist of a curvy small brunette. Percy had gotten his wish. The entire purpose of this operation was to meet someone new. And the way he threw his head back to laugh proved that he fairly enjoyed himself.

Annabeth felt a thing and that one thing only: boiling rage. Her feet acted immediately. She marched to the dancefloor and pushed everyone aside that had been in her way until she got to Percy and the mysterious girl at his side.

“Percy! There you are!” Annabeth said and threw herself onto him in a hug and broke his embrace with the stranger. Then she grabbed him and pulled him out of the crowd. Confused, the mystery girl followed them.

Percy was perplexed and looked down at Annabeth, who was behaving very oddly. That was not the usual chill Annabeth he knew. Percy looked to Calypso and saw the hurt in her eyes. Oh no, she must think we’re together, he thought.

“Uh, Calypso this is Annabeth, a friend of mine,” Percy explained and saw how the brunette visibly relaxed.

“Best friend you meant to say,” Annabeth corrected and stole his red solo cup. She had to admit that being reduced to a friend hurt her way too much. Her smile cracked at the taste of soda instead of a delicious liquor. She had forgotten that Percy was a non-drinker in the heat of the moment. She needed something that would wash her annoyance away. Annabeth shook hands with that Calypso girl.

“Calypso, like the dance?” she asked with a slightly condescending tone.

“Uh yeah, exactly. Like the dance.” Calypso said and raised an eyebrow as Annabeth got a hold of Percy’s arm.

Percy looked back to Annabeth and gently tried to pry her off. Her grip only tightened, and her fingernails dug into his skin.

“And what is this supposed to be?” Calypso asked and pointed at Annabeth who claimed Percy’s complete right side. She sounded annoyed.

“Nothing,” Annabeth innocently smiled. The cold harsh look in her eyes said something else.

“Um, Annabeth, weren’t you talking with that Octavian guy? Or what was his name?” Percy’s discomfort was clear, and Annabeth ignored the hint.

“Oh yes, but I’d rather spend my time with you!” she grinned and didn’t let go of him.

“Sorry girlie but it’s clear that you’re ruining our moment.” Calypso’s hand waved between her and Percy.

“What moment? Am I not allowed to hang out with my best friend?” The irritation in Annabeth’s voice rose. Percy and Calypso looked at her in shock.

“If he’s your best friend, then I’m pretty sure that you’ll see enough of him? Just leave.” Calypso rolled her eyes.

“What if I don’t want to?” Annabeth innocently pouted and tilted her head. “Percy’s always there for me which is what I want right now. Sorry Calypso. We’re having a moment right now.”

Calypso’s mouth pressed into a thin line. Annabeth enjoyed seeing her frustration rise up.

“Alright, listen Annabeth normally I wouldn’t say this but you-” Calypso’s eyes widened. Annabeth had turned Percy’s head to herself and pressed a kiss onto his lips.

Percy’s eyes widened before they automatically shut down. Annabeth was an excellent kisser and her soft lips felt like a dream. Percy had to admit that he enjoyed the kiss. He enjoyed it way too much. Then he broke it off. Shock was written on his face and his eyes wandered from the all too pleased Annabeth to a speechless and hurt Calypso.

“I can’t believe it.” Calypso shook her head, turned around and left.

Annabeth smiled a victorious grin. Then she looked up to Percy and saw him for the first time. Not as a friend, but as a handsome guy that she happened to know all too well. His sea green eyes scanned her face and his lips were slightly parted.

“Annabeth, what in the fuck was that-” Annabeth cut him off with yet another kiss that she deepened. This time Percy didn’t break the kiss off. He held her tight and touched her warm back. He felt her grinning between the kisses.

“Come with me.” Annabeth said. She didn’t give him a choice. She took his hand and dragged him out of the building. Party be damned, they could celebrate at home amongst other activities. Alone.

“What are you doing? Where are we going?” Percy asked.

“Oh,” she said and turned around to look him in the eyes. “I’m just making sure that no one else is bothering you.”

The End

Tbh, I don’t mind me some hot girl Annabeth... Thanks again for the suggestion, anon!

All Cookout Fics

Cute/Cursed Cookout Writing Prompts

[lesbian-percy-weasley]

Late Night Games by Gay-Natasha-Saves-The-World on Ao3 (aka the best fanfic writer this side of the Rockies)

Series: None

Ship: Percy Weasley/Oliver Wood

Content Warning: Teenagers being drunk and kissing

Description: It was a stormy night and Oliver was bored out of his mind. Maybe Percy would be up to do something fun?

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It was a lazy night in Gryffindor tower. There was a strong storm brewing outside so most people went up to their dorms early. That included Oliver Wood. Quidditch practice had been canceled for today which meant he had a lot of energy and no way to burn it. Sure, he could study but that was boring. He wanted to have a bit of fun and he knew the exact person to mess with.

Unlike Oliver, Percy thought studying was a good way to spend time and that was exactly what he was doing. He was trying to read a book for arithmancy, but the absolute state of the weather outside was distracting him. No use in trying to absorb anything with hail hitting your window every millisecond. But alas, he knew he had to so he persisted. That was until his dorm mate, Oliver entered the room.

Percy acknowledged his entrance and returned to reading his book. Oliver rolled his eyes. He never thought anyone could like school until he met Percy. He thought it was odd. His brothers were nothing like him. Maybe that’s why Oliver was so intrigued by the boy. Well, that and he thought Percy was the hottest out of all the Weasleys.

But still, Oliver was bored out of his mind. He flopped down on his bed and looked at Percy. After a while, Percy noticed and gave Oliver a very quizzical and uncomfortable look. He didn’t like feeling observed. It took a few seconds of them staring at each other before he finally talked.

“What do you want?” Percy said in a very dry tone of voice. “I’m bored,” Oliver said while folding his hands under his chin. “And, what does that have to do with me.” Percy turned his attention back to his book.

“Let’s do something.” “I’m already doing something.” Percy scoffed. “I meant something fun. You already study every day. Don’t you have any hobbies?” Oliver sat up. “For your information, I crochet sweaters for hippogriffs on the weekends.” Percy sarcastically quipped. “Why don’t you just hang out with my brothers or anyone else?”

“Because I want to hang out with you.” Oliver shrugged in reply. Percy gave a heavy sigh and set down his book. “Fine. What do you want to do?” Oliver thought for a second. “Oh, let’s play a game,” Oliver said while moving quickly to get something out of his trunk. Much to Percy’s dismay, it was fire whiskey.

Percy let out a disgusted noise. He hated playing drinking games and getting drunk, especially when it’s on cheap liquor. “What? Do you think you’re above fire whiskey?” Oliver said teasingly. “That shit is vile. It’s only like one tier above potion maker’s punch. And I don’t see getting drunk as entertainment.”

Oliver scoffed. “Well, there’s nothing else to do, is there?” “Speak for yourself. I was doing something.” Percy said reaching for his arithmancy book but before he could reach it, Oliver grabbed it and chucked it across the room. Percy sighed defeatedly. “Fine. You win. What game do you want to play?” He said reaching for the whiskey and taking a giant swig of it.

Oliver thought for a minute. He honestly didn’t think he’d get this far. He had tried to hang out with Percy like this so many other times before to no avail. He took the whiskey back from Percy and took a drink for himself. The alcohol gave him some newfound confidence. Which is probably why he suggested the game that he did.

“I know. Why don’t we play a game where we both touch and kiss each other and the first person who stops loses.” Oliver said with one of the biggest shit-eating grins Percy had ever seen. Percy was a bit taken aback. Was Oliver into him, or was he such a lightweight that he was already drunk? He knew Oliver was bi but he didn’t know Percy was bi.

“What’s in it for me?” Percy asked, raising his eyebrows. Oliver shrugged “Satisfaction for winning.” Percy thought about it for a bit. He didn’t really have anything to lose and Oliver was proper fit.

“Fuck it why not,” Percy said grabbing the whiskey and taking a giant sip of it. Oliver sat down right next to Percy. Percy stared back at him like he was challenging him to do something. Oliver smirked knowing he was about to give this prick the time of his life. He grabbed Percy’s shirt collar with a bit of force and pulled him down to kiss him. Percy might have the advantage of height but Oliver was a great deal stronger.

Percy very gladly reciprocated the kiss and grabbed onto Oliver’s shoulders in the process. Percy had never done anything like this, especially not with a boy, but he wasn’t gonna let his facade crack after being so smug. They continued for a while, making out but not doing much else.

They broke apart for a few seconds to catch their breath. Percy looked Oliver straight in his eyes. He was no longer baby, he wanted power. He smirked and asked, “Is that all you got?” Oliver put his hands on his chest and whispered “I haven’t even started yet, Weasley.” into his ear.

With that, he pushed Percy down onto his bed and got right on top of him. He pinned his arms above his head and started to attack his neck. Percy tried to stifle a moan but Oliver heard. Oliver stopped for a second.

Was Percy into this? He didn’t really think he liked men, just that he was stubborn enough to agree to this. To be honest, it motivated Oliver even more than before. Maybe he’d get something after this. He looked up at Percy, who was slightly blushing, Not so smug anymore, was he?

Oliver smirked at him and continued attacking his neck. He had taken his hands away from Percy’s arms and worked on removing both his and Percy’s shirts. They took a few seconds to stare at both of their bare chests. Percy didn’t expect it to end up like this. Never in his life would he have thought the first time he would get this far with anybody would be with his Hogwarts roommate on a drunken dare. But he was trying not to be so controlling of everything lately so fuck it. He didn’t care if either of them remembered it in the morning he wanted to feel good. And again, Oliver was really hot.

Oliver grabbed the back of Percy’s head and pulled him into a bruising kiss. He in return grabbed onto Oliver’s back and then proceeded to touch themselves all over.

They both knew where it was heading but Percy was becoming concerned. Did he really want to lose his virginity with his drunk roommate? What if he regretted it in the morning? What if Oliver regretted it in the morning? He couldn’t let this go any further than it was already at.

Oliver, however, was drunk and didn’t care about the consequences. He wanted Percy more than he had ever wanted anything ever before. That was the whole reason he suggested the game. He wanted Percy and it was clear Percy wanted him too. So he didn’t understand why Percy was moving away when Oliver reached for his belt.

Oliver looked up at him in confusion? “Sorry, Oliver. I can’t. Not tonight.” “Why not?” Oliver said quite indignantly. Percy put his hand on his face. “Because you’re drunk,” “Am not!” Oliver replied with his accent stronger than usual. “Yes, you are. And besides, I don’t want my first time to be on a dare.”

Oliver looked down at his hands. He was honestly quite upset but he understood why. Percy scooted up next to him and put his arm around him. “Maybe next time when we’re sober.” He said, giving a quick kiss on the cheek. That cheered him up quickly. He liked the prospect of next time so he nodded and rested his head on Percy’s chest

They laid right next to each other on Percy’s bed for the rest of the night. Oliver was going off on drunken rambles and Percy was mainly wondering where Oliver had thrown his jumper. Not enough to move out of his arms though. Was it selfish to want this more often? He had honestly never felt like this about anyone before. Despite what his heart was telling him he knew he made the right decision. Maybe next time they could do without involving silly games or fire whiskey. Merlin, he hated fire whiskey.

[the-omni-princess]

All Yours

Author: @the-omni-princess​

Summary: It’s simple really. You have a secret, and there’s an infamous Stark party. What could go wrong?

Prompt: Hyacinth – Jealousy / constancy of love, fertility

Word Count: 1.7K

Pairing: Bucky x Avenger!reader

Warnings: fluff, alcohol, surprises

A/N:

Slowly making my way through all my writing challenges lol

This is for @writingsoftheloser​ ’s  #vi1.5kmeaningschallenge !!!!

-

[My Masterlist]

----

Dressed to the nines, dripping in jewels, and with a dress with way too many slits in it to still be considered a dress, you felt a bit self-conscious while walking into the Stark Party alone. Your hair was braided back, with small white chrysanthemum flowers tucked into the weaved hair. The slits in the dress showed off your glowing skin, and if you turned too fast, someone could catch a glimpse of the navy colored lace corset and panties you were wearing underneath – a gift from Natasha, she deemed this lace pair as the ‘dick me down lingerie’ – yet despite all this, you pushed past the burning edges of self-doubt creeping in, in favor of tilting your chin up higher and walking with confidence.

What was this party celebrating again? Honestly, you couldn’t be sure. All you knew was that most of the team was off-site for the past month, holed up in the Amazonian Jungle, with absolutely no contact, and that this party was made too far in advance to cancel. Both you and Natasha had stayed behind since the mission required more brute force, and well because Natasha had a broken wrist.

Despite the wrist brace, Natasha still looked stunning in a tightfitting red dress. You both sipped on your martinis, bored after having smiled and waved to every dignitary in the room. The mission was supposed to be over a week ago, which had you antsy and fitted with nervous. Ever the spy, Natasha noticed. “Babe, calm down. They’ll be absolutely fine.”

Finishing up your virgin martini and setting the glass down on the bar, you nodded. “I know, I’m just worried. You know how these missions go, a few bullet wounds aren’t enough to make them go home, especially Bucky and Steve.”

She shrugged, “Bucky will be absolutely fine with Steve watching over him-“

“Oh, we both know Steve’s more likely to be shot.”

“Not helping, y/n/n,” The redhead rolled her eyes, finishing up her own drink before waving down the bartender. “Either way, forget boys, how’s the new kitten doing?”

“Alpine? Oh, that cutie’s fine. Always nosy, pushing stuff off counters, but other than that she’s a little angel. Clearly, I’m not her favorite parent, but she has to live with me so,” you shrugged.

Natasha smirked, taking in your fruity cocktail as she started sipping her own. “Is that the new drink Wanda was going on about?”

Knowingly, you took a sip, letting the cherry and mango flavors sit on your tongue. “Yeah, but get your own,” you glared at her. She grinned wickedly, and you realized your plan was slowly going down the drain. “Nat, don’t even think about it,” you warned.

The former assassin was much too quick for you, grabbing your drink and taking a sip before you could protest. Her face soured, before giving you the drink back. “Flavor’s not bad, but a virgin cocktail? Who are you and what have you done to my favorite techie?”

You couldn’t hold back your giggles as you finished your drink. “I’m cutting back on alcohol.”

“Yeah, sure. I’ll believe that’s the reason,” she gave you a look, making your guts flip. She couldn’t possibly have known, hell, you made this plan only a few weeks ago. Nat was too smart for your own good.

As you thought of a coverup, a voice interrupted your conversation. “Excuse me, Bartender? Whiskey on the rocks for me, and two cocktails for the ladies.” A man had appeared beside you, Natasha on the opposite side of you, looking just as repulsed as you.

“No thanks,” you pushed the new cocktail to Nat. “I’m tapped out.” You gave the man your best ‘please leave me alone I’m only being polite, but I’ll punch you’ face. Nat wisely didn’t mention your lack of interest in the free drink, something you would usually partake in.

“Come on, loosen up a bit. It’s only a drink,” the man said, most likely thinking that was a good way to ‘charm’ you. Ha, not likely.

“And I declined,” you snarled, quickly losing patience.

“I’m only trying to be nice-“ The man tried to reach for your wrist

“And the lady said no. Get lost,” a new voice appeared, a metal hand latching onto the arm that tried to grab you. He shoved the man away, rather roughly, but you truly did not mind that at all. Bucky placed himself between you and the man, a scowl on his face as the man walked off grumbling, his metaphoric tail between his legs.

“You’re home early,” you tried, nonchalantly, Nat rolling her eyes beside you. “And I had that.”

“Just got back,” Bucky turned towards you, softening as he took in what you were wearing. He himself was in a leather jacket and black jeans, a small cut on his forehead, but other than that he looked perfectly fine. “Couldn’t wait to see ya, baby,” he grinned, hands coming to rest on your hips as he pulled you closer. The petname made your spine tingle, but the fact was he couldn’t possibly have known either, so you stayed silent. Out of the corner of your eyes you noticed Natasha most definitely giving you a look. Well, that took longer than you thought it would. “And I get here, only to have my best girl being hit on by some rookie agent.” His tone made you look back up at him, wrapping your arms around his neck.

“Was someone jealous?” you teased, raising an eyebrow.

“Maybe a little,” he conceded, shooting you a goofy smile. “Can’t help it. I missed you,” he tilted your head up, smiling as he captured your lips in his. Soft, and gentle, with an underlining power and authority and dominance. God, you missed him more than you care to admit, but that might just be the hormones talking.

You gently pulled away, “I missed you too.”

He tugged on your hands, leading you to the dance floor, drink and Natasha forgotten. You made a mental note to apologize to her in the morning. Bucky pulled you closer, gently swinging the two of you back and forth to the music.

Quiet, at peace. It took a few songs before you were ready to break the magic. By then, the only people remaining were the rest of your found family. Tony, Steve, Bruce, and Clint were all on the sofas, nursing drinks while making jokes about the mission, which must have gone well. Natasha and Wanda were standing by the bar, giving you little funny looks. Oh, they most definitely figured you out. Sam was beside Maria, flirting, and currently striking out, even though Maria had already agreed to a date next week with him. Thor and Vision were both in towards the kitchen, figuring out the new appliance you had installed while they were gone. It felt warm and fuzzy. Like everything right had finally happened in your life.

Home. It felt like home.

“Bucky,” you murmured, gently pulling your head up to look at him.

“Yes, Fiancé mine?” He grumbled, softly pulling you back against him, making you giggle.

“I have some news I wanted to share with you and the team.” That most certainly got his attention.

He raised an eyebrow, pulling away from you. “Should I be concerned?”

You shrugged, “Probably,” you admitted with a teasing smile.

He chuckled, “Well let’s tell them.”

You shook your head, “This is me telling you as well, go sit, I’ll be right back.” You pulled away, rushing back to your room to grab what you needed.

When you got back, the entire team was surrounding the sofas and chairs in the main living area, Bucky sitting beside Steve with a space on his other side for you. You stood in front of them and took a deep breath. “So… Did anyone notice the new flowers in the kitchen?” you started.

Multiple heads turned to glance at them. “Blue and Pink Hyacinths?” Wanda supplied, knowing your small obsession with flowers.

“Yep. Does anyone know what they mean?” Another game of yours. Even the white chrysanthemums in your hair had the meaning of loyal love and truth. Every flower had a meaning, and you loved using them for your own games.

“Oh! I know!” Steve looked excited, he usually couldn’t remember which flowers meant what, but always admired the ones you planted in your garden upstairs, usually helping you if Bucky was on a mission. “They mean jealousy or constancy of love!” He grinned, making you smile.

“Yep! But there’s one more meaning.” You whispered, handing Bucky the small envelope that had been burning a hole in your hands since you picked it up.

He gave you a confused look but opened it, nonetheless, completely trusting in you. “What’s this?” He murmured, looking at the small grainy photo.

“It also means fertility,” you supplied, waiting for who would connect it first.

It was clear by the high pitch in her voice, Natasha put all the clues together first. “You’re pregnant! That’s why you weren’t drinking alcohol!” You simply nodded, gauging Bucky’s reaction.

His eyes widened, eyes shooting from you to the picture and back and back again. “We-… we’re having a kid?” He mumbled, slightly confused and waiting for the other shoe to drop.

“Yeah-“ your voice cracked, and his eyes locked onto yours at the sound, taking in both of your teary-eyed looks. “We’re having a kid, Bucky,” you finished.

He leaped forward, dropping the photo as he pulled you into a tight hug, laughing as the two of you cried and smiled. “We’re having a kid!” He couldn’t stop the goofy smile that lit up his features as you clung to each other. The rest of the team offered congratulations, smiling as Tony making sex jokes much to Steve’s annoyance. Bucky ignored him, holding you closer, smiling as you kissed and stayed attached to him. “I’m going to be a dad…” he murmured.

You smiled, nodding, “The best dad in the world,” you ran your hand through his shorter hair, burying yourself in his arms. “We’re going to start our own family.”

Home. Family. That’s where you were.

---

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[likesomekindofcheese]

Hello! I was thinking of an Elton John x reader story where he wants to come out to the reader as gay but is scared of losing them as a friend after what happened with his mother and John

Sure! I hope you like it! Also, if LGBT readers if there is anything I get wrong or offensive, please dm me at once so I can correct it!! Drag me gently.

 Let’s say you are in a car driving over to a gig. This is the early days. Elton is beginning to get big and John Reid is his manager. You are Elton’s friend and an assistant. You’re thrilled for him. His concerts in America were a smash and things are looking up after seeing him and Bernie struggle for such a long time to even pay rent.

 It’s a beautiful day. A cool wind, You feel the wind blow as you roll the windows down. Your hair is free. Elton has to swipe his bangs out of his eyes so he can watch the road as he drives. You’re in the English countryside. There are green fields wide into eternity and rolling hills. Sometimes a flock of sheep rest beneath the trees when you look onto the farms in the distance.

So you bring up John and how grateful you are for Elton he booked this gig. 

“Especially since Bernie’s new song is about to come out!” you add-in.

And Elton’s like “hey, speaking of coming out…” 

“Oooh, a baby sheep! It’s so cute!” you blurt, seeing it beyond a wooden fence in a field nearby.

“Uh, Y/N...”

You turnaround, the distraction passing away “hm? What is it?”

And he’s like, “hey…I have something to tell you...you know John Reid, right?”

“Yes, of course! He booked that gig in the first place!” you say.

He tells you that he and John Reid are lovers. In fact, Elton lost his virginity to him!

“Oh...” you start. Looking over at Elton, he is hunching over, eyes squarely on the road. He looks like he’s frightened. You’re sure if you reach out and touch him he would wince away.

You’re quiet for a moment, processing everything. There are a dozen questions and remarks flying through your head. But it’s better to not ask too many questions. His eyes are blinking fast. He seems to almost be in tears.

“Oh…okay,” you answer casually.

Elton lets out a long exhale through his nose. He turns to you. He blinks and goes “…really?”

His voice is softer. There is a tiny crack in it.

“Yes really,” you assure him. Turning around to see him, there are definitely tears in his eyes.

There is a small place under a large oak tree. He pulls over the car. He lets himself cry a bit more. His hands are shaking. But he still looks out at the front window, eyes away from you.

“But my mum…she was, she wasn’t happy. She said she knew but I wouldn’t be happy that way.”

You scoff, pulling him into a half hug.

“Well, to be fair, your mum is the spawn of Satan... sometimes.”

He chuckles, wiping his mouth and letting himself cry a bit more despite the small smile on his face.

He then turns to you and hugs you as well.

“Please don’t be too chatty about it, Y/N. I’m only letting a few people know at a time...” he begs in mid-hug.

“I won’t...thank you for trusting me, Elton...” you say.

 You drive for the rest of the car ride there. He sleeps well, bits of the sun illuminating his peaceful face until you pass beneath the branch of a tree.

Taglist: @queenlover05 @sgt-stardust-killerqueen

[athingthatwantsvirginia]

As in Debbie Harry

PART FOURTEEN OF THE DO YOU SEE HER FACE? SERIES

Pairing: Jess Mariano x Original Character (Ella Stevens)

Warnings: implied sexy times, plentiful pop culture references

Word Count: 4.2K

Summary: Jess and Ella have a frank discussion, then go see a live performance of some angry music.

AUTHOR’S NOTE: Gilmore Girls is often a very sex-negative show. There are many examples of the sex-negative narrative through the series, such as when Lorelai implies Paris is “the bad kid” for losing her virginity, or when Lane gets pregnant with twins the first time she has sex with Zach. In “Keg! Max!” Jess tries to pressure Rory into having sex while in a bedroom upstairs during Kyle’s party. In my opinion, that scene seemed a very clumsy (and, honestly, out of character) attempt to convey Jess’s inward situation outwardly without using words. It is a very difficult scene to watch and it is Jess’s worst moment in the whole series by far. With this chapter of my AU, I am in no way trying to trivialize that scene or be an apologist for that kind of behavior. It’s unacceptable in every way. Consent is extremely important, and should be clearly given by everyone involved each time they have sex.

Instead, I wanted to create a more positive representation of teen sex. Sex is a normal part of life, and people should not be shamed for having it. I wanted the conversation between Jess and Eleanor to be realistic and beneficial. And I wanted the morning after to be positive too. I wanted it to be clear that they both gave consent during the initial conversation and right before they actually had sex (because giving consent once does not mean giving consent forever). I wanted them to be safe and comfortable. I wanted them to make an effort to communicate with each other. Also, I personally think the show has a detrimental attitude towards virginity, especially considering how much slut-shaming there is, the incident with Paris being only one example. Virginity, in my view, is just a social construct, but that’s a conversation for another time.

In my AU, Jess does not pressure anyone into sex, and he never would. It’s monumentally problematic of Gilmore Girls to brush off the incident in “Keg! Max!” the way it does, so I wanted to make sure I addressed it before any sex happened in this story. It’s important to recognize problems in our favorite content and learn from them. So, I hope this chapter sends a better message about teenage sex and consent. And I hope I got my ideas across in this note. Please feel free to message me any time if you are going through something, want to talk, or anything else. I am always here. You can learn more about consent and find resources for sexual assault survivors here.

Legs crossed, warming both her hands with the to-go cup of tea from Luke’s, Ella listened intently as Lane gushed about Dave Rygalski. They sat in the gazebo, school bags forgotten on the old wood below them. Stars Hollow High was finally closed for fall break, a whole week off to celebrate Thanksgiving and prepare for the odd, torturous month until the sweet release of winter break as well. Lane was thinking out loud, trying to formulate a plan to get Dave to her house on Thanksgiving. Schemes involving classical Biblical guitar and stuffy outfits were being discussed when Rory finally arrived from the bus stop, binders in her hand and her Chilton skirt hitting her knees as she walked.

“Ah, if it isn’t my favorite Catholic school girl!” Ella called as Rory ascended the steps.

Rory scoffed. “It wasn’t funny two years ago, and it’s not funny now.”

“Humor is subjective.”

“Not in this case. You’ve reached an objective lack of humor.”

“Hey, not even Rory Gilmore can bend such universal rules,” Ella shrugged, smirking. Rolling her eyes, Rory plopped down between her two friends and blew out a tired breath, a tight squeeze on the small bench.

“Man, that boyfriend of yours is a bad influence. The heightened snark makes the two of you such a sorry lot,” Lane said.

Ella’s wicked grin only widened. “The snark existed well before Jess came along. I think it’s more my old age that’s making me bitter.” She paused, taking another sip. “Really Rory, I could paint your shoes. Your mom could hem your skirt. I think it’s time to make waves in the antiquated dress code community.”

“Expulsion’s just what I need six months before graduation,” Rory grumbled, digging around in her yellow backpack for her pager. There were fourteen messages from Dean. She let out a frustrated growl.

“Dirk Squarejaw again?” Ella asked, sympathetic.

Nodding, Rory sighed and put her head to Ella’s shoulder. “He just won’t shut up about that kiss with Tristan. I swear this all would’ve been easier if he’d ended up actually going to military school.”

“What do you say we throw off our men and just ride off together, Thelma?” Ella said, uttering a dreamy exhale.

“If only, Louise.”

Clearing her throat, Lane nudged Rory with an elbow and raised offended eyebrows.

“And, once you snag Dave, you’ll be part of the feminist killjoy club, too,” Ella said pointedly, smirking.

“You’ve been listening to too much Bikini Kill,” Lane said, cracking a smile.

“No such thing,” Ella retorted. “Revolution girl style now, baby.”

The three of them descended into a sprawling conversation of Thanksgiving plans, along with a rather colorful anecdote involving Rory’s Chilton frenemy Paris. No matter how exuberant she sounded, Ella couldn’t help but think she would get along well with Ms. Geller. A pleasant tingling had spread within Ella since leaving school, the bell finally chiming in seventh period trigonometry. The feeling always came along with breaks, and it was nice to be with Rory and Lane, chatting in their familiar, breezy way. Everyone was growing older, getting busier, getting boyfriends; it was rare the three musketeers got a true moment to themselves. Eventually, Lane had to go to Bible study, eager to get in good graces with her mother, to allow Dave to provide a musical holiday accompaniment.

Autumn brought early nightfall, and the light was just beginning to wane when a decrepit AMC Ambassador screeched to a halt in front of the diner. And Ella found herself not even surprised when Jess stepped out of the driver’s side, the keyring around his finger. A smirk crossed her lips and she scoffed a little, looking over at Rory, who shot her a suspicious glance.

“He’s back behind the wheel, huh?” Rory asked.

Ella’s face fell a little. “Oh, jeez, I’m sorry-”

Waving a dismissive hand, Rory only shrugged. “That accident wasn’t his fault.”

Letting out a breath of relief, Ella gave Rory a side-hug and another grin. “You’re the best, Gilmore.”

“Second only to you, Ella.”

Glancing over at Jess, Ella rolled her eyes. He leaned against the car, gazing at her. His hands shoved in his pockets, hair gelled up, a leather jacket over his Clash t-shirt. A blush almost rose to her face at the sight of him, but she bit the inside of her cheek and smirked wider instead.

“You need something, Mariano?” she called smugly, and Rory chuckled at her side.

Jess shrugged. “Just didn’t want to interrupt.”

“Oh, how polite of you,” she shot back, then looked over at Rory in askance. The brunette nodded and gave her one last hug.

“Lunch tomorrow?”

“Wouldn’t miss it,” Ella replied, gathering up her stuff and shaking her head in disbelief as she approached the car, and the boy next to it. “Where’d you get the rust bucket, Mariano?”

“Whatever, soccer mom,” he retorted.

She narrowed her eyes at the insult to her station wagon. “You’re on thin ice. Where’d you even find this?”

“Gypsy sold it to me. Not so pretty, but I got a good deal.”

She nodded, placing her hands on the back of his neck and lacing her fingers together. His arms came to rest around her waist. Ella glanced back around him to the car. “Ah, I wouldn’t write her off too quick. She’s got good bones.”

“Wait to look on the bright side, blondie,” he said, kissing her cheek.

“As in my hair or as in Debbie Harry?” she asked, expectant. “There is a right answer.”

Jess snorted. “Debbie Harry. How could you even ask?”

“Just checking,” she smiled, pressing her lips to his. For a moment, she was caught up, and the kiss deepened. But then she remembered they were still standing in the center of town, and she pulled away as her cheeks heated up.

Jess chuckled at her blush as she took a step back and cleared her throat, running a hand through her loose hair self-consciously.

“Shut up, James Dean” she warned playfully, narrowing her eyes. “With this car? I think you’ve reached caricature status in public opinion.”

“Don’t type-cast me.”

She continued despite his mock defense, ruffling his gelled mess of waves. “You’ve even got the hair to match.”

Rolling his eyes, he swatted her hand away and pouted, trying to fix his look. “Just for that, I’m not letting you pick the music. And I’m not telling you what we’re doing for our surprise date tomorrow night.”

“What? I wasn’t aware the stakes were so high!”

Jess rolled his eyes again.

Before she could do any more damage to his cool exterior, he retreated back into his driver’s seat. Laughing wickedly, she came around to the passenger side and threw her bag in the back.

“I think it’d be perfectly fine for the date not to be a surprise. Where are we going?” she asked, hoping to lure it out of him.

“Somewhere,” he replied flatly, not phased.

Smiling wider at his secrecy, she threw a glance at the diner over her shoulder as he rolled away from town center. Punk blasted through the radio, and she turned it down just slightly so they could hear each other. Jess shot her a teasing glare, but said nothing about it.

“Y’know,” she said, “I’ve worked at Luke’s for three years and in all that time combined I didn’t make enough money to buy a car.”

“And what are you implying?” he asked, feigning innocence.

Ella only scoffed, taking his free hand in hers. She could feel the scar, where they’d pulled out the stitches.

.   .   .

Nowhere. It had been a long drive to nowhere in his car. But, Ella supposed, nowhere could be a kind of somewhere, anywhere. Eventually, though, they’d made it to Hartford and Jess turned back. The frigid sky was darkening to a deep, late autumn blue, and Luke was adding him to a Saturday night at the diner every time he came home past midnight. Upon arriving back in Stars Hollow, it was around ten, the shops were closed, but Jess didn’t want their time to end. Away from town, he felt lighter, easier. Everyone wasn’t watching him. Ella wasn’t the doe-eyed princess like Rory, and she didn’t have overbearing parents like Lane, but the townspeople still looked at him with plenty suspicious eyes when they walked hand-in-hand out in public.

Instead of Luke’s, where watchful figures persisted, they landed in Ella’s bedroom. He felt his muscles relax at the scent of lavender, sitting on her bed and leaning his back against the muraled wall. She laid next to him, shoes off but still fully clothed, atop the knit blanket. Joni Mitchell played a mournful tune over her turntable. Her candles were alight, and Jess would have felt sleepy if it weren’t for the book in his hands. Jess devoured A Tree Grows in Brooklyn, another gloomy tale (shocking) Ella had given him. She said she always read it around Christmastime, and he was beginning to see at least once reason for her Grinchy tendencies. And Ella held Anna Karenina in front of her. It was not her first foray into the Russians, but she had never been too thrilled with them. Jess seemed to believe this one would win her over. A few chapters in, and she doubted it.

“Jess?” she asked as the clock ticked nearer to eleven.

“Hm?”

“Are we gonna have sex?”

Choking for a second in surprise, Jess cleared his throat. He scoffed out a chuckle. “What, like, now?”

Ella laughed, shoving his arm playfully. She sat up and faced him, flushed and anxious, though her voice was even. “No. For one, my dad’s still awake. But, I just mean...we do pretty much everything up to having sex, but we’ve never had sex. We’ve been together for almost three months. I just figured we should talk about it.”

Shutting his book, Jess crossed his arms over his chest. “Has anyone ever told you that you have a talent for subtlety?”

She rolled her eyes. “My bluntness is at least half my charm.”

“‘Charm’ is a pretty strong word.”

Launching a teasing pillow at his face, Ella giggled. “I’m trying to be serious here, Mariano.”

“Okay, sorry. Go on.”

“Okay. So...sex.”

He bit his lip to fight off a smirk. “Yes?”

“Well, have you had sex?” she asked.

“Yeah. There was one girl back in New York. Tara. She was nice, I guess. But it wasn’t a Nora Ephron type deal or anything.”

“You like Nora Ephron?” she interrupted, brows furrowed. Not incredulous, only perplexed.

He narrowed his eyes momentarily but ignored the interjection. “I dated her when I was a freshman and then she moved to Albany. Then, your best friend Shane-”

“Fuck off.”

“Not a chance. But, the answer is yes.” Then, after a pause, he furrowed his brows. It occurred to him what a gray area that part of her past was to him. “Have you?”

She nodded. “Hm-mm. A couple times.”

“Huh.”

“Yeah,” she said, smiling shyly at the way he tilted his head. There was no judgement in his voice. “Right after my mom died, I went to a couple parties...Well, not parties. They were more like get-togethers. Anyway, I got super stoned. This kid Brian smoked with me and we just sorta…did it. There were a couple more parties that year. Rinse. Repeat. Eventually, I started working more and just stopped going.”

“And you never-”

“No, never got together with him,” she answered before he even had to ask. “I never had a ‘relationship’ with anyone. Never had sex with anyone else. It was a good thing, though, I think. Being with him. At the time, I felt so shitty. For just a little while, it made me feel better. He’s a nice kid. Plays for the marching band. Sometimes sex is just sex, y’know?”

“Yeah, sometimes,” Jess agreed. “But...with us?”

Running a hand through her hair, Ella felt her insides flutter at the look he gave her. It was almost….open? Not quite, but almost. “Well, do you wanna have sex with me?”

Swallowing dryly, Jess nodded and hoped he didn’t appear as flustered as he felt. “Yeah. Yeah, I do...Do you wanna have sex with me?”

“Yeah,” she said, nodding casually. It felt odd, talking so frankly with him. But it wasn’t uncomfortable. In fact, it was exciting. Would it feel different with a boyfriend? She bet it would.

He cleared his throat, doing his best to hold her hazel gaze. “Good, then. That’s good.”

“I think it is, yeah.”

Bringing a hand to his shoulder, she pulled him in for a short, sweet kiss. And Jess’s heart felt light, relieved. Sometimes, Ella was challenging, she was complicated. But, when it was just the two of them, without all the noise which surrounded their daily lives, it was just so easy. And he could remember no other person he’d ever felt so at home with, who understood him so completely. And when she pulled away, he could still feel the ghost of her lips on his own.

“Alright, I’ve got to finish this chapter,” she said, grabbing her book again and shifting next to him, her back against the mural and her head coming to rest on his shoulder. When she cracked open the pages to her marked place, Jess following suit, she sighed. “This book is excruciating. Why would anyone read this recreationally?”

“You really wanna talk excruciating, Stevens?” he wagered, eyebrows raised as he looked down at her. “Need I remind you of Finnegan’s Wake? And don’t even get me started on this so-called Christmas book.”

“It is a Christmas book,” she argued, gesturing down to the Betty Smith novel in his hands.

Jess shook his head. “Just because Christmas happens in a story doesn’t make it a Christmas story. This is the Godfather debate all over again.”

She sighed once more. “You're never gonna convince me The Godfather isn’t a Christmas movie. Give it up, James Dean.”

“Only like fifteen minutes of that movie takes place at Christmas, my god, how many times-”

.   .   .

Just before official closing, Luke came back from Doose’s with supplies for Thanksgiving to stock the back room. The diner was to stay open on Thursday, and Luke would feed traditional turkey dinner to whoever stepped through the door. The past two years, Ella had worked all day, eating with Luke, Lorelai, and Rory during down times. The year before, she’d also gone to her aunt’s house following her shift to see the kids. But, with Fiona moved in and engaged to her father, the obligations had changed drastically. She was still working the morning shift, but was due home no later than two. Her older brother was coming, along with her aunt, her aunt’s husband, and her nieces.

Cleaning the counter with lemony disinfectant, she watched her boss trudge through the diner with heavy bags to the stockroom. Luke declined her offer to help carry things, as she had known he would. Instead, she was to keep closing.  The clock ticked rhythmically on the wall, and the anxiety for the approaching holiday mixed in her stomach with excitement and pleasant nerves for what the evening was to hold. Jess had slipped out the door around lunch time with the blue vest in the pocket of his leather jacket, telling her he’d be back around nine. And he still wouldn’t budge and tell her where they were going for their ‘secret date.’ But it wasn’t as though she didn’t know why. He hadn’t been able to treat her during their first date, and every date since had been more of a casual hang-out, or a mutually-arranged affair. He still wanted to show her what was, in his opinion, the first date she deserved. So, she wouldn’t argue too much. When the bell over the door sounded, Ella smirked before she even looked up to see him.

“Ready to spill your guts, James Dean?” she asked immediately as he came and sat at the counter in front of her.

Jess scoffed. “Eager much?”

“Jackass much?”

He rolled his eyes. “Are you almost done?”

Nodding, Ella threw the rag in her hand into the dirty bin below the counter. She could hear Luke rummaging around in the back still.

“Hey Luke?” she called.

He came out with his hands on his hips, baseball cap in its rightful place as always. “Yeah?”

“I’m finished out here. Alright if I clock out?” she asked.

Luke eyed his nephew suspiciously, who looked back at him with his usual smug smirk. “Only if Walmart’s favorite stock boy doesn’t keep you out too late.”

The expression fell on Jess’s face and was replaced with furrowed brows, mouth set in a thin line. He’d managed quite a many few months keeping the secret from Luke, until he’d got his car. It was only after Luke accused him of prostitution that he finally came clean. And the teasing had been relentless ever since.

“Don’t worry,” Ella said, smiling as she went to the kitchen to clock out and hang her apron.

With Ella out of the room, Luke pointed a finger at his nephew and took on an accusatory stance. “No drinking, no smoking, no-”

“No drugs, no five-dollar street corner sex, I got it,” Jess interrupted begrudgingly.

Luke grunted in annoyance and rolled his eyes, but said nothing more as he went around to the cash register and started to close it out. Emerging from the back, Ella smoothed her hands over her simple black dress, then pulled her sleeves down over her hands nervously. Suddenly, she wondered if she wasn’t dressed for wherever they were going. She wished she had asked earlier.

“Okay, time to spit it out,” she said, rounding the corner of the counter and grabbing his hand to pull him up. They walked towards the door and she donned her peacoat, taking her shoulder bag, emptier than normal without all the school contents.

Jess smirked. “But what if a blindfold is part of the plan?”

“No fucking way.”

“Hey!” Luke piped up from the register at her language. The attempt at scolding was half-hearted, though.

Rolling her eyes with good nature, Ella followed Jess out the door. “Sorry. Night, boss.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Luke said with a small smile, waving a dismissive hand at the two kids.

Once outside, Ella could see her breath in the night and she was glad she’d worn her thick black tights. Her Doc Martens crunched the orangey piles of dry leaves noisily as they descended the front steps and made their way across the street to Jess’s car. Before they could get in, though, Jess stopped in his tracks and turned to her, leaning against the car doors.

“I’m waiting,” she teased, eyebrows raised impatiently.

After reaching in his pocket momentarily, Jess went to tuck a strand of hair which had fallen from her low bun behind her ear. Then, he revealed a set of ear plugs in his hand, and Ella’s brow furrowed though her smile widened in nostalgia.

“What’s up, Houdini?”

“Figured you might need these. Since we’re going to see the Distillers and all.”

“Are we?” she asked, taking the earplugs from him.

Nodding, Jess brought the tickets from his pocket and held them up for her to see. She broke out in a grin.

“Not bad, Mariano.”

“Yeah, I know you’re more into melancholia, but you were listening to my CD the other week. So, when I saw they were coming to Harford, I figured...” he trailed off humbly, shrugging. “And we’ve been together almost three months and I still haven’t seen those famous Eleanor Stevens dance moves.”

She chuckled, flushing slightly. He could smell her rosemary scent as she leaned closer and rested her hands on the back of his neck. “Don’t know if you’re ready for that. They’re deadly.”

“In more ways than one I’ve heard,” he quipped.

“Shut up,” she said. “This is awesome, Jess. Thank you.”

“Don’t mention it.”

And she brought him in for a kiss, smiling into it. Jess could feel his shoulders release their tension. He hadn’t known if she’d be happy. They were one of his favorite bands, and he’d heard rumors of their coming to town when she’d chosen them as her angry music weeks earlier. Though he wasn’t big on signs, he thought maybe the universe was telling him to share the experience with her. Let her in. It didn’t make him any less nervous, though. It was always there in the back of her mind, that worry she would realize what everyone else in the town already had. That he wasn’t good enough for her. But as he felt her hands in his hair, warmed by her touch in the cold November air, he couldn’t help but forget his fears for just a moment.

.   .   .

Mid-morning light streamed through the small window into Ella’s cramped bedroom. Her cacti sat on the dresser, soaking up the sunshine, as Jess and Ella slept soundly on the mattress. Wearing a big KISS t-shirt, Ella turned over in her sleep and faced Jess, his arm draped over her tightening slightly. A shirtless Jess lay beneath the whitish blanket next to her, snoring softly. His jeans and t-shirt were strewn near the bed, along with Ella’s dress. Still pumped full of adrenaline after the concert, Ella had crept through the house the night before to make sure everyone was asleep, then snuck Jess through her window. And their first time together was even better than she’d imagined. Sweet and a little awkward and wonderful, reminding her almost of their first kiss months before. And, afterwards, they’d stayed up talking for hours, with a fair amount of teasing from Jess over the t-shirt she’d decided to wear to bed. KISS was perhaps her biggest guilty pleasure.

Upon a soft knocking on Ella’s creaky white door, Jess began to stir. He cleared his throat and rubbed at his tired eyes before fully waking, becoming aware of his surroundings. Then, a voice came from the hallway outside.

“Ella? Fiona wants to take us to Doose’s to get Thanksgiving stuff!”

Sitting up slightly, Jess saw Ella was still deep asleep.

“Elle? Wake up,” he said, shaking her shoulder gently. It took at least thirty seconds before her eyes finally fluttered open.

“Hm?”

“You gotta wake up. Someone’s at your door,” he said quietly, hastily. Another knock sounded on the wood, and Jess glanced up, biting his lip.

Taking in a sharp breath, Ella nodded and her hazy eyes blinked harshly awake. The knocking on the door was persistent now, and her brother called her name a couple more times. She gestured for Jess to move to the corner near the dresser, out of view of the door, as she rushed over to open it. Poking her head out, she kept the door almost shut so only her face could be seen.

“God, Adam, knock louder, would you?” she snapped tiredly.

Adam took a step back at her irritated tone, squinting behind his glasses at her behavior. “It’s not my fault you’re too lazy to get up on time.”

“Didn’t realize we had an appointment scheduled,” Ella shrugged, trying to make her tone lighter.

Shrugging back, Adam began to walk off. “We’re leaving for Doose’s in fifteen.”

“Fine,” she grumbled, shutting the door loudly as he walked away.

“Wow, you’re not a morning person,” Jess remarked, a sardonic twinkle in his eye as he spoke from behind her. When she looked back, he was almost fully dressed already, buckling up his belt. “I gotta get back. Luke’s gonna be pissed.”

“Oh, fuck, you’re right,” Ella sighed, running a hand through her messy locks. She didn’t know why she hadn’t thought about it sooner. Sometimes Jess seemed so independent, so out on his own, she forgot how much Luke had invested in taking care of him.

Jess only shrugged. “My fault. I didn’t mean to fall asleep. I’ll tell him I was reading at the lake and just dozed off.”

“You don’t have to do that,” she said immediately, shaking her head.

He came over to her and put an arm around her waist, pressing a kiss to her cheek. “It’s fine. He’ll be less mad at both of us. Win-win.”

“You think he’ll buy it?” she asked, raising a skeptical eyebrow.

“I have my ways.”

She rolled her eyes. “Yeah, whatever, James Dean.”

Chuckling, he pecked her lips and took one long look at her. Before he could help it, or worry about feeling stupid, he smiled down at her. Crooked and sincere. And Ella smiled back.

“I had a good time,” she said.

Jess nodded in agreement. “Me too. The best of times.”

Sighing lightly, she rolled her eyes. “How do you always manage to bring up Dickens?”

“It’s a gift and a curse.”

And even after he pressed one final kiss to her lips, disappearing out the window and down the street, she couldn’t seem to wipe the smile off her face.

[thesunnyshow]

Name: Sam 

Writing Blog URL: @neochan

What fandom(s) do you write for?: NCT (OT21)

Age: 18

Nationality: I am flavorless white

Languages: English and beginner level Korean

Star Sign: Very much a Leo

MBTI: ENTP-P

Favorite color: Baby blue

Favorite food: Tacos!!!!

Favorite movie: Either The Outsiders or the 1996 version of Romeo and Juliet

Favorite ice cream flavor: Strawberry

Coffee or tea? What are you ordering?: Earl Grey tea with lots of milk and sugar

Dream job (whether you have a job or not): Criminal Prosecutor

Go-to karaoke song: Recently changed to Inception by Ateez!!!

If you could have one superpower, what would you choose?: Mental Manipulation

If you were a trope in a teen high school movie, what would you have been?: The one where everyone is on a race to lose their virginity.

Do you believe in aliens/supernatural creatures?: I like to believe I do. 

When did you post your first piece?: March of 2019

Why did you decide to write for Tumblr?: I honestly have no idea. I was on the site early one morning and thought, “hey, why don’t you make a blog” and then I did. 

What inspires you to write?: Music. I will always answer this question with music. The tempo, melody, lyrics, it doesn’t really matter. Almost any part of music will inspire me. 

What genres/AUs do you enjoy writing the most?: Mafia AU is always fun to work with, but really over done. 

Do you write fluff/angst/crack/general/smut, combo, etc? Why? : Originally I started out as a smut blog, but then I transitioned into writing everything because once you start writing the same things over and over again it gets boring.

What do you hope your readers take away from your work?: I hope they look past the fanfiction aspect. At the end of the day these are our own story lines and original plots, we’re just using a ‘character’ people in the fandom are familiar with. 

What do you do when you hit a rough spot creatively?: I watch a lot of netflix and hope an idea pops up.

What is your favorite work and why? Your most successful?: My favorite work is one that is unreleased as of right now. I haven’t mentioned it on my blog yet so I kind of want to keep it quiet, but my most successful is a reaction I did for the dreamies.  It reached over 2k likes, which is insane for me to even think about. 

Who is your favorite person to write about?: As I write for a 21 member group, it’s less about favorites and more about who I’m feeling that day, but it’s mostly Yuta & Haechan.

Do you think there’s a difference between writing fanfiction vs. completely original prose?: There’s only one difference and that's the characters in the story. Take fanfiction and replace the names with original character names and BOOM, it’s original prose. 

What is your writing process like?: I don’t outline, ever, so I usually just sit down with a blank Word document and wait for the first sentence to write itself. 

Would you ever repurpose a fic into a completely original story?: If I could write one long enough, yes. 

What tropes do you love, and what tropes can’t you stand?: I LOVE LOVE LOVE enemies to lovers, and I can’t really stand strangers to lovers. 

How much would you say audience feedback/engagement means to you?: It means everything. If I don’t get a lot of feedback from a fic then it makes me not want to write more of it. 

What has been one of the biggest factors of your success (of any size)?: Tagging my work properly, and interacting!!

Do you think art can be a medium for change?: Art is always used as a medium for change. This is one example, but with the Black Lives Matter protests, a lot of professional  photos have been posted which make people want to join. I’ve seen rather chilling paintings of various matters that make me want to advocate for change. On tiktok people who have taken the AP art exam have been showing their portfolios, and they are all amazing and touch on topics that need change. 

Do you ever feel there are times when you’re writing for others, rather than yourself?: Yes. I rarely write for myself which is why i’ve taken a break. 

Do you ever feel like people have misunderstood you or your writing at times?: Yes! Sometimes I try to be creative with my wording but then what I actually mean gets lost. It feels like you have to spell out what you’re trying to say sometimes. 

Are there any times when you regret joining Tumblr?: Sometimes I wish that I had joined a place where I could make money more easily, but I get over that once I realize how good of a community is on the site.

Do your offline friends/loved ones know you write for Tumblr?: Just my best friend. 

What is one thing you wish you could tell your followers?: I’m not as intimidating as some have told me. Please talk to me LOL.

Do you have any advice for aspiring writers who might be too scared to put themselves out there?: Go for it. Even if you think you might suck, just go for it. Honestly, you’ll get to where you want to be in time. 

Do you have any mutuals who have been particularly formative/supportive in your Tumblr journey?: I have so many that have come and gone, and so many that have stayed. I can’t name just one without naming the others! I just want them all to know that I appreciate and love them. 

Pick a quote to end your interview with: “Make your life a masterpiece; imagine no limitations on what you can be, have or do ” - Brian Tracy 

BONUS: K-POP CONFIDENTIAL

Interested in your very own episode of The Sunny Show? Find out how to apply HERE.

[mychemicalficrecs]

Can you recommend some high school AU frerard or Ray/Mikey fics? :3 thank u

Hi Nonny!

I'm going to make seperate lists for this again. Can't promise the second one will be ready by tomorrow but I'll try ;)

I'm not a big reader of High School AUs, so the second half are fics that looked promising on AO3!

Frank/Gerard High School AUs

In Repair by autoschediastic, 33k, Explicit. "Shit," Frank mutters, and shoves both hands through his hair. He looks around the kitchen like he's gonna find what he should do scratched into the old linoleum, then looks back at the bot. He gnaws on his lip. Fuck it. He already knows what he's gonna do. He's just gotta do it. Getting down on his knees, he braces a hand on the edge of the crate and leans over the bot. It's dressed in a plain white tee and matching drawstring pants like an escaped mental patient. Frank rolls his neck and cracks his knuckles, shaking the ache out of them before carefully laying his palm against its cheek. He's pretty sure his voice is steady when he says, "Activate." Nothing happens. Fucking shitty packaging-- the thing's busted. But Frank keeps his hand where it is, jumping a little when he feels the surge of energy beneath it. The robot's skin goes from room temperature to lukewarm, then warm. Frank watches it open its eyes, the light behind them adjusting until they're a pale sort of brown. It looks at him and asks, "Am I dead?"

Get Naked (I Got a Plan) by autoschediastic, 11k, Explicit. Frank slides his hand all the way up to where Gerard's arm and tentacles fuse at his armpit. The difference between the feel of one beneath his palm and the other is literally the stuff his dreams are made of. His wet dreams.

A State Of Orange by gala_apples, Frank/Mikey, Frank/Gerard, 20k, Explicit. Being a halfling in a red state can sometimes cause issues for Frank Iero. He’s the weakest at Jett Clement High School, and probably the entire state (not counting the meal plans). His moods are oddly stable, as much as he tries to be mercurial. And being able to withstand the sun for up to twenty minutes only allows him more time to be forced into chores. Still, his parents are insane if they think he’s going to be happy about their decision. Frank doesn’t want to move to a Mixed state. How is he supposed to get great friends? How is he supposed to find great food? How is he supposed to have great sex? But Frank doesn’t have a choice. He’s New Jersey bound for the next year, if not longer. He’ll be surrounded by tame vampires who have been nagged out of a sex drive, and humans he’s not allowed to eat. Mixed states suck. Lucky for him, not every person in Jersey sucks.

The Truth Is I'm On My Way by samanthahirr, 6k, Teen And Up Audiences. Frank's been drawing on himself since elementary school, up under his sleeves and pant legs where his teachers and classmates won't see; he knows how to color inside the lines. He doesn't need Gerard to do it for him. (A high school AU.)

You Only Hear the Music When Your Heart Begins to Break by Solarcat, 14k, Teen And Up Audiences. Frank has high school figured out. His mom has given up arguing about the amount of time he spends in Gerard's basement, and he doesn't actually care if people think it's weird that he and Gerard hold hands in the hallways and go to the bathroom together. The only thing Frank cares about is figuring out why Gerard's suddenly avoiding him -- because what's the point of losing your virginity on Prom Night if you can't tell your best friend about it in the morning?

Smokeless Flame of Fire by tabulaxrasa, 21k, Mature. Frank blinked. "What kind of name for a genie is Gerard?"

to the midnight land by akamine_chan, 24k, Explicit. Being a teenager is hard. Being a Blooded teenager, one with a connection to the Moon and his fur-self, is even worse. He's got to contend with his own hormones, high school, and the fact that he's in love with his best friend. Luckily, Frankie's got the determination to see things through. He's got family, friends, and a community of shifters to lean on, and he's not going to give up. Frankie's not patient, but he's stubborn when he knows what he wants. And he wants Gerard.

Thing-Thing by sinsense, 43k, NC-17. When Gerard signed the admissions paperwork for the Fordhaven School for Boys, he knew he was signing up for four years of sexual frustration. No one was gay at Fordhaven. Gerard was all-too-aware that he would be a virgin until he graduated. In his senior year, though, this stupid gay freshman disproves Fordhaven's straightness, and throws Gerard's entire world off-kilter. Now, in between drawing, avoiding bullies, running an incredibly serious tabletop RP game, failing out of math, and hanging out with friends, Gerard is also busy kind of falling for this asshole who's way too young for him. It's not what he planned on, but it's what's happening. In conclusion: high school sucks.

You'll Always Feel This Way by wakingup, 14k, Not Rated. It's Frank's birthday and he's gonna A) get drunk B) hit on Gerard C) get laid. Yeah, it's definitely going to work out like that. (Spoiler alert: it might not be that easy)

Nothing Comes as Easy as You by rivers_bend, 9k, Explicit. "Um, I've heard, you know, around, that like, there are guys who can get off three times without stopping. And I was, I mean—" god he sounds like a fucking idiot. "Have you ever heard of that?"

Church of Hot Addiction by spleenjournal, 0nlymemories, Frank/Gerard, Frank/Mikey, 36k, Adult. When Gerard Way gets transferred to Our Lady of Peace in Arlington a few weeks into his Senior year, he thinks it's his chance to be cool. Too bad his idea of "cool" is no cooler than it was in 3rd grade, even if there aren't any green tights. (AU of the INO AU, more or less.)

The Marching Band AU by frankiesin, many pairings in a bunch of different works, 150k, General Audiences, Teen And Up Audiences, Mature, Explicit. A bunch of gay teens are in a band and do dumb things while in high school. There will be a lot of pairings, each part can be read without reading the others, and the series is in chronological order.

We're all Okay by rivers_bend, 28k, Explicit. A story in which Frank is not a stalker, Gerard is not a psycho, and Mikeyway is nobody’s boyfriend.

Where Did The Party Go by frenchpirate (Whiskey_n_speed), 16k, Mature. The one where Frank get's a new and nocturnal neighbor, Gerard throws a Halloween party that turns out far from what was expected, Pete wakes up on a strangers couch and Mikey really doesn't want any serenades (but that doesn't mean he isn't getting any).

Miss Congeniality by melusina, 11k, Mature. Gerard pretends to be a girl, Frank and Gerard discover email and Mikey’s good advice goes unheeded.

honey, this mirror isn't big enough for the two of us by orphan_account, 17k, Explicit. You should have raised a baby girl / I should have been a better son. (the unholy union of a high school au and a gender feel)

SKETCH by frnklyiero, 77k, Teen And Up Audiences. "You having a problem with drawing straight?" "I'm having a problem with being straight." Gerard Way happened to be the most fascinating sight in school to Frank Iero perhaps besides Jamia Nestor. Every little detail of his perfect features made Frank itch to sketch them. There are just a few problems: 1) Gerard is probably straight as a ruler, 2) Jamia isn't thrilled that her boyfriend may or may not have been secretly doodling Gerard in his notebook, 3) No matter how much Frank practices, his Gerard sketches still look like eggplants with creepy faces on them.

Save Me (From My Self Destruction) by cyanidepurified, 14k, Teen And Up Audiences. Frank and Gerard are best friends, both are unaware that they're in love with each other. When Frank discovers Gerard's secret, will he be able to save his best friend?

Speeding in a School Zone by 1001cranes, languisity, 16k, Teen And Up Audiences. High school AU where Frank and Gerard are awkward, Pete is romantically confused, Patrick owns, and Bob is a ninja. Pete, the first time we met you proposed to me. I don’t think your heterosexuality was ever all that secure.

The Chasing of Moons by Helena_Hathaway, 110k, Explicit. The biggest dilemma in all of this is that Frank slept with his future husband. Now Frank’s just got to make sure that the future with him stays intact, but it’s not so easy when present day Gerard seems to hate his guts.

Early Sunsets Over Monroeville by FedeLove96, 11k, Explicit. Frank Iero was a junior when he fell in love with Gerard Way, but their love story was just at the beginning.

A Case of Unknown Identity by Helena_Hathaway, 44k, Explicit. Frerard High School AU. Frank is a teenager with only a few friends, one of whom is a charismatic guy who is just like Frank. He might even be falling for the guy, but the only problem is that he’s just a username on a website without a face or a name. The guy goes by 'Watchman' and he’s perfect in Frank’s eyes, he doesn’t even need to meet him to know he’s amazing. Frank also deals with bullies which makes it hard for him to hold onto friends, but things start to become better after he befriends the antisocial kid Mikey, and realizes that Watchman might just go to his school. Watchman might also know a little more about Frank than he’s letting on.

But The Pages Are All Torn and Frayed by blindlyseeking (orphan_account), 55k, Mature. Basically, this is based off of the music video for “I’m Not Okay” and it also includes (but is not limited to) gratuitous mentions of a drunken fascination with a lamp, one evil lacrosse team, two breakdowns in a bathroom, grandmothers with green hair, a couple bruises, and a whole lot of revenge. Enjoy!

[polyamorousmisanthrope]

Duck Patrol

Virginia strapped her helmet under her chin, nodded firmly to Anjali and mounted her red bike.  As she sped down the hill, her braid slapped annoyingly against her back in the wind.  The asphalt under her tires sounded like excitement, adventure and breaking the rules.

Virginia was happy to be breaking the rules.  Second grade was over.  She was going to be in the chess club when school started again.  She was eight. She was almost a grown-up.  The rules were for babies.

As the hill tapered off to flat ground, she turned her bike to the right – towards the tall yellow flowers in bloom along a path, and towards…

The Pond.

“Virginia, we’re not supposed to go there without a grown-up,” Anjali protested, skidding her bike to a neat stop and planting her bright green high-topped tennis shoe on the ground as if she were drawing a line in the asphalt.  She took off her helmet, hung it on the bike’s handlebars, and screwed her fists into her hips with a scowl.

Virginia rolled her eyes. “You know why?”

“It could be dangerous,” Anjali replied, mimicking Virginia’s tone and eye roll.  “Come on, let’s go back up the hill.  If your mom catches us down here, you know she’ll take your bike away for a whole week! Then we have to walk to swim team.  Stop being a moron.”

Virginia, listening to the swim team argument, almost turned her bike.  But at the word “moron” headed resolutely right again to the pond.  With calculated contempt, she snapped into the wind, “Go back and tell on me if you want to.”

“I’m not a snitch,” Anjali growled and followed her friend.

Virginia parked her bike at the foot of the broad path off the road and stood with firm resolution on the pebbly beach.  The pond, a small lake really, spread out before her reflecting the early summer sun. With a tendency to over warm water and algae growth, it was not an attractive swimming hole, but the occasional fisherman would take a small boat out to attempt to catch its unrewarding trout.  The town boasted better beaches on the riverside, but they were too far for Virginia to reach by bike.  

Looking to her left, she took a careful scan of the surface of the pond.  It was early summer, the best time of the year for the pond. Trees grew right up to the shores, digging their roots in and leaning over the surface.  Cattails grew along the shore – home to the tadpoles slowly losing their tails and turning into frogs.  She heard a duck quacking and slid her eyes over the surface with a smile. She liked ducks.  They could be loud and aggressive when they were annoyed. She loved that.

But that duck by the drainage outlet…

Virginia frowned and squinted closer at the bird quacking frantically.  “Anjali?”

Her friend stepped down from her bike, propped it carefully against a tree and joined her friend. “Yeah?”

“See that duck?”

“Yeah?”

“He really seems upset.”  Virginia chewed her lip.

“She,” corrected Anjali. “That’s a mallard and the head isn’t green.”

“Oh yeah, you’re right,” Virginia murmured and took Anjali’s arm.  “She’s really upset, though.  See how she’s quacking at that water flowing over the concrete there?”

The girls locked eyes.

“It’s her babies, isn’t it?” Virginia finally said with a resigned sigh.

“Yeah,” Anjali said quietly, then swallowed.  “We can go over there by the road and look without getting in the water.”

Virginia gave a short nod and edged along the shore, holding on to trees and branches as it got steeper, they made their careful way to the frantic duck. A scrambling sound and an annoyed hiss from Anjali told Virginia that her friend had slipped and planted a foot in the thick mud by the shore.  Virginia stopped but did not turn around.  Anjali pushed a small palm gently against Virginia’s shoulder, encouraging her to continue.  

When they got near to the shore where the duck swam in circles, quacking even more frantically, their hearts sank.  

Five fluffy yellow ducklings paddled in a circle in the culvert.  From time to time, one of them would flap its wings in a futile attempt to get over the concrete wall and back to the Mama duck in the pond.  Two of them had stopped quacking.

“Can you see any way to get them out without getting in the water?”  Anjali asked with a deep sigh. “If we get wet, we’re going to have to tell where we were.”

“I know,” Virginia said quietly.  “I’ll get in. You go on back.  I’ll tell our parents you told me not to go to the pond.”

Anjali shook her head. “No. My shoes are already muddy, and you’re going to need my help.  That concrete is slippery where it’s wet.”

Virginia gave a curt and solemn nod, then edged along the box.  Anjali grabbed a pliable sapling, tugged it firmly to make sure its roots were well-anchored and then extended her hand to Virginia.  The blond girl took her friend’s hand and stepped carefully into the knee-deep water.  The current tugged gently at her knees, and made her unstable as she approached the ducklings.

“I’m going to let go of your hand and hold on to the edge,” Virginia said.  

“Be careful,” Anjali breathed.  “Let me step out there.  I’ll be able to steady you.”

“Okay,” Virginia said and held on to the wet, rough concrete, trying hard not to show how afraid she was.  If she slipped, she did not think Anjali could pull her out.

Anjali eased out onto the ledge and squatted down, then sat with her legs dangling into the box.  The water, only running an inch or so over the ledge, felt weaker than the bath draining.  She swung a leg over and held on tightly with her knees.

“There,” she said happily. “Now I can hang on to your shirt and you can save the ducklings.”

“We can,” Virginia muttered, squatting down to catch a baby duck in her hands.  “I couldn’t do this by myself.”

The fluffy yellow ball didn’t feel sweet or cuddly to Virginia.  While it looked like it should be as soft and warm as a kitten, it wasn’t. It squawked and tried to struggle away from her.  Grateful for Anjali’s firm hand on the back of her t-shirt, she lifted the duckling and frowned.

“If I just put it in the water, it’s going to be swept in again,” Virginia said desperately trying to keep hold of the struggling creature.

“Throw it to the mama,” Anjali said a little breathlessly.  “She’ll be able to help.”

Virginia tossed the baby duck as far as she could, exulting when it not only landed upright, but past the mother duck.  However, Mama Duck rose a little in the air and spread her wings, beating them rapidly

“Hurry!” Anjali said. “She’s getting mad and I don’t think she really understands what we’re doing!”

Virginia braced herself, scooped up the second duck and tossed it to the mother.  However, she threw too quickly and the baby did not land as far out into the water.  The current started to drag it to the culvert when Anjali said, “Hold on!  I’ll get it.”

Virginia took hold of the concrete again, and let Anjali reach for the duckling.  But before Anjali could catch the duckling, it swam away. Overbalanced, Anjali started to tip in to the pond.  Virginia caught her friend’s arm and pulled her back, but slipped, fell and cracked her chin on the culvert edge.  Hanging on with all her might, she felt Anjali tugging at her shirt, keeping her from being swept down as she pulled herself to her feet.

“You’re bleeding,” Anjali said.  “Are you okay?”

Tears flowed out of Virginia’s eyes, but she gritted her teeth and said, “I’m not letting the babies die because of a cut chin.  Come on, let’s finish.”

The pain almost blinded her, but she forced herself to continue gathering the ducklings and tossing them to the mother.  So focused was she that when the last duckling was safely following the mama duck, Virginia turned around to pick up the next one.

“Come on, Virginia,” Anjali said gently.  “We’re done. Let’s go home.”

The trip back to the bikes was awful.  The pain, which was bad while Virginia was saving the ducklings, had gotten worse now that the urgency of the ducks’ predicament was gone. The girl followed Anjali’s lead through the muddy pond shore to their bikes.  Virginia put her head down on the handlebars and cried, not caring about the blood dripping on her new shirt, and blind to anything but wanting to sit down and have someone take care of her.

“Look,” Anjali said gently, pointing out into the lake.

Virginia scrubbed the tears from her eyes with the back of her hand and followed where her friend gestured.  Mama Duck swam contentedly along with five little ducklings trailing behind.

“We did good,” Virginia managed to choke out.

“Yeah,” Anjali replied. “Look, I don’t think that a helmet strap is going to feel very good on that cut.  Let’s just walk home.”

Virginia nodded, following her friend blindly and trying not to cry.  She was so glad the baby ducks were safe and so scared of how mad her mother was going to be when she saw her clothes ruined and both of the girls soaking wet and covered in mud.

Her mother had her laptop in the back yard, her camera connected and writing frantically.  Oh no, Virginia thought. She hates it when I interrupt her writing.

Taking a deep breath, Virginia shouted, “I went to the pond, it was my fault and Anjali and I went in the water because we had to save some baby ducks who were trapped.”

Her mother looked up and all the color drained from her face.  “How did you hurt yourself?”

“I went in that concrete box where the water drains because the baby ducks had fallen in and couldn’t get out,” Virginia said.

“It was my fault, too,” Anjali volunteered.

Instead of scolding, Virginia’s mother slowly closed the top of the laptop and said, “You went in the drainage culvert?”

Virginia nodded. “Anjali kept hold of me so if I slipped, I wouldn’t go under the road.”

“Looks like she needed to,” Virginia’s mother said quietly.  “Does your chin hurt?”

Virginia crumpled. “Yeah. I hit it really hard on the concrete and I couldn’t stop or the baby ducks would die and— “

“Hey,” Virginia’s mother said, still eerily calm.  “You’re okay now.  Let’s get you cleaned up.  Anjali, are you hurt?”

The girl shook her head.

“You go get a shirt and a pair of shorts from Virginia’s room, then go ahead and take a bath in the blue bathroom.”

Virginia stood still as her mother disinfected the wound and let her pick out a Band-Aid.  Instead of a cartoon one, though, Virginia chose a plain Band-Aid with no pictures.

“So, how long are you going to take my bike away?” Virginia asked as her mother put her shirt in the sink to soak out the blood.  

“That depends,” her mother said.  “Do you understand why I wanted you to stay away from the pond?”

“But the baby ducks might have died if I hadn’t been there,” Virginia protested.

“I know, honey.   But you’re worth more to me than a million baby ducks,” her mother said.  “You did slip and if Anjali hadn’t been strong and fast, you might have been swept out and drowned.”

Virginia nodded miserably. “So what was right?  Just to let the ducklings die?”

Her mother looked uncomfortable.  “Sometimes deciding what’s right isn’t easy.  But can I have a promise from you?”

“What?”

“The next time you run across something like that, could you come to me, first?  Baby, those ducklings would certainly have survived you coming back home, and I wouldn’t have let them die.  Will you do that?”

Virginia nodded.

“Will you stay within the boundaries I set for you this summer?”

Virginia nodded again.

“Promise?”

“I promise.”

“Okay.  Then I am not going to take your bike this time.  But you do that again and I’ll— “

“Come down on me like a ton of bricks?” Virginia ventured.

“Two tons,” her mother said. “Count on it.”

In spite of the hug, Virginia did.

[letswritefanfiction]

Pokémon Alphabet Challenge: S is for Special

Just want to leave a little disclaimer that this is rated T. There is talk of sex and virginity, but nothing at all explicit.

She was not old enough for this.

“Seriously, Lily? Anti-aging cream?”

“Just to dab around the eyes!” Lily said, as though it was a defense. “Just make sure to use your ring finger. Provides the least pressure and pull.”

Misty knew that it was just another beauty product from her sisters that would end up dusty in her crowded bathroom mirror, but she smiled and thanked her sister for it anyway. It wasn’t that she didn’t like makeup or self-care products, but nine times out of ten, she just didn’t have the time or discipline for it. She was a special occasion makeup-wearer, and she enjoyed it, but that was plenty for her.

And today was one of those special occasions, and therefore why she was treating her sisters with a bit more grace than usual. It was her twenty-second birthday and, to be frank, she was just grateful that her sisters were in Cerulean for it.

The three of them were the only ones that she would get to celebrate with this year, after all. Brock was completing his residency, so they had hung out a few weeks prior, when he’d had time, and he’d promised to call today. Then tomorrow Misty would be making the trek to Pallet for Delia to throw a party for her, where Professor Oak and Tracey would show up. In the early years, Misty had tried to tell Delia that it wasn’t necessary to do all that for her, but then she realized that it gave Delia the opportunity to mother someone—something she missed a lot in Ash’s long absences. Now it was an unspoken ritual.

As for anyone else, phone calls and letters were all she had to expect, or even hope for. And that was fine. It was what it was.

Truth be told, she just didn’t care that much about her birthday. She appreciated the gifts from her sisters, and especially the fact that they picked up the slack in the Gym as she took the day off. But other than that, once you were above a certain age, the joy of birthdays just seemed to slip through the cracks, leaving you to wonder when you had gotten so old and cynical.

“Thanks for everything, guys,” Misty said, standing up from the living room couch with a big smile plastered on her face. “I think I’m going to go up to my room and rest.”

As she gathered her gifts and headed for her stairs, she heard Daisy calling. “Okay! Happy b-day, sis!”

It wasn’t just that birthdays weren’t fun anymore. Not that they’d ever been a hoot. She hadn’t had a lot of friends growing up and with her parents not being around, it was up to her sisters to do something for her even back then. And they always did give it a good try. There was always a cake and balloons, but the biggest thing for Misty was just that they were paying attention to her. But even that got old once she was nine and ten and in the phase where she just wanted them to leave her alone.

Then there was traveling with Ash and Brock. They couldn’t always celebrate, because sometimes the timing just worked out that they were on the road when someone’s birthday came up. But it was special. They didn’t have the money to afford any gifts, but Brock would always manage to come up with some tasty treat for them and everyone was really nice to each other. Ash and Misty would never fight when it was someone’s birthday. No one had needed to say it; they had just done it. Those were her favorite birthdays.

But now, back at the Gym…she just didn’t like getting older anymore. She’d always heard women even just in their late twenties groaning about getting old—heck, her sisters were at that stage now—and as a child, she’d thought it was ludicrous. Because even if her birthdays hadn’t been ones for the books, they were still some of the best days of the year.

She was beginning to understand. It wasn’t that these women were old, necessarily. They certainly weren’t senior citizens. It was that they were too old for something. For her sisters, it was that their metabolisms were beginning to catch up with them and they could no longer eat whatever they wanted. They’d started finding one or two gray hairs every few months. Anti-age cream wasn’t just preventative—the crows feet around their eyes was making it necessary.

Of course, her sisters were still beautiful. But when you had to keep up appearances that much, Misty knew it meant that every aging part of them stood out and needed to be addressed.

Ash’s mom was forty and for her it meant that she couldn’t read her recipes without reading glasses. She couldn’t go out and walk for hours without her hip hurting. Professor Oak was sixty and he was always having to hire new aids to take on the outdoor work with the Pokémon that he just couldn’t do anymore.

For Misty, on her twenty-second birthday, it meant that she was too old to be a virgin.

Worse than that, it was too old to have never been kissed. Too old to have never had a boyfriend. It made her feel pathetic.

“Azu! Azurill!”

Misty snapped out of it when she saw the baby Pokémon bouncing at her feet. She hadn’t realized how melancholy her thoughts had gotten on today of all days. When she was supposed to celebrate and feel good about herself.

Luckily, no matter the circumstances, Azurill always brought a smile to Misty’s lips. She placed her gifts on the ground—she’d tidy up later—and picked up Azurill in their stead.

“Hey, cutie! Are you wishing me a happy birthday?”

“Azu! Azu!”

Misty laughed as they rubbed noses and flopped onto her bed. She held Azurill over her head and began tossing it lightly in the air and catching it—one of their favorite games.

After a few good tosses, Misty set Azurill down on the bed and rolled onto her side. When she looked closely at Azurill, she could see how the playing had upped her heart rate, making the pink of her ears a little redder and flushing her usually white cheeks.

“It’s not so hard being alone when I have you, Azurill.”

“Rill!”

She had other things in her life—a full life—and didn’t need a man to feel whole. She was a powerful Gym Leader actively working toward her dream of being a Water Pokémon Master every day. She had friends—albeit not many, but the ones she had were the best—and her sisters. She was a busy person, and didn’t need to date.

That was the spiel she told herself. And it was all correct. Factually, logically correct. But after over five years of the spiel, it just didn’t make her feel much better anymore.

It wasn’t so bad at first. When she was sixteen and had never been kissed she was able to brush it off. She was an attractive girl and she had been asked on dates, after all. It wasn’t as though she hadn’t had the opportunity. She was just being picky. There was nothing wrong with that. Of course, her sisters had carried on with multiple boyfriends by the time they were sixteen and all of them had lost their virginities around that age. But Misty hadn’t wanted to emulate them in that way, so that made it all the better that she was choosy about her prospects.

It was one thing to have people that you know who are older than you to be dating and…copulating and all that. It was entirely different when they were younger than you.

May and Drew were barely teenagers when they started dating. They’d had their first kiss when May was twelve and Drew was thirteen. They’d done the deed about three years later. Since Drew and May were still together, that meant that May had been sexually active for four years and Misty was still a never-been-kissed virgin.

Then there was Dawn, who Misty had met a few years back when she’d done the Kanto Contest circuit. Dawn, who was young—four years Misty’s junior to be exact—but such a cool girl. She was beautiful and had such confidence and charm. When she’d seen Dawn perform at a Contest in Cerulean, she’d seen how taken the audience had been with her during the Appeals round, how talented she was in the Battle round. Not to say that she was necessarily more talented than Misty, because they competed in entirely different arenas, but she was undeniably special.

Dawn was younger, but so much cooler. She casually dated a lot, but she didn’t sleep around. But she’d still managed to lose her virginity the year before.

All of her friends were lapping her in terms of big life experiences. May was practically engaged, as it was, and Misty had never been on a second date. Nothing had changed for her since she was thirteen. And all that had Misty feeling a bit like a baby.

“Azurill?”

Azurill had a questioningly look in its eyes as it padded up to Misty’s face and patted her cheek. Misty sniffed.

“I’m not crying.”

And she wasn’t. But she was close.

“Dammit. I hate getting mopey on days that are supposed to be happy.”

Because her birthday wasn’t the only one. She hated having no one to kiss on New Year’s Eve, no one to kiss on Valentine’s Day, and, God forbid, no one to be her plus one at a wedding. She’d had to go to a few Gym Leaders’ weddings and being one of the youngest—and unattached—in attendance led to the dreaded question of: “When will it be your turn, dear?”

I don’t know, Agatha; why are you freaking asking me that?

Misty rubbed her eyes, staving off the tears as she dreaded the weight of another year of feeling this way. Every year it was: Well, maybe I’ll lose it by the time I’m twenty-two?

And here it was. Another deadline missed. Pushed back. Maybe before she was twenty-three?

It wasn’t that she was dying to lose it. Misty’s confidence hadn’t been that knocked down and she had complete certainty that if she donned one of her skimpier outfits and swished some mouthwash she could dance on over to the nearest bar and take home a guy for a lousy one-night stand.

But that’s not what she was after. That wasn’t what she had waited all this time for.

And yet, she’d always thought…always figured that by this point she’d have had a first love. Probably been heartbroken. Certainly been kissed. And she’d just assumed that she would have lost her virginity by now. Much as it made her feel dramatic to do so, she felt she had to mourn that person she’d expected herself to be. Because, like it or not, she was someone else, and that was the person she had to live with.

It was just the embarrassment. And living with her sisters made it difficult. They would talk on and on about who’d they’d been with, who had been enjoyable, who hadn’t, who they wish they’d hooked up with, who they regretted, sparing no detail because that was the kind of close relationship her sisters had with each other. And honestly, it was quite a switch from Misty’s childhood that she was even allowed in on their conversations together.

But a part of her really wished that she was still being kicked out of the room, told that the conversation wasn’t for runts—despite those conversations of yore having been about nothing more scandalous than pecks and hand holding.

Because when you were the only virgin in the room, it was palpable. She knew she was the only one. Her sisters knew she was the only one. And they all knew that they all knew. A few times one of her sisters would recount something scandalous and then turn to Misty and say, “Isn’t that right, little sister?” with a joking smile on their faces.

They were joking! Misty knew that, but she still had to snap at them to shut up and stalk away, not to speak to them for the rest of the day. It just pissed her off that, despite being included, she was a joke, just like she’d been as a kid. She was sick of that feeling.

It’s fine, Misty thought as a couple tears began to dribble down her nose and across her cheek. She’d just turn on a sad playlist and wallow for a little while, then put on a fresh face when she was done. On her birthday, she at least deserved the opportunity for some bother-free sulking.

“Misty! Come downstairs!”

Misty put her face in her damp pillow and took a heavy breath, suppressing the frustration and irritation. Then she lifted her head, and bellowed, “Later, Daisy!” with all her might, hoping that her voice sounded angry and betrayed nothing further.

“No! Like, you wanna come down right now!”

Birthday or not, Misty knew just from the tone of voice that there was no way she would get away with ignoring Daisy. This wasn’t an I’m-gonna-forget-in-a-couple-minutes-anyway kind of call. It was an I’m-gonna-barge-into-your-room-even-if-you’re-topless kind of call.

Misty took another deep breath to heave out “Coming!” before rolling off her bed to prepare to look like a birthday girl again. The first thing she did was wipe away the tears. Her chronically cold hands felt amazing on her hot face, so she pressed them into her eyes and took a couple more breaths.

Her sisters weren’t the only ones who could put on a show.

When Misty looked into the mirror, she saw that her eyes were red and her face was a little splotchy. Her skin would fade into its usual creamy, if slightly uneven hue in a few minutes—she didn’t need to put on foundation or anything. But the eyes. Misty found her trusty brown eyeliner and mascara and drew a few decently practiced swipes. If the makeup didn’t distract from the redness, she could always say she’d poked herself in the eye. She gave her dry hair a little zhuzh with a light ruffle of her hands and smiled into the mirror.

“You like it, Azurill?”

“Zu zu!”

Birthday girl was back.

After promising Azurill that she’d be back later, Misty began walking downstairs. She expected to see Daisy at the bottom of the staircase, but she must have skittered away after hollering for Misty.

“Daisy?”

“In the lobby!”

Misty’s hand went right to the flared skirt of her short birthday dress. It was royal blue with a fitted bodice and spaghetti straps and even now, with no shoes on, it gave her miles and miles of leg. Not the look that she usually performed her Gym Leader duties in, but she supposed there was nothing wrong with showing off her feminine side as she battled. She was wearing shorts underneath, after all.

Still, she felt naked without her PokéBelt as she went to the lobby to greet whatever Trainer must have stopped in, aiming to earn the Cascade Badge today.

Well, tough noogies. Misty wasn’t about to lose a Battle on her birthday.

Misty walked to the lobby feeling a little more fire in her veins, more like her normal self as all thoughts of romance and sex left her mind, instead replaced with thoughts of which Pokémon she would use in the Battle. Probably Gyarados, just to make it easy.

Then it all came out from under her.

“Ash?”

The word broke into multiple syllables in Misty’s mouth as her surprise shook her. Ash was there. Ash, who she’d last seen months ago in Alola. Traveling Ash was in her Gym’s lobby.

“Hey, Mist.”

That was all she needed.

A grin bubbled up onto Misty’s face and she ran the couple steps that it took to cross the lobby and wrapped her arms around Ash as she felt all of her melancholy from earlier slip away, at least for the moment.

“Pikachupi!”

Pikachu hopped from Ash’s shoulder to Misty’s, and she took one arm off of Ash and pressed Pikachu into her neck. “Aw, I missed you too, Pikachu,” Misty cooed, her voice muffled against Ash’s shoulder.

“I’ll leave you two to it,” Daisy said, and Misty heard her footsteps trail out of the room. She pulled herself away from Ash, Pikachu still on her shoulder.

“Ash, what are you doing here? The Alola League was months ago; where have you been?”

Ash rubbed the back of his head sheepishly. His hair was more angular than it had been in Alola, losing some of the frizziness the humidity had created. And his tan skin was bronzy, just as she’d grown used to seeing it the past couple of years: warm with a hint of pink on the cheekbones. She knew Delia had been bothering him about wearing sunscreen every day, though, so she wasn’t too worried about that.

“I’ve actually been working my way through the Alola Battle Tree. Did you know that every region has a kind of training competition that only people who have qualified for the League can participate in?”

“Is that why you’re back in Kanto?”

Ash grinned. “That’s it! I thought I could go through and challenge them all and, you know, work up my skills so that I can make sure that I win the next League!”

“Hah, fat chance!”

“Hey!”

And just like that, it was as though no time had passed. They could bicker and talk about Pokémon all while Misty stroked the side of Pikachu’s face, right where he liked it. All was right in the world.

“You know, I am going to visit your mother in Pallet tomorrow, Ash. You could have just waited until then to see me.”

Ash shrugged. “But then it wouldn’t have been your birthday.”

Misty’s heart did a little flip-flop at that. He said it like it was so simple, but still, the gesture meant everything to her.

“Pika pika!”

Pikachu was gesturing to a plastic bag Ash was holding in one hand and he looked down at it, seeming to have forgotten that it was hanging there, cutting off the circulation from his first and second fingers. He seemed to blush a little bit, pulling that old trick of lowering his hat over his face to hide it. He cleared his throat. “Oh, right. See, I didn’t exactly manage to pull much of a gift together. I thought about it too late and then I wasn’t sure what you would want, so I put it off until I got here and then…this was all I could think of.”

Out of the bag, he pulled out a carton of vanilla ice cream. Full fat.

Misty raised an eyebrow. “Caramel sauce?”

Ash raised the bag up and she could see something else weighing the bottom down, and a familiar, shiny brown logo peeking through at her.

“Sorry that it’s not something more special—”

“No, it’s perfect!” Misty put her free arm around Ash again and gave his waist a squeeze. Then she whispered, “It’s perfect because you’re here.”

“And because I actually remembered your favorite?”

She gave him another squeeze. “And because somewhere in that pea-sized brain of yours, you managed to remember my favorite.”

“You know I’m only letting that pass because it’s your birthday.”

“Whatever. Let’s go to the kitchen.”

Misty linked her arm with Ash’s and pulled out of the lobby and into the house proper. In the kitchen, she plucked out her favorite bowls—painted and sculpted to look like halved berries—and loaded up both of their bowls with as much ice cream as she could manage without it dripping over the sides. Once she poured on the caramel, she handed the Oran Berry one to Ash and kept the Leppa for herself.

“Don’t think I forgot about you, Pikachu,” Misty said as she scooted a less full Aspear Berry bowl down the counter for him. He hopped off her shoulder and immediately began lapping at the bowl, shivering pleasurably as the dessert cooled him.

“Hey, why does yours have so much more caramel?”

“Because I don’t want to deal with your sugar rush in twenty minutes, Ash! Besides, I’m the birthday girl.”

“You know, we should put a limit on how many times you can use that excuse,” Ash grumbled as he took a bite of ice cream.

“We do! It’s one day out of three hundred and sixty-five.” Misty slowly licked a spoon filled with pure caramel victoriously in Ash’s face.

“Hah, very clever.”

“I am.”

Violet, who was passing by in the living room with a pile of towels shouted out, “Oh, get a room you two.”

Abruptly, Misty froze, save for sticking her spoon back into her bowl as blood rose to her face. She realized belatedly how that moment of triumph also could have looked very salacious. Perhaps her earlier thought-spiral had left her especially sensitive, but for her sister to say that with Ash around? Her body stung with the awkwardness as she shouted back. “Shut up, Violet! Go check the pool for lime!”

Violet didn’t seem to notice how her comment had affected her sister as she flounced over to the locker rooms with the clean towels. “Aw, you’re, like, no fun at all.”

Misty took a big bite of ice cream, hoping that its chill would cool down her practically steaming face and push back her blush. She could feel it up to her hairline.

“What did she mean by that?”

Misty, who hadn’t dared to look anywhere but her ice cream, raised her gaze to Ash’s in shock. But there he was, wide-eyed and totally genuine in his confusion. Misty couldn’t help but smile.

“It was nothing, Ash. Inside joke.”

At that, Ash’s dopey grin arose again and he said, “Oh, that’s cool. Glad you guys have those now.”

“Yeah.”

Misty looked at Ash as he ate his ice cream, the one food he ate much slower than her. And as she looked at her old friend, she really took him in. Ash had turned twenty-two only the month before; they were almost exactly the same age. They’d known each other for twelve years, having traveled together for the most formative part of that time. Even now, with more years apart than together, they knew each other so well.

Ash had had his first kiss already. Misty knew that. She’d witnessed him being kissed years ago, and she knew that he had that on her.

But she also knew that he hadn’t dated. He hadn’t asked anyone out and he certainly hadn’t yet had sex or anything close. And maybe she was wrong about this, but she would wager that it didn’t bother him at all. Whatever the reasons, he wasn’t ready yet. If it was something that he’d ever want to do. And when she looked at him, she didn’t feel like he should be embarrassed about any of that part of the story of who he was.

It didn’t make her feel better about herself. For her, the embarrassment was still there, even if she didn’t believe that Ash should carry it. But what made her feel indubitably better that he was in the same position as her. It made her feel as though she had a companion, a partner in crime.

It made her feel like she wasn’t alone.

Impulsively, she put a hand on his shoulder, which drew his surprised eyes down to hers immediately. “I’m really glad you’re here.”

Mouth still full of ice cream, Ash gurgled out, “You already said something like that.”

“I know.”

A part of her still hoped that Ash would be the person that she would do some of those things with. She’d gotten really got at forgetting about it when they weren’t together, but in these moments of tight proximity, she felt the tightening of her stomach that could only mean that she was around her first—and only—big crush.

With startling clarity, Misty realized that if it meant being with him, she was willing to wait. For as long as necessary. Until he was ready.

Misty suddenly felt her eyes go soft as she looked into Ash’s again. Punctuated by the sound of Pikachu still licking his bowl, she thought this boy means the world to me. He looked confused as to why she was still holding him tenderly and being, well, very un-Misty-like. She couldn’t help but laugh as she pulled back, attention back on ice cream. Hers had already started to become terribly melted.

“Do you want more caramel sauce?”

Ash’s eyebrows rose. “You sure you can deal with me on that sugar high?”

“I can always deal with you, Ash.”

A/N: To be clear, I am not promoting abstinence or non-abstinence. The 'right time' for everyone is different. I just want there to be more representation of adults who don't lose their virginities until they're older, because I think it's an underrepresented thing that makes people feel unnecessary shame or embarrassment when it’s totally normal. <3