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blackynsupremacy · 4 months ago

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DOUBLE TROUBLE

pairings: kal kent x black!fem!reader! x clark kent

summary: you get revenge on your cheating boyfriend by hooking up with his twin brother.

contains: 18+ content (mdni), smut, pwnp, redk!clark twin au, kal and clark are brothers, good twin/bad twin type of vibe, toxic relationship, cheating (both reader and kal), family betrayal, angst/anger, revenge sex, unprotected p in v, squirting, creampie, mention of birth control, riding, reader and clark basically use each other, manipulation, swearing, cursing, praise, degradation.

a/n: heyyy idk if anyone else came up with this au, but i think it would be cool to see redk!clark as a whole separate person alongside clark. requests are temporarily closed, so please be patient with me because my family and i are mentally preparing for an impending loss, so any thoughts and prayers would be appreciated. love you all sm 🫶🏾

want more? check out my masterlist!

taglist: @greengoblinswifey @hopefully-saturn @jkr820 @hoffmansgirl @austeenbootler @niteskysx @sabrinasopposite @thabiddie23 @hnch33rios @xoxoglittergossip @supaprettyg @ellethespaceunicorn @afrogirl3005 @afrowrites @paisholotus @motherismotheringggg @oscarisaackissmykitty @simply-lovley44 @v3n1ce-bxtch @elitesanjisimp @gxuxhdjdu @stargirl-mayaa @miguelspvssy @artyandink @horror-moviehoe

“ah, fuck, clark!”

you cry out as your hips steadily bounced on clark kent’s massive length, your nails dig into the toned, pale skin of his broad shoulders as his hands cups the plush skin of your ass while he releases his own string of groans and whimpers. with each movement of your hips, the pleasure only intensified between the two of you. clark’s baby blue eyes were hypnotized by the slight jiggle of your breasts, he didn’t miss how the necklace with the familiar red gem you were wearing moved back and forth against your brown glistening skin that was stained with perspiration. god, how he wanted to take it off, but he was so caught up by how good you were at riding him, he could really care less as he was relishing in this sinister moment. you were a sight to behold as your shimmering, dark eyes were half-lidded and your full glossed lips were agape before his name came out again.

“you fuck me so good, clark. ah—wish i chose you instead.”

you breathed out, you were so drunk at how skilled he moved his hips in perfect tandem with yours, you weren’t sure if what came out of your mouth was true or not. one thing for sure, clark knew exactly what he was doing and those words caused him to drill his cock within your pussy faster, resulting in you to whimper with each time his bulbous tip kissed your cervix.

“y’know it, pretty—t-told you i can treat you better than that asshole.”

you hated and loved the fact that he wasn’t lying.

you both never thought that this would happen due to the fact that you were dating, kal kent, clark’s twin brother. despite the two being identical, they couldn’t even be more different. clark was the goody-two shoe twin who was the quarterback that made the best grades, did his part with the chores on the farm, and tried his best to help others in need. although he was charming and popular, he was shy, humble, and a bit awkward. clark seemed like to be the perfect candidate as your boyfriend, but then there was kal, his brother. he didn’t really care much for school, but he was still intelligent like clark. he spent his time skipping classes to go on adventures to metropolis like he was born to be there, instead of driving around in a pick-up truck like clark, kal saved up to get a motorcycle, which had all of the girls wanting to ride with him— or better yet on him, you included. kal kent was a bit arrogant and short-tempered, but he was adventurous, charismatic, bold, and an all around smooth operator when he wanted to be up to no good, especially when it came to the opposite sex.

your relationship with kal was— tumultuous. with the exact right words and actions, you were basically putty in his hands. it amazed you that out of all the girls in the senior class of smallville high, he chose you. with him, you unlocked the courageous wild side that’s been hidden deep within you. you went from a homebody ti a hometown hottie. kal kent was indeed trouble, but he was good trouble as he wasn’t afraid to show you new things and take risks beyond the limits of smallville. every weekend, you get dolled up and sneak out with kal on his motorcycle to journey to metropolis where he would smooth talk his way into the hottest dance clubs for some thrilling night life action—until he gets into a fight, but you still stuck by him as he took you to all of those “bases” that your friends would be hyping about with their respective beaus, your face would heat at the steamy details. now, you don’t feel so shy anymore as kal had completely transformed you to someone more liberated, sexy, and confident.

you loved kal with all of what you got, but sometimes he would be so fickle with his wandering eyes towards other girls. you and kal would be in a heated argument because you would catch him subtly flirting with other women, shamelessly complimenting their looks, or catch a glimpse of their swaying hips beneath their skirts. you never forgot how one time at a nightclub, you caught him bumping and grinding with two randoms on the dance floor after you went to the bathroom for three fucking minutes, causing you to lash out and make a scene resulting in an argument between you. you two wouldn’t even talk to each other for a good week, so you would find solace with clark, who was kind enough to console you and tell you how you deserved better than his brother (i.e. himself, but he wasn’t going to do that now). clark was right, but kal was the fire in your loins. you couldn’t just get over him and you knew he couldn’t get over you. that’s how you and kal would “make-up” then return back to normal.

if by normal, you mean repeating the cycle of kal playing in your face, you break up, you cry to clark, and then ultimately forgive kal just because he got you a promise necklace to match the ring on his finger? then, yeah, that was your normal and you were getting fed the fuck up. after another explosive confrontation on his infidelity, you were at the kent farm with clark in his loft. kal was off on his motorcycle at god knows where with god knows whom, you didn’t care because you were really done with him. there was no way that all of this pain, anger and insecurity was in the name of true love. clark always was there to be a shoulder for you to cry on, willing to listen to your repetitive laments and offer that old-fashioned, kindhearted farm boy comfort.

“i’m so sick of this, clark. i’m so sick of him!” you exasperatedly sigh out as you wipe the final tear from your eyes, finally composing yourself. clark wrapped his arm around your shoulder, his hand gently caressing your arm.

“i’m so sorry, y/n. no one deserves what you’re going through. ever.”

and he meant that with every bone in his body. no matter how many times you’ve cried to him, clark would always reassure that you would find better for yourself, hopefully one day you’ll realize that you wouldn’t have to look far because he was literally right here. clark has always been fond of you, even before you started messing around with his brother. fortunately, his patience was a virtue and it worked out for him in the end as you uttered these words.

“thank you, clark. i never would say this out loud with him around, but i wish kal was more like you sometimes.”

“more like me? in what way?” he inquired, with that signature tilt of his head that you always found to be adorable. it resembled a golden retriever.

“y’know— like a gentleman.” you sigh in relief at clark’s gentle touch on your shoulder. the gears in your brain start to turn as a devilish, nasty idea crept in your mind. you knew this was wrong by any means, but your fiery anger and growing bitterness towards kal kent was the director of your moral compass. you leaned in closer to clark, smirking when his cheeks painted with red at the new close proximity.

“clark—i’ve been burnt by your brother way too many times before and i’ve never thought about stepping out once.” you confess in a light, soft voice, your hand reaching to trace along the warm skin of clark’s jawline.

“this time—i want to burn him back.” you leaned in forward, your thigh was brushing against his as your breaths mingled with each other. you glanced down at his pouty, rose lips that was so similar to your boyfriend’s.

“and i want you to help me.”

“b-but, i can’t. it wouldn’t be fair to kal.”

you smile widely, admiring clark’s angelic benevolence to his savage of a brother and his relationship—too bad that you were going to play devil’s advocate.

“you’re right, clark, but he hasn’t been fair to me.” you emphasize, pointing to your chest. “didn’t you always say that i deserve better? wouldn’t you think that i deserved you?” you press him further, placing your hands on his shoulders to push him up against the sofa you were occupying, finally cornering him. it didn’t help his case as he felt the blood rush straight to his cock when you pressed your heaving chest against his.

“c’mon, clark. we both know you can treat me better, love me better, and maybe even fuck me better. you can tell me all you want, but i’d like it if you show me, baby.”

clark was speechless because you were right. he did want you, so fucking bad. he admired your boldness, your realness, your intelligence, and of course, your beauty. it was common for the twins to bicker, but kal always made sure to rub it in his face and make him feel like such a loser that even a “mr. popular” couldn’t bag a chick as bad as you—well, now this was his chance to prove kal wrong. clark’s own morals started to blur between the lines of right and wrong as your lips drew closer to his. before you knew it, clark threw all cares out of the window as he finally closed the gap between your lips in a kiss that started out as gentle, but grew more fervent as you started to climb upon his lap, grinding your hips in a sweet rhythm to feel the erected arousal buried in his signature levi’s. with each kiss and touch exchanged, every article of clothing that you had was swiftly discarded to the floor leaving you both exposed.

“fuck, you’re so beautiful.”

you reveled in the amount of body worship that clark showered you in as his skilled hands roamed to every part of your body, from your chest down to your aching core, it all elicited the lewdest of sounds from you that had you ready to feel him— all of him. it wasn’t long before you got him sitting nice and pretty up on the couch, readily positioning yourself right above his swollen cock. although, he was ready, his sweet self still wanted to know one more thing before you proceeded,

“don’t you think we should use protection?”

you could only simper, he was such a softie that you could melt.

“it’s all good, babe. i’m on the pill—m’gonna start now, you ready?” you ask, caressing his heated face and placing a searing kiss on his lips. with his eager approval, you deliberately lowered yourself onto your boyfriend’s brother’s length. as he filled you up inch by inch, your grip on each other grew tighter as your walls did around him once he bottomed out. your hips began to get into a steady rhythm once you both adjusted to the new sensation. a string of strained moans erupted from your throat with each thrust, usually with kal it would be more about him, prioritizing his release over yours, but with clark, he was more attentive to your needs. from the way his lips would take the time to trail bites and kisses along your chest to how he would tease your clit with his thumb every now and then. to make sure you didn’t tire yourself out, his hips jolted up to meet you in the middle as they gained in speed, his name becoming the only thing on your lips. clark was enjoying every moment of this. he wished kal would walk in to see you completely going crazy as he fucked deeper within your walls.

“heh. look at you, getting fucked so good by your boyfriend’s brother. you’re so damn scandalous, but i love that about you.” he deeply chuckled, fully taking control by tightly clasping your hips and holding them in place to where you couldn’t move. your confusion was brief when clark began to drill himself at such a speed you weren’t even sure was human, but that’s what the fuck you’re talking about. if this was how revenge felt, you’d gladly do it again to teach kal a lesson.

you felt the familiar heat coil inside, burning more intense as you gaze down between you to watch each fluid motion of his cock rutting eagerly in and out your slickness with such precision.

“that’s it, clark. just like that. do it for me, baby, do it for me! y’gonna make me cum all over you if keep doing that.” you mewled out, your nails scratched on his skin as his movements started to be more erratic. the only sounds that filled the room was the slapping of your skin, the squelching of your sex, and the mix of your harmonic moaning in the air.

“that’s right, baby. let that pretty pussy cum all over me— give it all to me, pretty girl. i got you like always.” he mused, the pad of his thumb finding its rightful place on your sensitive bundle of nerves, swiping it rapidly on the wet, puffy surface to elicit the pleasure that you’ve been waiting for. that’s when you feel the final snap of the coil. without ceasing your movements, your lips collide with his in a needy kiss. your whole body trembles, every muscle spasms as your juices disperse all over his navel and cascade down your thighs. it doesn’t take long for clark’s orgasm to follow suit, his fluids rapidly shooting into your walls to paint them white as snow. after catching your breath, you get off of him for you both to retrieve your clothes.

“thanks, again, clark. you may feel crap about it now, but knowing your brother, this should be a humbling experience for him.” you reassure him as you adjusted your hair to break the awkward tension with some humor.

“it’s no worries, y/n, but the question still remains—did you mean what you said about how you should’ve chosen me instead of kal? i know we were caught up in the moment, but—” you cut him off by simply cupping his face in your hands to kiss him, he instinctively reciprocates. with the slight tug of his bottom lip between your teeth, you pull away, a tantalizing smile painted on your glowing features.

“between you and me, clark, you can believe what you want to believe, but know this—drunk actions speak sober thoughts. if you’re down, let’s keep this our little secret and do this again if kal decides to screw with both of us, ‘kay?” with a final quick peck to his lips, you take your exit from the loft before hopping into your vehicle to retire for the night, relishing in the fact that you got kal kent, your playboy boyfriend, back for all of the hurt he’s caused.

at around midnight, kal came stumbling through the door of kent farm. he was out in metropolis again hitting up the club with a couple of hotties, but they weren’t you. he’d make it up to you when you’ve cooled down enough and stopped talking to his cookie-cutter twin.

“i take it that you had a good time tonight. it’s not like your girlfriend was worried sick or anything.” clark snidely remarked with the roll of his blue eyes as he relaxed on the sofa before resuming to watching the cheesy horror movie on the tv.

“you’re damn right i did and let me guess, you did the same loser activities with the same loser friends like you always do on nights like these.” kal called out from the kitchen to retrieve a needed bottle of water before stepping closer to clark.

“instead of butting into my relationship with my girlfriend, you should stay in your fucked up lane of a love life.”

kal then sarcastically feigned a “eureka” type of expression, snapping his fingers.

“oh! i got it. maybe if you had what it takes to live a little, you wouldn’t be stuck doing the same old loser routine in boring old smallville, would you, mr. popular?” kal finished his speech with a chuckle, thinking he had the last laugh when clark was probably playing the bigger person by giving silence as a response. kal had no idea about the bombshell that his own twin brother was about drop on him.

“yeah, alright, kal. i’m such a loser doing the same loser activities, but in reality, i was fucking your girlfriend a couple hours ago, asshole. how’s that for living a little?”clark harshly retorted, the dirty little secret out in the open.

kal immediately stopped at that confession, everything had just—paused. if the harsh tension between the brothers was already damaging, it was now fucked beyond compare.

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ronearoundblindly · 13 days ago

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Shameless Enjoyment

platonic Bucky Barnes x Alpine!reader

part of Companion Animal (see previous or series)

Image found on Pinterest by @ellethespaceunicorn who thought of Bucky bonding with his new kitty 😻 so OBVIOUSLY I had to run with it...

No warnings, just floofy fluff! Enjoy 😘 WC 625

It's because he has nightmares that he suddenly pops up to burn off unprovoked, fight-or-flight energy. Shirtless, metal arm whirring in strain, covered in sickly sweat, Bucky just goes and goes.

Hundreds of sit ups. Hundreds of pull ups. Hundreds of push ups until his muscles finally fail, and he can (maybe) go back to sleep.

You've watched with your own breed of fear and sadness a few times before, but not tonight. You need him to not feel alone, to notice there's someone (or something) here to help. You need to ease his pain in some small, tiny, probably insignificant way, but you have to try.

So you prop yourself up on his knees during the sit ups, you jump for his rising, crossed ankles during the pull ups, and you shimmy across the floor by the sleek hairs of you back, positioning yourself beneath his head during the push ups.

His eyes are glassy, unseeing of you, his face bobbing closer then farther on and on.

His dog tags clink on the floorboards only an inch away, but Bucky still notices absolutely nothing.

Well, you know how it goes, right? Hear a tink, tink, tink enough times (dozens and dozens so far), and we're all like to be driven a bit bonkers.

You attack them, pinching the flat steel between your paws and bunny-kicking the swinging string, deeply annoyed that you have no thumbs to grab them properly and rip them right off his neck.

Ok. Maybe you're tired and he did wake you from a proper sleep this time.

You bite at the tags, intent on making your own mark on the stamped metal.

Bucky stops, but you only notice when his body remains lowered to yours for longer than the regular beat.

You, in turn, stop mid-thrash.

"Pretty girl..." he growls playfully, though you are anything but 'pretty' with your fangs hammering an unyielding surface, your wide eyes angry and lopsided, and your body twisted to gain the leverage of one-twentieth Bucky's own size.

You pause then growl in kind.

"Are you mad at me? Did I disturb you?"

A back leg whacks at the chain again in defiance.

He chuckles, the harsh lines above his serious brow relaxing as he pushes up, dragging the necklace almost out of your reach.

The smooth plates slip from your paws, and it makes you furious, batting wildly to regain your hold of them.

Bucky seems very pleased with that reaction.

"There ya go, doll. Almost got it--" he lowers again "--yay! What about--" he pushes as far as his elbows will straighten "--now?"

A wet huff escapes your throat when the string goes entirely beyond the extension of your own fury limbs.

"Uh oh! Little higher, Alpine. You can do it," he coos.

Your screech is from genuine irritation, but it amuses Bucky to the point you wriggle some more...just for show.

"Okay, okay, here ya go." Bucky lowers the tags carefully to your chest, delighted by the feral display of savagery he sometimes wishes to impart on the symbols, too. You're sure he doesn't realize he says these things out loud, but you take his confessions as seriously as a priest.

You'll take on his burdens like a golem if that's what helps him sleep through the night.

A few hundred secrets. Let him push them out. And then let him dream of better things. Fluffier, pure white, happy things. If he lets you, you'll fight all the demons and fly from room to room scaring all the ghosts of his past away.

He can do this routine without shame. He's simply playing with his cat. Bucky's just enjoying his time with you...at any and all hours of the day.

[Next Part: 'Babygirl']

[Main Masterlist; Bucky Barnes Masterlist]

A/N: yes, Lexi's got zero chill. What of it? You all knew that!

@hisredheadedgoddess28 @irishhappiness @fallenxjas @ilovetaquitosmmmm @venunsgirl @fries11 @lovinglimerence @navs-bhat @creat0r-cat @yenzys-lucky-charm @bitchy-bi-trash @supraveng @patzammit @whiskeytangofoxtrot555 @yiiiikesmish @ashesofblackroses @jaqui-has-a-conspiracy-theory @brandycranby @buckysprettybaby @ellethespaceunicorn @late-to-the-party-81 @bigtreefest @mistressmkay @astheskycries @veryprairieberry

#bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes fluff #bucky barnes x reader fluff #bucky barnes angst #bucky barnes x female reader #alpine the cat #shapeshifter #shapeshifter!reader #companion animal series

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thezombieprostitute · 19 days ago

Note

"Say that again. Slower."

Thanks for your patience! Took me a long time to figure out what to do with this.

Tech Tuesday: Jake Jensen (Drabble)

Summary: Flashback to when you and Jake got the ultrasound of the twins.

Tech Tuesdays Masterlist

You'll never get tired of Jake being so attentive. Ever since you found out you were pregnant, he's been alternating between a ball of energy in need of a direction and the cuddliest of puppies needing to hold you tight.

Today was the first full ultrasound. The last one you'd gotten, when you were only a few weeks along, just confirmed the pregnancy. There were some concerns about the baby's size not matching the dates you provided for your period so the doctor ordered a more thorough look.

Jake made sure to take the day off from work so he could go with you. The concern from the doctor about the baby's size had him nervous and he wouldn't be able to focus on work while waiting for you to call him with the results. He'd also started getting into Dad Mode by carrying a tactical gear baby bag and filling it with things you might want or need. Eventually baby items would be added, but right now it was practice for him and an opportunity to make sure your needs were met.

As the doctor started the ultrasound, Jake held your hand. Well, more like he let you squeeze his hand since you were so nervous. He joked it was good practice for when you go into labor. Your normally goofy husband was quiet, almost stoic. Waiting for you to tell him how you needed him to be. He hated being so helpless so he would put all of his energy into caring for you and your needs.

The doctor pauses her movements. "Well that explains a few things. You're having twins."

"What?" you gasp.

"Say that again. Slower," Jake pleads.

She turns the ultrasound screen so you and Jake can see it. She points to a blob. "That's one heart beat." She points to another, "and there's the second. Twins!"

Jake fights the urge to panic, to sit, to faint. Instead he puts his energy into cupping your face. "You're going to be okay," he says with a gentle strength that makes you believe him.

Tears start streaming, "twins. How are...what are...what about..."

He cuts you off with a kiss. "We're going to be okay." He touches his forehead to yours. "All four of us are going to be okay."

It isn't until after the Twins are born that Jake admits he called up all of the Losers and practically screamed out his nervous energy.

Tech Tuesdays Masterlist

Tagging: @alicedopey; @delicatebarness; @ellethespaceunicorn; @icefrozendeadlyqueen; @jaqui-has-a-conspiracy-theory; @late-to-the-party-81; @lokislady82; @ronearoundblindly; @thiquefunlover63

#zombie asks #tech tuesday #tech tuesday: jake jensen #jake jensen x you #it!jake jensen #jake jensen x reader #jake jensen x female!reader #jake jensen x f!reader #jake jensen x pregnant!reader #jake jensen x wife!reader

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peyton-warren · 9 months ago

Note

Cavillrine with reader on her period.

Fucking her, not caring if blood gets on the sheets, he’s seen blood, fuck it he’s spilt blood before.

Thank you for the ask hon!! Yours was the first of the Writer's Block Party Prompts that I tackled, so thank you for sending me such an enticing idea! I hope this drabble fits the bill.

Characters: Cavillrine, Reader Fandom: Deadpool and Wolverine Pairings: Cavillrine x Reader Word count: 308 Gender/Ethnicity: Any. Reader menstrates Type: One-shot Warning: discussion of blood, hinting that Reader menstrates, Logan being Logan Author's Note: Thank you to @rosecentury for the prompt, and @ellethespaceunicorn for the beta! And thank you for those of you sticking with me through my horrendous writer's block. Tried to keep reader as Neutral as possible to be inclusive. Summary: You and Cavillrine hit an impasse, or did you? Ask Box: Open Masterlist

Your cheeks flamed as Logan looked at you like you had 27 heads. “And?” he asked.

You shook your head and sighed—damn near tears at this point. “There is no ‘And,’ Wolvie. It's just that.”

He still looked befuddled, his forehead wrinkled in confusion and his eyes darting between yours as if one would tell him something your lips did not. Shaking his head with almost a snap, he started to smirk. “You think a little blood is going to scare me?”

“It squicks some guys,” you tried. His smile widened into an out and out toothy grin. “”First of all I’m not ‘some guys’,” he assured you. “Secondly, what the fuck does ‘squick’ mean?” His lack of pop culture knowledge always amused you and this was no different. Now you tried to hide your smile behind your hand but your giggle was unmistakable. “Oh and now you are laughing at me?!?” he joked before opening his arms to you. “C’mere, bub,” he stated softly.

You step into him and wrap your arms around his solid waist, pressing your giggles into his chest. “You are adorable when you giggle,” he informed you, his rough chin brushing your neck as he hugged you closer.

“You’re pretty adorable all the time,” you affirmed.

“I don't know that I’ve ever been called adorable,” he admitted with an amused tone. “Can I get back to fucking you now?” he asked in the next breath.

Lifting your head, you found his heated stare moving from your eyes to where you were biting your bottom lip, suddenly wondering why you stopped kissing him in the first place. Without another word your lips found him in a hard kiss, reigniting the flames that you had briefly tried to douse just a few short minutes ago as his hand slipped under the waistband of your panties.

General Tag List: @ellethespaceunicorn @littleone65, @mysweetlittledesire, @jvanilly, @identity2212, @avengersfan25 @foxyjwls007 @gummydummy19 @cynic-spirit @rosecentury HC Tag LIst: @m07belzen, @used-to-be-bourbonwithice, @hawklin, @geralts-yenn @summersong69,

@sillyrabbit81 @mistressmkay

If you want to be added or removed from my Tag Lists, please let me know.

#henry cavill #henry cavill characters #cavillrine #cavillrine x reader #cavillrine fanfiction #deadpool and wolverine #deadpool 3 #cavillrine drabble

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raccoon-eyed-rebel · 2 years ago

Text

Don't knock it till you try it

Masterlist

Pairing: Syverson x reader x Walter Marshall (technically college AU. I needed to make the road trip scenario plausible.)

Summary: Your friends Walter and Sy have offered to drive you home for the summer, and you have decided to turn it into a nice relaxed camping trip on the way...

Word count: 9146 (yes, really...)

Warnings: SMUT, NSFW, 18+, MINORS DNI, fingering (vaginal, anal - f receiving), oral sex (f and m receiving), penetrative sex (vaginal, anal, DP - f receiving), masturbation (f), smug and dirty talking Sy, sex in a tent, hint of a size kink (blink and you miss it), silly bets, and an astonishingly solid bromance. I think that's all, but call me if I missed any.

A/N: I've finally really stopped hurting the boys and now we're just going for some nice relaxed sex in a goddamn tent, dammit! Also yeah I'm going to keep imagining the boys in college until the day I die, I don't know why (maybe because I'm young), but just... idk, read it as a memory or something? idk :')

@geralts-yenn @deandoesthingstome @ellethespaceunicorn @peaches1958 @sillyrabbit81 @peyton-warren @summersong69 @mayloma @livisss

You were not – by a long shot – the first girl to see the backseat of the beat-up chevy pickup you were sitting in. Fact. A fact so factual, in fact, that Sy hadn’t complained when you demanded he put a blanket down for you to sit on, which told you more than you really wanted to know.

Now, your eyes kept drifting shut to the sound of tires on asphalt and the bickering of soothing baritone voices in the front seat. The outside world consisted of mountain views and clear blue skies, and the fresh breeze of early summer that worked just hard enough to raise goosebumps on skin, but inside this rusty old vehicle the atmosphere was dominated by two pairs of broad shoulders, deep voices, and what you always mockingly referred to as ‘disgusting man sweat’ – always hoping neither of them would ever find out how often you dreamt of licking those salty droplets off their abs after a workout.

Both of them had shown up, first semester, in a class they didn’t have a prayer of passing, and you’d been teamed up with them because of what you then thought to be a hideous trick of fate. Somehow, you whipping them into shape for that tutorial hadn’t put them off you, and what started as whatever the educational equivalent of ‘frenemies’ is, turned into study buddies and eventually friends. The only downside to your friendship was that you chronically had to explain to your entire dorm that, no, you weren’t sleeping with either of them – let alone both of them.

As you still toed the line between asleep and awake, a heavy hand on your knee – belonging to Walter – made a decision for you in favor of consciousness.

“We’re hungry,” he said.

“You’re always hungry,” you grumbled as you reached for the bag of food and snacks on the other side of the backseat. It was a good thing they didn’t bother to deny it, because you would have strangled them both. God forbid you ever left a bag of Doritos out in your dorm. Seconds! Gone!

Sy had the stones to ask for a tuna sandwich. Absolutely the fuck not!

“I’m not opening that bag in this car, Sy.” It already smelled like stale beer and weed in there. Not in a bad way, but in a ‘you’re not allowed to smoke on campus, so this is our only option’ way. That said, adding tuna to the mix would be a complete disaster.

“Suit yourself,” he snapped. You rolled your eyes. For the love of God, it was all of ten minutes past feeding time! Walter snickered as he held out a hand. Turkey on wheat for Walter, BLT for Sy, mozzarella pesto for you. You’d splurged on groceries, because the boys had offered to take the lion’s share of the drive.

“We were thinkin’ of callin’ it a day soon, sugar.” They’d had morning classes, and you were falling asleep while on snack-duty… Plus, you’d agreed to just take it easy the whole drive. It was summer; there was no need to rush home.

Sy pulled off the highway, quickly ending the smooth, rhythmic hum of the tires on the road, until the asphalt finally made way for the crackling of gravel. Without Sy, you never would have found the campsite at which you pulled over. Camping ran through that guy’s veins, as you could tell from the impressive amount of camping gear in the bed of the pickup – all his.

Even though he helped you get out of the truck, you still lost your footing and stumbled into him, leaving Walter grinning to the side of the spectacle, commenting on your horrible clumsiness.

“Dunno,” Sy replied with a sly smile. “Guess she’s just fallin’ for me.” The cheesy joke made Walter stop dead in his tracks.

“I think that’s twenty-five,” he deadpanned, looking at you. In a less-than-sober state, somewhere in the past year, you had made a deal: if either of them managed to make that joke twenty-five times before the end of the year, you’d… Alright, let the records show that when you made that bet, you had been entirely convinced they’d never take you up on the offer to let them kiss you. But they had.

“You’re not gonna hold me to what I said back then, are you?” you asked in a small voice, your cheeks so hot you could probably fry an egg on them. The door of the truck slammed shut behind you, and Sy slowly stepped forward, forcing you to step back, until you were backed up against the truck, with him leaning over you – completely caged in between his solid body and the car.

“Deal’s a deal, sugar.” There was no trace of his usual grin, no hint of the mischievous glint in his eyes that normally told you he was kidding. He just came closer and closer as your eyes went wide – Walter did nothing. Jackass.

Not that kissing Sy was something you didn’t want. Oh no! In fact, it was something a fairly large part of you wanted so badly you thought you might burst. On some days, being close to either of them – let alone both – was torture, where your heart raced every time they came near you, and you unconsciously held your breath when they touched you… And while the guys just freely admitted to having sex dreams about you, you kept the little nugget of truth that you had similar dreams about them, tightly under wraps. Not because you thought they’d tease you about it, or anything, just… No, wait, actually that’s exactly why you didn’t tell them.

A few more seconds passed in which your heart tried its best to jump out of your chest.

“This isn’t funny, Sy,” you snapped on a sharp exhale when his mouth curled at the corners into that signature smirk you loved to hate. Finally able to gather your thoughts as well as your strength, you put your hands on his chest and pushed. It was a good thing he let you go, because if he had decided to stay put, you wouldn’t have stood a chance in hell.

“I want my kiss, sugar,” he called after you as you paced away to… alright, you didn’t actually know where you were going, but away, at least. “One way or another.”

As pissed – or confused – as you were, this was ‘the outdoors’ and therefore absolutely not the type of environment you were well equipped for in any kind of way, thus you decided it was best to stay close – within earshot, at least – to the boys. But they could take care of unpacking and pitching tents and whatever the fuck else needed doing.

“Hey.” Sy sat down next to you on the rock you had claimed, and put an arm around you. This was oddly comfortable, especially compared to the tense situation by the car, earlier. “I was messin’ with ya back there, you know that, right?” Whether it was to make a point, or simply because Walter wasn’t watching – or maybe because the threatening wall of man from before was now your familiar gentle giant again, you had no idea, but you impulsively reached for Sy and kissed him on the cheek. A low chuckle escaped him, and he pulled you closer.

“There’s a trail up to a waterfall we maybe wanted to check out, you in? Easy hike.” The good thing about hanging out with the guys was that they really considered your level of… adventurous ineptitude. If they suggested this hike, it meant they were at least medium convinced you could actually make it there and back in one piece – or that they could make it at least halfway with you on their backs.

The hike led up to a beautiful, clear river, and a spectacular waterfall. Between the smell of the woods, the sun comfortably warm on your skin, and the phenomenal view, this hike had been more than worth it – never mind that you were all sticky and sweaty from trying to keep up with the guys and their superhuman pace.

“On the way back, can we please remember that I have little legs?” you complained as you sank down onto the rock at the river bank the boys had selected to eat yet another sandwich on. Sy hummed, finally contently munching on the tuna sandwich you’d denied him in the car, and Walter laughed. You sat in silence while your friends ate their food, which meant the rock inevitably became too boring for your limited attention span.

What started off as a relatively sure-footed expedition over the rocks that stuck out of the water, inevitably ended with your very accurate portrayal of a soaking wet person regretting most – if not all – of their life choices. Sy sighed and rolled his eyes as he swallowed the last bite of his sandwich, taking his sweet time to get up and make his way over to you to fish you out of the water – which he then called ‘refreshing’ instead of ‘freezing fucking cold’. That didn’t improve your mood. Next, Walter had to dive for your phone – which, luckily, could swim, but was still going to be next to useless to you at the bottom of this far-deeper-than-anticipated vein of icy death.

Shivering, covered in goosebumps and with chattering teeth, you stood on the bank of the river.

“Take your shirt off,” Walter commanded, plucking his own off the dry rock.

“What?” you stammered, staring at him in disbelief. Now, that alone would have been just fine, if your eyes hadn’t dropped from his face to his chest. Small droplets of water dripped from his hair and beard onto his shoulders and chest and… somehow trickled down his body in slow motion. If they knew how much willpower it took to lift your eyes to his again, they would never let you live it down. Sy repeated his words from a distance – there went your excuse that Walter had just been talking too softly. Sy was still up to his knees in the river, unbothered by the cold, just hanging out there as if that water didn’t rival the fucking arctic ocean for temperature.

As you looked at him, he started to walk back to the riverside. The sun was starting to set, changing the light in a way that made it look like Sy, much like those fucking drops of water, was moving in slow motion, flecks of sunlight dancing over his skin… These guys were distracting enough when they were dry and dressed, but now that they were wet and half naked, with damp, coarse curls sticking to their chest and abs, catching the water that dripped down from their heads… These boys were fucking with your head. Big time.

“Sugar, take off your shirt, please,” Sy repeated when he stood next to you. “You’re freezin’, let’s get you a dry t-shirt, at least.” Oh. So, they weren’t putting the moves on you. Good to know. Hopefully, your exasperated sigh didn’t give away any of the disappointment you felt. With a little help from Walter, you lifted your soaking top over your head, not caring that they saw you in your bra until it was already too late. Sy used his t-shirt to dry you off a bit, before handing you Walter’s to put on. The whole time, they kept their eyes in decent places, and their hands didn’t wander anywhere they shouldn’t. Now, why did that make you feel sad?

“We should head back,” Walter said – mostly to Sy. The sun disappeared rather quickly, and without the heat from it, that dry t-shirt – save for the two tit-shaped wet spots where your soaked bra touched it – didn’t do much to keep you warm.

By the time you made it back to the campsite, you were shivering again. The walk had done next to nothing to warm you, and your still wet jean shorts chafed painfully against your thighs. Not to mention your thighs were starting to chafe painfully against your thighs. So, the first thing you did was disappear into the tiny single tent that was meant for you – as you had made it abundantly clear that sharing a tent with the boys was out of the question – and change into something dry, warm, and comfortable. The guys did the same, although – as it turns out – their version of ‘warm’ included no shirts. Did they ever get cold?

It was tough enough to keep your eyes off Sy in cargo shorts – although Walter in jeans was just as much of a sight for sore eyes – but now that it was getting dark, the sweats came out to play. You silently thanked Walter for his choice of black sweatpants, because keeping your thoughts out of the gutter was hard enough already. Sy was shamelessly sporting a pair of grey sweats, filling them out just about as nicely as humanly possible as he sat there, getting a fire started. The sly glances and that godforsaken smirk he flung your way from time to time told you that he was more than aware that you were checking him out.

The heat from the fire alone wasn’t enough to warm you up. Sy’s solution was tequila – which helped, but not quite enough, so Walter wrapped you in a blanket, pulling you close to his side as he ran his hands over your arms in an attempt to stop your shivering. At the same time, Sy inched closer, and before you knew it, four arms were wrapped around you.

Apart from being hot, proverbially, these guys were hot in the literal sense, too, warming you up slightly more effectively than the blanket around your shoulders and moderate amount of alcohol in your system. Still, the icy temperatures from the ground you were sitting on seeped into you without mercy. Of course, the boys took notice, both getting the same idea, and each grabbing one of your legs to try and pull you into their respective laps. Needless to say; it didn’t work, and you just ended up with spread legs, sitting between them on the floor. Sy had that twinkle in his eye, that smirk on his face that was dripping with confidence and indecency… You had to get out of there before he could speak!

As you scrambled to your feet, mumbling something about getting another blanket for yourself to sit on, you tripped and fell into Walter’s lap. Of course! You had been keeping score on that bet as well, and you knew you had come here – fucking camping – with both of the guys stuck on twenty-four counts of the same lame fucking joke… This was your fault, really.

To your surprise, however, Walter said nothing – instead, he smiled politely, pulling you into a more comfortable position in his lap.

“You’ve earned it,” you whispered, although you had absolutely no idea why. Maybe because it was the truth, maybe because you just wanted this bet to be over. Either way, it hurt you that he didn’t make the dumb joke, and asked to collect his reward the way Sy had. Hoping to get up before Walter looked into your eyes – where your thoughts were no doubt displayed for everyone to see – you made a move that was entirely too advanced for your mediocre balance and agility, and you crashed down again, this time falling harder than before. As Walter grunted, panic shot through you…

“Darling, I’d ask you if it hurt when you fell from heaven, but so far the only person who got hurt in that process, is me,” he blurted out in a strangled voice, while Sy was losing it next to you, howling from laughter.

Was it the booze? The fire? The tension from this afternoon? The fact that you were sitting in his lap, with his hands maybe a tad too low on your hips, but high enough to not rouse suspicion? Or maybe just your complete lack of self-control? Whatever it was, it caused you to move to straddle his thighs, and without thinking about it for so much as a second, you kissed him. If you’d had a sliver of hope before that Walter would break the kiss after an at least semi-decent amount of time, it was gone now, because the hand on your hip pulled you tighter against him, and his other hand tangled in your hair.

Walter kissed you. It took far more effort than you had ever expected to really let that sink in, but at the same time there was no way around it. He was kissing you, and it was eager, and rough, accompanied by ragged breaths and the occasional moan. It managed to make you forget everything around you. Everything except for Sy – mainly because he let out a pained grunt just as you were about to stick your tongue down Walter’s throat.

“I got a kiss on the cheek, man,” he groaned as he leaned in slightly on one elbow.

Now, if you had been thinking clearly, you would have laughed it off, gotten up and gone to bed. Safe to say, you were not thinking clearly.

Sy’s mouth felt just as good on yours as Walter’s had, with similarly soft lips, a similarly coarse beard scraping your skin, and a similar roughness to him that only wound you tighter. You moaned, your hips unconsciously grinding into Walter’s, his growing hard-on providing extra friction to soothe the ache between your legs. When you briefly opened your eyes to see if Sy was as involved in this as you were, you saw him palm his own erection through his sweats – casually adjusting its position before focusing on you again. In that moment – timed perfectly with a moan from Walter – something inside of you snapped.

“I’m going to bed,” you stuttered as you broke the kiss with Sy, at the same time scrambling to get to your feet – this time succeeding without falling into anyone, and making it to your own tent without a hitch. ‘

Now, if it had been a sober conversation, and it hadn’t been in the middle of nowhere without a sound to be heard for miles other than crickets, the occasional owl, and the crackling of the fire, at least half of it would have been inaudible from where you had pitched your tents. But the boys were too drunk, and their voices too deep and dark – the sound just traveled too far. You could have ignored them. You could have turned around, pulled your sleeping bag over your ears, and pretended to be asleep until it became the truth. Instead, you listened, sometimes straining to understand what they were saying.

“So, who do we say got her first?”

“I’m asking for a do-over.”

“Because it was me?”

“We could just… Y’know…”

“Think she’d go for it?”

“What, both of us? My ex did…”

“But she was nuts.”

“Hey! Okay, fair enough.”

Both of them? Both of them? As in… Separately? Or… Oh, what the fuck did it matter! The answer was yes.

What surprised you most about your thoughts was how completely unsurprised you were by them. Somehow, the idea of sleeping with both Sy and Walter felt as natural as could be, and left you not only stumped, but with another problem that needed tending to…

Without thinking, you slid your hand down your body, and into your sweatpants. Kissing the boys had definitely had its effect on you, you had known that as soon as it had happened, but the extent of the mess between your thighs was still quite surprising. Somehow, tasting both of them, followed by your eavesdropping, had made you dripping wet and craving something more than just your fingers. Unfortunately, they’d have to do.

You thought of that first kiss with Walter, then the one with Sy, then wondered what it would feel like to have those beards scratch the skin of your neck, slowly making their way down to your chest. Would they lick? Bite? Moan? You pictured Sy, eagerly making his way further down, while Walter kept his attention on your chest. Would he be as quiet as he always was? Was Sy as loud as you imagined him to be?

There were so many things to wonder about, besides the obvious size question, that the thoughts consumed you completely as you worked yourself up to your peak. So completely, in fact, that you didn’t hear the guys return to the tents – just as you squealed from pleasure while you came. Hard.

“Fuck, sugar,” Sy said from outside. Walter warned him to stop talking, but he didn’t listen. “Tell me if you want any help.”

It was tempting to say ‘yes’. It was tempting to crawl into that tent and tell them you had heard everything they said by the fire. It was tempting to offer yourself up on a silver platter, hoping they’d make good on their promises from before by fucking the life out of you. But things that are tempting can also still be difficult, so you did nothing. Well, nothing… If ‘dying of embarrassment’ counts as ‘something’, you were definitely not doing nothing.

The sound of your own teeth chattering prevented you from falling asleep, even though you could hardly keep your eyes open. And who knew goosebumps could hurt like this? The boys had warned you beforehand that it would get cold at night, and you’d even told Sy what you had planned on wearing as pajamas, and he’d said you’d be good. Well, you weren’t good. You were covered from head to toe, and you were not – by any definition of the word – ‘good’.

As hard and painful as it was to just lay there and freeze, it was harder to get up, worm your double-socked feet into your sneakers and get out of your tent. Outside, it was pitch black, and the dim light of your phone was barely enough to prevent you from falling flat on your face. You had to credit the boys with their incredible foresight to keep the path from your tent to theirs free of tripping hazards – something you were so delighted in at that moment that you forgot to question whether or not there was some sort of ploy, or whatever in place. Lewd scheme or not, you were glad to make it without a hitch.

“Eh, guys?” you whispered after zipping open the tent and poking your head in.

“Hm? What?” It was Walter – and from Sy’s continued snoring, you deduced that you shouldn’t wait for him to answer; he wasn’t waking up.

“I’m really fucking cold,” you admitted reluctantly. That seemed to wake Walter up a little more…

“Cold? You could go on an expedition to the north pole dressed the way you are!” The sleep-drunk slur of his voice was… adorable, in a way. To his left – no, his right… To his left from where you were standing? The left side of the air-mattress they were on when you looked at it, standing at the foot of the bed, the right side if you were actually lying in… oh for fuck’s sake! Next to him, Sy groaned and turned – although you couldn’t see any of that, because it was very dark.

“The fuck is going on?” he grunted, his voice gravelly and dark – which did a good job of making your knees weak.

“She’s cold,” Walter replied dryly.

“There’s no way,” Sy said in disbelief, “she’s dressed for winter in Alaska.”

“If you two are done mocking me, I’m actually freezing my ass off out here. Do you have an extra blanket or something?” you snapped.

“Sugar, we’re not even wearin’ shirts,” Sy said, his voice steadier now that he was waking up.

“Great, so you put on a shirt, and I’ll take your sleeping bag.” It was a shame they couldn’t see you roll your eyes, but the snippy tone would surely get your point across.

“Or you could just come here, love,” Walter said all of a sudden. There was rustling in the tent and then a dim red light over your heads turned on.

“Interesting choice…” you started, but Walter and Sy chuckled.

“It’s easier on your eyes, sugar.” Shit, Sy was easy on your eyes, god damn. He hadn’t been lying when he’d said he wasn’t wearing a shirt, and the way he casually lounged on that fucking mattress right now, with that arm behind his head, eyes half shut…

Walter was sitting up, holding a hand out to you, waiting patiently until you had zipped open the door further – which took so long that he ended up helping you with it. As you got in, he got out, and for a moment you were scared he would offer to leave you with Sy while he took your tent, but after a while he returned holding your backpack and sleeping bag.

The bed was a bit small for the three of you, especially since the guys were so bulky, but you managed to make it work. The only thing was… shivering in between them was hardly more comfortable than shivering by yourself, and now there wasn’t enough space to curl up into a ball and hope for the best.

“Sugar, stop squirmin’, c’mere.” Sy’s strong arms wrapped around your waist and pulled you close, when up until now you’d been trying desperately not to touch either of them. “Alright, I take it back, she is freezin’.” A gesture to Walter you could feel but not see, made him scooch over, too, until his body was flush against yours.

Your heart raced in your throat when warm hands slipped underneath your hoodie, stroking your side and – eventually – your stomach. Somewhere down the line, you forgot how to breathe properly, taking in shallow breaths, hoping the guys wouldn’t notice. Of course, they did, because they were inches away from you.

“You should take this off, sugar,” Sy mumbled into your ear. Every muscle in your body tensed up at the suggestion, and it felt like the air was knocked out of your lungs.

“C-can’t,” you stammered, “I’m not… eh… I’m not wearing a bra.”

“Fairly sure we’ve seen a pair of tits before, love,” Walter replied, right at the time Sy muttered ‘neither are we’, making you laugh. Somehow, all of this seemed innocent – or rather; you were convincing yourself it felt innocent, and any subtext and undertones were a figment of your imagination, instead, when in fact, it was far more likely that it was exactly the other way around…

“Not mine,” you protested, biting your lip as a third hand, belonging to Walter, began to roam your back.

“We’re aware of that,” Sy said, his voice dangerously close to your ear. His breath was hot against your cold skin – a sensation that made you shiver.

“In fact, we try not to think about it. It makes us sad,” Walter said, leaning his forehead against yours, sliding his hand down your back and then up your side until his thumb was less than an inch away from the underside of your boobs.

For a moment, the thought that this was just a tactic to actually warm you up flashed through your head, because – in all fairness – it was working. Every part of you was suddenly glowing, breath quick and ragged in anticipation of whatever it was that would come next. What surprised you, though, was how calm they both seemed. Then again, they had already – unknowingly – admitted to having done this before. If that was where this was headed, which you still didn’t quite know for sure… It was as if the guys were both waiting for something. Waiting for… you.

Your lips trembled as you tilted your head up, Walter taking your hint and pressing his lips to yours. Sy pushed your hair out of the way and latched on to your neck. Neither of them went straight to groping you – not more than they had been up until now – but it was only a matter of time before you felt Walter’s hand creep up to your chest. He broke your kiss, his eyes silently asking for permission, which you gave him with the flash of a smile and a slight nod, gasping when his fingers brushed past your nipple. Despite the rising temperatures in the tent – even though most of that was likely just your imagination – the difference between your skin and Walter’s was striking, and you moaned when his warm hand cupped your breast.

Sy was less subtle by about a million degrees, boldly grabbing as much of your other boob as humanly possible – and he had big hands, so you quickly ran out of tit for him to dig his fingers into.

“Can you take it easy,” you blurted out as you laughed in surprise at his – as far as you were concerned – unwarranted enthusiasm.

“Darlin’, I’ve been dreamin’ of these tits for weeks, throw a man a bone.” He groaned when you backed a hip into him the same way you would have if he had been standing next to you.

“Looks like you’re the one throwing me a bone, Syverson,” you teased when you felt his cock push against your ass. It was a horrible joke; Walter laughed, Sy did not – possibly because he was the one on the receiving end of your mockery. Instead, you heard a low, arrogant chuckle in your ear, that told you exactly how he wasn’t going to give you the upper hand.

“I ain’t throwin’ you nothin’, sugar,” he growled, putting a hand on your hip, gripping you tight. “I’m gonna make you fuckin’ beg for it.”

“Promises, promises.” Teasing the boys was fun when you were studying, because you very clearly had a head start in that department, and they would get frustrated, and it was very cute. But now, sandwiched between their bodies, gone was your head start. Any advantage you had over them, in any other way, was useless here. The worst part? They fucking knew it. It was as if they grew bigger and you got smaller, and you were loving every second of it.

Suddenly, the hands underneath your sweater grew impatient, tugging the fabric up until there was no point in keeping it on. Rough hands turned you on your back, which left you staring up at both guys while they raked their eyes over your naked upper body. The knowledge that they were far from unaffected by you graced you with a sense of pride that helped keep doubts and shyness away as you reveled in their attention and the appreciative grunts and moans they let out as they looked at you.

“Fuck,” Walter muttered, licking his lips, completely focused on your bare skin. He scooched closer to you, grinding his hips into your side as he did, and turned your face to his to kiss you.

It was as eager as before, this time with Sy descending, pressing his lips to your neck, exceeding every expectation you had created in your fantasy from before; their lips were softer, their tongues wetter, and the way the coarse hair felt on your skin better than anything you could ever imagine. You whined and squirmed as their hands glided over your body, paying plenty of attention to your boobs, their fingers treating the soft flesh in remarkably similar ways. After a while, they switched places; Sy kissed you, Walter explored your body, making you gasp into Sy’s mouth as he wrapped his lips around your nipple, sucking gently on the hardened little bud while his fingers worked the other.

Eventually, he came back up to kiss you, a situation Sy took advantage of by diving straight back between your boobs, this time sliding his hand down your stomach and into your sweatpants – which is when you grabbed his wrist.

“Stop.” Stern and very effective – not that you were about to give the boys any credit for not assaulting you; that sounded like common fucking decency to you, actually. “Before this goes any further; did either of you, with your infinite wisdom and incredible foresight, pack condoms? Because if not…” Before you finished that sentence, both of them sat up and reached for their bag, leaving you there, taken aback by… You didn’t actually know what had you so shocked about this.

Sy made it back to your side first, tucking a handful of condoms beneath his pillow before laying down again. “Oral?” he asked. It was only half the question, but you understood perfectly. You quickly established that everyone was clean, making the short answer to his half-question ‘without’. Sy responded to that agreement by promptly sliding his hand into your pants, not wasting any more time. His fingers slipped between your folds, and he let out a low chuckle.

“For a moment I was worried you didn’t want this as much as we do,” he growled in your ear. “Guess I was wrong.” One quick, skilled swirl of his finger around your swollen clit made you whine – a sound he clearly found very motivational, because his fingers picked up a steady rhythm. You tried to hide your face in Walter’s neck to cover up the sound of your moans, but he caught you and kissed you instead.

Sy somehow found the time to kiss your neck, your jaw, your ear – sinking his teeth into you ever so slightly, stopping just before he hurt you – while he continued what he was doing. His fingers were absolute magic, making you swear under your breath as he effortlessly slipped two of them inside you. Next, he kissed his way down again, not stopping at your breasts, but continuing over your abs, until he reached your sweatpants, pulling them down eagerly without waiting for your permission. Of course, he had it – and you’d had plenty of time to stop him while he was headed there. It’s just that… That was about the very last thing you wanted.

Next to you, Walter kept busy pressing lazy kisses to your neck and jaw, occasionally pulling away to look at you, while he held you and played with your boobs. A few times you tried to move your hand to the bulge in his sweatpants, but he stopped you every time.

“Would you just...”

“Darling, been there, done that. You’ll be useless to me within seconds.” He nodded towards Sy, who was taking a moment to find a decent position between your legs. You raised your eyebrow at Walter, questioning his words, but he didn’t budge. “I’m gonna wait my turn, love.”

“I know this one,” Sy said, running his fingers over the fabric of your thong. You chuckled – he was right; he’d barged into your room one night while you were changing into whatever you were going to wear out to the club, and he’d seen you in your underwear. This underwear. He took his sweet time taking it off, teasing you with kisses on the inside of your thighs, his beard rough against your sensitive skin, until you were almost begging him to keep going. Finally, he pulled your panties down.

“You were right,” he said to Walter, leaving you to wonder what the fuck… “It is her natural hair color.” Oh. You fought the urge to kick Sy – instead, you lightly squeezed your thighs shut around his head. It didn’t seem to bother him. Quite the opposite, in fact.

The urge disappeared altogether when you – finally – felt his tongue on your pussy. He wasn’t subtle, but damn, he was good. Walter had absolutely had a point; barely ten seconds in and you couldn’t keep your eyes open, let alone focus on anything other than the feeling of Sy’s tongue on your clit. He impatiently spread your legs further while mumbling some very dirty things about how much he wanted to taste you. Involuntarily, you chuckled – causing both guys to stop what they were doing and looking at you in suspicion. Lying was pointless; they knew you well enough by now to effortlessly see through that, and you sighed.

“I… eh…” you stammered, unable to find the words.

“Come on,” Walter said, “if you’ve still got things to hide from us now…” He was right, of course, this wasn’t a position you’d have found yourself in at all if you hadn’t been so comfortable with – and hot for – these guys. Then again, you were already exposed and vulnerable… Why make that worse?

You hid your face in Walter’s neck as you just said what was on your mind without thinking about it: “I always imagined you to be the quiet one and Sy the loud one.”

“Always?” Sy teased you. His usual cocky attitude transferred seemly to the bedroom – or… tent – as it would seem. Except now, for once, you had a decent shot at shutting him the fuck up – although you did have a feeling you were going to like his smug confidence for a change. Sy had been growing out his buzzcut for a few weeks now, which made his hair just about long enough to grab – a fact you used to your advantage when you tangled your fingers in his hair and pulled his face back to where you wanted it.

“That’s just going to make it harder to answer the question, darling,” Walter muttered next to you while drawing circles around your nipples with impatient fingers.

“Fuck!” you shrieked as Sy’s tongue hit your clit just right – a note he took to heart, because he didn’t leave that spot again, leaving you wishing that all men were that smart. Because why – for the love of God – did they always change their approach as soon as they found a spot you let them know you really liked? Right… The question at hand… “You really thought it was just the two of you dreaming about me?” They had to be smart enough to figure out what you meant on their own, right? The flustered look on Walter’s face told you enough, as did the deep chuckle and gentle bite on the inside of your thigh.

Apparently fed up with your conversation, Sy doubled down on his efforts, eating you out like a man starved, more chuckles escaping him as he watched you pull his pillow over your face in an attempt to keep quiet. ‘Attempt’ because you still failed quite horribly when he pushed two fingers into your pussy and curled them, finding your g-spot without any effort. The orgasm that followed was the kind of toe-curling, earth-shattering, life-changing thing that made you really mad at yourself for one particular reason…

“Jesus fucking Christ, I should have taken you up on your offer when my useless ex broke up with me,” you moaned as Sy made his way up again, pulling in the pillow that you had haphazardly thrown aside – after you were done screaming, that is – so you could catch your breath. Sy immediately pulled you on top of him, kissing you hard and deep, allowing you to taste yourself on his tongue. It was something that had always made you feel weird and – if you were being perfectly honest – mildly disgusted when it had been your ex doing it, but there was something about the way Sy had gone down on you, and the way he was kissing you now, something unapologetic, passionate, and enthusiastic, that made you want to kiss him.

In fact, you were just about to commit to the bit when someone – and that someone had to be Walter – grabbed you by your hips and dragged you back until you were on your knees. You tried to lie down again as you heard him rummage around, looking for something – the obvious, really. The smack on your ass made you shriek in surprise, only making you slightly worried that either sound would have been audible well outside the tent.

“Stay there,” Walter’s husky voice commanded. “My turn.” Maybe he was the quiet one, but when he did speak… Oh my! You didn’t dare to move a muscle, leaving you sitting there, exposed as you heard the pretty familiar crinkling of foil. Shortly after, you felt the tip of Walter’s cock glide along the length of your slit. He teased you for a moment before lining himself up and slowly pushing into you. Sy laughed as your eyes went wide, and he grabbed your hand, guiding it to the bulge in his pants. Jackass. As soon as you got a good sense of what he was equipped with, you squealed. Not with any particular emotion in mind, just… Right now, you didn’t know what to think. In fact, Walter was well on his way to at least semi-permanently turning the whole thinking-function of your brain off.

“You alright, love?” Walter asked as he slowly pushed further into you.

“So far so good,” you moaned, “but I hope you’re running out of dick, because I’m running out of places to put it.” Cue roaring laughter from both guys…

“If you ever wonder why we love you,” Sy said, his sentence interrupted by more laughter, “that, right there. That’s why.”

You wanted to respond to that, you really did, but Walter pulling out of you already left you breathless, meaning all you could do was gasp when he slammed back into you. You’d never pictured either of them to be gentle. Concerned for your comfort, sure, but not tender. You’d been right. Luckily, gentle lovemaking was very low on your list of priorities in this particular situation – or ever – which meant you reveled in the brutish attention you got and soon found yourself wanting to beg Walter to fuck you harder.

Sy, as vocal as he’d been before, turned out to also be a champion in impatiently nudging your hand, vaguely suggesting he wanted you to do something, and for a moment it felt like you were about to regain some control of the situation, but no… He was also not above manhandling you into a position where your face hovered over his crotch, and taking his dick out himself once he got really fed up with your stalling. With your eyes wide, you looked at him – something he enjoyed for a moment before tapping the tip of his cock to your lips.

“Don’t make me ask, Sugar,” he growled. As much as you wanted to protest and act out, with Walter fucking the attitude out of you, there was nothing you could do but open your mouth and carefully wrapping your lips around him. The chuckle you let out as Sy grunted appreciatively when you swirled your tongue around his cock was interrupted by your own moan when Walter did… whatever it was that he did to cause it.

Slowly but surely, you made your way further down Sy’s dick, until a particularly violent thrust from Walter threw you off, accidentally forcing Sy deeper than you could handle. Choking and sputtering, you moved away from Sy, only scared for a moment that he’d be disappointed, but he had a different reaction – similar to Walter’s: checking to see if you were okay. Again, you were not in the habit of handing out bonus points for normal behavior, but it was nice, regardless.

“I’m fine,” you said between ragged breaths. “Note to self: deepthroating while getting railed from behind; bad idea.” The guys laughed, and as soon as you’d caught your breath, you joined them.

“There’s one way we all get attention without any risk of choking,” Sy mentioned casually, wiggling an eyebrow suggestively. Yes, you knew what he meant instantly, but… both of them? At the same time? All it took to convince you to at least give it a try was Walter slipping out of you, leaving you empty and nowhere near sated. One of Sy’s sly glances was a question to Walter, who ‘hmmph’-ed. You didn’t like the sound of that, per se, and looked over your shoulder to see what he was on about.

“Definitely depends,” he said, taking your lack of an immediate ‘absolutely the fuck not’-reaction as a sign you were considering it. And he was correct in that interpretation of the situation. “There’s a time and place for first time anal, and this is not it.” That was a sentiment you could absolutely get behind. Luckily, it didn’t matter, because it was hardly applicable. You assured the guys you had plenty of experience in that area.

Another potential spanner in the works that Sy mentioned, was the lack of lube. Somehow, Walter surprised you by mentioning you should have some with you – you did, but how did he know that?

“You use it to keep your hair from going frizzy,” he deadpanned. You looked at him as if you’d seen a ghost, while Sy looked at you as if you’d gone completely nuts.

“What?” you said, turning to Sy again. “It works!” With one hand, you reached for the strap of your backpack, pulling it towards you so you could look for the bottle. It was just under half full, but that should be enough…

Walter wasn’t stingy with the stuff, which was a good thing. There were few things more annoying to you than continuously having to tell a guy to use more lube. One, then two, then three fingers disappeared into you without a hitch, and although the fourth was a nice reminder that you had to relax, that went over without too much trouble as well. Somehow, somewhere in your mind, the fact that Walter seemed to know exactly what he was doing irked you – it was completely hypocritical of you, for obvious reasons, but right now the thought of him with anyone else made you mad.

The boys laughed when you voiced the absurd thought, and Sy didn’t neglect to point out that they hadn’t been too happy about several of the ‘scum’ (yes, really) you’d gotten together with in the time they’d known you. It was a weird thing to be joking about with two of your closest friends while one of them had several fingers stuck up your ass, but at the same time it felt very natural and on-brand for your relationship with the guys.

You whined when Walter pulled his fingers out, making Sy chuckle in a way you didn’t like at all.

“Maybe we should go to sleep,” he suggested with a smug grin on his face that only widened when you told him you were definitely not going to do that. “Why not, sugar?”

Fuck, he was making good on that promise from before. Now, of course, you could convince yourself that begging for cock was beneath you, and you weren’t going to do it, but that would leave you – relatively – unfucked, which was… not desirable, to say the least. Or you could admit to yourself and them how much you wanted both of them inside of you, and have a great time.

Somehow, the red light that no one had bothered to turn off – luckily, as everything you had been doing so far would have been more or less impossible in the dark – already made the tent feel like… a brothel, quite frankly, you put your doubts aside and looked at Sy.

“We’re not going to sleep, because you’re not done fucking me,” you said, giving him your best bedroom eyes. Sy seemed impressed at first, but his eyes flitted to Walter and…

A strong hand grabbed your shoulder and pulled you up until your back hit Walter’s chest. His arm reached around, grabbing you by your throat – lightly, almost as if to ask for permission, but demanding.

“What do you want?” he asked, his voice dark and gravelly. Down on the air mattress, Sy smirked up at you, making it painfully obvious that you wouldn’t get out of this, no matter how hard you tried. You quickly scanned your brain for all your options, sadly coming up completely empty. No matter which way you sliced it, they were going to come out on top.

“I want you to fuck me,” you snapped, “both of you.” A sarcastic chuckle behind you and Sy shaking his head as he looked up at you told you that that wasn’t good enough. After a deep breath, your voice softened as you spoke again, finally saying the word they wanted to hear: “Please.”

For a long, dull moment all you really heard was the sound of two more condoms being unwrapped, and the top of the bottle of lube clicking. Then, Sy pulled you towards him. As soon as you felt his tip at your entrance, you sat down, fighting the urge to slap him when he threw a smirk and that godforsaken horrible wink your way. Under normal circumstances you considered yourself very well versed in resisting that desire, but today… He laughed when your palm landed lightly on his cheek and thrust up into you for good measure, making you squeal and fall over. Luckily, he caught you just in time.

Just as you wanted to sit up again, Walter put a hand on your back. Right. In that little moment of silliness, you’d almost forgotten what the endgame was, but now that you felt Walter’s cock pushing against your ass…

“Keep talking to us, okay?” Sy whispered softly as he saw your expression change. He cupped your cheek, gently stroking your cheekbone with his thumb. “Breathe.” You took his advice immediately – no doubt a nice change of pace for him, as he was used to your stubbornness at this point – taking a few deep breaths. It wasn’t until the third or fourth one that Walter moved, slowly pushing into you. Keeping your eyes open was absolutely impossible, the sensation of both of them filling you up at the same time too much to even really wrap your head around. “Sugar, you okay?”

“Uhuh.” You nodded, showcasing your current full extent of your ability to answer. When Walter moved, you swore under your breath – when they both moved you hid your face in Sy’s neck and let out a loud moan, followed by an out-of-breath ‘fuck yes’, and that was all the confirmation they needed.

They established a rhythm suspiciously quickly, pumping in and out of you in sync. Yeah. They’d definitely done this before. As you pushed the thought away and focused on the incredible sensations of their cocks moving inside of you, their eager – and mostly greedy – hands on your hips, shoulders, ass, thighs, and tits, you felt a familiar pressure inside of you.

“Don’t stop,” you blurted out – and the boys seemed more than happy to oblige. With one little disclaimer…

“Make it quick, love… Not gonna last,” Walter grunted, digging his fingers into the flesh of your hips. It hurt, causing you to swat at his hand, which made him relax his grip a bit. Judging from Sy’s rapid breaths and a concentrated look on his face that gave away just how much difficulty he was having with keeping his rhythm steady, he was getting pretty damn close, too. In fact, pretty much the second their thrusts dragged you over the edge, both of them grit their teeth and gave in to their own pleasure, growling profanities as they came.

The boys were nice enough to handle most of the cleanup for you – which was, given that you were camping, largely a matter of wet wipes, which was definitely not even close to the shower you would have loved to take right about now. And you couldn’t really appreciate Sy’s joke about a lovely, refreshing river near where you were, either.

“Maybe tomorrow,” you yawned, turning around in the middle of the bed, wrapping your sleeping bag tightly around your shoulders. It didn’t take the guys long to join you, and soon you were sandwiched between them again, strong arms wrapped around you – clearly not planning on letting go anytime soon.

Walter pressed his lips to your shoulder and let out a low chuckle. “Still cold, darling?”

The next morning, you woke up in an empty bed, in a tent that was already slightly warmer than comfortable, with just your sleeping bag on it. The guys had somehow already managed to worm theirs into the tiny little bags they came in, and all without waking you. Then again, it was safe to say that by now they’d proven themselves to be experts in the field of putting pretty big things in relatively tiny places…

For a moment, you wondered if you should feel weird about getting up and going outside, seeing the guys, but something about the whole thing felt so oddly natural that you didn’t give it a second thought.

“Mornin’, sugar,” Sy said as he held out some coffee to you when you joined him on the ground by the fire, where you’d spent the start of last night, as well. The two of you called Walter over, who was just about done putting your tent – the one that had been meant to be yours, anyway – away. He tossed the bag into the bed of the truck as if it weighed nothing – and maybe it indeed didn’t, you wouldn’t know, because you hadn’t touched the entire thing – and made his way over to you, gratefully taking the other cup of coffee Sy had poured.

You knew better than to try striking up a conversation with either of them before they’d finished their morning coffee – it was so bad that whenever you had classes together in the mornings, you showed up there with two double espressos for them and a latte for you, because if you didn’t do that, they’d just grouch and snap at you all the way through the first half of class.

It was all the more surprising, then, when Sy suddenly asked Walter a very unexpected question: “Have you ever kissed a dude?” The answer was no, he hadn’t - to which followed an even more surprising question: “Ever wanted to try it?”

The casual energy of the shrug with which Walter answered that question was absolutely unmatched by anything you had ever seen, and you stared at the guys, wide-eyed as they leaned in until their lips touched. It wasn’t just a quick peck, either! No, there was tongue involved in this… And by the end of it?

“Eh,” Walter said, “not for me.” Sy agreed.

“I’m sorry,” you said, completely taken aback by the unexpectedness of what had just happened. “What? You can’t just… Stick your tongue down your friend’s throat and then casually decide… What?”

“Hey,” Sy said, his tone still infuriatingly indifferent, “don’t knock it till you try it.”

#syverson x reader #captain syverson fanfiction #syverson fanfiction #captain syverson #syverson #henry cavill characters #henrycavill fanfic #henry cavill fanfiction #walter marshall #syverson smut #walter marshall x reader #walter marshall fanfiction #walter marshall fanfic

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viking-raider · 1 year ago

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Happy Holidays to all my beautiful peeps!!

@littlefreya / @the-soot-sprite / @winter2112rose / @captainsy-cookiemonster / @mary-ann84 / @henryobsessed / @geralts-yenn / @ellethespaceunicorn-masterlist

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ellethespaceunicorn-masterlist · 11 months ago

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🍬🍭Sweet Treats Event Masterlist🍭🍬

This is the Masterlist for the works requested from my 1k Follower Event: Sweet Treats. Thank you to everyone who requested a story.

Special thanks to @creativepromptsforwriting for the dialogue prompts from this event.

Daddy Dearest | Lloyd Hansen + Female Reader + Daddy kink + “Can you feel how much I want you?” + Darkfic

Do It For Daddy | Jake Jensen + Female Reader + Daddy kink + “I told you, you would eventually start begging.” + Smut

A Little Fresh Air | Walter Marshall + Female Reader + Public Sex + “Hmm, you’re not very patient, are you?” + Smut

Up A Creek | Lee Bodecker + Male Reader + Impact Play + “I told you, you would eventually start begging.” + Smut

Say It Again | Captain Syverson + Female Reader + Phone Sex + "Hmm, you're not very patient, are you?" + Smut

You're Mine | Geralt of Rivia + Female Reader + Daddy kink + “Can you feel how much I want you?” + Darkfic

Submissions are now closed!

#1k #1k followers #1k celebration #sweet treat event 1k followers #ellethespaceunicorn event masterlist #follower milestone #follower celebration #follower event

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ronearoundblindly · 2 months ago

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List of 'Fic Titles Only' Asks

From this ask game.

Romance 🔥 || Smut 🦆 || Author Fave 🍀 || Angst ⛈️ || Fluff 🌼 || Dark Fic 🌘 || *** denotes work for all ages

Behind the Mask ⛈️🌼*** Ransom Drysdale x reader

Guilty as Sin 🔥🦆 virgin!Steve Rogers x fiancée reader x Bucky Barnes

...And Action! 🦆 amateur pornstar!Lloyd Hansen x reader

We Want What We Can't Have 🔥⛈️ Jake Jensen x influencer!reader

Two Can Play That Game 🌼 Johnny Storm x famous!reader

Real Eyes Realize Real Lies 🌼🔥⛈️ 2012!Steve Rogers x life adjustment robot!reader

What A Mess 🔥🦆 camping with Ari Levinson

We've Come So Far 🌼🔥🦆 touch-starved Nomad!Steve Rogers x reader from Hideout series

One Year On 🌼*** Steve Rogers x super soldier!reader from Autumn Is Healing series

Squats? I Thought You Said Shots! 🌼🔥 Steve Rogers x agent!reader

With Sugar on Top 🌼*** Steve Rogers x esthetician!reader

Over the Rainbow ⛈️🔥🦆 blipped!Steve Rogers x reader x Bucky Barnes

Welcome To Your Life 🌼🔥⛈️*** no-powers!Steve Rogers x reader

[Main Masterlist; Light Masterlist; Ko-Fi]

Hey, so, I figure that when I do a bunch of these small things rapidly, I should only tag people once or it'll be annoying. You can check back here for the new links, but just FYI these little ditties are coming out the next few days!

@supraveng @patzammit @whiskeytangofoxtrot555 @yiiiikesmish @ashesofblackroses @jaqui-has-a-conspiracy-theory @brandycranby @buckysprettybaby @ellethespaceunicorn @late-to-the-party-81 @bigtreefest @mistressmkay @astheskycries @veryprairieberry @bitchy-bi-trash @rogersbarber @blogbog710 @yenzys-lucky-charm @thiquefunlover63

#ask game #ask masterlist #ransom drysdale x reader #ransom drysdale fanfiction #ransom drysdale imagine #steve rogers fanfiction #steve rogers imagine #steve rogers smut #lloyd hansen x reader #lloyd hansen smut #lloyd hansen fanfiction #lloyd hansen imagine #ari levinson fanfiction #ari levinson x reader #ari levinson smut

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thezombieprostitute · 9 months ago

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The Arrangement - Prologue

Summary: Jake's done a lot of things to keep his sister, and then his niece, safe from his parent's influence and manipulation. If he wants to keep them safe, he has to marry you.

Warnings: Bad parents, Discussion of murder. Let me know if I missed any!

Chapter 1

Series Masterlist

Jake had been sitting and staring at the unopened envelope for over an hour. None of The Losers had ever seen him sit so still for so long. It was rather unnerving for all of them.

Unable to take it any longer, Aisha spoke up, "Jake? What's with the letter?"

"It's from my parents."

"Okay? So why are you staring at it like it cock blocked you?"

Jake sighs, "I don't want to open it because I know I'm not going to like the contents. At the same time, if I don't open it, it's gonna make things worse for my sister and niece."

Pooch's eyebrows raised at that. "I know your parents are shit but they're that bad?"

"Yes."

Aisha shrugs, "I could just kill them for you."

Without looking away from the envelope, Jake points to her and says, "we'll call that 'Plan M'."

"M for murder?" Clay chimes in.

"M for 'more likely than you think'," Jake replies.

Tired of the banter, Pooch adds, "look, that envelope isn't going anywhere so either you open it and read the letter or I will."

Jake grimaces but finally moves to open it. It's only a single page, handwritten by his mother. He silently reads the contents:

Dearest Son,

While we were initially upset by your ruination of your sister's wedding we are pleased to have been proffered an alternative. Since you have refused to allow your sister to fulfill her duties by marrying someone appropriate for our station, you will be married to the sister of her ex-fiance.

Please do keep in mind that, should this marriage not happen, we will not hesitate to arrange for our granddaughter to be wed as soon as she is of age. With petunias as the wedding flowers.

Sincerely,

Your loving mother

Jake's blood froze. They knew about The Petunias. They knew where his sister and niece were. It felt like every time he tried to hide them, his parents were able to find them again.

"You're looking kinda pale, there, Jake. What's going on?" Pooch's voice is gentler than Jake is used to but it's enough to snap him out of his shock.

Sighing and shoving the letter back into the envelope Jake simply says, "I'm getting married."

Chapter 1

Series Masterlist

Tagging: @alicedopey; @delicatebarness;@ellethespaceunicorn; @icefrozendeadlyqueen; @ronearoundblindly

#jake jensen #jake jensen x reader #jake jensen x female reader #arranged marriage au

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peyton-warren · 9 months ago

Note

Okay sorry last one!

Sy knows that you’ve been ignoring your health. (Brushing teeth, showering, eating properly, sleeping properly) but he’s been pleasing you every chance the two of you get.

Could be because you’re with him or you just have been busy, but you get a toothache and he takes you to the base dentist or a regular dentist. It’s something simple like just a stuck popcorn shell or something like that. Or maybe you pass out. Idk 🤷🏼‍♀️

He decides that if you want to cum again, you have to take better care of yourself. No grinding either. Every time you do, you suck him off while he teases you. Until you take better care of yourself. No orgasms

I might have taken this one a little off the track you set but we got back on it by the end. There is no smut there is a hell of suggestion at the end. I hope this is ok. And its a weeee bit longer than a drabble. Wrote this all by hand in the woods thanks for the prompt that resonated so much with me.

Characters: Gender Neutral reader, Captain Syverson Pairings: Sy x Reader Fandoms: Sandcastle, Henry Cavill characters Word count: 4111 Type: angst, suggestive Warning: 18+. Warnings: blood, Reader injured, discussion of domestic abuse, self depreciation, discussion of mental illness, daddy kink, potential eating disorder, tiny Daddy kink

Summary: Reader has to be taken to the hospital by their new-ish boyfriend Sy. Sy learns some things about his partner that has Reader worried about their future together.

Author's Note: I have no idea how a real ER works, nor proper medical procedures nor hospital policies. I manipulated them for my own gain here. Nor do I fully understand how blood sugars work or what the tests doctors use tell them about your eating habits. Don't come after me if you know how they actually do work. Also thank you to @ellethespaceunicorn for the beta.

Ask Box: Open Masterlist

Banner by me with an assist by @ellethespaceunicorn Dividers by @cafekitsune

Dazed, you blinked your tired eyes open.

“There they are,” Sy cooed softly, crouching next to you.

You blinked again, trying

to focus.

He was next to you on his kitchen floor. You stared up into the concerned blue eyes above you.

Oh right date night. You two had been cooking dinner.

“I didn't know you were afraid of blood,” he said with sincerity, no teasing or judgment in his tone.

“I’m not,” you said defensively. Then you realized the last thing you remembered was nicking your finger cutting up veggies and then nothing. “What happened?” You asked.

“You passed out,” he told you. “I saw you waver out of the corner of my eye and caught you in time to keep you from hitting the deck,” he told you. “How are you feeling?”

“Okay?”

“Just okay? You think you can sit up?” He offered you a hand. As you placed your palm in his, he carefully helped you into a sitting position, his other arm gently curving around your back, just in case. “How’s that?” he asked, squeezing your hand.

“Okay. I think.”

“I don't like your uncertainty,” he admitted, softly, looking at you with a deeper concern. “I’m calling an ambulance.”

“No!” you shook your head vehemently, hating to cause him or anyone even a hit of inconvenience. “I’m fine.”

“You are not fine, sweetheart,” he told you. “You look like you have seen a ghost. You're trembling and your palm hasn't stopped bleeding. We are going to the ER,” he insisted. “Even if I have to hog tie you and throw you in the back of the truck.”

“Sy, I’m fine,” you tried again.

Sy moved from you only briefly to grab a kitchen towel that read “Mama Tried,” and returned promptly to press it to your palm which you just now noticed is covered in blood. “I didn’t think I cut it that bad,” you admitted. You were unable to assess the damage before it was covered in flour sack material.

“You jabbed it in there pretty good just before you went down.” Sy pulled his phone from his pocket. “Now are you willingly coming with me to the hospital? Or am I calling the squad?”

You knew your stubborn asshole of a boyfriend wasn't going to back down until you were properly checked out. After a beat, a silence, just a split second before you were certain he was going to open his phone, you relented. “Alright.”

He placed a hurried kiss to your forehead as he stuffed his phone back in his pocket. “Good. Now put your other hand over the towel and I’ll get you to the truck.”

You scoffed at this. “You are not carrying me to the truck,” you said. “I’ll get myself out there. Just get me off the damn floor.”

Sy chucked. “There’s my sweetheart. Hold the towel tight,” he insisted just before standing behind you and hooking his hands under your arm and effortlessly lifting you to your feet. His hand held your upper arm tight as he rounded you and looked intently at your face. “You al’ite?”

“I’m fine, Sy,” you ground out, done with being fussed over.

With a single nod, he placed that hand to your lower back and gently guided you to the door. “Easy and gently,” he reminded you.

“I’ll ‘easy and gently’ you.” You continued to be unhappy with his instance of treating you with such tender care. You still were not used to dating a decent human being, unsure if you even deserved it. If he knew how you really were, maybe he’d throw you away, like all the other partners you had had over the years.

Sy, oblivious of your inner conflict, got you settled into the passenger seat and buckled you in. “All set, baby?”

You only nodded, still applying pressure to your cut palm. He gave you a soft smile and carefully closed your door. Took him all of two seconds before he was in the driver's seat and starting the engine. “Let’s get you patched up.”

The drive to the local hospital was over within 20 minutes and was accomplished in silence. You tried to ignore the new throb in your palm that appeared. Sy had stopped you once from peeling back the towel by laying his hand over yours. “You don't wanna do that.”

“I wanna see.”

“No you don’t. Firstly it'll start bleeding again once you release the pressure,” he used his Captain voice, you knew his military training had kicked in. “Secondly, I don't need you passing out again when you see it.”

You all but huffed at him. “I am NOT afraid of blood.”

“You may not be, but you aren't gonna like the looks of that.”

You relented and gave a dramatic sigh. “Aye, aye, Captain,” you said dryly.

Once you arrived at the hospital, and got through the headache of checking in, the two of you settled in the waiting room. Sy took your injured hand and put it on his thigh, taking over putting pressure on the injury. You sat in further silence until a nurse called your name, less than 30 minutes later. Sy kissed your temple and let you take your own hand back. You both stand and head for the nurse who eyes you 6’4” shadow with suspicion. “Just them,” the nurse states in a no nonsense voice.

“It's ok,” you reassure her. “He’s with me.”

“Is he your emergency contact and/or spouse?” she asks you, and your stomach dropped at the thought of going in without Sy.

“No,” you say in a small voice.

“But ma’am-”

“Do not,” she cut Sy off. “Policy is policy. I don't make it,” she sternly stated.

“You are just the enforcer,” Sy finished for her in a very knowing voice.

“You got it,” she beamed at him. “Have a seat. They'll be out as soon as they’re done.”

You gave him a soft smile over your shoulder and mouthed ‘Sorry.’ He kissed your forehead. “You’re in good hands,” he tried to sound calm for you. You nodded and followed the scrubbed nurse into the ER. The door closed behind you with a soft click, signaling it locked. The nurse led you to a room, flipping the plastic flags over the door to whatever she needs to as you step in.

“Have a seat on the bed,” she said in a softer tone than she had with Sy. As she halfway pulled the curtain closed, you settled with your back on the upright position of the gurney. She clicked at the computer near the bed. “Laceration on your non-dominant palm. How did it happen?” she asked, nodding to your hand as she reached for gloves from the rack on the wall.

“Slipped while cooking dinner,” you offered, leaving out the part where you passed out.

She eyed you before placing a hand on your wrist. “Let me take a look.”

You relinquished the towel which you now realize had a significant amount of blood on it. “Oh geez, I hope he can get that out.”

The nurse’s eyes flit back to your face. “Who is he?” she conversationally asked.

“My boyfriend,” you said almost shyly. This thing between you was still new and fresh, only a few months old. You were still getting used to using the title for Sy.

“You live together?” she asked as she put the makeshift bandage back down. “Hold that again please.”

You do as you are told. “No, only been together a few months.” you affirmed.

She nodded and stripped the gloves from her hands, dropping them into the biohazard trash before turning back to the computer “You are gonna need stitches,” she told you, “but first the doc has to come see you to confirm.”

“Yeah kinda figured that was why my army boyfriend brought me in. If he coulda handled it himself we wouldn't be here,” you guessed.

The nurse pulled a wheelie stool over and sat down near your bedside and looked at you compassionately but no nonsense. “He the reason you are here?” she asked.

“Well yeah, he insisted-”

She shook her head, interrupting you. “No sweety,” she tried again. Her name tag/badge read Joy you noticed. “Are you safe with him?”

Your eyes widened at her meaning. “Yes!” you stumbled over the word, surprised someone would think you are not safe with Sy. “Absolutely,” you insisted. “He’d never hurt anyone he cared about much less me,” you defended him further.

“You have to know how this looks,” the nurse stated. And you finally put all the pieces together. “Especially with him being active duty,” she pointed out. You had heard the rumors that military men were statistically more likely to be the aggressor in domestic violence situations.

“Not him,” you asserted, trying to think of another way to convince her she had it all wrong.

Instead she reached out and squeezed your knee. “It's ok. I have to ask. Just a couple more questions and then I'll go get the doctor.”

You relaxed into the mattress. “Okay.”

“Do you want your boyfriend back here with you? I can continue to tell him its policy to keep him out in the waiting room.”

You almost started panicking again at the thoughts that anyone would think anything but the best of Sy. “No, I want him here please, if I can.”

“Of course you can, especially if he will help you stay calm.” She took a deep breath, holding it for a beat and then releasing it, which you mirrored. “Will his presence keep you at ease?” Her eyes stared at yours, watching your reaction closely.

You took another deep breath and nodded. “Yes please.”

“Ok sweetie. If you change your mind, tell me or the doctor you’d like to see ‘Dr. Strong’ and we will get security to remove him from here, okay?”

“I won’t need that,” you assured her., “But I’m glad you have that in place for other people to use. “

She gave you a sad smile. “Unfortunately it's all too common of a situation for us.” She put her hand on the door handle. “What’s the boyfriend’s last name?”

You gave it to her and she nodded. “I'll go get him now and the Doctor will be with you as soon as he can.”

“Thank you.”

And she was gone.

And you were left alone with your thoughts for a few minutes. You had never thought so much of as an ill thought about Sy outside of how obnoxious his snoring was when he’s been drinking and now you felt like you hit the jackpot with Sy. But also, it felt a bit early to be proclaiming declarations of love. Sy didn’t seem like the type of man who would ever harm his partner but you had been fooled into thinking the best of others in your past and were proven ---

The door opened and saved you from continuing that thought. Sy’s face appeared around the curtain with a concerned look as Nurse Joy peeked around him. “Will be a bit til the doctor will be with you. Keep holding that towel.”

Sy rounded the bed and sat on the stool the nurse abandoned. “Thanks,” you said. “For everything.”

“You are welcome. Just doing my job.”

And she was gone again, the door closing behind her. “New friend?” Sy asked after that exchange.

“Something like that,” you affirmed.

“What’s the verdict?” he nodded towards your hand.

“Needs stitches,” you stated nonchalantly.

“And the passing out?” he prompted.

You hesitated. “Oh, ummmm,”

“You didn't mention that?” he surmised.

“No.”

“Of course not,” he sighed.

You stopped looking at your hands in your lap and flashed your eyes to him. “What’s that mean?”

Sy just shook his head and laid his hand on your knees closest to him. “I’ve just noticed you aren't very good at taking care of yourself is all.”

You get defensive immediately, though this isn't the first time you have heard that from someone else who cared about you. “I do just fine with that,” you asserted.

“Then why didn't you mention that to the nurse?”

“Because that's not a big deal,” you attested. “Not as much as bleeding to death.” You raised your injured hand to illustrate. “I’m sorry about your towel.”

“I don't give one goddamn about a kitchen towel,” he stated but is interrupted by a knock on the door, drawing both of your attention. Nurse Joy walked around the curtain with a man in a white coat.

“Hello here’s Dr. Brock.”

Sy’s hand squeezed your knee.

“How are you today?” Dr. Brock asked.

“Fine outside of trying to filet my palm. Wait,” you suddenly say. “I only remember nicking my finger. When did I slice my palm?” you looked at Sy, and felt the attention of the medical personnel in the room shift to look at him as well.

“You grabbed for the counter as you passed out,” he simply stated.

“There was no mention of passing out,” Joy stated, and you realize you had just ratted yourself out.

“Did you hit your head?” the doctor asked, springing into action to examine your eyes.

“I don't think so,” you sounded unsure.

“No they didn’t,” Sy joined the conversation. “I caught them on the way down.”

Doctor turned half his attention to the attentive boyfriend beside you as he applied gentle pressure around your head. “Were they out cold?”

“Yes”

“For how long?”

“At least 3 minutes but it felt like a lifetime,” Sy disclosed.

Doctor Brock nodded as Joy typed on the computer. “Let’s get them a CT scan, a CBC panel to start,” he spoke to the nurse who clicked the mouse. “And a stitch kit for their hand.” He gave that the briefest of looks and a nod. “Looks like the bleeding has stopped. We can take care of that while we wait for radiation to come get them.”

He turned back to you. “Afraid we are going to keep you from dinner for a bit longer,” he told you.

“It's ok,” you whispered.

It took another hour, but you found yourself stitched , bandaged, scanned and short a few vials of blood. You and Sy sat in the room, talking about which fast food to grab on your way back to his place when Dr. Brock and your new favorite nurse returned. “We have the results from your scan and your blood work,” he told you as he sat down in front of the computer. Sy’s hand gently squeezed your uninjured hand while the doctor logged in and pulled up your chart. “Ok,” he paused as he read. “Your CT scan came back normal. Nothing unusual in your brain.”

“That's good.”

He nodded as he continued to look at his results. “There’s a few things in your blood work I’d like to talk to you about. Your glucose was concerningly down.”

“We were in the process of making dinner,” Sy tried.

“No it was more than just one missed meal,” the doctor told him.

You avoid looking at Sy out of guilt. ”I may have missed a few meals today.”

“There's only three to miss,” Sy sounded upset, and your stomach flipped. “How many did you miss?”

“All of them...?” you stated uncertain, again.

“And the past few days?” the doctor asked.

You shrugged and looked sheepishly at him. “A few...”

“Your blood work says more than ‘a few’,” he said sternly but gently. “And your urinalysis says you are severely dehydrated.” He looked at you. “How much water do you have every day?”

“Water?” you lamely asked

“Yes, plain water. Maybe with some lemon or bubbles in it, but just water?”

“Not much. I’m more of a coffee kind of girl,” you tried to tell him, aiming for a joke but it falling flat on your audience.

“I’m going to need you to up your intake of water by a lot.”

“For how long?”

“For always,” he looked at you. “Human bodies need water to survive.” he glanced quickly at the screen before turning back to you. “How has your depression and anxiety been lately?”

Well shit. You looked guiltily at Sy again before answering. “It's been better.”

“On a scale of 1-5, l one being the lowest you’ve been and 5 being the best feeling ever, where have you been lately?

Another sideways glance at Sy before answering. “A 0.5?”

“I see,” the doctor said and typed a few things.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Sy asked, sounding more than a little hurt.

The shrug you give him does nothing to remove the look from his face.

“What can I do for them, Doc?” he asked, his eyes never leaving your face.

You opened your mouth to protest but Dr. Brock beat you to it. “That’s up to them as to what they need. But open communication is a good start.” That was directed at you. “And reassuring them they are worth taking care of themselves.” That was directed at Sy.

“I can handle that,” your boyfriend stated.

“Glad to hear it. Nurse Joy will get you your instructions and get you checked out. You can have your GP pull the stitches in 14 days. And go over your mental health needs with them too, please.”

You just nodded.

“Take care of each other.” And he was gone out the door.

The ride home was as silent as the ride to the ER but for different reasons. You felt the anger rolling off Sy. You were ashamed at having your mental health issues revealed to him in such a manner. This relationship was still too new and now you were afraid he was going to ditch you and run for the hills.

“You can just drop me at my car in your driveway and I’ll head home,” you surmised you had fully ruined your date night if not your whole relationship.

“What?” Sy sounded confused. “No.” He pulled his eyes from the road for a second to look at you. If you weren't wrong, he looked hurt again. “We are grabbing dinner and then we are gonna talk about what is going on in that beautiful head of yours.”

“Look if you wanna break up with me-”

“What kind of assholes have you dated, sweetheart?” he asked angrily and your mouth audibly snapped shut followed by a soft sniffle. He DID think you were an idiot and he was going to ditch you tonight. You knew it. Trouble was he held you hostage until he returned you to your car. And the sound of your next sniffle, Sy hit his blinker and pulled the truck into the first parking lot on his right,parking his truck across 4 spots before turning in his seat to look at you, his hand landing on your forearm. “Please talk to me,” he softly said. “Whatever it is, I'm here.”

“You hate me,” you asserted. “I’m a horrible person. And now you know the truth about me.”

Sy’s hand flew up to the ceiling of the truck and flipped the light on and watched you wiped at your tears. “Did I say any of that?” he asked. “Ever.”

You shook your head. “No but you probably are thinking about it now that you know.”

“Know what? That you have a mental illness that makes your life hard to navigate?”

“Yeah.” you sniffled.

“For fuck’s sake, darlin’, do you know how many of my men have mental illnesses, both diagnosed and not? And I trust them literally with my life,” Sy tried again, agitation just on the edge of his voice. He took a breath and tried another time. “Sweetness, whatever you have going on , I ain't lying when I tell you I’m here for you, for all of it.:”

“But-”

“No buts, gorgeous, you aren't getting rid of me that easily,” he insisted, giving you a small smile, which you did not return. “Unless you want me to go. I hope you don't. You seemed like you were enjoying our evening tonight before your swan dive.” You smiled at that. “But if you want out, let's talk about that and I’ll try to convince you to stay so I can fix whatever it is you don't like but I do not want out. I make that call, not you,” he asserted gently.

You sat in stunned silence for a moment. All your standard cookie cutter responses to try to convince someone you were a horrible person died on your tongue, leaving you with nothing to say.

At another beat of silence, Sy grabbed his phone from the center console. “Do you want pizza or tacos for dinner?”

~~~~~~~~~

Once you were safely at his house with your dinner, Sy left you at the kitchen table as he took an exuberant Aika outside to potty and chase a ball around for a few minutes. By the time he returned, you had set the table and were in the process of cleaning up the mess you had left on his floor, on his counter, your blood mixed with food that had been left out too long.

Sy dramatically sighed when he found you trying to one handedly clean everything up. “Will you stop before you hurt yourself further?” You looked at him sheepishly. “But thank you,” he tried instead. “Thank you for setting the table.” He took your good hand and escorted you to the table set with two plates, two glasses of water and the only candle you could find in his house and you were fairly certain it was a gift from his mom or sister. He pulled your chair out for you and you rolled your eyes as you sat down, but you sat down. “Good baby,” he mumbled into the crown of your head. “One slice or two?” he asked, chivalrously opening the box for you to see the options available as if you weren’t in the truck when he ordered your usual pizza.

“You are a dork,” you informed him.

“Yes, but I am your dork,” he told you, pulling two pieces to put on your plate. “Since you didn’t eat at all today, you get two. And you have to eat them all, even the crusts. And drink all your water too,” he informed you.

You made a face at him but nodded, agreeing to those terms. “Okay, Daddy,” you teasingly mutter as you pull a stringy bit of cheese and pop it in your mouth.

Sy growled low in his throat, a noise you only heard when you did something he liked in the bedroom and you felt your belly heat at finding a new kind of his and one you didn't object to. You smirked at him as he sat down, your focus now on his darkening eyes. “You wanna play with Daddy, little one?” he menacingly asked you. You nodded enthusiastically, your ravenous hunger shifting from the pizza to the man in front of you.

“Are you sure?” he asked.

“Yes, Daddy.” you started to rise from the table to move towards him.

“Sit your pretty ass down,” he commanded without raising his voice. You felt yourself grow hotter at his tone, immediately and unthinkingly settling back into your spot. “You will eat everything on your plate, or you will not leave this table, am I clear?” Normally you would balk at such a statement but now you just nodded. “I need words, little one.”

“Yes, Daddy.”

“Good baby,” he commended. “You will also drink everything in your glass, do you understand?” You lost focus, you wondered if this is the tone he took with his men and if so did any of them get turned on as you were right now. “Hello, pretty baby?” Sy’s voice broke through your wandering thoughts.

“Yes Daddy, I mean Sir. I mean Daddy,” you stuttered, unsure what title to use, both seeming fitting at this moment.

“I see that attention is a problem for you. So let me try a different approach,” he asserted. “If you have everything on your plate, drink all the water I give you and take your daily meds if you haven't yet,” he raised a questioning eyebrow at you, knowing you usually packed your medications with you when you came over for date night. “You can cum tonight. If you don’t do those things, all you’ll get to do is help me cum, am I clear?”

You swallowed loudly, knowing he was not at all joking in her terms. “Yes, Daddy.” And you took a big bite of cooling pizza.

“Good baby.”

General Tag List: @ellethespaceunicorn @littleone65, @mysweetlittledesire, @jvanilly, @identity2212,

@avengersfan25, @foxyjwls007 @gummydummy19 , @cynic-spirit , @rosecentury

HC Tag LIst: @m07belzen, @used-to-be-bourbonwithice, @hawklin, @geralts-yenn @summersong69,

@sillyrabbit81 @mistressmkay

Syverson tag list: @mrsevans90 @wunder-blunder

Please let me know if you want to be added to (or removed from) any of them. AND Just cuz I think you'll be interested in seeing it I am gonna tag @deandoesthingstome

#henry cavill #captain syverson #captain syverson fanfic #captain sy #captain sy x reader #captain syverson fanfiction #captain syverson fic #captain syverson x ofc #captain syverson x reader #sy x reader #syverson #syverson fanfiction #syverson x reader #cpt syverson #henry cavill characters #gn reader #gender neutral reader #gender neutral y/n

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peyton-warren · 2 years ago

Text

Hey Missy,

I have a few of those characters in my Masterlist.

I would also recommend @ellethespaceunicorn-masterlist , @adulting-sucks , @sarahdonald87 who all have some of those characters as well.

Enjoy!

Hello all,

I’m looking to read more variety of characters by Chris Evans and Sebastian Stan. Don’t get me wrong I love Steve and Bucky and I will continue to read them as they are my favorites. But I want to read more of the following characters either by mutuals or new authors that I haven’t read before. Looking for oneshots, drabbles or headcannons.

Here are some examples of characters:

Andy Barber

Ari Levinson

Cole Turner

Curtis Everett

Frank Adler

Jake Jensen

Lloyd Hansen

Mr Freezy

Ransom Drysdale

Chris (Destroyer)

God the bounty hunter

Lee Bodecker

Nick Fowler

So if you or someone you know writes for the characters tag me in your work or send it to me in a DM.

Much love Missy

#fic recs #fic rec

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raccoon-eyed-rebel · 2 years ago

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Pumpkin spice

Masterlist

Pairing: barista!Walter Marshall x librarian!reader

Summary: You finally manage to get a date with the handsome barista from your favorite coffeeshop.

Word count: 5.2k

Warnings: SMUT, NSFW, 18+, MINORS DNI, fingering (f receiving), oral sex (f and m receiving), p-in-v sex, hint of a size kink (blink and you miss it), a cheesy (romantic) date, a short appearance of Mike The Idiot TM, awkwardness, a lot of coffee and abuse of a cable knit... I think that's it?

A/N: Another promise made to @deandoesthingstome. I swear this woman is responsible for half the stuff on my masterlist at this point. Credit for the other half goes to @geralts-yenn of course. This time, it was - of course - because I made the mistake of adding one of the - according to her - more attractive Henry-shaped men to the Coffee+Cats universe. Naturally, grumpy coffeeshop manager Walter needed a hug and some good head, and Charlie volunteered, so here we are.

What we're left with is a crazy crossover between the Coffee+Cats AU and the 179th Crescent Street AU, because this is - indeed, for the people who are familiar with Crescent Street - the librarian!reader from After Hours.

@ellethespaceunicorn @peaches1958 @sillyrabbit81 @peyton-warren @summersong69 @mayloma @livisss

The brooding man behind the counter has been getting on your nerves for weeks. His only crime is ‘getting your order right’, which shouldn’t even be all that surprising, because that’s his job – if it weren’t for the fact that he seems to know exactly what it’s going to be before you’ve even opened your mouth to speak.

“What can I do for you today?” He could look less godlike, maybe? Don’t say that. Or he could smell worse? Or that. Or he could not smile in a way that seemed to make the earth stop spinning. Very dramatic, also don’t say that.

“Ehh…” Brilliant. Someone should give you an award for that monologue. Shake it off. “Since when do I have to order for myself?”

Alright, you’ve made him chuckle – God, that’s a delicious sound – and look away. Now what? “I’m sorry,” he says, still avoiding your eyes, “I can’t read you today. But you seem annoyed enough with me to make me want to make whatever you’re going to order lukewarm in case I get it thrown in my face later.”

“That’s too bad,” you say, “I was really hoping to get a recommendation.” Because you only know what you want to order when you’re here for coffee. And you’re not here for coffee. But he doesn’t need to know that.

“Well, why are you getting coffee today?” Son of a bitch! It’s a good thing the shop is slow right now, so you’re not holding anyone up with your… is it flirting? God, let it be flirting! No, definitely not flirting. Or maybe…?

“Maybe it’s not the coffee so much as the company,” you say shyly. Yeah, flirting. Qualitatively very poor flirting, but still. It stays quiet on the other side of the counter for a beat too long, which sends your anxiety through the roof.

“So, how about she has whatever you’re having when you go on your break in about... A minute and a half?” The voice belongs to Mike, the almost annoyingly upbeat barista you’ve seen around countless times. He’s responsible for at least half the college crowd that flocks to this place, because he’s a cutie. A little young, maybe, but he has a nice ass.

“I was going to go with a regular old espresso.” He smiles apologetically.

“You look like you could do with a double.” God, that’s a horrible line.

It’s Mike who ends up laughing. “He could do with way more than a double,” he snickers, shooing Walter away from the cash register. “Get out of here, or I’m getting you both pumpkin spice lattes.”

Walter shudders at the thought. He never struck you as the kind of guy who likes his coffee sweet, and you’re happy you’re right. At least… You think you’re right until you see the little twinkle in Mike’s eyes. Granted, that happens a lot, but never for nothing, and the little wink he throws your way suggests he knows his boss has a secret pumpkin spiced sweet tooth he doesn’t want the world to know about. So you pretend not to notice.

When you’re finally settled at a table, you talk for what feels like forever, your knees touching under the table. You’d expected him to move his leg out of the way when you first bumped into it accidentally, but he didn’t. Then, as your conversation went on, more and more of your legs got mixed up together.

“Walter?” For the love of God, why? “I hate to break up your date, but a whole sorority just walked in and I can’t do this by myself.”

“I’m on my break, Mike,” Walter grumbles in return, clearly not happy about the interruption. That’s a good sign, right?

“Your break, Mr. Manager, sir, ended forty-five minutes ago.” Mike would make a great wingman, if it weren’t for the fact that he seems a little keen to pat himself on the back for his efforts. “Give her your number and come do your job.” With a dramatic sigh, he walks back to where he’s supposed to be.

“I’m really sorry,” Walter says with an apologetic smile on his face. You shrug it off – it really doesn’t matter, he wasn’t even supposed to have spent the better part of the past hour with you – and slide your phone towards him.

A poetry reading in a – different – coffeeshop in town. That’s where he suggests you go. First, any man who is creative enough to come up with something other than ‘a drink’ or ‘dinner’ is worth a shot in your book, but when they’re of the dark, gloomy, burly variety; all the better. And no three-day-wait nonsense, either. He calls you right after his shift ends, and asks you to meet him in two hours.

It's barely a fifteen-minute walk from your apartment, which leaves you with plenty of time to complain quietly to yourself that an hour and forty-five minutes is not enough time to get dressed for a date, while getting dressed for your date. You manage with time to spare – five whole minutes – which you spend pensively checking out your outfit in every imaginable angle in the mirror on your bedroom door. You toy with the hem of the skirt you’re wearing, fondly remembering another time you put it on. You’re not one to kiss and tell, so only a few of your closest friends know the crudest of outlines to the story of your scandalous liaison in the university library – and the long night that followed. Not that you’re particularly happy that those same friends, to this day, still tease you about how you – a grown woman – let yourself get talked into a night in student housing with a guy just about so much younger than you that you really didn’t want to even begin doing the math, but you wouldn’t trade the memories for anything in the whole world.

One look at your watch tells you it was time to go, and with trembling hand you open the door of your apartment. It had been sheer, dumb luck that even got you this place in the first place. It's tiny – just the second floor of a beautiful old townhouse – and narrow, but it has a separate bedroom, which was all you could really wish for with your income, anyway. During this time of year, the street it was on looks like a picture; orange leaves bravely cling to the steadily baring branches of the trees, and litter the ground, making for the perfect autumn scene. The sight also never fails to make you more desperate than usual – even for you – for coffee.

You’ve always enjoyed the fall, including all its necessary trials and tribulations – slippery sidewalks that weren’t quite suited for folks with your level of coordination, the unannounced rain that mercilessly drenched you and your absolutely everything in the early morning so that the sleeves of your coat would be unbearably wet when you put it on later in the afternoon, the cold that had you shivering and covered in goosebumps more often than not, and your toes. Freezing. Always. On that front, living in an old, drafty apartment with less-than-efficient heating isn’t exactly your top choice. Oh well.

The coffeeshop is – as per your calculations – a little less than a fifteen-minute walk away from your place, and you dread being early. Getting there first. Waiting for him. Fortunately, when you round the corner, you see him standing outside. You happily note that he is standing there – again, outside – in nothing but a dark cable-knit sweater, jeans and sturdy shoes that are the most weather-appropriate part of his outfit as far as you’re concerned.

“Hello.” His blue eyes smile down on you, and you barely remember your own damn name. Was he always this tall? This big? This handsome? A nervous smile will have to serve as your answer, because you’re at a complete loss for words. He doesn’t seem to mind.

For a moment, you stand there, simply staring sheepishly into his eyes, until finally a drop of rain falls right on the tip of your nose, pulling you from your trance at once. “We should get inside,” you say softly.

Walter reaches an arm out. “After you,” he says with the same kind smile in his eyes. You pick a table in the corner, settling nicely on the comfortable couch, while Walter grabbed the two of you coffee.

“Pumpkin spice,” you chuckle when he returns with two identical steaming cups. He nods, a playful smile in his eyes, only. “Is Mike the only one who knows your secret?” Your nerves convince you that your shot at playful banter goes wide, until Walter sits down and chuckled.

“There’s, eh… There’s this woman,” he says softly. To your surprise, he doesn’t sit in the chair opposite you, but he joins you on the couch. As the café is filling up, another customer quickly confiscates the chair Walter isn’t using.

“Don’t worry, she won’t tell,” you say, your voice trembling as you briefly consider the possibility that he wasn’t referring to you.

When the reading ends, you linger until the shop closes – which isn’t too long after, but still, you find it comforting in the sense that you’re simply glad Walter doesn’t try to run as soon as he can. Outside, the rain has picked up, and if the autumn air was chilly before, now, it’s downright icy. Despite his lacking a jacket or coat, the cold doesn’t seem to bother Walter, and though the rain clearly does, he offers to walk you home – an offer, mind you, he’s not intent on allowing you to decline.

It would have been obvious to anyone just under half as nervous as you are, but neither of you seem to be in a hurry to get you home, despite the rain, both clearly dragging out the little time you both think is still left to this date. Until you reach your front door, that is, and you both look at each other.

“Do you want to come up for a drink?” Is that your voice? Your invitation? And is that him? Accepting your offer? Apparently it is, because he follows you in when you open the door. The stairs to your floor are almost too narrow for him, and he has to watch his head for that one ridge in the ceiling of the stairwell that you never look out for because you’re small enough to never have it bother you. “This is me,” you say nervously as you open the door and invite him into your place. He seems comically large in your tiny living room, and you barely manage to suppress a chuckle. “Coffee?”

“Please!” he says before he shivers visibly.

“Oh god! I’m so sorry,” you say as you realize – what you consider – your error. “I shouldn’t have… You must be wanting to get home and get out of your wet clothes, I…” A hand on your cheek and the heat that, despite being soaked through and through, radiates off his body cuts you off mid-apology.

“I wouldn’t mind getting out of these clothes,” he says slowly, his voice dark and husky in a way that makes your breath stick in the back of your throat for a moment, “but I don’t see a reason to wait until I get home to do that.” Without waiting for a response, he captures your lips in a scorching hot kiss that almost make you forget that both of you have wandered – slowly – through the pouring rain for nearly fifteen minutes.

Large hands gently tug your coat off your shoulders until a single move of your arms makes it drop to the floor, then they’re at your waist, pulling you closer. His lips are gentle, surprisingly soft, and his beard scratches against your cold skin. When you reach for his face, and your fingers connect with his skin, he inhales sharply.

“Are your hands made of ice?” he mumbles against your lips, his lips pulling away in a grin. He takes your hands away from his face, draping your arms around his neck instead, where you weave your fingers into his messy curls. They’re all but soaked from the rain, and part of you wants to offer him a towel, but another – much bigger – part of you swears it will die if not attached firmly to big, big man. Walter pulls you close, not expecting an answer to his question, and carefully slides his tongue along your bottom lip, begging you to let him in. You do, and you allow yourself to be swept away by the gentle yet thorough way in which his tongue explores your mouth, dances with yours.

With near-greedy impatience, you push him back, towards the door of your bedroom, longing so desperately to feel more of this man than you currently are. ‘Stumble’ is an apt descriptor for the way you cross the threshold into your room. Here, too, he seems almost too large for the space – which is so small that from where he’s standing, he couldn’t fall in any direction without hitting a wall. Your bed covers the whole wall beneath the window, easily taking up half the space, with your wardrobe taking up most of what’s left. You might have fit another bookcase in there, if it weren’t for the fact that you prefer your bathroom door actually closes.

Without thinking, you reach for the hem of his sweater, your fingers purposely lingering on the skin beneath, which – despite being damp from the rain – still radiates heat. Under your touch, his grip on your waist tightens, and his abs twitch. There’s more muscle to him than you’d thought, and you find another pleasant surprise when you rake your fingers over his stomach. So pleasant, in fact, that you can’t suppress a soft chuckle. Nothing says ‘perfect fall hookup’ like a deliciously hairy man. Now, if only that damned – and dampened – sweater would come off, that would be so amazing…

Frustrated groans escape the both of you when the garment puts on more of a fight than any sweater has the right to, and as soon as it’s on the floor, Walter kicks it out of the room for good measure. Your hands eagerly travel the now-exposed skin of his chest and back, making him shiver and moan loudly as you drag a single fingernail softly down his spine. He captures your lips again, stringing you along into the depths of another scorching kiss, fingers working diligently to untuck your sweater from your skirt. A soft growl slips from his throat as he finishes his mission, only to encounter the fabric of the blouse you’re wearing underneath the sweater – you really do get cold easily. This time, he is far less friendly in his approach, pulling almost recklessly at the fabric that finds itself so rudely between your body and his greedy touch.

Your sweater meets a fate similar to his, and your hands make quick work of just enough buttons of your blouse that you can pull the thing over your head while his hands continue their exploration slightly further down, following the soft curve of your ass and pulling you closer to him as he goes. His mouth barely leaves yours – he alternates between using just the right amount of tongue, and nipping at or sucking on your bottom lip. Paired with his obviously horny impatience, it’s nothing short of divine.

You can’t wrap your head around how warm his hands feel on your skin, but the contrast with the chilly air of the room is both staggering and arousing. Not that Walter had thus far been unsuccessful in arousing you – quite the opposite, in fact. His lips move to your neck while his hands roam your back and sides, hesitant to grab more of you. What does he think you’re going to do? Object?

Your hands are already undoing his belt, eager to take the final pieces of wet fabric off him so you can finally seek the solace of your warm bed, and he lets you, kicking off his shoes while you struggle with the buckle. Finally, he takes over, taking care of the tricky metal contraption with one hand while staring directly into your eyes. It’s at that moment that you finally realize what all of this is doing to you…

The arrogant little smirk on his face while he licks his lips doesn’t help – the whole thing sends shivers down your spine and your body answers with a greedy throb between your thighs. You manage to kick your own boots off before Walter mercilessly tackles you to the bed. With a single, swift move, he rolls you both over, pulling you on top of him so you’re straddling his thighs, his hands firmly on your ass, kneading the soft flesh with admirable determination. His face does a poor job of hiding the fact that he likes what he’s feeling.

When you bend over to press your lips to his again, you shriek in surprise as his hand disappears from its newfound playground and lands there again, only a moment later, with a firm smack. He shoots an apologetic look at you as he pulls his bottom lip between his teeth, and you roll your hips against his by means of a faux-admonishment you’re nowhere near serious about. A man like that can manhandle the ever-loving fuck out of you every damn day. When he groans, your insides turn to jelly. In the heat of everything that’s been happening, you haven’t exactly been paying attention to what this has been doing to him, but that move of your hips makes you instantly aware of the very impressive erection you’re sitting right on top of. Another moan escapes him when you repeat the motion, his hands grabbing your ass tighter – nudging you, urging you to keep moving.

Suddenly, he sits up on the edge of the bed, keeping you in his lap, his hands finally moving underneath the fabric of your skirt. Walter moans again – appreciatively, this time – when his fingers explore the soft lace of your underwear. Then, he chuckles. “For someone who gets cold a lot…”

“Shut up,” you reprimand him before kissing him hard. The line between fun and functional is thin, and it wasn’t that you were expecting to end up in bed with this guy, but you sure as hell were hoping you would, and peeling off tights in the heat of the moment has proven disastrous on many occasions thus far. You shiver when he runs his hands up and down your thighs, lingering just above your knee, where his fingers toy with the hem of your thigh-high socks – an absolute requirement in your marginally successful attempt to not freeze to death – and you feel his cock twitch as he does. He likes them. Good.

Apparently, your smirk is too much for him, because he grabs the backs of your thighs and lifts you like you weigh nothing. Next thing you know, you’re on your back, and Walter hovers over you, diligently seeking out the most sensitive spots on your neck. He kisses a blazing hot trail down your chest, pushing your skirt up until it’s bunched up around your waist. You can almost feel his gaze between your legs, and the way he licks his lips wrings a whimper from your lips. Seconds pass in which you anxiously wait for his reaction – a mocking grin, a victorious chuckle or a vicious smirk filled with pity – but it doesn’t come. Instead, you feel a hand on your thigh, creeping higher until you’re not sure if ‘thigh’ is still an appropriate label. His thumb softly trails the thin fabric between your legs. The smile that appears on his face isn’t mocking, cocky or challenging – it’s peaceful and almost grateful in a way you don’t quite understand.

“My turn to get you out of your soaking wet clothes.” It’s a joke, absolutely, but it’s a gentle one, just like his hands are when he hooks his fingers around the waistband of your panties, and he slowly pulls them down.

You’re holding your breath. At first you don’t notice – it really isn’t until his hands slide up your thighs again and you suck in a desperate breath that you realize just how welcome the air is. He pushes your legs apart, settling comfortably between them before using his thumbs to spread your pussy wide. Insecurities plague your brain. You should feel exposed. Insecure. Uncomfortable.

You don’t.

Walter looks up at you with a question in his eyes, and you mouth a breathless answer to his unspoken query. Please. Carefully, he inches closer, until you feel the tickle of the coarse hair on his jaw against the sensitive skin of your thigh. You can see the shiver travel down his spine as he licks a single stripe through your folds, and you moan in unison. Almost immediately, your hand weaves into his hair, pulling his face closer to your center.

He's thorough, relentlessly lapping at your clit while you squirm in his arms, strong hands firmly pressed to the back of your thighs, keeping your legs open for him while he takes his time exploring you, tasting your arousal and learning what works for you. After some time, you notice he settles into a rhythm that might actually work for you, which – as you’re somewhat reluctant to admit, even to yourself – is a rather rare feat. Encouraged by the movement of your hips and the sounds you make, he continues on his mission, and before long your grip on his hair tightens and your squirming gets worse – so much worse, in fact, that he reaches around your thigh to steady your hips against his mouth.

Outside, the rain threatens to turn into a thunderstorm, and if you’d been in any position to notice the weather, you’d have been happy to be inside. As things are, you’re still quite content with your whereabouts, but luckily for completely different reasons. Your back arches off the bed when you come, crying out Walter’s name as you do. With trembling legs, you lay there, your walls pulsing and clenching around nothing. He lets you catch your breath for a moment, his lips never leaving you as he kisses a path up your body again, effortlessly reaching for the clasp of your bra on your back. He doesn’t find it – your favorite just happens to close in the front. Once found, however, that pesky clasp is no match for his capable fingers, and only a moment later you’re shivering as the cold air of your bedroom brushes past your exposed nipples.

He looks at you briefly before latching onto your neck again, gently sucking and biting your skin, making you shiver. One hand finds its way to your chest, fingers digging roughly into the soft flesh, fingers brushing tentatively past your hardening nipple, rolling the sensitive peak between his fingers. You whine, writhing against the sheets, goosebumps erupting over your skin – the result of the electrifying combination of the slightest sheen of sweat meeting cool air. He grins. Chuckles. Then, he bends his head to suck one nipple into his mouth, that capable tongue passing over it, toying with it, sharp teeth grazing sensitive skin, luring cries of pleasure from you in abundance.

Your hands all but scramble for the waistband of his underwear, slipping into the dark boxer briefs without a trace of patience. Fuck. Fingers wrap around – try to, at least – his unapologetically massive cock, images of that one night flashing before your eyes as you give him a few gentle strokes. A trembling exhale tells you your ministrations are appreciated, and you smile, hoping this is only the tip of the iceberg – a hope that is soon confirmed truth when he lets out a loud moan as you run your thumb gingerly over the underside of his cock.

A hand on the back of his neck, pulling softly, is enough to guide him to lie down next to you, and he smiles up at you when you sit on your knees. He’s all too eager to help you get rid of his underwear, and when you take your sweet time taking him in, in all his glory, he almost looks shy.

You start with a light kiss on his lips, then work your way down, fingers trailing the expanse of his chest, dragging slowly through the coarse hair on it, further and further down over his abs until they meet his hips, where they linger to draw teasingly light patterns on his skin. A featherlight touch of your lips to the tip of his cock makes him twitch and groan, and a soft tap on your ass urges you to keep going. You wrap your hand around the base of his cock, and with the tip of your tongue, you circle the head, teasing him until he’s impatiently moaning. His hand hooks around your thigh and pulls you closer – at first you wonder why, but soon after, his fingers run along your slit, searching for your entrance.

He pushes two fingers into your wet core exactly when you swallow as much of his cock as you possibly can, and both of you let out a long moan at the same time. You bob your head up and down his shaft in the same rhythm his fingers pump into you. It’s easy to figure out he likes it sloppy, and you’re happy to oblige. With the delicious symphony of moans and grunts that spill from his lips as an inspiration, you’re enjoying yourself greatly – which makes it all the more disappointing when he pulls his fingers back, a sharp smack on your ass breaking your concentration.

“Come here,” he says huskily, impatiently tugging at your arm.

You straddle his thighs again, reaching for the drawer in your nightstand to grab a condom, and waiting entirely impatiently for him to put it on. Normally, you’re somewhat nervous about being on top, but tonight, you couldn’t care less. You need this man inside of you.

Now.

Walter helps guide the tip of his cock to your entrance, and you slowly lower yourself, screwing your eyes shut at the stretch his incredible girth provides. Nails dig into his shoulder so hard he hisses, and you rest your head on his shoulder, whining pitifully against his skin.

“Easy,” he shushes you, sensing whatever distress you’re feeling, “take your time.” His permission helps; you slow down, and steadily make it all the way down his length. You take a moment to get used to the stretch, gradually relaxing around him. It feels no less full, but definitely increasingly less uncomfortable. Slowly, you begin to move your hips. It’s impossible to keep quiet – luckily, you’re not the only one who can’t seem to hold their tongue. Soft praise is mixed in with the abundance of expletives that come out of Walters mouth. “That’s it.” A personal favorite of yours, especially when he says it – a gravelly snarl through gritted teeth.

You could ride him forever – sure, your thighs will be sore tomorrow, but it’ll all have been worth it. Right? He clearly has other plans, pushing you off him unceremoniously. You’re on your stomach, and you half expect him to turn you around – but he doesn’t. Rough hands drag you to your knees, and – knowing what’s about to happen – you don’t bother raising yourself up on your elbows. They’ll give out in no time, anyway. Walter lines up behind you and sheathes himself to the hilt in one smooth thrust that has you gasping for air. He’s rough and demanding, yet kind and careful, clearly trying not to hurt you. Every thrust wrenches a moan from your lips, and your hand snakes between your legs, fingers drawing tight circles around your clit until you’re teetering right on the edge of bliss. His laughter when you beg him for more, harder, faster is largely obscured by the sound of rolling thunder outside the window. Your orgasm, when it finally does rip through you like an explosion, is theatrically accompanied by an almost unnaturally well-timed lightning strike.

“Dramatic,” Walter notes dryly behind you, his strained voice signaling his stamina knows a limit after all. In a moment of poetic justice, the storm lulls for a moment when Walter’s orgasm forces a sound from him that could be described as many things, but not ‘charming’. When he pulls out, your walls clench against nothing, and you whine softly at the somehow overwhelming emptiness. “Bathroom?” Walter asks, pointing at the other door in your bedroom. You nod, speechless, before collapsing on your bed.

His return marks the start of that awkward hooked-up-on-the-first-date-dance. Stay? Go? Hookup? Date? Yes? No? You sigh your relief when Walter hesitates for the shortest possible moment before crawling under the covers with you, wrapping an arm around your shoulder and allowing you to snuggle into his chest.

“Do you mind if I stay?” he asks, a playful edge to his voice. “It’s raining.”

“Is that the only reason you want to stay?” you chuckle. It’s strange. Normally you wouldn’t be so confident he hadn’t been genuine in his remark.

“Well, eh…” he mutters as he nuzzles your hair, “there’s this woman…”

The sun is an unwelcome intruder in your house the next morning, and you do your very best to hide from the rays as long as possible. A new preferred method: burying your face in Walter’s chest. A very nice added bonus to the approach is that it comes with strong arms wrapping around you, pulling you tight. As far as you’re concerned – and you’re well aware that it’s a little soon to say this after one date, but it’s not like you’re planning on proposing today – you’re not letting this man walk, ever again. He didn’t complain when you warmed your icy feet against his legs yesterday, and the only reaction you get out of him when you put your cold hands on his body is a low grumble and an involuntary shiver.

“Morning,” he groans after a while. By now, you’re awake enough to at least make an attempt at playing host.

“Coffee?” you ask – a suggestion that’s met with an approving grunt.

On your way to the kitchen, you come across his discarded and banned-from-the-bedroom sweater – and you make the mistake of stepping on it, shrieking in surprise when the damp fabric touches your already cold foot. Coffee first, you decide.

“I have some bad news,” you say as you enter your bedroom with two cups of coffee in your hands, his sweater dangling from your pinky. “This is still wet.”

“Oh, god, no,” Walter says with a smile, “whatever will we do to pass the time until it dries?”

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