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bluejayblueskies · 3 years

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an ill-fitting definition

rating: M words: 4.3k relationships: jongeorgie, jontim, jonmartin, background wtgfs additional tags: canon compliant, pre-canon, scottish safehouse period, canon asexual character, fluff, kissing, implied sexual content, rumors and misconceptions

written for weeks two/three of @archivalpride for the prompts identity and doubt!

cw for misconceptions about asexuality, assumptions made about somebody’s sexuality, rumors and outing somebody without their knowledge, non-explicit/implied sexual content, mention of canonical character death, mention of canonical stalking and paranoia, gossip (including of the sexual nature), food, very mild blood, mild internalized acephobia

ao3 link in source

It’s three weeks and two days after they began dating, when Georgie picks up Jon’s hand where it’s clasped in hers and asks with plain curiosity in her voice, so does the ring, y’know, mean anything?, that Georgie hears the word asexual cross Jon’s lips for the first time.

It’s not a word she’s unfamiliar with; she’s run in enough LGBTQ spaces in her time in uni that she has a good idea of the breadth of identities that are out there. She rubs her thumb across Jon’s ring and thinks, in the voice of the gender and equality training instructor with sharp red heels and a “fun” black dress who’d stood in front of the seminar she’d been mandated to take for one of her courses:

Asexuality. A lack of sexual attraction. An aversion or repulsion to sexual activities.

It had been a small word on a large black-and-white slide, crammed in next to aromanticism and overcrowded by a myriad of other sexual identities discussed at length. It had been… quite a comprehensive training, Georgie thinks as she quits fidgeting with Jon’s ring and instead threads their fingers together. For a moment, she considers asking what he means anyway, but she quickly dismisses the thought. She wants to be supportive, and as Jon looks at her with open, trusting eyes and a faint smile, she decides that she knows enough. She doesn’t want to make it awkward, and with things like these, she’s found that asking Jon to explain his feelings in plain terms can be… well, awkward is certainly a word for it. Best just not to bring it up, she decides.

Still, she feels the need to ask, “Can I kiss you?” because the red no sex sign blinking on and off in her head is frustratingly vague on what, exactly, is contained within that stipulation. When Jon voices his assent, she tips her head up and presses a quick kiss to his chin before kissing him on the lips, wiping the disgruntled look off them.

So yes to kissing, she thinks, tucking that away next to no sex. Yes kissing, no sex. Yes holding hands, she adds as she squeezes Jon’s hand in hers and he smiles at her, warm and soft, that special side of Jon that she only sees on occasion. No pet names, she adds a week later when she tries out sweetheart and Jon’s nose wrinkles with displeasure. No foot rubs, when Jon swats at her and says, between giggles, that he’s awfully ticklish. Yes back rubs. Yes cuddling. No PDA. No touching with wet or sticky hands. Yes brushing hair.

That’s as far as she gets before, one year and two months after she begins dating Jonathan Sims, she stops. After which point she stops keeping track, because, well. There’s really no point anymore, is there?

“I’m sorry,” Jon says, burying his head in his hands.

“Hey, hey, hey,” Tim says quickly, holding his hands in the air in a placating gesture. He scoots a few inches away from Jon on the couch for good measure, unsure just how much space Jon needs right now. “It’s okay. You don’t have to apologize—I should apologize. I should have asked first.”

“It’s just—” Jon makes a frustrated noise, and when he takes his hands away his cheeks are dark and he won’t meet Tim’s eyes. “It’s complicated.”

“It’s okay,” Tim repeats, watching with a twisting feeling in his stomach as Jon apparently notices that the button of his trousers is still undone and quickly goes to redo it. His eyes follow the movements of Jon’s hands automatically, and just as automatically, he notes the distinct lack of a tent in the front of Jon’s trousers. The same… cannot be said for his own. Particularly after nearly twenty minutes of kissing, which Tim had very much enjoyed.

Christ, had Jon been uncomfortable with that as well? All in a rush, Tim says, “Was the kissing bad too?” Then, he winces—fuck, that sounded accusatory—and adds, “It- it’s okay if it was, I just- I didn’t know, and I don’t want to do something that makes you uncomfortable, Jon.”

“No, the- the kissing was fine, it’s just...” Jon makes an aborted motion with his hands, like he’s trying and failing to find the words.

“... complicated?” Tim supplies.

Jon nods mutely.

“That’s okay,” Tim says, and he finds that he means it. “We don’t have to do anything more than kissing if you don’t want to.”

“I- I don’t…” Jon worries his bottom lip between his teeth. He opens and closes his mouth a few times, like he’s searching for the right words, the crease in his forehead deepening every moment he fails to find them. Finally, he lets out a long, labored breath, pinches the bridge of his nose between his fingers, and says, “Yes, that… that might be best.”

Tim studies Jon’s face. It’s pinched and a bit stiff, like Jon would very much like to crawl out of his skin or melt into a puddle and disappear. “You sure?” he feels compelled to ask, placing a hand carefully on Jon’s knee. “You, uh. You seem a bit unsure.”

Jon sits there a moment more, spine straight and rigid, before melting slightly against Tim’s hand, his face slipping into something more relaxed but no less unhappy. “Yes.” He hesitates a moment, then says, a bit stiltedly, “I’m, um. I’m asexual. Since we’re already talking about this, I… I may as well get that out in the open as well.”

Oh. A few pieces slot into place, and Tim says with perhaps a bit more enthusiasm than necessary, “Oh. Why didn’t you tell—?” He cuts himself off and offers Jon a sheepish smile. “Sorry, sorry. That was rude of me. Thank you for telling me.”

“We’re dating,” Jon says bluntly. “It was going to come up eventually.”

“Still.” Tim shrugs, then reaches for Jon’s hand and holds it tightly in his. “Thanks.” He hesitates only a moment before leaning forward and pressing a quick kiss to Jon’s nose. Jon makes a disgruntled noise, which Tim thinks is adorable. Then, because it feels appropriate, he says, “Y’know, Danny… Danny was asexual. Aromantic too, actually. We had a big talk about it a few years ago where he sort of… laid it all out for me.” No sex, no romance, no thank you, had been the overall gist of it. Tim makes a new box for Jon and fills it in with the words no sex, yes romance, it’s complicated.

“Oh,” Jon says quietly, with that same sort of sadness in his eyes that he gets every time Tim mentions Danny, something much gentler than pity and significantly less cloying. If Tim notices the faint discomfort that accompanies it, something that whispers that isn’t my definition of asexuality, we’re not the same, you don’t understand if one were to listen closely enough, he doesn’t let on.

Tim does, however, notice the discomfort in Jon’s eyes—now mixed with anger—when two years, six months, and seven days later, he accuses Tim of murder. But by then, their days of hand-holding and nose-kissing are far, far behind them.

“Maybe he just needs to get laid,” Melanie says with a groan, lying on Georgie’s couch and staring at the ceiling. The Admiral is curled up on her lap, purring contentedly. She scratches absentmindedly under his chin.

“What, Jon?” Georgie appears in Melanie’s field of vision, wielding a damp wooden spoon and frowning.

“No. No.” Melanie shakes her head emphatically. “Martin. He’s been all… sulky lately. I think he’s still upset that Jon came to me instead of him for help, but I don’t know why he has to be all… touchy about it.”

“Ah. Well, you know, he is a bit hung up on Jon. At least, according to you.”

“I don’t see how that’s my problem,” Melanie says grumpily. “Besides, didn’t you say that Jon went on about Martin, like, all the time? Sounds like he’s got it bad as well. Maybe they could just… y’know.”

“Melanie.”

“What?” Melanie tries to shoot Georgie a glare, but it’s obstructed by the back of the couch. “I’m on my last nerve, Georgie!”

“I know, honey. But Jon’s really not… well, he’s not very open about these sorts of things. Getting him to talk about his feelings was like pulling teeth when we were together.”

“It still baffles me that you used to date.”

“He’s very sweet when you get to know him!” There’s a pause, a few clatters from the kitchen. “Besides, even if he and Martin got around to talking, Jon… well, he doesn’t.”

Melanie frowns. “Doesn’t what?”

“Have sex.”

“Really?” Melanie sits up, disturbing the Admiral, who lets out an irritated mrpp before adjusting himself accordingly and curling back up on her lap. “So when you were together…?”

Georgie shakes her head. “Nope. Never.”

“Huh.” Melanie thinks for a moment. “Is he like… religious or something?”

Georgie chuckles. “Jon? No, not at all. He’s asexual.”

“Isn’t that like… that thing that sponges are? Where they self-reproduce?”

“Seriously?”

Melanie scowls at the incredulous look Georgie’s giving her. “What? I’m not being a- a dick, I’ve just never heard of it before.”

“You were a YouTuber. Your job was to be internet famous.”

“Okay, now you’re just making fun of me.”

Georgie shoots Melanie a grin. “Sorry. Basically, it means that Jon doesn’t do sex. Like… at all. He just… doesn’t.”

“Huh,” Melanie says again.

“Yeah.” Georgie turns back to the stove. “Now, come here. Tell me if there’s too much salt?”

“Sorry Admiral,” Melanie whispers as she deposits him onto the floor and crosses the room to wrap her arms around Georgie’s waist from behind and take the bite of sauce on the spoon Georgie holds out for her. “Mm, tastes great. As always.”

And in the back of her mind, Melanie adds another line to the section labeled Jonathan Sims and writes, with careful handwriting, he doesn’t.

Although… according to Georgie, Jon doesn’t.

Martin pauses the tape and rubs his hands over his eyes. His cheeks are burning red, and he takes a few minutes to just breathe.

Doesn’t what? Doesn’t date? Doesn’t kiss? Doesn’t—

Martin stops that train of thought before it goes any further, the flush on his face growing in intensity. It’s none of my business, he tells himself as he ejects the tape and turns it over in his hands a few times before sliding it back into the small box it had come from.

He still can’t help but think about it. He thinks about it before the Unknowing, when Jon hesitates just a moment before wrapping him in a tight hug and whispering, I… I’ll be back, Martin. Then we can talk. He thinks about it when Jon’s in his coma, when Martin sits at his bedside and loses himself in daydreams and what-ifs. He thinks about it when Jon’s hand is clasped in his and he’s leading Martin out of cloying white fog and sea-salt air, his shirt speckled with bits of dark liquid that Martin tries to pretend isn’t blood. He thinks about it on the way to the safehouse, Jon leaning against his side, Martin’s hand clasped firmly in his.

He thinks about it a lot, in the confines of the wooden walls that let in the growing chill of the Scottish countryside.

Jon doesn’t.

He knows what Jon does. Jon makes him breakfast most days, eggs and toast and sometimes waffles, which Martin’s always considered a guilty pleasure but that he’s had more times in the past week and a half than he’s had for the past ten years. Jon puts his head on Martin’s shoulder when they sit on the couch and read, flipping through the dusty novels they’d found tucked in cardboard boxes underneath the bed that Jon had wrinkled his nose at but has been slowly making his way through nevertheless. Jon clings to Martin like his life depends on it when they sleep, and Martin will wake in the morning with one arm slung across his chest, a leg between his, and a sizeable portion of hair tickling at his nose.

And, nine days into their stay, Jon smiles at Martin as he shuffles into the kitchen in the morning, stands on his toes, and presses a soft kiss to Martin’s lips.

“Um,” Martin says eloquently, still half-asleep and trying to process what he’s 98% sure is their first kiss. He’d be 100% sure except for the fact that Jon kissed him like it was nothing, like it was easy, like it was something they do every morning.

The smile slips from Jon’s face, and he looks nervous. “I- I’m sorry, I should have asked first—”

“No, no, it’s- it’s okay,” Martin hastens to say, taking one of Jon’s hands in his and squeezing gently. “Just- just surprised, that’s all. I, um. I wasn’t sure if you wanted to kiss me, given that we haven’t…” He gestures absently, his face heating up. Stop talking, Martin. “Yeah,” he finishes lamely.

“Oh,” Jon says with a frown. “I… apologize for giving you that impression. I- I love you, Martin—I have no problems with kissing you.”

Warmth courses through Martin, as it always does when Jon tells him that he loves him. It all feels so unreal sometimes that he’s here, with Jon, away from it all and living in quiet domesticity. “Oh,” he says, face flushed. “A- all right, then. Great!”

“Great,” Jon echoes.

“Just- just thought maybe you didn’t—”

Martin clamps his mouth shut, face heating up more, this time in embarrassment. Shut up, Martin.

Jon raises an eyebrow. “Didn’t… what?”

“Um.” Martin rubs a hand across the back of his neck. “Kiss?”

Jon looks at Martin blankly. “Oh. Well, I- I do.”

“Right, yeah, I- I put that together. When we, um. You know.”

Jon looks amused. “Kissed?”

“Yep, that,” Martin squeaks out.

They look at each other for a moment before dissolving into giggles. Jon presses another kiss to Martin’s lips and finishes making the waffles and kisses Martin again when he hands Jon his tea, and it’s really quite lovely indeed.

So Martin adds Jon kisses to his mental list of Jon does and finds a sole remainder on the list of Jon doesn’t. And it’s fine with him, he decides, if Jon doesn’t want to have sex. He just wants Jon, in whatever way Jon will have him.

Jon doesn’t do sex, he thinks as he kisses Jon goodnight.

So, three days later, when they’re on the couch and they’ve kissed until Martin is red-faced and breathless and Jon pulls back with a pinched expression on his face, Martin assumes—with hot embarrassment coursing through him—that he’s somehow gone too far and strayed into sex territory and made Jon uncomfortable.

Then, Jon says with cheeks dark and eyes focused resolutely on Martin’s chest, “Martin, would… would you like to move to the bedroom?” and Martin’s thoughts grind to a halt.

“Sorry, what?” is all he can think to say.

Jon’s cheeks grow incrementally darker. “I am asking,” he says slowly, like the words are clunky and unwieldy in his mouth, “if you would like to have sexual intercourse. With me, of course, I- I hope that was implied.”

Martin’s aware that his mouth is quite literally hanging open in shock. He closes it quickly before swallowing and saying, “I… yeah, Jon, I- I’d love that, but I thought you—”

He clamps his mouth shut again, a touch too late. Jon’s forehead creases in confusion and he says, “I what?”

Martin hems and haws for a moment before biting the bullet and saying, all in a rush, “I thought you didn’t like sex.”

Jon’s frown deepens. “What? Why?”

And god, Martin doesn’t want to admit that he’s been thinking about office gossip for nearly a year, but he’s dug his grave—he may as well lie in it. He sighs, worries his hands on his lap, and says, “I… may have listened to a tape where Melanie said that Georgie said that you… didn’t.”

Jon looks at Martin blankly for a moment before his expression flattens into something that’s equal parts irritated and resigned. “Ah. Right. That… that makes sense, I suppose.”

“I’m sorry, Jon,” Martin says emphatically, placing his hand atop Jon’s and squeezing. “I- I didn’t mean to hear it; I was listening to the statements and it was just there.”

“No, it’s… it’s not your fault.” Jon sighs and rubs a hand across his eyes. “If it’s anyone’s fault, it’s mine.”

“What?”

Jon makes an aborted, dismissive gesture with his hand. “I’ve… never been good at explaining my own preferences. I never did with Georgie, just… told her I was asexual and left it at that. I suppose she took that to mean that I, er. Didn’t.”

Asexual. Martin has a vague notion of what that means—he’s been in enough online LGBTQ spaces to have encountered the word before, but he’s never really looked into it much himself. If pressed, he thinks he’d also assume it meant that Jon didn’t. Something a bit guilty twists within him at that thought, amplified by his next thought that Georgie shouldn’t have assumed, because, well, that’s a bit hypocritical, isn’t it? Still, he feels the need to voice it; he squeezes Jon’s hand again and says, “It’s not your fault that she just- just made assumptions about what you wanted, Jon.”

“Yes, but it’s my fault that I never corrected her.” Jon makes a face. “Or Tim, now that I think about it. I… I suppose I’m just not very good at talking about these things. Particularly because my own preferences are…” Jon’s pained expression deepens. “Christ, I don’t want to say complicated again, but there really is no other word for it.”

That’s not your fault either, Martin wants to say, but he knows Jon will just contradict him again, and he’ll repeat himself, and then they’ll just be talking in circles, and that won’t help anything. It’s frustrating, but it’s the truth. Still, Martin finds the words waiting on his lips when he opens his mouth, so he shuts it again and thinks for a moment, promising himself later. I’ll tell him later. Finally, he says carefully, “Do you… do you want to talk about it? We don’t have to if you don’t want to, but I don’t want to assume.” He lets out a humorless laugh. “Well, I don’t want to keep assuming, I suppose, given that I’ve already assumed quite a lot.” Quieter: “Sorry, again.”

“It’s fi—” Jon cuts off, takes a breath. “Th… thank you, Martin.” He hesitates a moment, then says haltingly, “I- I do want to talk about it, but I don’t—” He makes a frustrated noise. “—I don’t know how.”

“Okay,” Martin says after a moment. “You said it’s complicated, yeah?” When Jon nods mutely, he continues, “Would it help if you described how you feel right now? That’s- that’s less complicated, right?”

Jon’s mouth flattens into a thin line. “I… suppose.”

“All right, then.” Martin makes a go-on gesture, then rests his hand atop Jon’s and applies a gentle pressure.

Jon takes a few deep breaths, squints at nothing, makes a few wordless noises, then says bluntly, “I want to have sex with you.”

Martin tries really, really hard not to blush, but he doesn’t think he quite succeeds given how hot his face feels when he says, “Right, okay.” His voice is a bit higher-pitched than normal; he hopes that Jon doesn’t notice. “And, um. Do you always… want to have sex with me? Or just right now.”

Jon grimaces. “That’s where it gets complicated.” He makes an I-don’t-know gesture with his free hand and says, “No? Yes? I don’t know, Martin. I’m told that not wanting sex all the time is- is normal, that- that you have to be in the mood, but apparently I’m just supposed to know when I’ll be in the mood and when I won’t be, and that- that doesn’t really work for me.”

“Are you—” Martin cringes internally, but forces the words out. “—in the mood right now?”

“Well,” Jon grumbles, “not anymore, but I was. And it’s complicated, because even if I am, I- I don’t always want to be touched, but how do you explain that to someone, how- how do you tell someone that it’s mostly no but sometimes yes and there’s a very good chance that I might change my mind halfway through and decide that it’s no after all?”

“I think,” Martin says patiently, “that you just say that.”

Jon gives Martin a look. “Martin.”

“What? It’s true!” Martin gives Jon as reassuring a smile as he can muster. “It made sense to me, at least.”

“Yes, but that’s not—” Jon makes a frustrated noise. “It’s not whether or not it makes sense, it’s whether or not somebody is willing to put up with a sexual partner who doesn’t know whether or not they’re going to want to have sex on any given day, whether they- they’ll be repulsed or interested or want to give but not receive or the other way around or- or something else that I haven’t thought of but that will likely happen because consistency is, apparently, off the cards for me entirely.”

“Hey, hey,” Martin says gently, placing a hand on Jon’s shoulder and rubbing gentle circles with his thumb. “Jon, look at me.” When Jon looks, albeit reluctantly, Martin continues, “I can’t speak for other people, and I- I can’t tell you how to feel, but I can tell you how I feel, and I… I’m willing. No, more than willing—I love you, Jon, all of you, and if this is how you feel, then I love that about you too. Whatever you’re willing to give me, it… it’ll be enough. You’re enough.”

Jon’s cheeks darken and he looks away. After a long moment, he says in a stiff voice, “Well. Thank you, Martin.” Then, a bit softer: “I… I love you too.” He looks at Martin then and offers him a small, weak smile. “It’s… well, it’s still awkward, but it’s not quite as bad—talking about all of this—as I thought it would be.”

“Well, I’m glad you did. Talk to me about it, that is.”

Jon’s smile turns a bit hesitant. “So you would really be okay if I… if I never asked again? To, er. To have sex.”

“Yes,” Martin says, without hesitation.

“Oh,” Jon says quietly. “And- and if I said that I did? Want to? That… that would be okay too? Even if I’d already said that I didn’t?”

“Yep.”

Jon looks down at his hands where they’re twisted tightly in the hem of his jumper, then back up at Martin. “All right.” He hesitates a moment, then says, “And if… if I said that I wanted to have sex… now?”

Ah. It looks like Martin’s not done blushing quite yet. “Yep, that- that’s fine with me,” he squeaks out, then cringes internally. Fine? Really?

Thankfully, Jon doesn’t seem offended; if anything, he seems amused, his mouth quirking up into a small smirk. “All right, then.” He leans forward and presses a kiss to Martin’s lips, soft and chaste and ever-so-slightly lingering before he pulls away. “I, er. I think I’d like to just kiss for a bit, though.” His smile turns teasing. “Foreplay is very important, after all.”

Martin groans and gives Jon a look, his face likely fully tomato-red by now. “Jon.”

“Need to make sure we’re fully in the mood before beginning proceedings—”

“Yes, yes, you’ve made your point,” Martin says, a giggle slipping out around the words. Then, because he’s nothing if not a little mischievous himself, he leans forward and captures Jon’s lips in a kiss, significantly less chaste and a touch more insistent, pressing until Jon is leaned back against the arm of the couch and Martin is hovering over him. Martin disengages from the kiss so he can marvel at the flushed, wide-eyed expression on Jon’s face. “Like that?” he says innocently.

Jon blinks up at him for a few seconds, like he’s not entirely sure how to process everything in front of him, before he smiles, a warm, happy thing that captures Martin’s heart entirely and steals it away. “I do believe that was adequate, yes. Perhaps you should do it again though, just to make sure.”

So Martin does. I love him, he thinks as he kisses Jon on the couch and kisses him again on the bed, kisses him in the spot between his shoulder blades where he always carries tension and in the dip of his clavicle and on the inside of his thigh. And when he’s curled up next to Jon after, he presses another kiss to the crown of Jon’s head and wraps his arms around him and quietly discards his mental lists of does and doesn’t. He’ll start from scratch, he decides, and after a moment’s thought, he comes up with two more lists, upon which it’s surprisingly easy to add item after item after item.

Jon likes to be kissed. Jon likes eggs and toast, but not jam, and likes his tea black and slightly oversteeped. Jon doesn’t like wool because he finds it itchy. Jon doesn’t like white wine, but he likes red, the kinds that are too dry for Martin’s tastes.

Jon likes Martin, and Martin likes him too. So, so much. And even when things change, when Jon finds a white wine he likes at a restaurant they visit and he takes his tea once with honey and enjoys it and he goes through a period where he doesn’t enjoy open-mouthed kisses and Martin adjusts his lists accordingly, that remains.

#archivalpride #the magnus archives #jongeorgie #jontim #jonmartin #tma #jonathan sims #tim stoker #georgie barker #melanie king #martin blackwood #my fic #my writing

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mypoisonedvine · 4 years

Text

Pearl Necklace | Lee Bodecker x reader

(sort of an epilogue to the wrong idea, but once again, you don’t really need to read the series to know what’s going on. in fact, if you read the series but didn’t read any of the epilogue blurbs I did for that then this is gonna be just as random lol)

summary: your husband has a special present to give you this christmas.

word count: 1.6k

warnings: smut!! (oral m receiving), slapping, a touch of degradation, some housewife kink, discussions of breeding kink, but also some fluff in there first!!

“Santa!” Beatrice and Penny cheered in unison as they tackled Lee dressed in costume. You had been afraid they would recognize him at first; now you were slightly worried what it meant that they didn’t notice it was their own father behind the fake white beard.

Lee was fully into his character, though, ‘ho ho ho’-ing as he set down his bag of presents to sit down and let the girls jump into his lap on the couch.

“Did you come all the way from the North Pole?” Beatrice asked curiously, while Penny immediately became distracted by the shiny silver belt buckle resting at his stomach.

“Yes I did,” Lee answered, “just to see you.” He accented the last word by tapping Beatrice on the nose with his gloved finger, who blushed and giggled. “You’ve been a good girl this year,” he explained, “which means I have a very important question to ask you: what do you want for Christmas, little miss?”

“I want another sister!” she announced firmly. Lee had put a little bit of your rouge on (because Santa has rosy cheeks and all), but his cheeks were naturally reddening now.

“You’ll, uh, have to ask your mother about that,” he decided as he cleared his throat.

“Pleeeease Santa?” Beatrice whined. “It’s what Penny wants too!”

“Is that so?” Lee stammered, turning to Penny who nodded.

“Pwease, Mister Santa?” she concurred. “We wan’ another sister to pway wif…”

“You two are conspiring with each other now, is that it? You’re both asking for only one thing?”

They nodded in unison and Lee’s gaze drifted to you.

“Is that not the sort of thing elves can make at the North Pole?” you asked him with a smirk.

“Not exactly,” he chuckled. He addressed the girls again, who were waiting impatiently for an answer to their request. “I’ll see what I can do,” he offered, “but how about you two open the presents I brought you for now instead.”

“Fank you Mister Santa!” Penny beamed, giving him a little hug before crawling to the floor and rifling through the bag of wrapped boxes he’d brought for them.

With the girls finally put to bed, you were surprised to see Lee still partially in costume— the beard was gone as he nursed a beer, but he still had on the big red coat and pants, and most noticeably, the hat.

“Girls are asleep,” you informed him as you circled the couch. He only nodded and patted his knee; you obliged as you dutifully sat on his lap, his arms wrapping around your waist, smiling up at you. You could recognize that glimmer in his eyes from a mile away. “Have I been a good girl this year?” you asked quietly.

“Yes,” he whispered, “you’re my perfect girl— such a sweet, obedient little wife, hm?”

You fiddled with the buckle at his waist for a moment, chewing your lip. “I try to be.”

He just looked up at you silently, moving his tongue inside his cheek like he did when he was thinking about something.

“Are we gonna give Penny and Bea what they asked for?” you broke the silence, trying to keep your voice neutral though you felt your eyebrow raise of its own accord.

“You know we are,” he grinned. “We can start tryin’ tomorrow— right now I have another present to give you.”

“What is it?”

“Why don’t we go to the bedroom and I’ll show you?” he offered.

You were trying not to get too excited as he followed you to the bedroom, shutting the door behind the both of you and pulling you into his arms.

“Lee,” you sighed as he started to kiss your neck, making your hands clench and tug at the fuzzy red coat of his costume. He knew exactly the spot that made your head fall back and your lip catch between your teeth, smiling against your skin as you melted into his embrace so easily.

“Gonna give you your present now, pretty girl,” he whispered against your skin. “Don’t you think every good wife deserves a pearl necklace?”

“Lee, you’ve already given me three different pearl necklaces,” you remembered as you gestured to your jewelry box.

“Dumb little baby,” he chuckled, making your cheeks burn with embarrassment. “You’re too innocent for your own good sometimes, princess. Not that kind of pearl necklace.”

“Wh-what kind do you mean?”

“I mean the kind where I cover those perfect tits of yours in my come.”

You swallowed thickly, your thighs clenching together. “Oh.”

He only had to look at you now for you to know what he wanted. You’d memorized his ‘bend over the counter’ look, his ‘hands and knees on the bed’ look, his ‘spread your legs so daddy can get a taste’ look. You even knew the way his voice changed when he called you from work— a.k.a. the ‘be naked and ready when I get home’ voice. Every glance was like an instruction, and you knew the stakes if you didn’t follow his instructions: the dreaded ‘I’ll take you on my knee and spank you until you can’t sit for a week’ look.

This, right now, was the ‘choke on my cock’ look.

“You make a very handsome Santa,” you informed him as you lowered to your knees.

“Ya think so?” he pressed. “You don’t mind that I really can shake my belly like a bowl full’a jelly?”

You giggled at his reference to the old rhyme, shaking your head. “No, I don’t mind that.” You made sure he believed you by planting a few kisses on his stomach on your way down.

The thick velvet of the costume still wasn’t enough to conceal the shape of Lee’s hard cock underneath, making you salivate a bit as you licked your lips and reached under to grab the thick shaft. Pulling it out, you found the head red and swollen, leaking a drop of precum which you savored as you swiped your tongue over his length. He smiled down at you, brushing a bit of hair away from your face before gripping it near the scalp, not quite pulling yet but definitely encouraging you to take him into your mouth.

“Fuck,” he groaned as you closed your lips and sucked, swirling your tongue around the skin, “my good little wife, always getting on her knees for me… take it a little deeper, honey.”

Doing as he’d asked, you felt the tip hit the back of your throat and used your hand to cover the rest. He groaned a little, his head falling back, and you wanted to smile with pride in yourself but suppressed it since this was hard to do while smiling. You were getting quite aroused already, unsatiated pleasure burning between your legs and making your back arch slightly.

He moaned again, a little louder, and you repeated the motion that made him react so strongly. It worked, and his hips bucked forward into your throat, his hand holding you steady by your hair so you couldn’t pull back.

“You like when I fuck your face, huh, princess? Like daddy using your pretty little mouth?”

You moaned around him in lieu of a more articulate response, making him move a little more erratically.

“Stroke it faster, baby, I’m already gettin’ close,” he hissed, and you moved your hand over his length furiously along with twisting slightly as the wrist. “Fuuuuck,” he sighed, “just like that, you’re so fuckin’ perfect, sweetpea.”

You reached down with your free hand to rub yourself through your panties, desperate for some friction on your clit which throbbed and begged for attention, but Lee instantly noticed and slapped your cheek, making you whine.

“Keep your hands where I can see ‘em,” he commanded, using his ‘Sheriff voice’ which only made your need greater as you moaned around him again. He laughed at your desperation, slapping your face a few more times for good measure before suddenly pulling out and stroking his own cock. “Open that dress, show me those pretty tits.”

You hastily unbuttoned the front of your dress, biting on your lip as you saw his cock was stained pink from your lipstick. He always told you that was the best sign of a job well-done. The second your dress was open you were pushing it off your shoulders, nearly ripping your bra as you popped it open and tossed it aside. He groaned when your tits bounced free, and you noticed how hard your nipples were already even when they hadn’t been touched at all.

“‘M close,” he grunted, stroking his cock faster as you licked your lips, sighing as you remembered how incredible that cock felt when it was stretching you open and filling you up. You didn’t get to see him come that often, usually you just felt it, and you always loved how it felt so it was a shame to miss out this time.

“Don’t look so sad, pretty girl, I know you want all this come inside you, don’t you?” He chuckled condescendingly when you nodded. “Well don’t worry, princess, tomorrow I’m gonna knock you up so good you’re gonna forget every word that isn’t ‘yes’ and ‘daddy’.”

“Yes, daddy,” you whimpered.

“Just like that,” he praised. “Fuck, I’m close— ready for your present, baby?”

“Please, daddy,” you begged, moaning as his come shot in spurts onto your chest. His face was so gorgeous when he came: flushed red, biting down on his lip, eyes half-lidded and staring right at you as he covered you in his seed. You felt so dirty as he did it to you, but you loved it— so much, in fact, that you bit down on your lip to keep from getting too loud at the sensation of his hot come painting your tits.

He kept stroking until every drop was on you, sighing as he let go of his softening cock. “Fuck,” he groaned, “you always look good in the presents I give you.”

#lee bodecker x reader #lee bodecker smut #lee bodecker x you #lee bodecker x y/n #lee bodecker fic

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that-damn-girl · 4 years

Text

(2) Daze of Pollen

(Work in Progress - 2 of 8; Slow updates)

Chapter 1

Daze of Pollen Materlist

Pairing: (cis)fem!Reader x Bucky Barnes x Steve Rogers x Sam Wilson

Words: 2500+

Warnings: Smut. 18+ only please. Oral (female recieving). Threesome (penetrative sex is in the next chapter). Not exactly bondage but restraining using physical strength. Size kink. That’s it I guess.

Summary: Bucky, Steve, Sam and you are in the safe house post mission when a retrieved Hydra device activates, releasing a kind of pollen you don’t know of, but the effects of which are soon discovered.

A/N: And the smut begins! Sorry this took some while. I’m still taking kink requests if you have any. Hope you enjoy it!

Request included: Not sure if this qualifies but for Daze of Pollen how about a scene where they decide to pin down/restrain one of them while the another person goes to town teasing them?

Also, since size kink was in demand it’s a personal favorite of mine, it’s gonna be kinda constant throughout the fic. So the reader is short in height only. For rest of the part, I’ve tried my best to stay neutral.

You didn't know who leaned into whom, but you didn't care. Soft lips touched yours, drawing you in a kiss. His metal arm curved around your waist, pulling you impossibly close to himself instantly, the other hand slithering up your neck to cup cheeks. His tight hold on you caused you to lean back, but his arm kept you firm against him, tightly pressed to his form.

Despite his eager demeanor, Bucky kissed you with such a gentleness, his lips playing with yours with such soft, feather light touches, it genuinely took you aback, only leaving you yearning for more. Tilting his head, Bucky deepened the kiss. Soft moans arose from your throat, which were swallowed by him.

His hands streamed down to your butt, squeezing your cheeks appreciably. Grabbing your thighs, he hiked them around his waist, lifting you off your feet and into his strong hold. He carried you to your bedroom with slow, measured steps, your hands tightening around his neck to balance yourself. The two other men were left all by themselves in the living room.

Sam and Steve looked at each other, a little dumbfounded, unsure what they needed to do, where they stood.

"Do we…" Steve started, gesturing to follow you and Bucky.

"Uh, I guess…?" Sam answered, unsure of how to go about it. It wasn't every day that he and his friends inhaled some evil organization's pollen and needed to get each other's rocks off to survive. Nevertheless, he followed you and Bucky to your bedroom, curious to see how this would unfold. Steve wasn't far behind.

Bucky sat down on your bed, settling you on his lap, legs on either side of his waist. One of his hands stayed on your butt, kneading your ass, while the other traveled back to your face, cupping it in his protective hold. Your face nuzzled into the heat of his palm, seeking more of him.

Everything else was lost to you, your mind abandoning all thoughts except one. Bucky. Bucky. Bucky. His gentle touches on your body. The delicate kisses on your lips. His hands kept you close to him in his caring and protective hold, pulling you into the heat of his body. Your shorter frame settled snugly in his larger one.

"Always wanted to do this, doll. You don't know how long I've wanted to kiss you, taste you, devour those fucking sweet lips." Bucky said in between the kisses. "Didn't know it'd come down to this though. Kissing you only because I had to."

You pulled back, taken aback by his confession. "You did?" You asked, heart thrumming wildly.

Bucky nodded. "Day and night, doll. Since forever." The rough pad of his thumb glided across your bottom lip. "Always wanted to hold and kiss you silly so fucking bad."

You couldn't believe it. You had always liked these men, wanted them too - because fuck, how could you not? Admittedly, Bucky a little more than the rest. But to know Bucky wanted you too? Not just as the close friend you had become over the years, but really wanted you in the most sinful ways as you wanted him? It drove you to a new high.

"Fuck, Bucky. Me too." Your lips dawned on his in a harsh kiss.

It lasted only a moment before Bucky pulled back. "Because of the pollen?" He asked, brows furrowed. Worried that your response was only because of the effect the pollen had on you.

"Fuck the pollen. You're what I want, Bucky. You're what I need." You insisted, determined to make him see that you wanted him just as much.

Looking into your eyes, Bucky knew that you weren't lying. That there were no reasons to doubt your words. The disclosure released something primal in him. Knowing that he was wanted, needed even, that too by you, the one person he desired above everyone else? He couldn't hold himself back for a second longer.

With a growl, he pulled you back into him, plump lips kissing you wildly. Any trace of softness left him as he kissed you with an unparalleled hunger. A desire you had never seen before. The kiss grew hot and heated as his tongue traced your lips and entered you not long after. His tongue danced with yours skillfully, lips devouring yours passionately. Bucky gave his all into the kiss, his mind clouded with the thoughts of you and only you.

The outline of his half hard member was prominent beneath your thighs, even through the thick fabric of his jeans. Without giving it much thought, you ground your hips into his, focusing your movements around his length. Bucky groaned at how good it felt. Fingers grabbed your ass as he guided your flow, pushing your hips down on his. Slotting your core directly over his shaft, you rolled your hips unceasingly, drawing pleasure filled moans from both of you.

Not long after, you felt your body heat up. The clothes stuck to your form, the fabric brushing against your skin in the harshest and most irritating of manners. It was nearly suffocating, the feel of the offending fabric overwhelming all your other senses. It only left you with the urge to get rid of them and free your body of the confines.

"God, I'm so hot." Murmuring against his lips, you made to pull off your sweatshirt, leaving you only in your bra.

Bucky only gazed at your chest in wonder for a moment, eyes shining bright. "Fuck, you're perfect." His face landed on your chest, nipping and sucking right above the swell of your breasts. Hands went around your back to unclasp your bra, taking it off you and chucking it across the in record time.

You released a contented sigh as the cool conditioned air swept over your hot skin, the feel of Bucky's lips on your skin even more heavenly. His lips left a wet trail as he traveled down to the valley between your breasts. Your head tilted back, fingers raking through his fluffy hair to grip them tightly. Aroused even further, you could feel your panties getting damp as you rocked your hips further over his erection.

"Get me out of these clothes, Bucky. Please! It's getting too hot." The metal armed man heeded your requests, knowing that the pollen had started affecting you now, knowing exactly what you needed. Not wasting any more time, he made quick work of discarding your sweats and panties before undressing himself.

Bucky threw you down on the bed, your back hitting the mattress with a bounce. With an unsuppressed growl, he climbed on top of your small form, his broad shoulders and tall frame almost covering every bit of you, his hard cock resting heavily on your thigh. You whimpered beneath him, intimidated by his large frame in the most arousing of ways.

Bucky loved feeling your bare pressed into him, your small body quivering beneath him with a desire, a need only he could quell. "You're so fucking beautiful, baby." He breathed, lips attached to your neck, shrouding your delicate skin with hickeys. Hands wandered down your sides until he reached your core. A loud gasp left your lips as his fingers touched your bundle of nerves, stroking it skillfully and steadily.

You could feel your wetness seeping out of you little by little, the insides of your thighs already slick from your arousal. Though it was greatly appreciated, you didn't need him to make you anymore wet. All you wanted, all you needed was him stretching and filling you to your limit on his erection.

"I need you inside me. Need your cock filling me, Bucky." You whimpered under him.

"Easy, baby," He chuckled, "I'm not gonna fuck you without tasting you, making you cum on my fingers, pretty girl." And with that, he slid down your body, kneeling on the floor. Taking a hold of your legs, he dragged you down until your pussy was in his reach, all his for the taking. Resting your legs on his shoulders, he went to town.

You let out a loud, broken moan as Bucky licked a long stripe through your slit. He firmly attached his mouth to your bundle of nerves. The moist, strong muscle of his tongue drew round patterns on your clit, occasionally sucking it into the heat of his mouth.

Bucky and you were lost in each other, uncaring of the world around you. Bunching the sheets by your head, your head turned to sideways of its own accord, your body reaping the pleasures he gave you. So much so that only then did you notice your other two friends sitting on the mini couch in your room. Even from a distance, you could see the outlines of their erections, the thin material of the grey Shield sweats doing nothing to hide them. Their shirts discarded, they both palmed their erections through the fabric, a mix of discomfort and arousal on their faces. It only made your mouth water more. Extending your hand, you called out to them "Sam, Steve…"

Exchanging a glance, the men stayed rooted to their spots. It was only after another desperate call of yours that Sam's resolve broke. Striding across the room in long steps, Sam was at your side within moments. Clutching your extended hand, he brought it to his lips. "My baby girl's enjoying herself, hmm?"

Squeezing his hand, you replied, "Want you too, Sam." A wanton moan escaped your lips right then as Bucky worked magic down below.

Sam smirked. "All greedy, my baby girl is, isn't she? Always wants more and more and more."

You pathetically nodded your head in response, anything to get his hands and lips on your body. Any and all rational thoughts had left your being, leaving behind an unbridled desire, a thirst which could only be satiated by the three men.

Sam couldn't hold himself back as he saw the yearning on your face, a dazed look in your eyes, a sweet little pout on your lips. Grabbing your neck harshly, he pulled you into a long, bruising kiss.

You gasped at the suddenness, but it didn't take long for you to kiss back just as enthusiastically. His hands streamed your body as if memorizing every curve and plain, occasionally stopping at your breasts to squeeze them. You would whimper into his mouth every time he did that, and he would grin into the kiss. He turned your body a bit to the side as he laid down beside you, only enough so that you'd be comfortable and Bucky would still have space.

You grew a little bolder, deciding to creep your hand down your bodies and gripping Sam's erection through his sweats. The new Captain America choked on nothing but air in surprise. Instantly pulling away, he looked at you to find a shy grin already playing on your face, lips caught in between your teeth. You never ceased rubbing his shaft as you looked at him. Sam groaned. "You're gonna be the death of me, baby girl."

Your grin turned brighter in response. Tugging at the waistband, you whined, "Take these off Sammy, need to feel all of you against me."

Sam didn't delay in heeding to your whims, needing himself to get out of the constricting cloth. Discarding it, he quickly resumed his position beside, taking your lips in a hungry, heated kiss. Fingers running over his thick member, you took it in your hands, gripping and stroking it with a tad bit more pressure than necessary, but it was exactly what Sam needed to relieve himself. The protruding veins of his member were prominent, making your mind salivate at only the thought of his veins pulsing inside your pussy.

Something about seeing the way Sam kissed you, bordering on rough and eager. The way his palms squeezed your tits, his fingers playing with your nipples. The way your hand pumped his cock, wrist flicking, occasionally fondling his heavy balls as well, drawing out gravely moans from his throat. The way your face contorted into a mix of pleasure and bliss, a hint of longing still persisting. It spurred on Bucky even more, his length twitching.

The man in between your knees took his own uncomfortably hard cock and stroked it. After giving himself a moment of relief, Bucky left his cock to circle his arms around your thighs, diving into your core with renewed passion.

You couldn't lay still from the sensations coursing through you. Hands roaming your body, a tongue playing skillfully with your own while another working mercilessly with your clit. It was too fucking much to stay still. Your body quivered beneath the two men, your hips rising off the bed. You were yourself confused if you were pulling away from Bucky's touch or rushing towards it.

Regardless, Bucky's hand splayed over your stomach, keeping you in place. But it wasn't enough. Your body was too excited to stay in one place. "Sam, hold her down." Bucky said.

Sam lifted your hand off his cock, bringing both your hands above your head. Crossing them, he clutching both your wrists in one hand simply. The other pushed you on the bed so that you completely laid on your back, before going back to your breast and teasing your nipple. You whimpered at the change in position. Sam clicked his tongue softly. "Shh, it's for your own good. Just enjoy it, baby."

And enjoy, you did.

Sam went back to kissing you furiously, his hands alternating between your breasts, taking turns in playing with your pebble hard nipples. Bucky ate you like a man starved. His tongue pressed down hard on your bundle of nerves, alternating between flicking and swirling it in the most pleasurable of angles. The moist heat of his mouth enveloped you. Tongue attached to your clit, at times he would shake his head too to stimulate you further.

You were truly, blissfully overwhelmed. The Falcon and the Winter Soldier took your body to new heights, closer and closer to your peak.

Thereafter, It didn't take long for your body to tip off the edge, pure pleasure coursing through your veins as your orgasm washed over you. Sam pulled back to see the blissed out expression of your face, loving the way your closed shut and your mouth opened, your toes curling as you moaned loudly, your hips bucking into Bucky's face. The man lapped at your pussy, slurping your release directly from the source, not missing one single drop of it. He moaned at your taste, his vibrations flowing through you, only prolonging your first orgasm of the night.

The first of many.

Chapter 3

Don’t worry, Steve will join the fun soon!

Blog’s Main Masterlist || Tag lists

I’m taking requests if you want a particular kink to be featured. Send me an ask or text me for the same or to be tagged.

Thank you for reading!

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tummy-stuffing-king · 3 years

Text

All Day Stuffing: Chapter 2- Lunch

Chapter 1

For lunch, you go to a Mexican restaurant. As you and your partner settle into the red vinyl booth, the waiter approaches with a basket of chips and a couple small saucers of salsa.

“What can I get you guys to drink today?” he asks as he sets them down.

“They’ll have a coke, and just a water for me.” your partner says before you can even open your mouth. They flash you a grin and you smile in return.

“Great, anything else?”

“A large bowl of queso as well, please” your partner replies.

“Alright, that’ll be out in just a minute.” Your partner thanks them as they head off to the kitchen.

At the thought of queso, your mouth begins to water, despite the lingering fullness from breakfast. You can feel your belly pressing lightly against the waistband of your jeans and your abdomen is nicely rounded under the maternity shirt. You already have the beginnings of a muffin top poking out.

“Here. These are for you.” Your partner pushes the basket of chips across the table to you. You groan as the smell hits you. They’re still warm, and the smell of oil and salt is mesmerizing.

You pick up a chip but pause. “You don’t want any?”

They smile. “I’ll steal a couple, but remember it’s my job today to feed you, darling. And I want you to be eating these chips from now until your entree gets her, and finish off the last basket after that too, got it?”

You nod in faux seriousness. “Aye aye captain.” With that you scoop up some salsa and shove the oversized chip in your mouth. As you eat, you rest your hand on your belly, feeling as it ever so slowly expands. At some point the water drops off your soda and a new basket of chips, along with the queso, and you eagerly dig in. The cheese is thick and spicy and delicious, and you can feel your belly grow with every bubbly sip of coke.

The waiter comes by again as you’re nearing the end of the second basket of chips. The queso is long gone, and you’re on the third bowl of salsa.

“Are you ready to order?” It seems as though he may be eyeing you, but you refuse to acknowledge it and shove another chip in your mouth.

“Yeah, they’ll have the triple enchilada meal with beans and rice, and I will have the steak burrito.”

“Great choice. Would you like some more chips before that comes out?”

Your partner glances at you before replying and their lips twitch into a smile. “Yes please.”

“I’ll be right back with that then.” he says, and steps away.

You scrounge up the last few chip shards in the bottom of the basket and drop them into your mouth before sighing and leaning back, your hand absently rubbing your stomach.

“Oh don’t tell me you’re full already,” your partner teases, watching your hand on your belly.

“No.” You sit upright again, but pause wincing. Your meal hasn’t even come yet and your jeans are already painfully tight against your midsection, and there’s a very noticeable muffin top below your ribs. “No, I’m not, I just need to free up some space is all.” As discreetly as you can, you reach under your belly-molded shirt to undo your pants button. As it comes loose, the zipper slides down of its own accord and your tummy plops onto your thighs, heavy and soft. You pull down the hem of your shirt and tuck it up underneath your belly, creating a very clear outline of it under the stretchy material.

“Whew, much better.” You give your belly a couple pats for good measure, and lean forward in your seat, putting your elbows on the table and resting your chin on your hands.

“Good.” Your partner leans forward as well. “It would be a shame for you to fill up now when there’s still so much growing to do.” They reach out their hand as if to try and touch your stomach, but stop halfway across the table. You’re too far away here, and this isn’t the place anyways. They’d be able to touch you properly later.

The waiter returns with more chips and a new round of drinks, and you get back to work. This food isn’t going to eat itself after all. You mindlessly down chip after chip, taking sips of your coke every few bites as your partner watches, eyes flicking between your stomach and your face.

There are only a few chips left when the waiter returns holding your entrees. You both scramble to shove debris out of the way so he can set down your plates, and sit up in anticipation.

“Careful, they’re hot,” he says as he lays them down on the table. “Will you be needing anything else?”

“Just some more refills,” your partner replies. “Thank you.”

As the waiter heads off again, you unwrap your utensils from their napkin and survey your plate. The three enchiladas are all different flavours, one sour cream, one salsa verde, and one mole, each filled with a different meat as well.

You start with the sour cream, the chicken inside savoury and roasted to perfection, full of onions and peppers and exploding with spices. You moan with delight as the flavours mix and contrast to perfection, and before you know it the whole thing is gone. Desperately you scoop up the last of the sauce left on the plate.

“Woah now, slow down there, you don’t want to fill yourself up too quick. You have to save room for the rest of it.”

You lean back and take a couple gulps of your soda before letting out a belch, barely stifled by your hand. “Oops, ‘scuse me.” The pressure in your gut relents somewhat, but you lean back for a minute, rubbing your belly and letting it settle before you go back for more.

“Don’t get too overeager or you won’t be able to enjoy yourself.”

“Oh, don’t worry about me enjoying myself. Believe me, that’s the furthest concern from my mind.”

You let out another burp as you sit back up straight, scooting forward again in the booth. Before you can regain your position, however, your belly bumps against the edge of the table. Sitting up, your belly now protrudes far out onto your lap. You hadn’t even noticed, you were so enraptured by the food.

You glance up and your partner is staring, a flush creeping across their cheeks. They clear their throat, trying to collect themself. “I guess you really are starting to fill out that shirt, huh?”

You look down again. It was true; the formerly loose folds of the maternity shirt were now stretched taut in the middle, a smooth dome resting upon your lap.

“What, this?” you ask, pushing your hands between your belly and your thighs. “This isn’t all that much.” You lift your hands a couple times, feeling the new weight, several pounds pushing your abdomen outward, watching the loose muscles jiggle just a bit. There wasn’t much give with so much food packed inside. Despite your words, your stomach is actually quite full, and you can feel the pressure of it just below your chest and the slight strain on your back. You pick up your fork and lean forward. These enchiladas aren’t going to eat themselves, after all.

You eat the other two enchiladas, rubbing your belly continuously, partially to help soothe it, but mostly because you simply can’t keep your hands off of your growing gut. The feeling of your usually flat stomach, now distended, is a marvel. You keep running your hand along it, down the sides and up over the top, just to feel how expansive it is, how much you’ve managed to change it in such a short period of time.

Before you know it your plate is empty except for the last traces of sauce along the bottom. You let out a sigh and lean back in your seat again. The movement reminds you sharply of the discomfort of your gut, the heavy weight of it pressing in on your lungs and stretching your abdominals to their max.

You look up at your partner, tearing your eyes away from the mound of your belly, and find them looking back across the table at you. Half their burrito is still on their plate.A slow smile spreads across their face.

When dessert arrives, a heaping plate of soft, sugary sopapillas, you can’t stop yourself. Despite the shortness of breath and the persistent ache in your middle and the growing sleepiness you are beginning to succumb to, it simply takes more willpower than you possess to resist. Your partner knows this. You know your partner knows this. And as the honey drips down your face and hands you can’t help but moan and continue until the plate is empty.

When you finally shove the platter away and attempt to clean yourself of the sticky residue, you are panting. The last few bites had been difficult to swallow and you can still feel them resisting the confines of your stomach, but you hold in a burp and force them to settle.

At length the dishes are cleared away and the bill is paid and it is time to leave. You stand from the booth, wavering slightly at the altered center of gravity, before your partner catches your arm and glides their hand around your waist. As you make your way out of the restaurant, their hand rubs discreet circles against your side as you lean against them. The zipper of your jeans is spread wide under your shirt and biting in slightly to the tender flesh of your belly. The maternity shirt could hardly be called oversized now.

You’re tight and uncomfortable, but also sated in a way you rarely get to be. Settling into the car, contentment washes over you and drowsiness pulls you down before you’ve even left the parking lot.

#my post #text #fic #all day stuffing #stuffing #tight clothes #public #belly kink #round belly #stuffed belly #bloated belly

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jayeray-hq · 3 years

Text

Bass Down Low

Hey everyone! Welcome to my part of the new NSFW Anilysium Server Collab! The theme for it this time is "Band/Tattoo/Badass"! Please check out some of the other amazing writers and artists in the collab by following the link!

If you like my writing for Terushima, check out my other stories in his character masterlist!

Tattooed Bass Guitar Player Terushima x Sassy Confident fem!reader

Tiny tiny bit of angst, but mostly fluff and smut

Warnings: NSFW 18+ minors dni! Grinding, dry humping, making out, slight exhibitionism, switch Terushima, switch reader, male nipple piercings, cock piercing, blowjobs, cunnilingus, overstimulation, vaginal sex, biting, scratching/pain kink

13K+ words

You could feel the bass as it thrummed through the air, making your whole body feel like it was vibrating. The energy was absolutely electric as you soaked in the music and the wild energy of the crowd as it pulsed and moved around you. Bodies were packed in fairly close and you could feel sweat dripping down your back, sticking to your neck and dewing at your temples.

Glancing over you saw your friend sandwiched between two good looking people clearly having the time of her life, lips locked with the person in front of her as they all ground together. You huffed in amusement, glad the two of you had already agreed you’d need to find your way home separately, otherwise you had the feeling you might’ve accidentally been left behind, that or you’d be the awkward third party to whatever was going on there.

Still despite how difficult leaving was going to be, and the sticky feeling of your clothes on your sweaty skin you didn’t regret coming for a minute. You’d been looking forward to coming to this music festival for ages and now that you were finally here you couldn’t get enough. Some of your favorite bands had played, and there were going to be even more in the coming days, you couldn’t wait.

You let yourself move with the music, swirling and rocking your hips, hands in the air as a bubble of laughter burst from your lips. You felt almost drunk on euphoria despite not touching a single drop of alcohol. You’d decided early on not to drink anything but water because you didn’t want to miss or forget a single moment of the experience.

A warm hand settled on your waist, pulling you out of your rhythm and you glanced back, to see someone standing behind you. It was full dark out, the only lights the ones coming from the stage, and a few overhead. However, despite the darkness you could make out an angular jaw, dark eyes and the golden color of his hair, along with the black ink creeping out of the neckline of his tank and up his throat, and spiraling down his shoulders and arms.

Just the sight of all that pretty ink was enough to make you feel incredibly attracted to the stranger, but the fact that he hadn’t come right up and started grinding on you without so much as a by-your-leave was definitely a bonus in your book, a courtesy you fully intended to reward as you rocked your ass back into the cradle of his hips, grinding yourself into him.

“I’ll take that to mean I can dance with you, sexy?” he half-asked, half-shouted in order to be heard over the music.

You didn’t bother to respond verbally, not wanting to shout to be heard, instead flashing him a smile, and grabbing hold of his other hand setting it easily on the curve of your waist. You noted with fascination and a pulse of liquid heat that he was wearing several rings on his fingers and had tattoos on his hands as well.

He was a surprisingly good dancer, his body moving fluidly with yours, hands resting solidly on your hips, just enough to flow without taking control of your movements. They never strayed from your hips either, remaining firmly in place as the two of you moved. You lifted your hands into the air and leaned back against his chest, finding a solid wall of lean muscle as you hooked one of your arms around his neck and curling your fingers through the surprisingly silky strands at the back of his head.

Your entire body felt hot, and when you turned to look at him, the intense look in his dark eyes sent a pulse of desire through you. You weren’t sure if it was the music, the adrenaline, or the heat of his hands on your hips, but you surged forward to press your mouth to his.

He met you eagerly, his mouth hot against yours, as you continued to grind back into him automatically. The hands on your hips pulled you closer removing any distance between the two of you, so that your ass was pressed right up against the cradle of his hips, and you could feel his solid length, hard against your rear.

You moaned into his mouth, incredibly turned on, as he took over the rhythm of your grinding, taking advantage of your open mouth to tease his tongue against your upper lip. You immediately jerked back in surprise, pulling yourself out of his grip so you could turn around.

It was hard to tell, but you thought your dance partner looked startled by your sudden departure, his hands raised as if to show he meant you no harm. You weren’t at all worried about that though, thoroughly distracted by what you’d thought you felt, You surged forward, guided by the press of the crowd and looped your arms around his neck.

Closer now you could see his eyebrows arched in surprise, a glint of wariness in his eyes that disappeared as your hand caressed his jaw, thumb gently pressing on his lower lip in question. He immediately flashed you a cocky smirk, and opened for you, sticking out his tongue and revealing the metal you’d felt against your lip.

“That’s so hot,” you told him, your lips pressed close to his ear so he could hear you.

“I know,” he shouted back with a smirk, before surging forward to reclaim your lips again.

You met him eagerly, immediately opening your mouth, eager to see what he could do with the enticing piece of jewelry through his tongue. He didn’t disappoint, tongue twining and rubbing against yours, the slick sensation of metal strange but not at all unpleasant as he teased it expertly over your tongue.

You hummed in delight as you twined your arms around his neck, fingers running through his hair as you pressed yourself tightly up against him, not even bothering with the music anymore, thoroughly distracted by the taste and feel of him against you.

His hands dipped lower, sliding into the back pockets of your jeans and when you didn’t protest he began to knead your ass, using his grip to hold you tight to his hips and press himself against your belly. You leaned against him, bracing more of your weight so you could lift one of your legs and wrap it around his hips, earning a groan of pleasure that you felt more than heard, the sound rumbling through his chest.

Your hands dipped lower, feeling the strong muscle of his back, and letting your head tip to the side, as he pressed open mouthed kisses along your jaw, nipping at the sensitive skin as his lips found the column of your throat. Breathy sighs and gasps left your lips as you ground your hips against him, seeking friction for your aching cunt. You could feel how wet you were, and were suddenly grateful you’d worn shorts rather than a skirt otherwise you would’ve been dripping down your thighs.

You whined as he found the perfect spot on your neck, hands digging into his back as he nipped and sucked at it, teasing it with the smooth metal of his piercing as his hands guided your hips in just the right way to stimulate your clit, the seam of your shorts pressing into you deliciously with every movement of his hips.

Your whole body felt like it was on fire, and you were absolutely sure you could come just like this. Unfortunately right as you were about to reach your peak the roar of the crowd took an upswing, and you realized the band that had been playing was finished. You grimaced at having to stop, but figured you owed the band its due recognition. They’d been very good, and so you applauded and cheered along with the rest of the crowd.

The announcer told you there would be a quick fifteen-minute break before the next set, and you turned toward your dance partner, an offer to leave together and finish what you’d started on the tip of your tongue only to find the most horrified look on his face. Your heart dropped, wondering if you’d somehow done something wrong as his face swiveled between you and the stage.

You’d been about to back away, thinking you might as well use the crowd to escape the awkward situation you were in, when he surged forward to grip your hand.

“Come with me?” he half-asked, half-demanded, a determined light in his eyes that made you a bit nervous.

“Come with you where?” you asked, suddenly wary despite the fact that you’d been about to offer the same thing just seconds ago.

“I don’t really have time to explain,” he told you sheepishly, “But I swear you’re safe with me. Just trust me for a bit and I’ll show you exactly what this baby can do.”

He waggled his tongue at you for emphasis, brandishing his piercing, and you couldn’t help the snort of amusement that left you. You searched his face for a few seconds, but in the end decided, despite his slightly rougher appearance that there was an earnestness in his gaze that you felt could be trusted.

“All right,” you agreed, “But if you try anything funny I’ll kick your ass.”

“That’s hot,” he told you, a little wide-eyed and clearly lustful, not the reaction you were expecting, “I knew you were something special little miss sexy. Don’t worry, the only thing you might have to be afraid of is how any other man will measure up after you’ve had me.”

You huffed a laugh at that, amused despite yourself, and a little turned on by his confidence, as you agreed, “Well then, how could I say no to an offer like that? Lead the way then mister hot shot.

He flashed you a delighted grin that was more boyish and charming than you’d expected as he moved to do as he was told, keeping a strong grip on your hand as he expertly weaved his way through the crowd. You got a little worried when he started to lead you out and around, worried about the slowly thinning herd of people, which would mean a lack of witnesses if something went wrong.

However, he didn’t lead you out and away, instead pulling you towards a security guard who was chatting with a worried looking man with neat dark hair and glasses, whose eyes were darting around, clearly searching for something or someone.

His worried look faded away into relieved exasperation as he spotted the two of you, his eyes skimming over you briefly before turning all his attention to the man dragging you along by the hand, “Terushima! How many times do I have to tell you, you can’t just go wandering off right before the set starts!”

“Relax Anabara,” your guide, whose name was apparently Terushima, told the older man, far too casually for someone who was being lectured, “I got back in time didn’t I?”

“Barely,” Anabara hissed back, “you’re cutting it awfully close. Why do you need to go wandering off anyway?”

“Wanted to get a look at the stage and get a feel for the crowd,” he admitted with a shrug and a grin, “Energy’s way hot tonight, and I managed to run into someone interesting too.”

That immediately redirected both of their attention to you. You were still clutching Terushima’s hand, but were starting to feel like you shouldn’t be, as you finally put two and two together, your hold on him loosening slightly in response as you turned to him and blurted, “You’re in a band?!”

“You’re looking at Johzenji’s best bass player, and main song writer,” he told you smugly, a pleased smirk on his face.

You tried to find words, but couldn’t, utterly flabbergasted. You’d heard of Johzenji, an up and coming band who had a wild energetic sound, and you’d listened to and liked some of their music in preparation for the festival, but you hadn’t actually looked up the band members themselves.

“The rest of the band is waiting,” Anabara told him, clear impatience in his voice as he gestured for the blond to follow, “The rest are all warming up, you need to be out there too.”

“Yeah, yeah keep your hair on,” Terushima told him with a smirk before turning to you, “Come on, I’ll get you all settled backstage, it’ll be the best seat in the house I promise.”

“I’m not so sure that’s a good idea,” you told him, grip loosening on his hand in preparation to let go, acutely aware of the disapproving gaze of Anabara, who you assumed was a manager of some sort, boring into the side of your head.

“It’s not that I don’t appreciate the offer,” you told him hurriedly, as the smirk slipped off his face leaving something disbelieving and a little hurt in its place, one that tugged your heartstrings, which was surprising considering you’d only known him for an hour or two at most, “But you need to get going. Good luck with the set I’m sure it’ll be amazing.”

“W-wait!” he managed to catch your hand before you’d completely tugged free, his eyes, which in the light you could now see were a pretty cinnamon brown color, were pleading as he asked, “Please come back with me? I know I sprang this on you out of the blue, but I really felt a connection with you. After the set, we’ll clear things up, so just come watch me okay?”

The more rational part of you wanted to scoff. He was really laying it on thick, cheesy line after cheesy line. You’d found each other in a crowd, danced and made out for a bit, that was all. So maybe you’d felt a little something too, it was the reason you’d let him lead you away from the crowd, but that was just the music, the energy of the crowd right?

Your eyes flitted to where Anabara was standing, but Terushima apparently caught your intention and shifted his hand to block your view, the tattooed appendage coming up to push a strand of hair behind your ear, this thumb caressing your jaw, eyes boring into yours as he asked, “Please?”

Against your better judgement you found yourself nodding, almost hypnotized by the incredibly attractive man, whose every touch seemed to send tingles of electricity through your veins. The smile he offered you was another of those delighted boyish grins and you found yourself tugged along behind him again. To your surprise Anabara didn’t bother to protest, simply shaking his head, sighing and following along behind the two of you.

It was incredibly busy backstage as everyone hustled around in a kind of coordinated chaos as one band left the stage and Johzenji got ready to enter. True to his word Terushima found you a spot that would give you a good view of most of the stage, pressed a water bottle into your hands and a quick surprisingly sweet kiss to your lips before bounding off, though not before assuring you, wide smug grin back on his face, that you were in for the ride of your life.

You watched as he bounded over to people who had to be his bandmates, idly sipping at your water, and taking everything in. One of the guys immediately captured Terushima in a headlock, playfully wrestling around for a bit, the group tussling together, before a sharp word from a pretty girl holding a clipboard sent them all scurrying off to warm-up.

For someone so seemingly lighthearted, Terushima was surprisingly serious as he started to warm up, picking up his black bass guitar, the yellow and white tribal pattern on the body a clear imitation of the ink that bloomed over his fingers. His face was extremely concentrated as talented fingers plucked at the strings, dancing over the instrument with ease and familiarity. It was incredibly attractive, and you couldn’t help pressing your water to your neck, hoping it would help cool you down a bit and stop you from salivating.

You were slowly but surely acclimatizing to the fact that he was in a band, your shock wearing off and leaving the burning attraction you’d felt from the very first moment he’d put his hands on you in the crowd bubbling to the surface again.

“Impressive, isn’t he?” the words jolted you out of your enraptured staring at his fingers, and made you realize the pretty girl from before had come to stand next to you. She was still holding her clipboard, and her eyes weren’t on you, but on the band flitting between members, clearly checking in on them.

“I mean yes?” you said hesitantly, unsure why she’d decided to speak to you, and a little uncomfortable with the look on her face, which was set in a frown.

“So where’d he pick you up?” she asked sharply, clear disapproval in her eyes as she turned toward you, “The parking lot? Hanging around the trailers? Get caught sneaking back stage? Let me tell you something groupie, you’re not going to get anything else from Terushima or from Johzenji, so enjoy the show or whatever, but make sure you get lost after.”

“What?” you asked, baffled, but unwilling to allow yourself to be cowed in the face of her tirade as you snapped back, “As a matter of fact I was out in the audience minding my own business. I didn’t even know who Johzenji was before I got tickets to this music festival! I didn’t know who Terushima was until Anabara said something, he was the one who came up to dance with me not the other way around, so I suggest you back up with your assumptions.”

The girl looked surprised, brown eyes wide in her pretty face as you huffed out an annoyed sigh, your displeasure overtaking your more base urges once again as you questioned whether you should be there. A quick glance at Terushima showed he was still entirely focused on his warm-up, he didn’t look like he’d notice anything let alone you.

You didn’t belong here, and both Anabara and whoever this girl was had made it pretty clear you weren’t welcome either. It didn’t help that her words implied that Terushima brought girls back pretty often, so much for ‘feeling a connection’ it really had been the line it sounded like. You couldn’t help the slight bitterness of your thoughts as you wondered how many women he’d used it on before and feeling a bit stupid for falling for it.

If it looked like a duck, walked like a duck, and quacked like a duck, odds were it was a duck. Terushima looked like a stereotypical bad boy with an overinflated ego, swaggered like one, and even laid down stupid, misleading lines like one. While you’d technically only hoped to get a good lay out of this and nothing more, you did have standards.

That in mind you decided, no matter how good the music was or how exciting it had initially been to be back stage, it wasn’t worth it. Spinning on your heel you began to walk away, fully intent on writing it off as a bad night, and feeling more than a little bitter about how running into Terushima had decidedly ruined your night and your enjoyment of the festival.

“Where are you going?” the question was voiced by a familiar male voice, Anabara had apparently come up beside you some time while you were lost in your own head, making quiet plans to never support Johzenji ever again, “Surely Terushima told you not to wander around back here?”

“I’m leaving,” you informed him flatly, utterly fed up, “I wasn’t entirely comfortable coming back here in the first place, and now I’m even more uncomfortable, so if you could point me to the exit I’d appreciate it. Hell, you can even have security escort me to make sure I don’t do anything weird since you’re all apparently so paranoid about it, but I would very much like to never see you or anyone else involved with Johzenji ever again please and thank you.”

Anabara’s eyebrows, which had been settled in a disapproving frown, immediately flew upwards in shock, seemingly rendered speechless, though you weren’t sure if that was for your words or the rude tone you’d used. A part of you felt bad for it, but you were at the end of your rope, one make-out session and the promise of a night of good sex wasn’t worth all this drama no matter how talented he was with his tongue or the backstage pass he’d gotten you.

“You can’t leave,” the girl blurted out, hurriedly maneuvering in front of you and holding her arms out to seemingly block your path, “You have no idea what that will do to Terushima if he looks over and you’re not here! It’ll throw his entire performance off!”

“Weren’t you the one who just called me a groupie and implied I was some kind of whore he picked up in the parking lot?” you asked sarcastically, “Forgive me if I don’t give a shit.”

“Really Hana?” Anabara asked heaving a pained sigh at the girl, whose name was apparently Hana, “I understand not approving of Terushima’s habits, but this was neither the time nor the place, and she shouldn’t have been the one you brought it up to. It’s not her fault.”

You relaxed a bit at that, surprised but pleased, some of your anger seeping away. A lot of times women got blamed for men’s promiscuous behavior, when the man was the one to blame. You were glad to see it wasn’t actually like that here.

“You’re right,” Hana agreed, with a pained grimace before turning to you, “I apologize, I was rude. The last few women Terushima brought back either stole things, or decided to act crazy and possessive both with Terushima and with other band members. I shouldn’t have assumed.”

“It’s alright,” you assured her, even as your opinion of Terushima plummeted even further. If he had that kind of history no wonder she’d been so upset and on guard when she saw you. You would’ve been angry too if you had to deal with that, your anger with her leeching away, “Sounds like you’ve been through a lot.”

“You have no idea,” she told you fervently, heaving a sigh before pleading, “Please, will you stay? It really will throw Terushima off if you’re not here, and while he might deserve that, the some of the other band members don’t, and the audience certainly doesn’t.”

You grimaced, a little unsure. While you didn’t feel nearly as angry or bitter as before you also still had standards. If you stayed it would imply you wanted to have sex with him, which at this point was pretty much off the table.

“If it helps, Terushima may be a player with terrible taste in women, but he won’t pressure you if you say no after,” Hana assured you, apparently reading your mind.

Thinking about it, and the respectful way he’d danced with you, and kissed you always courteous you found you agreed with what she said, and before you knew it found yourself agreeing to stay, much to Hana and Anabara’s visible relief.

Hana quickly guided you back to your spot, and much friendlier now, began to explain some of the things that were going on as the band got set up. She also named the members for you as she realized you’d told the truth and didn’t actually know who any of them were. You found yourself liking the kind, if stern girl a lot, and the way she was clearly a huge fan, both of the band and the music they made, had you hyped up right along with her, ready to see what they could do.

The energy between her and the crowd which were starting to slowly become more and more hyped up as it became clear the band was going to start, was absolutely electric, and you could feel yourself getting hyped up again.

Terushima, who’d seemed to be in his own little world the moment he’d picked up his instrument, finally glanced up as the lead singer, who you suspected was Hana’s boyfriend from the way she’d gushed about him earlier, tapped him on the shoulder clearly asking if he was ready.

Even from the distance you were at you could see the cockiness in Terushima’s smirk as someone plugged him into the amplifier. His fingers immediately moved over the strings, playing a dizzying array of notes and cords in quick succession, the sound loud enough to feel in your bones earning an immediate roar of approval from the audience, which somehow sounded even louder from the stage than it had been when you were standing with them.

Terushima gave the audience a tongue lolling grin flashing his piercing to them, his eyes cutting over to where you were standing with Hana. You raised an eyebrow at him finding yourself drawn in, in spite of yourself giving him a challenging smirk of your own and a ‘bring it on’ gesture clearly inviting him to give you this so called ‘ride of your life’ that he’d promised your before. He looked shocked for a second before a wide grin crossed his face, clearly accepting your challenge.

You watched a little enthralled, the way good music always made you feel as they started to play their set, your hips beginning to rock automatically to the sound of the bass. Up close you could see why Johzenji was shooting to the top, it was clear they were all talented and passionate about their music throwing themselves into it with everything they had.

However, despite wanting to look at the others your eyes seemed almost magnetized to Terushima, drawn back to him each and every time no matter what. It was clear he was having the time of his life, jumping all around the stage, flashing that pierced tongue, his dexterous fingers working over the strings of his instrument in a way that was utterly enthralling as a part of you wondered if his skill with his fingers might translate over to something a little more carnal.

It didn’t help that he kept glancing over at you, his gaze clearly a challenge daring you to try to look away from him. There was something hot and heavy in his eyes, something that told you the answer to your question was yes, and that he couldn’t wait to show you.

You could feel yourself getting almost unbearably hot in a way that had nothing to do with the heat of the lights bleeding off the stage, or the summer night air, your body seemingly pulsing in time to the music and the notes of his bass guitar. The air practically electric, your skin hypersensitive as if you could feel the waves of sound on your skin.

You hadn’t realized their set was long enough that they were doing a fifteen minute intermission of sorts where band members would chat one by one with the audience, talking about their music and answering a few fan questions they’d gotten on their Tweeter account.

Thus you were entirely unprepared when Terushima set down his instrument and came bounding off stage. You barely had time to blink before he was on you, strong hands finding your hips, slipping into the back pockets of your jean shorts to grope your ass as he pulled you close.

His lips were on yours before you’d really had time to process, and you found yourself returning his kiss enthusiastically, unable to resist his magnetism and the electric feeling of his hands on you and his lips on yours. One of your hands tangled with his hair and you tugged it, not caring a bit about the sweat slicked strands, well aware you were equally sweaty, too enraptured by the heat between the two of you to care about a little sweat.

It was only when a loud cough broke through your lustful haze that you remembered that you weren’t supposed to be kissing Terushima at all. You quickly pulled away, kicking yourself, both for your loss of composure and for making a scene in front of all his bandmates outside the lead singer, who was the only one on stage at the moment, and Hana who was watching the two of you with raised eyebrows.

“So you’re the girl huh?” one of his bandmates asked, eying you with interest.

“Yes, she’s female,” Hana cut in, to your relief, “And you can gawk later, you have less than ten minutes to get yourselves refreshed so you can take over and Okudake can have his well-deserved break too.”

Terushima groaned, and while Hana’s stern look sent the others scrambling to obey, he was clearly more resistant as he refused to let go, clinging on to you in a way that almost would’ve been cute if you hadn’t cottoned on to what a womanizer he was.

“Well?” Hana demanded, hands on hips, “You heard me Terushima, get a move on.”

“Go on,” you urged, moving to extract yourself from his hold.

“No way!” he protested, turning betrayed eyes on you, his grip firming for just a minute before reluctantly starting to loosen, “You haven’t even told me how amazing I am yet.”

“I guess you’re not bad,” you told him with a casual shrug, unable to resist teasing even as the more rational part of you was screaming about how this was a terrible idea, and that you had no plans of having any sort of relationship with him sexual or not, so shouldn’t be flirting with him.

“Not bad?” He squawked, clearly outraged, “I’ll show you not bad little miss sexy, I told you I’m gonna rock your entire world.”

“You’re not going to be rocking anything if you collapse from dehydration hot stuff,” you informed him dryly, shoving at his chest until he let go, though he was clearly pouting about it, “Go. Water, snacks, refresh, move it.”

“You’re as cruel as Hana,” Terushima told you, sulkily, before plastering on another cocky smirk as he acquiesced, “But fine, I’ll do what you say, so long as you promise not to take your eyes off me for the second half of the set.”

“Sure, sure,” you agreed with a casual eye roll, unable to keep amusement from bleeding into your voice as you ushered him away. He went, though not without one last toe curling kiss and a quick grope of your ass.

“You’re really good with him,” Hana’s speculative voice distracted you from watching Terushima walk away, and you felt heat in your cheeks as you realized she’d caught you gawking at him.

“I uh….” You floundered, trying to find the words to defend yourself, especially when you’d been so adamant before about not having sex with Terushima.

“It’s okay you know,” she assured you, a strange look on her face that you couldn’t quite decipher, “You wouldn’t be the first to get swept up in his charisma, and no one could blame you for having a casual fling. I certainly can’t judge given my own relationship.”

She had a point. It was your body after all and one night couldn’t hurt, especially with the chemistry between the two of you, still you did have some concerns.

“He’s clean if you were wondering,” Hana informed you casually, apparently fully able to read your mind despite only knowing you for an hour or two at most, “Terushima’s always been a player, but he’s also always been meticulous about his health, and the reputation of the band. He may act like an irresponsible idiot when it comes to women, but the band means a lot to him.”

“He does seem really passionate about it,” you acknowledged, refusing to think about the heat in your cheeks or the way your eyes kept coming back to Terushima as he hurriedly gulped down his drink and horsed around a bit with the drummer before charging back out on stage to interact with the audience.

“The band means everything to all of them,” Hana told you, with a fond smile for Okudake who only paused for a moment to kiss her cheek before heading for refreshments, confirming your suspicions about their relationship, “It’s their dream.”

“I can see that,” you mused thoughtfully, watching as Terushima practically bounced around the stage like a child on a sugar high, hyping up the audience like none other.

“I think maybe I might’ve given you the wrong impression earlier,” she admitted, the words making you pull your attention away from Terushima and focus solely on her, “Terushima isn’t actually a bad guy, he’s just terrible when it comes to women he likes. Despite how he looks he can be an absolute sweetheart.”

“You know you’re going to confuse me with all this changing around you keep doing,” you teased lightly, “Before I thought you would rather I burn at the stake rather than have sex with Terushima and now it almost sounds like you’re encouraging me to go for it.”

“I didn’t know you earlier,” Hana dismissed, a flush in her cheeks, clearly a bit uncomfortable with your observation even as she tacked on, more to herself than to you, “And I’ve never seen him interact like that with a woman before.”

You didn’t get the chance to question her about it, or really process what she’d said as the band took that minute to start the music back up, and the audience gave a lively roar. Terushima gave you an almost too conspicuous wink and a cocky smirk before turning back to what he did best, tattooed fingers flying over the strings again.

Once more you got caught up in the beat, the rhythm of his bass as it hummed through your body, and the heated looks he threw your way whenever he got a spare second, clearly checking to make sure he had all of your attention. You lost yourself in it, you were here to enjoy the music, and like hell were you going to let anything, even your preoccupation with the sexy bass player, get in the way of that.

It seemed like the whole thing ended far too soon, as the last chords faded into the night, the roar of the crowd as the band gave their goodbyes almost deafening in conjunction with the fireworks going off overhead. The minute the lights were down, the band members quickly passed off their instruments as staff, including Hana, swarmed the stage, ready to begin tear down for the evening.

Johzenji had been the last band scheduled for the night, which meant everyone would be going home. The buzzing of your phone reminded you of your friend and a quick glance confirmed your earlier suspicions, that she was going home with one or both of her earlier dance partners. You sent a quick text back urging her to be safe, and hesitated for a long moment before finally telling her that you had your own hook-up for the night.

She congratulated you, and you grinned, amused and fond, sliding your phone back into your pocket and just in time as Terushima’s hands snagged you around the waist, pulling you close again. There was a delighted smile on his face, open and boyish that told you how incredibly pleased he was with himself and his performance, and looking at it you knew in that moment you’d lost the internal debate. No way were you going to be able to walk away, not when he was looking at you like that.

You could vaguely hear his bandmates wolf whistling at the two of you as you pulled him down to kiss, tangling your fingers in his sweaty hair, but ignored them entirely, too intent on the humming electricity between the two of you and his hot wet mouth, the feel of his piercing a sensation you were coming to adore as you flicked it with your tongue.

His hands were all over you, roaming your back and occasionally dipping lower to knead your ass, his firm chest pressed tightly against your own. You could feel his hard length, fully aroused and clearly more than ready for you, pressed firmly into you, the idea of it making your body clench with need, wetness soaking your panties.

“Oy, get a room,” Hana’s voice cut in, clear exasperation in every word, catching your attention as the two of you parted for breath, “No one wants to see that!”

“Yeah, yeah,” Terushima told her casually, rolling his eyes a bit, though you shot her a sheepish look, earning an amused one in return, before being thoroughly distracted again by the sexy blond bass player as he released you just enough so that he could snag your hand, and you found yourself tugged along behind him for the second time that night as he told you, “Come on little miss sexy, let’s see if I can’t give you that ride I promised you.”

“Lead on then hot shot,” you told him with a laugh, only pausing to shoot a quick wave at Hana, who just shook her head in clear exasperation, though you thought there was something of a smile on her lips too.

This time you weren’t nearly so worried about following him, and weren’t too concerned when he led you back and away to a parking lot that was full of trailers with few if any people. Even without knowing him for too long you could tell which was his at a glance, considering the outside was covered in stylized graffiti that read Johzenji surrounded by tribal work.

It didn’t take him long to fumble the door open and lead you inside, and you were relieved to find that the interior was apparently nice enough for air conditioning. It wasn’t much, a queen sized bed, bathroom, and a couch with recording equipment and various instruments scattered everywhere, but it was better than you’d been expecting. Honestly you thought he might’ve shared space with the other members of his band, and were pleased to find it wasn’t true, mostly because you’d hate the idea of kicking someone out just so you could get laid.

You didn’t get much more time to think about it as you were immediately distracted by Terushima, who’d attached his mouth to your neck the second the door had been closed and locked behind the two of you, nibbling and sucking at the sensitive column of your throat. You let out a low moan as he nipped at your collarbone, fingers twisted in the fabric of his black tank, digging into the strong muscle of his back and shoulders.

A gasping moan escaped your lips as he sucked at your collarbone, his hot mouth like a brand against your skin in the almost too cool trailer. You slid your hands down his back, eager to get your hands on his skin, and to see more of the ink that adorned his body, slipping your hands under his tank and tugging upwards.

Terushima seemed to get the hint, giving you a smug look as he pulled away just enough for you to tug the damp fabric up and over his head. His torso was nicely toned, lean but firm with muscle, and adorned in black ink that crept downwards from his neck, covering his upper chest and shoulders, though you noted his abs were bare.

Your fingers automatically moved to touch, tracing the lines down from his neck, and over his shoulders, utterly fascinated. It was beautiful work, a mix of tribal and Japanese style work. He shivered slightly, though whether that was from your touch or from the cool air on his warm skin you couldn’t tell.

You probably could’ve spent hours exploring his tattoos, and would’ve except you got distracted by the glint of metal. Bright silver barbells glinted in each of his dusky colored nipples, catching all your attention, and sending a jolt of heat through you as you wondered if he had anything else pierced.

“Like what you see?” Terushima asked, his voice full of smug superiority as he brushed a teasing hand down his chest, a cocky smirk on his face.

A part of you really wanted to wipe that look off his face, and you thought you might know just how to do it. You hooked your fingers through the belt loops of Terushima’s jeans and tugged him forward by them, earning a delighted chuckle from the man before you reclaimed his mouth.

Your hands immediately went to his abdomen, gently scraping your nails over the ridges of his abs and earning a full body shudder from the man, who’d buried one of his talented hands in your hair, the other caressing your side.

The feel of muscle under your fingers as you skimmed your palms up his chest, letting his pebbled nipples catch on the webbing between your fingers, teasing the nubs gently between your fingers earning a low needy moan from Terushima, his hips thrusting into yours, reminding you how utterly hard he was and sending a burst of heat through you.

You pulled your lips away from his, earning a discontent whine from the man until he felt your lips on his throat. He tilted his head with a low groan, allowing you full access without protest, as you traced your lips over his tattoos. His skin tasted like salt from the sweat, but it wasn’t unpleasant, as he smelled clean beneath it, something warm and masculine that made your passage clench with want, and need.

Your hands roamed down his sides, and over his back, unable to keep yourself from touching him as you sucked and nipped at the junction of his neck, adoring the quiet moans and breathy gasps from his lips. His hand in your hair was gentle, not guiding or pushing simply allowing you to do as you pleased with him even as his fingers gently tugged, his grip occasionally tightening in a way you found extremely arousing whenever you nipped at him or found a particularly sensitive spot. You continued your exploration downward tracing a path down to his collarbone then lower across his pectorals and finally to your goal.

“Aw fuck,” Terushima whined as you pulled his pebbled nipple into your mouth sucking at the sensitive nub, swirling your tongue around it and playing with the metal piercing as your other hand found his other nipple, fingers toying with the matching barbell, unable to keep your hands away from it.

“Hng! You like those little miss sexy?” he teased, though he was breathless enough that it barely constituted teasing, “I knew you couldn’t keep your hands off me, should’ve known from the way you acted when you got my tongue piercing, but if you like that wait until you see my…”

He cut himself off with a whine as you teased him with your teeth, gently scraping them over the sensitive nub and tugging at it carefully as your other hand gently flicked and tugged at his piercing. You were a bit curious about what he’d been about to say, though you had a sneaking suspicion you’d find out when you got him completely naked.

Curious, you decided to stop playing with his piercings for now and began to kiss your way down his chest, bracing your hands on his sides so you could slowly lower yourself, tracing your thumbs over the sharp v of his hipbones as you traced his treasure trail to where his pants were sitting low on his hips.

You carefully scraped your teeth over the taught skin, kissing and suckling hard, well aware you were going to leave marks and not caring in the slightest that unlike the ones you’d undoubtedly left on his neck and chest, these were going to be much more visible due to his lack of tattoos there.

“Fuck, you’re so fuckin’ sexy,” Terushima praised with a shudder as he stared down at you, pupils blown wide and lust written all over his face, a loud groan leaving his lips as you cupped his erection through his pants, teasingly stroking it through the material as you looked up at him, unable to help the smirk curling your lips at the sight of him, his lips puffy and swollen from kisses, hair damp and sticking to his forehead and beautiful inked skin glistening with perspiration.

Looking at him, you could see how he coaxed so many women into his bed, between his looks and his musical ability it was no wonder he was so cocky. Still despite how many people he’d been with before he was with you at the moment and you were going to make the most of it.

Your fingers deftly undid the button and zipper of his pants and you turned to look up at Terushima amused and a little shocked as you asked, “You go commando on stage?”

“What can I say,” he told you with a proud smirk, “I’m a rebel.”

You huffed out an amused laugh and ran a teasing finger up his shaft, gently stroking the underside his twitching cock which had left precum smeared inside his pants and his lower abdomen. Just as you’d suspected there were piercings here as well, a Jacob’s ladder of three separate barbells, right under the head.

The sight left your mouth watering, and you licked your lips, fully intent on blowing his mind, and playing with those lovely piercings, but when you went to lean forward you were stopped by the grip he still had on your hair.

“Something the matter?” you asked, genuinely concerned as your hands stroked at his strongly muscled thighs, the gesture meant to be soothing as you peered up at him and asked, “Do you not want me to suck your cock hot shot?”

“There is nothing more that I want right now than to have that sexy mouth of yours all over me,” he told you, the low rasp of his voice and his lust darkened gaze utterly convincing, “But I said I was going to give you the ride of your life little miss sexy and I intend to follow through on it.”

“Oh?” you asked teasingly, thumbs tracing over the sensitive place where his thighs met his hips, “You think you can?”

“You have no idea what you’re in for,” he told you with a cocky smirk, one that fell away into a full body shudder as you leaned forward, grasping his leaking cock at the base and running your tongue teasingly along the underside.

“I think you’re the one who doesn’t know what they’re in for,” you told him, with a smirk of your own as you stroked your hand upward and used your thumb to tease the sensitive place where the barbells passed through the skin right under the head earning a low moan.

“Maybe not,” he admitted, as he recovered, a grin on his face that was boyish and reckless, “But I won’t know until I try.”

Amused and intrigued you let him go and allowed him to pull you to your feet and reclaim your mouth with his, reminding you just how skilled he was with his tongue as he kicked off his pants, shoes and socks and began to talk you slowly backwards towards the bed. He proved to be either extremely coordinated or practiced or both as he managed to coax you out of almost all of your clothes except your soaked panties by the time the back of your knees hit the bed.

You let yourself fall backwards, plopping on to the surprisingly comfortable mattress, and smiling into Terushima’s kiss unable to pull yourself away, thoroughly distracted by his talented mouth and the warm hands that were skimming up and down your sides, thumbs occasionally teasingly skimming the undersides of your breasts.

You held him to you, his face cradled in your hands as he crouched over you, one knee braced on the bed, and the other still planted on the floor as his hands dipped lower, finding the waistband of your panties, and teasing his fingers along the edge.

“What are you waiting for,” you teased between kisses, “A written invitation?”

“Only your permission little miss sexy,” he teased right back with a smug grin, hooking his fingers through the elastic and giving a gentle tug.

Something about his tattooed fingers in contrast with the pretty lace panties you’d decided to wear was extremely hot and sent a surge of lust through you, as you lifted your hips and watched as he peeled the sodden lace away from your soaked core.

As they fell away his hands came back up to your thighs, and you couldn’t look away from the contrast of his darkly inked hands, adorned with several silver rings glinting against your smooth thighs.

You didn’t protest as he gently pushed them open, revealing how utterly soaked you were, instead leaning back on your elbows and spreading them further to give him a better view.

“Fuck,” he hissed eyes riveted on your most intimate parts as if he was unable to look away, his pierced tongue darting out to wet his lips, and his eyes dark with desire, “You’re so fucking sexy.”

“You’re not so bad yourself hot shot,” you countered even as his words and the hungry look on his face sent a surge of heat through you.

“I’m gonna eat you out so good you’re going to be screaming my name,” he promised, his thumbs caressing the sensitive skin of your inner thighs as he started to drop to his knees.

“Ah-ah,” you scolded, pulling yourself away, scooting backwards on the bed and away from him.

“You don’t want it?” he asked, looking a cross between shocked and a toddler who’d been denied his favorite treat.

“The only way you get your face between these thighs is if I get that lovely pierced cock in my mouth,” you informed him challengingly, holding out your hand to him in a clear gesture to come join you on the bed.

His face immediately lit up, a wicked grin on his face as he agreed, “Sounds like a fair deal to me sexy lady.”

It took him less than a second to join you on the bed, and he agreeably laid back for you, hands folded behind his head, body on clear display without an inch of shame, the smirk on his face telling you he was well aware how hot he looked spread out like that, all pale skin, dark ink, and silver piercings, he practically oozed bad boy sex appeal.

“Got your seat all ready for you,” he goaded, tapping his lips and wiggling that pierced tongue at you enticingly.

You laughed in helpless amusement, earning a tongue lolling grin in turn from the sexy bass player, who was clearly unbothered and supremely confident in a way you couldn’t help but find incredibly attractive.

He coaxed you up , letting you straddle his face, his head propped up on the pillows to make things easier, his face pressed into your thigh, nipping and suckling at the sensitive skin as you got yourself settled and being thoroughly distracting, though not for long as you wrapped a hand around the base of his weeping cock, the head drooling precum.

He let out a muffled groan as you slowly began to stroke him, licking your hand to help ease your passage as you stroked him, soothing your thumb over the place where the barbells passed through his skin with ever stroke and teasing your fingers along the head, massaging the weeping slit teasingly with your index finger.

Terushima didn’t let you completely take control though, and the first swipe of his tongue made you jolt in surprise, the feel of that little piercing completely foreign as the smooth ball dragged across your sodden folds. It was like nothing you’d ever felt before, and you had the strangest feeling he might actually fulfill his promise of giving you the ride of a lifetime, as he dove in eagerly.

He lapped and sucked at the lips of your cunt, the slurping noises he was making utterly obscene as he held your hips firmly in place, keeping you still as he ate you out with enthusiasm and a skill you had to admit he was right to be proud of. Every stroke of his tongue lit your nerves on fire as he teased it around your clit, lightly flicking the sensitive bundle of nerves and varying up his strokes and the pressure with every swipe, enough to make your thighs tremble and to make you grateful you weren’t attempting to stand or you were sure your knees would’ve given out.

You weren’t about to let him take over entirely though, instead lowering your mouth to his cock and beginning to tease the weeping slit with your tongue as you continued to stroke him, flicking each of the barbell heads in turn and sucking at the sensitive ridge around the head.

The low moan he let out as you popped the head into your mouth and began to suck sent immediate vibrations to your drenched pussy, making you moan in turn, the feeling of it indescribable as he lapped at your folds sucking at the sensitive lips and thrusting his tongue into your weeping hole.

The feel of his piercings grazing against the roof of your mouth was a new one, but not unpleasant as you took as much of him into your mouth as you could, stroking what you couldn’t reach with one hand the other tracing light teasing circles with your thumb on his inner thigh.

Skilled fingers parted your lower lips as his tongue teased your clit, slipping one finger then two into your hole, making your walls flutter and clench around the intrusion. You moaned as he proved to be just as skilled with his fingers as you’d wondered earlier when you saw him playing his instrument, playing you just as skillfully with the perfect pressure, and movement to hit just right as he crooked his fingers into the soft tissue at the front of your passage that instantly had you seeing stars your whole body convulsing in his hold.

You completely lost track of what you were meant to be doing as you keened, his fingers refusing to let up as he continued to tease them in and out of your rippling passage, his tongue equally relentless. You weren’t sure if you were squirming to move towards him or further away as he carefully eased you back from your orgasm, though not letting you go completely, keeping you right on the edge of pleasure, your body hot and aching in his hold.

Once you managed to come back to your senses you could practically feel the smugness radiating off him as he continued to tease, startlingly considerate of your oversensitive clit, just enough stimulation to keep you worked up without being to painful.

You weren’t about to let him be too smug, instead turning back to what you were doing before, working him over, allowing your saliva to drool down over his cock to make the passage of your hand easier as you stroked him at the base.

Your other hand left his thigh and instead went to his balls, cupping and weighing the sensitive sack in your hand, gently massaging it earning an almost pained groan from Terushima, whose thighs you could see were clenched tightly, his muscles rippling under your torso as his body tightened in pleasure, his balls drawing upward in your hand letting you know how close he was getting.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, sexy I…!” he tried to interject, clearly attempting to warn you, surprisingly courteous as ever. He didn’t get a chance to finish though as you released his balls and slipped your hand lower, teasing your fingers lightly over his perineum as you sucked hard at his sensitive head, your thumb pressed firmly to his piercings in a move that made him keen with pleasure, his body practically arching off the bed as he came in your mouth.

You quickly swallowed every bit you could as you milked his cock rubbing and massaging at the glans as he continued to come, until you felt the last tiny spurt against your tongue, and the keening sounds he was making reduced to trembling whimpers.

You released him and wriggled away from his weakened grip so you could look at him, swiping some of the cum that had leaked from the corners of your mouth away with your thumb, and earning a low moan from Terushima, who watched with heavy lidded eyes as you licked it off.

“Fuck, you’re really asking for it little miss sexy,” he told you, his voice pitched low as he sat up, wiping his own glistening cheeks and chin, which were covered with your release on the back of his arm.

“Asking for what hot stuff?” you teased with a pleased smirk, one that was wiped off your face as he coiled and sprung, gently knocking into you so you pitched backwards on to the bed, his hands pinning your wrists on either side of your head as he peered down at you, his eyes burning with desire.

“Asking for me to make you scream my name,” he assured you with a smirk, “To fuck you so hard you can’t walk tomorrow.”

“You think you can Terushima?” you goaded, completely unphased at being pinned beneath him.

“Yuuji,” he informed you seriously nuzzling his face into your neck in a gesture that was surprisingly affectionate, though the wicked grin you could feel against your skin most certainly wasn’t as he clarified, “Call me Yuuji, little miss sexy, it’s only right for you to scream my first name.”

“Give me all you’ve got then hot stuff,” you challenged, earning a delighted smirk from the man, who pulled back to give you another searing kiss, clearly uncaring about the taste of himself in your mouth or sharing your own release with you.

Given how often he seemingly brought women home you weren’t at all surprised that he had a huge stash of condoms in the drawer of the nightstand of the bed, in all different textures and some in different flavors that made you highly amused. Though you didn’t stay that way for long as he expertly slid the condom on and approached, gently tugging you toward him and pulling one of your legs over his shoulder as he teased the head of his cock over your dripping entrance.

The feel of him as he entered you had your head lolling backwards, the angle he’d chosen ensuring he went deep, the feel of his piercings, that you could feel even through the condom, unlike anything you’d ever experienced before.

“Like that?” he teased as he seated himself deep inside you, his voice breathless but still teasing as he demanded, “Like the feel of my cock inside you sexy? You’re so fucking tight I can feel you squeezing me.”

“Fuck me, hot shot,” you ordered clenching around him deliberately, impatient after all his teasing, wanting to feel him move inside you, to know how his piercings would feel as they rubbed against your inner walls, as he fucked you.

“You asked for it,” he warned you, as he gave a sharp thrust of his hips, pulling a moan from your lips.

He didn’t bother to let you adjust more than that, drilling into you, setting a hard, fast past that left you gasping for breath, his cock stretching you deliciously, every movement rubbing his piercings along your insides. His tattooed fingers dug into your thigh as he held your leg over his shoulder.

“Feel so good, squeezing around me like that, you’re so fucking tight around my cock and so wet for me,” he praised, panting for breath as his dark gaze practically drilled into you, as he ground his hips into you, letting you feel every inch of him.

You hummed in agreement, your other leg wrapping around his hips, pulling him in close as your hips moved in time with his as you panted, your hands twisted in the comforter beside your head, unable to tear your eyes away from him, the ripple of muscle underneath his inked tattoos and the drops of sweat as they dripped down his neck and chest were utterly mesmerizing.

“Fuck me,” you gasped, “Fuck me!”

He paused in his movements slowly grinding himself into you making an inadvertent whine slip from your lips as he scolded, “I told you to call me Yuuji, let me hear you say my name.”

You might’ve chosen to deny him, but he’d dipped his other hand down, skilled fingers gently teasing your clit, sending shockwaves of pleasure through you that had your walls fluttering around the hard cock buried to the hilt inside you. Pride warred with pleasure as your pussy ached, desperately wanting him to move again, to give you more of the heady friction and the feel of him moving deep inside you.

“Yuuji,” you relented your voice husky with desire and want, though you weren’t about to give in entirely, instead stretching your hand out for him and ordering, “Come here, Yuuji, kiss me.”

He immediately relented, leaning forward, taking your leg with him, your thigh pressed to your chest, his hips beginning to drive into you again so deep it took your breath away as he braced an elbow beside your head, the other cupping your face and holding you still so he could press his mouth to yours.

You moaned into his mouth wrapping your arms around his shoulders as you clung to him, savoring the feel of his hot skin beneath your hands as your fingers dug into the muscle of his back.

“Ah fuck,” Terushima hissed as he pulled away from your mouth, arching into your hands, his hips jolting hard as you dug your nails into his back. You would’ve felt sorry about it, but the look in his eyes told you clearly that he’d enjoyed the little bit of pain, his hips stuttering as you carefully raked them downwards.

“Do you like that Yuuji?” you purred into his ear, nipping at his jaw.

“Not as much as you like this,” he countered, utterly breathless as he thrust into you hard, the feel of it making you mewl in pleasure, “Like it rough, don’t you little miss sexy?”

“Just as much as you,” you managed to retort, utterly breathless, earning a huffed laugh from him, as he leaned forward to catch your lips in another sloppy kiss.

The lewd sound of your hips as they met, breathless moans and quiet swearing filled the air between you as Terushima worked his hips deep into you, his free hand slipping between the two of you to tease your clit again, as you yanked on his hair, unafraid now to be a little more rough with him the way he was with you, his teeth sinking into your neck in retaliation, earning a yelping moan from you.

“Yuuji, Yuuji,” you gasped, feeling yourself pushed towards your peak, the coil in your belly pulling tight as you dug your fingers into his shoulders, clinging to him for all you were worth.

“Fuck yes,” he panted, his voice a low rasp, clear strain in every word eyes locked on yours, “Give it to me sexy, let me see you come on my cock.”

You did as he asked your walls clamping down hard on him, a gasping cry pulled from your lips as he buried his face in your neck, his thrusts becoming sloppy as he chased his own end, clearly right on the edge himself. He gave a shuddering, moaning gasp into your ear as he came, his cock throbbing inside you and prolonging your own release.

For several long moments the two of you lay locked together, your hands absently stroking his hair as he rested nearly the entirety of his weight on you, the two of you desperately attempting to catch your breath.

Eventually he pressed a thankful kiss to your cheek, a surprisingly affectionate gesture before rolling off, quickly disposing of the condom in the small trash can by the bed, one no doubt specifically for that purpose.

You were a little surprised when right after taking care of it he immediately rolled back over to you, slinging a hot arm around your waist and pulling you close. You’d had one night stands who liked to cuddle a bit in the afterglow, and were feeling pretty good yourself, so you didn’t mind a bit, letting him pull you close and stroke his hand up and down your back.

Neither of you said anything, simply basking in comfortable silence and each other’s presence. However, after a few moments you noted his breath had evened out and his hand had stilled. Carefully propping yourself up on your elbow you noted with some amusement that he’d passed out.

It was understandable, frankly after how high energy the concert had been it was a little shocking that he’d had enough energy afterwards for this. A part of you wondered what he’d be like when he had a bit more energy to devote to things, after all this had been one of if not the best one night stand you’d ever had and definitely in your top ten for sex. However, you quickly shook that thought away.

You spent several moments trying to decide if you wanted to let your own eyes shut and doze off for a while, but in the end decided to carefully extract yourself from his grip, figuring it was less awkward to sneak off now than to potentially be kicked out by Terushima, or worse Hana or Anabara in the morning.

It took a second to find your clothes, and in the end you didn’t bother with your panties, instead dropping the garment into the same trash he’d used to dispose of the condom, before slipping on the rest of your clothes. A quick glance around proved you hadn’t forgotten anything and you took one last glance at Terushima, who was sleeping peacefully on the bed.

You felt strangely bittersweet about leaving him, as you’d actually liked him, far more than you’d expected. Still, you weren’t stupid, and with everything you’d heard and seen from him you knew you were just one girl in a never ending parade of girls who’d grace his bed. Quietly you slipped out of the trailer, letting the door close softly behind you so you wouldn’t wake him.

It had gotten cooler since you’d been outside last, a nice breeze springing up that raised goosebumps on your exposed skin. It felt nice, and with the moon full and bright overhead you weren’t worried about losing your way as you quietly made your way back towards the concert venue, knowing you’d be able to find your car fairly easily from there.

“Where are you headed off to?” a quiet voice asked, the suddenness of it nearly making you jump out of your skin.

You whirled around, heart racing in your chest, only to find the leader of Terushima’s band Okudake holding his hands up in clear surrender, an apologetic look on his face. You let out a relieved breath clutching a hand over your still racing heart, glad to see it was someone you knew, if only vaguely.

“Sorry about that,” he told you sheepishly, “I didn’t mean to frighten you.”

“It’s alright,” you assured him, “I just didn’t expect to see anyone out here.”

“Me neither,” he admitted with a wry chuckle, “But where are you off to? It isn’t safe for a young lady to be out by herself this late.”

“I’m uh, heading back to my car,” you confessed sheepishly, wondering if he knew he sounded like your parent.

“Terushima should’ve at least walked you,” he told you with a disapproving frown, “he’s usually more courteous than this.”

“It’s alright,” you hurriedly assured him, feeling more than a bit awkward as you admitted, “He’s asleep.”

“Ah,” he told you, the single word letting you know that he knew exactly what you were doing, sneaking off without confrontation, though he didn’t comment, instead offering, “Then at least let me walk you? I’ll feel better knowing you aren’t alone.”

“Ah sure,” you agreed, a little baffled but touched by his kindness.

“So what did you think of the show?” he asked casually as the two of you made your way toward the stage.

“It was amazing,” you assured him with a grin, utterly sincere, “the energy was off the charts and the songs were all incredible.”

“You didn’t think there were too many songs about love and heartbreak?” he asked, watching you from the corner of his eye. He clearly read the startled expression on you face because he quickly explained, “We’ve been told we have too many songs about it considering the genre of our group is more rock and our image is harder.”

“I don’t think so,” you assured him, you hadn’t really noticed before but now that he said it you did remember a lot of songs about heartbreak, “I think heartbreak is a pretty universal feeling, so there’s nothing wrong with having lots of songs about it. It’s not something that should be limited to things like genre.”

“I agree,” he told you with a firm nod, “Though I think it would be nice to sing about happiness in love once in a while.”

“So why don’t you?” you asked curious, wondering if this was another issue with love and happiness being the opposite of the more hardcore image they presented.

“Terushima is our main song writer,” he explained, surprising you quite a bit, “And he refuses to write from anything but his own experiences.”

“Don’t get me wrong,” he hastily assured you, “We’re grateful to have him. Before Terushima we were a little Podunk band that was going absolutely nowhere. He’s a big reason why Johzenji is getting so popular, even if he does have his difficult moments at heart he’s a good guy that has done a lot for us.”

“Why are you telling me this?” you asked slowly, feeling a little bit like you were being led into a trap and wondering if you were about to be attacked the way Hana had snapped at you earlier.

“Because Hana told me what happened earlier and I think she might’ve given you the wrong impression,” he explained sheepishly, “Don’t get me wrong, I love her, and she’s an amazing woman but she and Terushima have never quite seen eye to eye.”

“What do you mean?” you questioned utterly baffled about where he was trying to take this.

“I mean from the outside looking in I bet it does look like Terushima’s a player, the last kind of guy you’d ever want to have any sort of relationship with, the kind who only wants women around for a night,” he told you, heaving a sigh and staring up at the night sky, “But it isn’t true at all.”

“Terushima just falls in love far too easily,” he continued, clearly seeing the skeptical expression on your face, “He feels connections with people, latches on, and doesn’t want to let go. Other than the women who’ve snuck out, not a single woman has ever left his bed without his phone number even the ones who really shouldn’t have gotten it.”

“So what he’s a closet romantic?” you asked unable to help the slight sarcasm in your tone, biting back against the pointed comment about you sneaking out without letting Terushima know.

“Something like that,” Okudake agreed, completely unbothered by the bite in your voice, “But more importantly I wanted you to know he likes you, genuinely.”

“If he’s such a romantic, then why doesn’t he have a partner already?” you pointed out, your head unwilling to believe him, even as your heart desperately wanted to.

“Mostly because he has abysmal taste in women,” Okudake informed you bluntly.

“Thanks,” you drawled, sarcastically.

“No,” he hastily assured you, clearly a little flustered, “Normally Terushima only chooses women who want to use him for something or another, either because of his fame or his looks. Hana was rude to you earlier, but she did have good reason to be suspicious of any woman Terushima brought backstage as they’ve been pretty trashy pretty much every single time.”

“But Hana likes you this time,” he charged on, clearly determined to get it all out, “And she’s always had good taste. I think the two of you could be good together if you wanted to give it a shot, and it would be nice to have Terushima write something that isn’t about heartbreak for once.”

“So what you want me to put a leash on your bass player?” you asked skeptically.

“No, I’m telling you he likes you, not just as a one night stand, but as a potential partner, so you know the option is there,” he explained patiently, “And because I think you like him too.”

His words stopped you in your tracks, and you wanted to snap at him, demand to know how he could just assume that as he couldn’t have seen you with Terushima for more than five minutes max. However you also knew he was right, you did like Terushima, a lot, you’d felt a connection to him too, and you really hadn’t wanted to leave. You’d just assumed he’d kick you out if you didn’t.

Now though his bandmate was saying something entirely different, insisting that Terushima was looking for more than a one night stand. The question was, did you believe him and if you did was it worth trying.

You stared at the sky hoping it could give you some kind of answer as Okudake watched and waited patiently. Thinking about it, all you could see was his face, the flash of cocky smirk, the sweet boyish grin, and the intensity in his eyes when he looked at you. He was flirty and confident and surprisingly respectful and sweet and your sexual compatibility was off the charts.

The more you thought about it the more you realized you were more than a bit infatuated with him. The only question now was what you were going to do about it. The thought of walking away now made your heart ache, and you’d never been a coward, so you heaved a breath, turned to Okudake and asked, “Can you take me back to Terushima’s trailer?”

The lead singer smiled kindly at you, and thankfully didn’t comment, simply turned around and led the way, wishing you a quiet but genuine good luck, and inviting you to have breakfast with the band in the morning.

Slipping into the trailer, you’d half planned to simply slip back into bed with Terushima, who you fully expected to find conked out on the bed. Instead you found him sat at the edge of the bed, his head in his hands, fingers buried in his blond hair, defeat and despondency in every line of his body. A part of you had kind of doubted what Okudake had said before, but looking at him now you thought maybe he’d been telling the truth after all.

The sound of the door as it clicked closed behind you made Terushima’s head jolt up, an utterly miserable expression on his face until his eyes focused on you, misery quickly replaced with befuddled awe, like he couldn’t quite believe you were standing in front of him.

“Hey, hot shot,” you greeted softly, unsure what to say, but needing to break the silence.

“Hey,” he returned, attempting to give you a cocky smirk, though the expression fell flat, “You forget something?”

“Can I come in?” you asked, gently, relieved when he gestured for you to help yourself.

You quickly slid your sandals off and made your way to the bed, not bothering to sit on it, but instead sinking to your knees in front of him, earning a surprised look. You reached for his hands and he gave them easily, twining his fingers through yours.

“So a little birdie told me I might’ve made some assumptions about you that I shouldn’t have,” you admitted, peering into his face.

“Oh yeah?” he asked, watching you carefully, “What kind of assumptions?”

“Like maybe you weren’t just looking to hook-up with a stranger for a one night stand tonight,” you confessed, feeling a bit anxious but doing your best to hide it, “Like maybe you weren’t trying to use ridiculous lines one me and maybe you really did feel a connection.”

“Is that why you ditched me before I could even ask for your number?” he asked with a huff of that was probably supposed to be a laugh but sounded surprisingly painful, “Because you thought I was looking for another notch in my belt?”

“Yeah,” you admitted guiltily, heart squeezing in your chest.

“It’s my fault,” he confessed tiredly, “I should know better by now than to jump right into bed with the people who catch my attention, but I thought if I could show you how good we could be, then you might want to stick around. Stupid huh?”

“I could’ve talked to you too,” you consoled then gently teased, “The sex was pretty good though.”

“What are you saying, it was fucking mind-blowing,” he smirked, regaining some of his cocky demeanor.

“Eh, I’ve had better,” you told him, earning a surprisingly cute pout from the bass player.

“Then I guess you’ll have to stick around for a while, so I can show you what I can really do,” he proposed casually, though you could see the tentative hope in his eyes.

“I guess I’d better,” you agreed with a grin, “Though on one condition.”

“Name it,” he agreed eagerly.

“I want a proper date,” you told him, “And your phone number.”

“That’s two conditions little miss sexy,” he teased, his eyes alight with desire and a surprising amount of affection, “But I suppose I can agree if you call me by my name again and agree to be my girlfriend.”

“It’s a deal Yuuji,” you agreed, leaning up to press an affectionate kiss to his lips, one he accepted eagerly, you pulled away before the two of you could get carried away grinning at him like an idiot, well aware that he really should be asleep.

It took a bit, but the two of you managed to get settled into bed together again after you re-shed your clothes, cuddled up close, with Terushima laying half on top of you claiming it was so you couldn’t run off on him again. You’d huffed, but allowed it, enjoying the proximity and his warmth.

He was quick to doze off again, face pressed into your neck, and you found yourself drifting too, contemplating just how lucky you were to have found him, and looking forward to what the future might bring.

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#terushima yuuji x you #terushima yuuji x reader #terushima yuuji #yuuji terushima #terushima x you #terushima x reader #terushima smut #terushima fluff #terushima yuuji fluff #terushima yuuji smut #alternate universe #band au #JayeRayWrites #JayRaySpice

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bvccy · 4 years

Text

Nothing to Despair | Preview 2 / Work In Progress

PAIRING: Soft!Bucky Barnes x Female!Reader

SYNOPSIS: Bucky and a girl he never met before are asked, because of their language skills, to go undercover as married on a two-week mission to Europe. He feels alienated in the modern world, and notices his partner feels similarly isolated. Maybe they can find a new home in each other, but she’s not easily persuaded.

WARNINGS: Just nightmares and hurt/comfort, MORE ANGST

WORD COUNT: 2K

A/N: It's been 84 years and the fic is still not done, so have another preview. I didn't wanna post more, and this is a rough version, but then N I G H T M A R E S happened and NEW GIFS I was just bouncing to contribute so here, have this. Ironically, it's not Bucky having the nightmare in my fic, it's the reader/MC having one and being comforted by him, but still gonna take advantage of this lovely gif <3

She was running aimlessly away, but he was always behind her. She could hear him catching up, and if she turned her head she could see him coming closer, and his angry heaving breath was almost right behind her, and then she woke up.

Laying in bed frozen stiff with fear, her eyes took in the darkness of — oh, her hotel room at the Grand Continental in Cer. She stood up in bed and looked around: safe, quiet, and if she tried to remember her dream she already couldn't. She picked up her phone on the bedside table, fiddling with the Stark tech to see the time: 3:36 AM.

The fear was so intense she thought she would die if she didn't hold another person, right now. She had never felt anything like this in her life: not when falling out of a tree, not when flying, not when she got the mission from Steve, not when Bucky cornered her…

Bucky. He was sleeping in the other room. If she could just — No. He would either laugh at her for being silly or resent her for waking him up. She could almost hear him now: "You woke me up, for this? Take it like a big girl and go back to bed."

But there's never been a fear like this… in her blood and her bones, and her mind and underneath it. Through the silence of the room, she could hear her own heart thrumming, and though she knew it was impossible, a part of her mind was certain there was someone there with her, waiting, ready to —

It took three minutes of hugging herself in bed and trying, uselessly, to not be scared to absolute death before her heart won over her head and she stepped lightly to Bucky's room. She didn't even knock, she scratched at the door lightly. If he was awake, he'd hear it; if he wasn't, she won't wake him up.

No response. When she turned the handle slowly and inched the door open enough to poke her head through, only then did Bucky stir in bed. She could just make out the shape of him through the light from the window.

As he groaned sleepily and shifted in his sheets to get up, she wasn't sure if he was upset with her or not, and it didn't escape her notice how his hand went underneath the pillow — a weapon hidden there, most likely — but then he spoke into the dark and sounded gentle, if groggy.

"That you, doll?"

"Yeah… Can I come in?" she whispered, clinging to the door and trembling.

"Something happen?" asked Bucky, practically awake already.

"No, nothing, but — " How to tell him, how to explain a reason as dumb as this?

He was sitting up in bed by now, rubbing his face with his flesh hand, and then he looked right at her. "Come on in."

She stepped through gratefully but still ashamed, holding onto herself in her flimsy nightgown as she padded to his large bed. As she got closer, she could finally see him: soft hair ruffled, a stubble just barely grown, a plain white tank top stretching across his chest and the hint of scarring around the left shoulder.

His eyes looked curiously up at her, even worried. She hated depending on him, or anyone, and he'd noticed it. So when she looked at him pleadingly from beside his bed, he looked ready to listen, and to do almost anything.

"This is so stupid but —"

"Tell me."

"I'm really sorry to bothe—"

"It's ok, just tell me."

"I had a nightmare please don't laugh at me."

He wordlessly lifted the duvet and patted the bed for her to lie down.

She got in quickly and, before she could think of whether it was the smart thing to do, snuggled up into his body, her face at his neck and knees brushing against his stomach. She had enough control to keep her arms folded to her chest and didn't grab onto him, although she wanted to. Her heart was still beating powerfully away, her ribs and neck pulsing with its rhythm, her breath near panting.

"Thank you. I'm so sorry I woke you up."

"It's ok." he shushed her, one heavy arm going up to tuck her in then staying curled around her, braced against her back on top of the covers.

"This never happened before." she whispered apologetically. "I think I'll be fine in… a few minutes."

"Get the adrenaline out of your body, I know."

She paused and wondered if she should ask, then decided. "You get like this too?"

"Night terrors? Yeah, used to have them a while."

"I don't think it's a night terror… Not really."

"Good." he breathed into her hair, a touch away from a kiss.

It made sense why he'd be so sympathetic. He probably understood what she was going through better than she did, and suddenly she was filled with pity at the thought of him going through that alone — that and even worse, which was unimaginable. She snuggled in just slightly closer, but this time it was not for her own sake, and she regretted, with the strength of real guilt, that she did not know him sooner, that she couldn't be there for him when he needed someone —

"H-how did you get over yours?"

— if, in fact, he didn't have someone already.

"Slowly."

She sighed and rubbed her knuckles against his chest, the closest thing to a caress she could manage, and all around her she felt him freeze for a second in an intake of breath.

"M-must've been some nightmare." to get you to cuddle with me, he left unsaid. "Wanna talk about it?"

"Not really." she sighed. "I already forgot it. But this fear, it's not going away…"

"It's quite something, isn't it." Bucky softly said, the arm around her back moving slightly to brush a thumb over her shoulder in slow, caressing motions.

She burrowed deeper into his chest, feeling surrounded by his warmth as his chin rested lightly on top of her head, both of them melting into the pillows. Slowly, her fear left her, and she became aware of the scent of him burning her up from the inside, sharp and spicy and just a bit sweet, and how she could just about hear his heartbeat, and his breathing, and how she had never seen that much of his naked skin before — though she barely could at all in the dark.

His fingers started making circles over her shoulder, lazy and absentminded, and she had to bury the mournful thought that this was the first time she'd ever felt anything like it.

Bucky pulled her imperceptively closer, bit by bit as the tension left her, and soon the back of her curled hands fell to rest against his chest, her knuckles pressed against a naked patch of skin. She felt him inhale sharply at the contact, and underneath his sheets she too trembled at the quiet tenderness.

"Don't worry, doll." he breathed into her hair. "I'll keep you safe."

She must have dozed off at some point. She became aware of Bucky's hand now hung around her hip, her own arm flung around what measure of him she could reach. Her head was resting on his broad chest and one leg was curled on top of his underneath the blankets. He seemed sound asleep, breathing softly beneath her, head tilted toward her as the faintest sliver of morning light shone through the curtains.

Without moving her head much, she looked up at his face. Bucky seemed more grim asleep than he did awake, his delicately drawn mouth resting in a frown, his brows low and with a hint of tension, his unshaven cheeks scruffy and dark. He must've put on a bit of a show to seem cheerful in front of her, when he did…

She let her eyes lick across his figure, down his thick neck, the stretch of tough skin, and the chest with the hint of hair peeking from underneath the tank top. She breathed in the warm scent of him and suddenly the feeling of his arm gripping her waist, even in the gentleness of sleep, was overwhelming.

There was too much of him, too close, too trusting, too intimate, so wide open just for her, and the inescapable hint of his affection distressed her: with how impossible it was, with how demanding it promised to be.

Slowly, she lifted her cheek off his chest and slinked away, his hot hand scraping across her figure as she went and stepped backwards onto the floor, trying to move the bed as little as possible. She looked at the watch on the bedside table: 4:55 AM.

Tip-toeing away, she left his room and closed the door with the faintest click she could manage.

Bucky opened his eyes to find his bed empty, the room quiet and just light enough for shadows to stretch across the length of it. It was just like every other morning but somehow, through her presence the night before, she'd taken something away. It's not like he'd hoped to wake up to her in his arms. Of course not. That would be silly.

His hand moved over the sheets: cold. She probably left as soon as he fell asleep. It was amazing enough that she had come at all, but then again he had an idea of how her nightmare made her feel; if hers were anything like his, she'd have gone to just about anyone. Even… Don't finish that thought.

He turned in bed, his back to where she'd been, facing the windows and the balcony glass doors beyond which the crowns of far trees swung in the morning air, big and beflowered and brimming with birds. It was, in every other way, a beautiful morning.

And things were so close to being perfect. He had her there, he'd held her in his arms, he'd been given the chance to be good to her, and wanted, and there when she needed him, and over it all hung the cloud of wonder at what a rare person he had found in her. Yes, she was a bit sullen sometimes and unassuming, but he realised those things were what he liked so much about her, that opening to being cared for so precisely shaped for what he had to give.

She wasn’t like the women he remembered from before; she didn’t try to make herself seem softer or sharper or more cheerful than she was, with a carefully curled mane of hair or an impossibly fertile figure, nor was her every gesture an invitation to flirt. She was dull and tender by comparison, a little sensitive and a bit sad, like a girl that never grew up but who, with so small a twist, might suddenly become beautiful.

When he pushed aside his guilts and longings, Bucky was grateful for all those little faults she had. He knew that if she poured her energies into seduction, she could be terrifying and irresistible. So he decided that he liked her distant and sullen and shy, even if it kept her from him. If anything, it only made him like her more, long for her more, want her for his own flawed self; take his pity, that her pride couldn't stand, and turn it into the most dedicated caring.

But he wondered was was wrong with her — what was wrong with him for her. She could hardly stand more than a few seconds' touch from him, like a raw nerve. Did she just not like the way he looked, or walked? Or the things he said, or how he treated her, or talked? Was it the arm? Was it his age? Was it who he was?

All of these were plausible, but somehow it felt like he was missing something. She wasn't just indifferent, she was so deliberately distant it almost seemed calculated. And she didn't just decide to avoid him, he realised: she did it instinctively. Her body reacted first, and she followed. At the periphery of these unhappy thoughts was the pitying realisation that she'd had practice.

Bucky wasn't heartbroken by her tacit rejections, of course not, he wasn't that far gone yet (but there was no way his was the first heart she'd broken).

He thought back to how she was around other men. Charming, more cheerful, joking and flirty but still, in the end, distant. All the teasing jokes distracted from her, all deep conversations distracted from her, all heartfelt consolations distracted from her, every incline of her body faced away.

After only a few minutes, Bucky relented and turned, burying his face into the pillow she'd slept on. It actually still smelled faintly of her hair. It was so specific to her and so comforting, her perfume mixed with something sweet and cloying and just a touch salty, it made his mouth water and his loins burn.

He rolled onto his back, lifted the sheets off his body, and looking down he noticed the state of himself.

"Down, boy." he sighed. "She's not here anymore."

Bucky rolled out of bed and got ready for his morning push-ups. They always made him feel better… Maybe he could add another couple hundred today.

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mygalfriday · 3 years

Text

pity the man that stands in my way (River/11)

Prompt #2: You. Me. Handcuffs.

The old earth saying about doctors making the worst patients must have originated with her husband. River can cope with his stubborn refusal to take any medication that isn’t grape-flavored or eat anything that isn’t covered in custard. Even the constant whinging is bearable. If those were her only problems, she’d consider herself fortunate. But the Doctor can’t even admit to being sick at all. No matter how many times River orders him to bed – unfortunately not in the fun way – he always ends up sneaking off to the control room the minute she isn’t looking to try convincing the TARDIS to take him somewhere. He can barely stand up but is absolutely confident in his ability to calm a rebellion on Drahva.

In the middle of making him a cup of chamomile tea that she secretly hopes might make him drowsy enough to get some rest – if nothing else, the sedative she plans to mix in should do the trick – River glances up when the TARDIS lights flicker. The Old Girl always finds a way to let her know when the Doctor has escaped again. She sighs, mutters a thank you to the ship, and abandons the kettle on the hob. Marching out of the kitchen, she doesn’t bother checking their bedroom first. She heads right for the control room and sure enough, the Doctor stands at the console, clinging to it for balance as he plots new coordinates.

“Going somewhere?”

He jumps guiltily at the sound of her voice, whirling to face her and pasting on a wide grin. “Ah, there you are. I was just looking for you.” At her baleful stare, he wilts. “Alright, so I was very much not looking for you. I was actively avoiding you, as it happens. Come on, dear. Aren’t you bored?”

“No, my love. I’m not bored.” River crosses her arms over her chest and glares. “As a matter of fact, just this once, I would love to be bored. I would quite literally kill for it. Instead, I’ve spent the last two days chasing my husband around with a syringe.”

His brows lift and he mutters to himself, “Ah, so it wasn’t a dream.” He frowns, attention returning to her. “I’ve got to say, not one of our better honeymoons.”

“It’s not a honeymoon, Doctor,” she sighs, dropping her arms and crossing to his side. “You’re ill.”

He scowls, lips parting and brow furrowing in offense. “I am not! I’m perfectly fine.” Eyes fever-bright and cheeks worryingly flush, he insists, “I’ve never been better.”

River presses the back of her hand to his forehead, ignoring him when he tries to swat her weakly away. “Just as I thought.” She strokes her fingers along his cheekbone, gratified when he sighs and leans briefly into her touch. “You’re burning up. Get back into bed.”

“You always say that,” he mutters, petulant.

She smirks, patting his cheek. “Well, it is my favorite place to see you.”

He sighs. “River, I don’t want to sleep. There’s too much to see and do and-”

“Who said anything about sleeping?” She raises a brow meaningfully, watching understanding dawn in his clouded eyes.

He brightens, that adorably nervous smile curving his lips. “Really?”

“Mmm.” She sways into him, fingers toying with the buttons of his shirt as she meets his gaze. “You said you feel fine. Care to prove it, Time Lord?”

The Doctor lifts his chin and puffs out his chest, tugging at his bowtie. He looks down at her and despite her certainty that he must feel terrible, the desire in his expression is almost enough to make her forget herself. “Prepare to be impressed, Dr. Song.”

She takes his hand in hers and tugs him out of the control room, risking another remark about her fussing over him by wrapping an arm around his waist. Troublingly, he doesn’t say a word. He leans his weight into her as though she might not notice and even with her guiding him, he stumbles more than once. She wonders briefly how he’d made it from their bedroom to the control room in the first place. What had he done – crawled there? Even his breathing is a bit off, a slight rasp after every inhale that worries her. She doesn’t dare let on.

The moment they cross the threshold into their bedroom, River turns and takes his face in her hands, kissing him deeply. The Doctor makes a soft, startled noise against her lips before his mouth opens and his tongue brushes hers. His hands grip her hips as they stumble toward the bed and he feels hot against her, his body temperature higher than usual. His touch is almost searing even over her clothes.

Divesting him quickly of his tweed and bowtie, River nips sharply at his bottom lip before nudging him onto the bed. She watches him fall back onto the pillows, looking weak and tired. His mouth is red and swollen from her kisses and his hair is rumpled from her fingers. For a moment, she considers climbing on top of him and giving him exactly what he wants – he’d still be resting if she’s on top, wouldn’t he?

But no. No matter how tempting he looks right now, he’s very ill. He needs to sit still and drink his tea and take his medicine and bloody well sleep. There will be plenty of time to ravish him when he’s feeling better. River likes him best when he’s a full participant anyway.

His eyes are dark and interested as he watches her strip out of her clothes; he licks his lips at every piece of clothing that drops to the floor. When she has nothing but her knickers left to remove, River joins him on the bed. She crawls up the length of his body and straddles his narrow waist, leaning in to capture his mouth in a kiss. The Doctor melts under her, his limbs going loose and deliciously pliable. It takes no effort at all to pin his arms above his head and secure them to the bedpost.

The Doctor goes still at the sound of the lock clicking into place, his mouth slipping from hers as he mutters, “Why do you always have handcuffs?”

River smirks, dropping the seduction act as she sits up and slides out of bed. Reaching for her clothes piled neatly on the floor, she tugs on her shirt and says, “Maybe now you’ll actually get some rest.”

He growls under his breath, watching her slip back into her trousers. “River, uncuff me right now.”

“Sorry, my love,” she says, shrugging unapologetically. “But desperate times call for desperate measures. I’ll release you when you can be trusted to stay put.” She tilts her head, nose scrunching as she admits, “Well, I suppose I should say when you’re well enough that I won’t care you can’t be trusted.”

“Oi!” He pouts, tugging at the cuffs. “I’m very trustworthy. Ish. I know loads of secrets I’ve never told you.”

“I’m sure that’s true, sweetie.” She pats his knee. “I’m going to fetch your tea. Would you like something to read while you wait?”

The Doctor twitches irritably. “How would I turn the pages?”

“Good point.” She taps her chin thoughtfully, listening to the sound of the cuffs clanking against the bedpost as he tries unsuccessfully to free himself. “Then might I suggest you lie there and think about how lucky you are to have me?”

He stops struggling long enough to offer her a doe-eyed glance. “But I do that all the time.”

“Nice try.” River pinches his thigh, smirking when he yelps. “I’m still not letting you out.”

He huffs. “River-”

She levels him with her sternest look – the one that wins wars and terrifies her prison guards; the one that says I’ve killed a man before and I’m happy to do it again. “The more you complain, the longer I’ll leave you here.”

Properly cowed, the Doctor snaps his mouth shut and settles for a silent glare.

“Good boy.” River leans in and presses a kiss to his fever-warm cheek. “Back soon, sweetie. What is it you always say to your companions?” She tips her head to the side, grinning down at him in victory. “Oh yes. Don’t wander off.”

#drfic #river song #eleventh doctor #river x eleven #riverdoctorpromptweek #my fic

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shadowgeist-stars · 3 years

Text

Ren x Gakushu: Nightmares

Ren was standing in the Chairman's office, watching the man pace around him, Araki, Seo, and Koyama with practiced, measured steps. His words were almost entirely unintelligible, but his voice was just like always. The same eerie, low tenor that made his skin try to crawl off his body, like he suddenly had some kind of flesh-eating disease.

Suddenly the monster struck. A huge fleshy mass with eyes so big that they overlapped one another on its face. A mouth so wide and sharply fanged that it could swallow anyone whole and shred them apart in its jaws anyway. Before he knew it, there was an agonizing sting at the back of his head and the better part of his back. Ren was somehow thrown against the wall, pain tearing against his sternum and surrounding ligaments making it nearly impossible to breathe. The others were no different, as if they were flung just as woefully unprepared into the same MMA fight that he was in.

Then he realized all of their bodies hadn't even moved.

For all intents and purposes, their minds had been violently punted from each of their bodies, leaving them as empty shells that did nothing but chant an insatiable desire to kill E-Class. If Ren didn't have trouble breathing before, he was all but suffocating now. It only got worse when Gakushu reentered the room, only to call out to Ren and the others in horror. The mix of anger, disgust, and outright fear with which he stared at his father and his pet beast nearly wrenched his racing heart clear out of his chest.

“Gakushu, please… I'm right here…”

He forced his ghostly form to stand up. Dizziness spun his vision every which way. His shaking feet didn't feel anything close to steady as he tried to stumble toward his friend. The monster over the principal's shoulder only pounced again, painfully crushing his throat in its clawed grip as he could only face that menacing, unnatural grin. Darkness was beginning to dot his vision as it blurred with tears. He reached helplessly for his best friend with whatever vanishing strength he had left, as it all went cold and dark and --

Ren's eyes shot open with a gasp, heart pounding and breathing as if he'd just endured one of Gakushu's soccer games. He lay frozen and tense in his bed, clutching his bed covers and staring at nothing but his own bedroom floor as he slowly willed himself to calm down.

After he finally deemed himself calmed from the nightmare, (and telling himself that No, panic-brain, my blazer that I keep hung on my door is not a monster that's here to kill me) he sat up in his bed and checked the time on his alarm clock.

Only a few minutes after 3 o’clock, in the morning.

Ren grimaced to himself, running a hand through his stupid bedhead. Either Seo or Koyama would probably laugh about some kind of joke related to the time that he’s almost certain he’d rather not hear. However, he just thought it was too darn early to be up, even with something like a very graphic memory/nightmare to blame.

The principal monster from his nightmare flashed behind his eyes, in its own twisted "speak of the devil." What better way of being told by one's own brain that going back to sleep at that moment was not an option?

…Maybe a cup of tea or something warm (and uncaffeinated) would settle him down enough to help.

With a sigh, he got out of bed, pulled on a shirt, and headed to the kitchen.

He knew the house well enough that he didn't have to turn on the lights. He knew every place where the floors creaked, exactly where to stick to the walls and where to simply keep a light foot. The tiny nightlights in the halls kept it just visible enough that one didn't have to stumble around in complete darkness.

Many years ago, traversing his house at night was a game to Ren. One where his eyes sported beams of light to help him see. A game in which the dark wasn’t a monster to fear, but his playmate.

When he reached the kitchen, he breathed a soft sigh of relief. He grabbed a mug from the dish cabinet, but before he could do anything else, he noticed a light.

Light that was coming from the living room TV, partly shadowed by a figure on the couch.

Ren had a feeling he knew who that was. Guess I’m not the only one having a rough night.

With that in mind, he grabbed a second mug before pulling the jar of dried chamomile from the back of a different cabinet, fixing some tea with it.

The person on the couch didn’t respond to any noise he made, which meant one of two things: he was either quite aware of his presence and simply waiting for Ren to reveal himself, or he was out of it to the point of somehow not noticing the brunette was even there.

With someone like Gakushu Asano, there was no in-between with those two possibilities.

The moment the tea was ready, Ren poured it into the two mugs, a small voice in the back of his mind reminding him to put some sugar in Gakushu’s mug. He likes his tea sweetened a little. It’ll help him calm down more easily if he’s tense or had a nightmare, and right now he's possibly both.

He glanced at whatever he was watching on TV, which was turned down so low he couldn’t quite hear it. A documentary: his go-to for calming down from a bad dream. Crime or historic ones usually mean something relatively tame. But this one’s a nature documentary; he only goes to those things when it’s really bad.

The taller boy took a deep breath before heading over, humming a familiar tune and making sure to seek out the one floorboard he knew would creak. A word of advice from a friend, so as to not scare him once in his line of sight.

The redhead made an almost unnoticeable jolt before bright purple eyes met his. (So he really was out of it to a point he didn't know I was there, or at least hyperfixating on the TV.) He was wrapped in a throw blanket and had his legs laid across the length of the couch; he was probably planning on sleeping there if he was able to calm down enough.

“Ren… How long have you been up?” he asked, shifting around to sit properly on the sofa.

He chuckled, setting down the mugs on the coffee table until he was sitting down beside his boyfriend. “Obviously not as long as you.” His smile became a frown when he got no snarky response. “Nightmares keeping you up, too, huh?”

The shorter boy only nodded once, taking his mug when it was offered. “I hoped to be able to sleep again, after getting my mind off of it… And I didn’t expect to be discovered."

Ren hummed, sipping his own beverage. "…It was the brainwashing incident on my end… Araki saying it felt like an out-of-body experience was pretty accurate."

The ginger didn't seem too surprised. "…It was partially that exact incident for myself… and also the immediate aftermath of the pole-toppling match. I still find it hard to forget how badly Kevin and the other exchange students were injured, because of him… it was so severe that they all had to return to their home countries, once they'd recovered enough to do so."

The others didn’t hear much of that when it happened beyond when the paramedics showed up at the school. At the time, they all knew better than to ask while the wound was still fresh. Then again, it wasn’t like he would’ve been coherent enough to elaborate on the situation anyway, given how he fell asleep on the ride home.

"Least they don't have to worry about him hurting them again now…" he replied finally, "or anyone, to be honest. Especially not you." He pulled the strawberry blond boy into his side. "I think you remember well enough… how worried I was when he hit you in front of everybody."

The shorter boy’s exhale reverberated with exhaustion as his head drooped on his lover’s shoulder, followed by the sound of him emptying his mug. “Not as much as I wish I did… but at the same time more than I care to admit. It’s exhausting just thinking about it.”

The brunette smiled sadly at the sheer amount of fatigue in his tone, giving his shoulder a squeeze before finishing his own drink. "All the same, we can say that we're safe from him, and that in itself means a lot… By the way, I would've been alright with you coming over to my room after you woke up from your nightmare."

That only earned him a sleepy, yet sour look. "Why would I do that? I'm not a toddler, Ren."

The brunette snickered, using a thumb and index finger to get the other to face him. "Maybe not, but it's not childish to be afraid or need someone else, even for just a little company. Haven't you felt any better since I came out here?"

Gakushu tried to avert his face. "I suppose you could say that…"

Begrudging victory; I'll take it.

He smiled as he leaned in to kiss the shorter boy. He slipped his tongue in easily, tasting the chamomile's aftermath and practically feeling the remnants of Gakushu's tension and traces of his own nightmare disappear into the documentary's white noise. The ginger all but melted into his arms, the long and lazy kiss bearing down on his eyelids with sleep in a wave of honeyed warmth. Pulling away showed a pair of hazy purple eyes struggling to open again, on an adorable, blushing face.

“I love you, Gakushu; sweet dreams.”

The shorter boy gave a slow, cat-like blink, snuggling further against the taller boy. “Hmm… love you too… Ren…”

Ren chuckled at his slurred speech as he took Gakushu's empty mug from his hands, placing it and his own mug on the coffee table. Afterwards he turned off the TV, pulling Gakushu along as he shifted them around, until they were now both laying sideways on the couch, with a red-haired head on his chest. He managed to resituate the throw blanket over them both, draping long arms over his beloved; one settling across his waist, the other scratching his scalp in rhythmic circles.

He leaned into the crevice between the couch cushion and backrest with a contented sigh. With the weight and warmth of his boyfriend in his arms and the steady whispering breeze of breath in his ears and over his chest, the image of the former principal and the big-eyed monster was nothing more than a fading memory. They were both safe here, in this homey little bubble. Pressing a final kiss to his boyfriend's crown, he laid his own head down and closed his eyes, letting sleep carry him away on a far more welcoming cloud.

It wasn’t the first time they had such nightmares, and it may well be far from the last, but for now, they could sleep without fear, and that was enough.

#assassination classroom #gakushu asano #ren sakakibara #ren x gakushu #rengaku #asaren #asano gakushu #sakakibara ren #ansatsu kyoushitsu #i like rarepairs okay?

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honey-coloured-passion · 4 years

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GUYS I THINK I FOUND GEORGES HEIGHT

soooo after last night i realized dream had unknowingly given us everything we needed to find george's height.

this lovely photo gives us wingspan and hoodie length from shoulder to "waist" (not really a waists on george lmao) and we know george is standing straight up with no shoes and his webcam/monitor is most likely at a 90* angle so we don't have to worry there!

now under the cut i'll put my math and other cool stuff like him vs dream measurements but this what you came for:

by my calculations based on the hoodie and the merch sizing chart on dream's website...

George is 5'8.5 or 174 cm!

okay welcome!

to start i found the measurements on dream's website then i assumed george is wearing the XL or 2XL, which have the same length (width is different which i'll go into later)

this is adorable but if George is wearing the large not an XL hes 5′6 BAHAHAHA so I ruled that out cuz that’s so incredibly short compared to his wingspan and head size.

Speaking of which, I found George’s headphones to give me his head width and rough height just based on the length of the headphones then I compared it to average male head length and circumference to land on 8.2 inches in head length.

After this, I needed neck length and average male neck length is 4-5 inches but because this hoodie goes a little bit up into george’s chest/neck area I took the 4 inches.

Between my estimate in these two I have about a .4 inch margin of error meaning if either of these calculations is just the male average george could be 5′8.1 or 5′8.9 but honestly I don’t think I’m wrong especially on headsize pulling MOE down to .2.

As you can see in the photo I photoshopped the exact hoodie to his feet, noticing there’s about 1 in too high on the top and 1-1.5 on the bottom I subtracted 2 from his overall hoodie height. Then, add your head and neck with the subtraction and multiplication of 2 hoodies each shaved a little off and you get 68.5 inches!

At first I tried to calculate his height using wingspan. Unfortunatley I don’t know which hoodie size this is exactly (XL or 2XL) and I also don’t know where his arms are inside the sleeves. This meant my MOE is much larger and I was getting rougher estimate than I liked. Also, George’s wingspan is significantly larger than the length of his body, most males are a 1:1 ratio for wingspan and height but again through photoshop it’s apparent George’s wingspan has 2-4 inches on his height.

Anyways that was my take, here’s an adorable height comparison assuming Dream is 6′3

honestly i rly wanna go find sapnap's height based on his hoodie.... god if only they would perfectly and accurately describe the size and fit in measurable inches as it applies to their bodies 😂😂😂

#honestly he could be 5'9 if he stretched and he probably looks 5'9 with shoes on lmaooo #anyways this was rly fun and easy #i'm such a math major godddd #dnf #dreamnotfound #georgenotfound #dreamwastaken

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kitakataramen · 4 years

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大きいサイズ！！！ PLUS-SIZE SHOPPING IN JAPAN

*This post is intended to be helpful for people already living in Japan who need to find everyday clothing, it’s not going to be useful for people living outside Japan who want to buy kawaii Tokyo fashion. This is also mainly geared toward women’s clothing, as it’s harder to find than men’s plus size clothing, but some of the stores and sites I mention here will be useful for plus size guys as well!

So let’s start at the beginning.

JP SIZING

Japanese sizes in general go from S, M, L, and plus sizes will be indicated from LL (extra large) all the way to 10L. For reference purposes on this post, I am a size 16/18 in CAN/US sizing, a 22 in UK sizing, and a JP size 5L for most plus-size brands, although the sizes are not standardized across brands (meaning that for some brands, a 5L will be either too big or too small).

If you are above a size 3L, which is the largest size they stock in most regular stores (Uniqlo, for example, only stocks S, M, L, and XL for women*, so I don’t fit into any of their clothes) you will have to do most of your shopping online! There *are* physical plus-size stores around, though, so keep an eye out for stores that look like this:

大きいサイズ (おおきいサイズ)　- plus-size (lit. large size)

レディースの大きいサイズ　- Ladies’ large size

メンズの大きいサイズ - Mens’ large size

Here’s some useful Japanese you can use while shopping in a physical store:

大きいサイズがありますか？ Do you sell large size clothes?

これのもっと大きいサイズ、ありますか？ Do you have this in a larger size?

It can be a bit difficult finding your size in Japan, but don’t give up! Plus size Japanese women *do* exist and they look cute as heck, and so can you.

PHYSICAL STORES

H&M Japan (they use S, M, L, XL sizing or US sizes up to 16, so I would say around a 4L Japanese size. I am able to fit into some of their clothing based on the cut and style of the garment, but most of their tops/dresses are too tight in the chest for me). Good for a variety of styles, from work clothes to casual

しまむら　- They carry up to a 4L, good for basics and casuals

青山 (あおやま）　- Great for work/business attire. (They call their plus-size line クイーンサイズ which I find extremely adorable omg). Their sizing is a bit different as they carry from 19号～ 37号, but the sizing charts should help you figure out which size you need.

PUNYUS - There are only a few of these stores around, in big cities like Tokyo and Osaka, but I love this brand so I’ll be talking about their online store later in the post. The brand was established by Naomi Watanabe, one of Japan’s foremost plus-size comedians and TV personalities, and I absolutely LOVE her. Punyus uses their own sizing in 1, 2, 3, or 4. (I am usually a 2, but I always check the measurements for each garment very carefully because for some items I am a 3 or 4).

*Uniqlo carries up to a 4L in men’s sizes, but you usually have to order the larger sizes online as they don’t stock them in the regular stores.)

There are obviously way more stores than this that carry plus-sizes, and most of them will have the 大きいサイズ sign right on the outside of the store. I’ve even managed to find some cute items in the 大きいサイズ section of my local grocery/department store of all places (although don’t expect much from department stores, most of the fashion in these places will be very tame grandma clothes).

Now, let’s get into online shopping, which is the easiest method but can be a little tricky. The first thing you need to do is figure out your measurements, as the majority of online products will have a detailed size chart that is very useful for ensuring a good fit without trying it on.

SIZE CHARTS

Size charts will look like this, and will use centimetres:

サイズ表記　（サイズひょうき） - size notation

バスト - bust (the measurement around your chest)

肩幅　（かたはば）- shoulder width (measurement from shoulder to shoulder)

袖丈　（そでたけ） - sleeve length

着丈　（きたけ）- length (of the whole garment, Japanese ones tend to run short. I’m not even particularly tall but a lot of shirts tend to fit like crop tops here)

袖幅　（そではば）- sleeve width

袖口　（そでぐち）- cuff

幅裾　（はばすそ）- hem width

回り　（まわり）- circumference (measurement around the bottom)

ウエスト - waist

ヒップ - hips

In general, the measurements that’ll be most useful will be bust, waist, hips, and length of the garment. As you can see on the model below, those measurements make her a size 3L. My measurements are 128-106-135 and I’m 168cm tall so I’m usually a 5L.

Once you know your measurements, it’s time to start browsing! I’ll briefly introduce my top picks for useful online stores.

ONLINE STORES

1. Nissen

This website is great and I use it all the time. It’s like an online shopping mall that carries the plus size options from a bunch of different brands, so you can just check here instead of browsing each brand individually.

You can search by size, category, colour- it’s super convenient and easy, and the website is also available in English.

SHOES

This site also has great options for shoes above 25cm (which is the largest size they sell in most shoe stores for women). My shoe size is 26.5cm with 4E width (extra wide) and I can easily find shoes here.

TALL SIZES

I mentioned before that some of the shirts here tend to fit fairly short, even for my 168cm (5′6″) height. Never fear, there are tall size options as well.

The tall sizes will be annotated with a TT next to it- as you can see, the first 3 options in the picture are MTT - 5LTT, and the 4th one doesn’t have the TT, so it will be a normal length. Again, you can just click on the item and go to the size chart to check the length in cm to see if it will fit.

2. Alinoma

Very similar to Nissen in that it gathers clothing from different brands all right here on the same site, and you can also use the parameters along the side to customize your search by size, category, colour, etc.

One of my favourite brands (available from both sites) is タベルノスキー、which has super cute stuff~

3. PUNYUS Online Store

The clothes here are more trendy, playful, casual clothes, and I love that they use larger plus-size models than some of the other sites (including Naomi Watanabe herself). I buy a lot of non-work clothes from here.

*Note that all these sites have really reasonable shipping fees within Japan and also have frequent sales, as well. And they’re really easy to use with google translate.

INNER WEAR

Now, as for the busty gal trying to find bras and lingerie in Japan...

Don’t worry!!! I’ve found that most lingerie stores don’t stock my size, but again, it’s possible to order them online using either Nissen or Alinoma. You’ll want to look for the インナー tab, and ta-da! (Just keep in mind that the band in Japan is measured in cm).

To wrap up, I’d just like to reiterate that if you are plus-size in Japan and having trouble finding clothes, you’re not alone! There are lots of us here and there *are* brands out there that make cute clothes for us. If you see something you like in a store, go in and check it! The sizing is not only wildly different between brands, but it can even be different between different garments in the same brand. Don’t be afraid to try things on! You might be surprised by what actually fits and looks good.

Happy shopping!

#life in japan #plus size japanese clothing #大きいサイズ #japanese clothing #japan life #you can reblog this even if you aren't plus size #it might help someone

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lockefanfic · 4 years

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Toy - Part 3

Part 1 and Part 2

---

“She’s a good choice.”

You weren’t quite sure how to take Momo’s statement, given the fact that she delivered it while licking the combination of slick fluids, both hers and Woody’s, from the young man’s half-erect cock. Her right hand is keeping his shaft upright, while her left is busy between her legs, fondling the fresh cum that Woody had pumped inside her a mere minute or two ago. Woody idly strokes the Japanese woman’s hair as if she were an obedient pet curled up between his legs, a dazed look on his face as though he weren’t quite believing what was actually happening to him - a look that was more than likely mirrored on your face as well.

You had to admit you were more than a little jealous of the fact that Woody was the one that got to cum inside Momo, but given the fact that you’d cum inside both Chaeyoung and Sana you suppose you weren’t really in any position to complain.

“Yeah, I would have picked her too,” Sana says softly from her position next to you on the bed, where she too is playing lazily with the moist flesh between her legs, enjoying the feel of your own still-warm cum leaking from her opening - at least, what was left of it after Chaeyoung had slurped out as much as she could. “But you should know, she has certain… preferences.”

“What kind of preferences?” you ask, somewhat distracted by Sana’s glistening fingers as she raises them to her lips and licks the slick fluids off with a flash of her pink tongue.

“You’ll see,” she answers, with a devilish smirk on her lips. You’d seen that smirk before, a million times, in their music videos and on variety shows; never in a million years could you have imagined you’d see it now, with her naked and leaning on your right shoulder as she slips a finger inside herself once more to play with your still warm cum. Your right hand wanders down her side to her round butt, where you give her ass a spank that extracts a playful yelp from the frisky Japanese girl.

“She’s ready!” comes Chaeyoung’s cheerful voice from the foyer of the hotel room. She is wearing a silky bathrobe that is only lazily tied at the waist, revealing the fact that she wasn’t wearing anything else underneath it.

“Come on, Momo - I think these three will need the bed,” Sana states, shooting you a wink before making her way off the bed.

“Alright,” Momo agrees with faux-reluctance, “I guess we can have some fun with Woody here in the bathroom while you three are...occupied.”

“Come now, Woody. You’re still good to go for a couple more times, right?” Sana asks, her high-pitched, playful tone like that of an owner speaking to a puppy.

The young man, still dazed and mostly confused, nods excitedly before he leaves the bedroom the same way he entered - with Sana dragging him by cock.

When the Japanese girls have vacated the room with their toy, Chaeyoung returns her attention to you, a mischievous smile on her cute features.

“Ready?”

“I-I think so,” you lie, not quite knowing what else you could do to prepare yourself for what was about to occur. The rest of the evening up this point had felt like a lust-fueled fever dream that you could not have dreamt up in a million years - how the hell could you consider yourself ready for what was going to happen next, when you could barely process what had already happened?

“Good,” Chaeyoung replies, her smile widening. She takes a few steps into the bedroom to reveal that she has been holding on to a thin, shiny silver chain - a chain attached to a pair of handcuffs.

Wearing the handcuffs is Chou Tzuyu, clad only in a lacy bra and matching set of panties - and a red silk blindfold.

“Our plaything is here, Pikachu.”

“Our p-plaything?”

“That’s right,” Chaeyoung answers as she pulls forward on the chain, pulling Tzuyu forward and into the room until they are both standing at the foot of the bed. “Like we said, this is a reward for making us cum. You got to pick who you wanted next. Most of us can be pretty bossy in the sack, but lucky for you, Tzuyu here loves being played with - isn’t that right, baby girl?”

“Y-yes, unnie,” Tzuyu answers, her polite tone cut somewhat with an underlying lust. The Taiwanese girl bites her lip after she delivers her answer - and you already begin to feel your cock stirring in response.

“Don’t worry, unnie will be here the whole time,” Chaeyoung says as she strokes the younger girl’s chestnut hair as it falls around naked shoulders, “and you don’t have to worry either, Pikachu. Our baby girl loves being treated like this.”

“O-okay,” you answer with a gulp.

“She especially likes when you use this.”

Chaeyoung retrieves a long black object from the folds of her robe, much like a sorceress retrieving her magic wand, and tosses it at your feet. It takes you a second to realize it is a riding crop.

“Come now, baby girl. I’ll get you into position.”

“Yes, unnie, please do,” Tzuyu answers, the immediacy of her answer betraying the anticipation of her body. You’d long considered Tzuyu to be listless and uninterested during her appearances, as though she weren’t as invested in the idol life as her fellow members. You’d long though it was due to the language barrier, or just that she was naturally more reserved than the others - but to see and hear her anticipation for the surely lewd acts to come was exciting to say the least. Perhaps her interests rested more in the bedroom than on the stage or in front of the cameras.

Chaeyoung motions for you to get off the bed, and you watch as Tzuyu lies on her back atop it, raising her arms above her head so Chaeyoung can tie the end of the chain tightly around the headboard. The length of the chain meant Tzuyu could still move around freely, even if her wrists were bound together. Nonetheless, the Taiwanese girl keeps her hands above her head as she settles down into the bed’s soft cotton sheets.

“She’s gorgeous, isn’t she, Pikachu?”

“Hell yes,” you answer quickly, the agreement spilling from your lips quicker than you would have anticipated. You take a moment to drink in the sight of Tzuyu’s body for the first time, and it truly was a sight that took your breath away. She was tall, slim and curvy in all the right places, covered with perfect, creamy light caramel skin. Her chest was not as well endowed as the other girls, but her breasts are still perfectly round, pushed up and together deliciously by a lacy strapless bra that created a wonderful looking cleavage.

Her hips and thighs, though - that was where Tzuyu shone. The girl had a tiny waist that flared out into full hips and thick, perfectly sculpted thighs - thighs that were already squirming on the bed in anticipation, the meaty flesh rubbing against each other in an attempt to produce some sort of release for the moist, hungry pussy between her legs.

You found yourself unconsciously licking your lips as you watch the Taiwanese girl’s hips and thighs squirm and writhe atop the bed.

Chaeyoung must have caught on to your eagerness to begin, as she picks up the riding crop from the bed and places the handle of it in your hand, covering it with her own, her small fingers wrapping around yours.

“Let’s begin, shall we, Pikachu?”

Chaeyoung brings the tip of the riding crop to Tzuyu’s nose - and the Taiwanese girl twitches slightly at the first contact of the soft leather upon her skin, a light, airy sound of need leaving her mouth. Her pink lips quiver.

“She’s real beautiful, isn’t she? I mean Mina is pretty, and Momo and Sana are hot as fuck. Nayeon is like a living doll. But this girl - our baby girl - she’s something else. All the cameras love our baby girl’s pretty little face.”

Chaeyoung’s hand atop yours drags the riding crop down, the tip of it grazing Tzuyu’s delicate cheeks and chin before finally coming to a rest atop her soft lips, cherry red with lipstick.

“This face, though - it looks best when it’s cumming.”

Tzuyu moans this time, unable to restrain the throaty sound of aching need that escapes her throat at Chaeyoung’s words. Chaeyoung lets the crop leave Tzuyu’s lips - and Tzuyu’s tongue darts out at it, as though attempting to give it a quick lick.

Chaeyoung’s response is to smack Tzuyu in the cheek with the crop. Softly, it seemed, but hard enough to draw a sharp yelp from the bound Taiwanese girl.

“You know the drill, baby girl - you don’t get to do anything unless Pikachu or I let you. And that includes using your tongue.”

“Y-yes, unnie.”

You are startled by Chaeyoung’s actions, but Tzuyu’s needy expression tells you that she was far from being hurt by the little love tap Chaeyoung gave her cheek - in fact, from the increased squirming of her hips and thighs she was only further aroused by it. Chaeyoung pulls on your wrist, and Tzuyu lets out a soft whimper, licking her lips with a measure of desperation as the soft leather leaves her open mouth.

The riding crop continues its path down Tzuyu’s perfect body, the tip of it weaving a lazy path across the perfect, creamy skin of her neck until it reaches her upper chest. It circles the full curve of her breasts, first the right one and then the left, dipping below each mound and tracing the outline of her mounds with the tip of the riding crop.

“Not as big as Momo or Jihyo - but still pretty fucking delicious, I must say. So round and perfectly shaped. Don’t they look tasty, Pikachu?”

“F-fuck yes,” you stammer, eyes glued to the tip of the riding crop as it traces a lazy path down the top edge of Tzuyu’s strapless bra.

“Then you should give them a taste. Baby girl, be a sweetheart and help Pikachu here unwrap his treat.”

“Yes, unnie,” is her reply, arching her back deliciously to let you slip your arms beneath her torso to unclasp her bra. The arch of her torso pushes her breasts up and out, making them look even more enticing. When finally undo the clasp, letting the strapless bra fall off her body altogether, you suddenly need to wipe the excess drool from your mouth.

“Go on,” Chaeyoung urges. “Have a taste of those perfect little tits.”

You are not one to disobey such an order, and so you bend over the bed to cup Tzuyu’s right breast, enjoying the weight and feel of her flesh in your palm before bending further and giving her nipple a long, slow lick.

Tzuyu’s moan fills the air - a light, wordless sound of desire.

Driven by the wonderful sounds leaving the girl’s throat, you devour her breast, latching your lips around her stiff nipple before toying with her stiff nub with your tongue and then sucking tightly.

“Mmmm...Mmmmm!”

Tzuyu squirms and writhes on the bed as you have your way with her chest - and it only encourages you further, switching this time to her left breast, quickly latching on to the aching, stiff nipple and sucking deeply, enjoying your first tastes of her skin and the sound of her lustful, needy moans in your ear as the nubile Taiwanese girl squirms beneath your mouth.

You could have laid there all night, Tzuyu’s tits in your mouth and her moans in your ears, but the tip of Chaeyoung’s riding crop on your cheek tells you that it was time to move on. You regretfully tear your mouth from Tzuyu’s saliva-streaked breasts, and the girl whimpers at the loss of your tongue on her nipples.

“It’s time to move on, Pikachu. We don’t want to blow all our time on just her tits, do we?”

“Of course not, Chaeyoung.”

“Good,” Chaeyoung says, bringing her hand with the riding crop back to yours. “Now let’s continue, shall we?”

“Mmmm, unnie please, more-”

Chaeyoung smacks the side of Tzuyu’s right breast with the crop, causing the round mound to bounce deliciously - and tearing a surprised yelp from the girl. The crop leaves a soft pink mark on her otherwise perfect skin.

“What did I tell you about what you want, baby girl? Come now, Pikachu.”

Standing upright on the side of the bed with Chaeyoung once more, you watch as the Korean girl drags the riding crop down Tzuyu’s now-topless body, the tip of the crop tracing a path down her flat, tight stomach until it reaches the top hem of her lacy pair of low-cut panties.

“Such a slutty little piece of underwear. Do you think our fans know our little baby girl here likes to wear things like this beneath our shorts on stage?”

“No, I don’t think they do.”

Chaeyoung smirks, before bringing her mouth to your ear.

“The only thing I wear under my shorts is a vibrator.”

Chaeyoung relishes the look of lust-fueled surprise on your face for a moment before returning her full attention to Tzuyu, bringing the tip of the crop down the front panel of her underwear until it is resting above where her pussy would be.

As if testing the waters, Chaeyoung presses down on the riding crop - the moist fabric presses against Tzuyu’s slick folds, and the Taiwanese girl lets a long, needy moan escape her lips - to Chaeyoung’s satisfaction. Tzuyu raises her hips in a restless attempt to rub herself against the tip of the crop, but Chaeyoung responds by removing it altogether and giving her a quick, hard smack with the crop against her thighs.

Tzuyu yelps in pain - but the yelp quickly turns into a needy moan as Chaeyoung begins to caress her thighs with the crop.

“These hips though - these are her real moneymaker,” Chaeyoung observes, her tone plain, as though she were making an observation about the weather and not her fellow group member’s body. “And these thighs. Damn. If I were a dude, I’d give anything to hold on to these while I fuck her brains out. They’d feel great around my hips. Alas, I have to settle with the way they feel around my face. Would you like to feel that, Pikachu?”

“Fuck yeah,” you spit, almost involuntarily. Chaeyoung smirks before reaching down to the hem of Tzuyu’s drenched underwear and pulling. Tzuyu raises her hips to allow herself to be undressed - and soon she is naked, aside of course from the red blindfold.

“Baby girl, why don’t you give Pikachu a better view of your pretty little pussy?”

Tzuyu responds quickly, spreading her full, round thighs apart to reveal her naked crotch, the small, well-kept patch of hair there, and the glistening, slick lips of her pussy.

“Go have your dinner, Pikachu. I hope you like Taiwanese.”

You don’t consider yourself a particularly quick or nimble person, but even you surprised yourself with how quickly you got on the bed and on your knees between Tzuyu’s thighs. You somehow find the self-control to resist diving into her pussy immediately, taking a moment to plant soft, light kisses on her thighs - thighs you’d spent many evenings dreaming about. What any one of this girl’s thousands of adoring fans would have given to be here, not just touching them - but kissing them, and as a mere prelude to going down on her, no less?

Tzuyu has spent almost the entire session writhing and squirming on the bed - but when you kiss closer and closer to her needy pussy, she begins to raise her hips off the bed in an attempt to entice you to eat her.

“Mmmm, please, mmmmm, please, taste me, eat me, oh please-”

You silence the young woman’s pleas with a lick of her pussy from bottom to top, relishing the bittersweet taste of her juices on your tongue as they flow freely from her opening and onto your palette. You drink in her taste just as your ears drink in the sound of her gasps - gasps that quickly turn into moans as you dive in once again for a second lick, and then a third, and then a fourth, until you are lapping at her needy pussy like a hungry animal. Tzuyu closes her thighs around your head, and you quickly understand why Chaeyoung was eager for you to feel them around you.

“Mmm, oh, oh fuck! I-I- oh fuck, I’m so- I’m so fucking wet!”

“Now now,” you hear, Chaeyoung’s voice muffled by Tzuyu’s thighs on either side of your head, “you mustn’t get in the way of Pikachu’s meal, baby girl. Come now, let’s make it a little easier for him.”

Chaeyoung climbs on the bed and with a hand beneath Tzuyu’s knees, she pulls them back towards her torso, until her knees are against her shoulders and her feet are suspended in the air - giving you better access to her drenched, leaking pussy.

Your lips curl into a devilish smile at the sight of the meal in front of you. You lick your lips clean of Tzuyu’s juices before diving back in, cupping the girl’s now-upraised ass with your hands before you wrap your mouth around Tzuyu’s clit, your tongue darting out to tease it in slow circles. Then you slowly, carefully place the tip of your right index finger at her drenched opening, teasing it lightly. Penetrating her first with one finger, and then a second, you slip inside her and curl your palm upward, searching for and then quickly finding her g-spot.

To say Tzuyu was driven to the edge by your actions was no understatement - and soon the young woman is a writhing, squirming mess atop the bed as you lick and slurp and finger her pussy, clit, and g-spot - all while Chaeyoung does her best to hold her down.

“I-fuck-II’m-I’m gonna-I’m-so-fucking-oh fuck that’s so good-oh fuck-oh fuck-oh fuck- ohhh!”

When Tzuyu orgasms it’s like an earthquake is echoing throughout her young body - with its epicentre beneath your tongue. She jerks and thrashes atop the bed and it takes the best efforts of you and Chaeyoung to keep her down as her orgasm overtakes her body, flooding your mouth with her juices as she does so - all while a loud, endless moan leaves her mouth in an uninterrupted and unhindered stream.

For awhile she shivers and quakes atop the bed, and you place soft kisses on her firm thighs as she slowly recovers from her orgasm. Chaeyoung finally lets her legs down. Saliva drips from the corner of Tzuyu’s open mouth as she struggles to regain her breath.

“Now now, baby girl - it’s no time to rest just yet. Pikachu here still hasn’t had his fun.”

The sight of Chou Tzuyu in a post-orgasm haze, naked, would have been enough to satisfy you - but your achingly stiff cock had other ideas.

“I bet you wanna fuck this moaning little slut right now, don’t you, Pikachu?”

“Hell yes.”

“Well, unfortunately that’s not gonna happen,” Chaeyoung says, a look of exaggerated despair on her face. “Our baby girl here is a virgin. She hasn’t found a guy she thinks will satisfy her, and none of the toys we’ve picked her have impressed her - yet. Not that that’s kept her from doing pretty much everything else aside from actual sex.”

You are ashamed somewhat by this revelation given your desire to fuck the squirming, mewling young woman on the bed in front of you, but your respect for Tzuyu’s wishes quickly overcomes any sort of disappointment you may have felt.

“Of course, Chaeyoung. I don’t have to-”

“That doesn’t mean there aren’t other things you can do with this perfect little body of hers,” Chaeyoung interrupts. She drifts her hands to Tzuyu’s squirming thighs, now slick with her juices, slipping a finger between them as though mimicking a dick sliding between her firm flesh. You caress the full, firm curves of Tzuyu’s upper legs with your hands, enjoying the feel of her smooth skin beneath your fingers as you quickly catch on to Chaeyoung’s implication.

“Do it, Pikachu,” Chaeyoung says as if reading your mind, “Fuck her thighs. Fuck them until you cum on them.”

You don’t waste a moment more. With Momo, Chaeyoung and Sana you’d forced yourself to relish the moment, to remind yourself that this was all actually happening - but with Tzuyu you didn’t have that same patience. Perhaps it was because they were in charge, and they were having their way with you. Perhaps it was because Tzuyu was one that you picked. Perhaps it was the fact that she was the visual of the group, and you longed to have your way with the designated “pretty one,” longed to fuck the part of her body that she’d teased her fans with for so long.

You grasp her long, slim legs by her ankles, bringing them and her thick, full thighs together until they are on your shoulders as you kneel on the bed. Unable to wait a moment longer, you slip your aching, stiff cock between the soft flesh of her thighs.

You gasp out loud as you slide between them - almost as loudly as when you fucked the other girls earlier in the night. Her thighs are soft and warm around your cock, smothering it with her meaty flesh.

“Rub her pussy with that shaft,” Chaeyoung suggests, and you are happy to obey. Both you and Tzuyu gasp in pleasure as your cock makes contact with the wet, splayed lips of her pussy - a gasp that turns into a long, drawn-out moan as you fuck her thighs, each entry and exit between her legs rubbing the underside of your cock against her pussy and her engorged, stiff clit.

You realize your eyes have shut involuntarily in pleasure as you continue to rock your hips back and forth, dragging your cock against Tzuyu’s drenched pussy as you fuck her thighs - but when you finally look down and watch as the head of your cock appears from between her legs with each thrust, you think you might lose your mind.

She is so warm, so tight around you that it drives you insane with pleasure. Not as wet as either Sana or Chaeyoung’s pussies, of course, but the wetness of Tzuyu’s pussy beneath the underside of your cock as you slipped it in and between her splayed lips made up for it. Soon a thick layer of her juices have lathered your cock and her thighs with slick wetness, making every thrust between her legs just as pleasurable as any other experience you’d had so far that night.

Tzuyu seemed to be enjoying it just as much as you were, if not more. She squirms and writhes on the bed, her hands in the handcuffs above her head rattling loudly against the headboard as she tries to find some release for the pleasure surging through her body as every thrust rubs the underside of your cock against her sensitive clit. Soon her gasps become quicker and more fervent, her hips thrusting her crotch upward in an attempt to increase her pleasure.

For long, beautiful minutes you fuck Chou Tzuyu’s thighs, enjoying every thrust between her full, thick legs, drinking in the sound of her lustful moans and gasps like a decadent wine. At the start of this evening you were happy just to watch this girl on stage, dancing and singing without a care in the world - now that same girl was naked aside from a red blindfold, hands bound above her head and her ankles on her shoulders as you pumped in and out between her thighs.

“Oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck, keep going keep going, oh, keep going, oh, I’m cumming!” she gasps, words you’d never have guessed you’d hear coming from the lips of one of your favorite idols - and one of the most beautiful women on earth, in your humble opinion.

Tzuyu cums again - and her juices beneath your cock and the warm wetness of her thighs bring you close to your orgasm as well.

“I’m gonna fucking cum,” you spit, not once letting up your thrusts into the warm, hot flesh between Tzuyu’s legs.

“Fucking cum on her thighs,” Chaeyoung hisses.

Before you know it you are cumming - and you somehow possess the self-control to ensure the head of your cock is smothered between Tzuyu’s thick meaty thighs as you orgasm. Thick, hot cum spurts from your tip to be trapped by the warm flesh surrounding it, some of it dripping between her legs to land on her crotch, most of it being oozing between your quivering cock and Tzuyu’s thighs, where it drips down to the messy, slick mess of her pussy.

Your self-control only lasts for a moment, and as your orgasm reaches its end you drive yourself as deep as you can between Tzuyu’s slick, messy thighs. The head of your cock pops out between her meaty flesh to send the last few spurts of your cum onto the young woman’s lower stomach and crotch, covering her small patch of pubic hair and her sensitive clit in your thick, hot semen.

As your orgasm winds down you finally let Tzuyu’s legs slip from your grasp, revealing the slick, sticky mess you’d both made of her crotch and thighs. Chaeyoung finally slips the blindfold from her eyes.

There are few images in your life you think you’d remember forever, but the sight of Tzuyu’s face as Chaeyoung removes the last article of clothing from her body is one of them. Those perfect, round chestnut eyes, half-lidded in pleasure, her beautiful face filled with sated lust and fulfilled desire, sweat matted hair glued to her face, a thin trail of saliva dripping from a corner of her mouth.

She breathes in and out softly, doing her best to recover from the experience, her eyes locked on yours the whole while. A small smile appears on her lips, as though she’d just come to some internal decision.

---

You enjoyed the feel of Chaeyoung’s hair between your fingers, letting the soft blonde strands weave through your fingertips as you stroke her head gently. Her head bobs up and down in wide strokes as she sweeps her face up and down Tzuyu’s messy thighs, her tongue flat against the younger woman’s skin, lapping up every drop of the slick, wet juices she could find between the two pelvises in front of her.

At your beckoning she turns her head from Tzuyu’s crotch, revealing a chin and cheeks slick and wet with fluids, before dipping her head into your own crotch. When you feel her tongue darting out and licking your tired, weary cock from base to tip, you lean your head back and sigh.

Tzuyu, lying on her side next to you, traces random patterns on your chest with a finger. Your hand leaves Chaeyoung’s head to stroke the side of Tzuyu’s beautiful face for a moment before tracing a path down her neck and cupping her breast. Your thumb plays lazily with her still stiff nipple, and you absentmindedly wonder when you would wake up from this surreal dream.

“You’re right, unnie - he was good,” she says softly, speaking as though you weren’t there, fondling her breasts.

“I… told… you… so,” Chaeyoung replies, inbetween licks of your cock.

“Mmm,” Tzuyu says wistfully. “I think I want him to-”

Tzuyu’s sentence is interrupted by the loud ringtone of Chaeyoung’s phone - and for the second time that night, she answers it with a chin and cheeks slick with bodily fluids.

“Yes?”

Chaeyoung listens to the person on the other line - and while you couldn’t tell who it was, you knew from the tone it had to be a female. A sly smile appears on Chaeyoung’s slick lips. A small drip of juices, your or Tzuyu’s or both, falls from her chin.

“Maybe. We’ll see if he’s still up for it. Annyeong~~~” Chaeyoung answers, ending the call and tossing her phone back on the bed.

“Who was it?” Tzuyu asks, returning her head to your chest as she caresses your stomach with a soft hand. Soon she lifts her head to your face, where she plants soft kisses on your cheek.

“It’s our room neighbors. Apparently they heard all the racket we were making and were wondering when it would be their turn,” Chaeyoung says, lips curling into a mischievous smile as she returns her head to between Tzuyu’s spread, slick thighs.

“I hope you’ve still got gas in the tank, Pikachu,” Chaeyoung says, her words muffled somewhat by Tzuyu’s flesh. “Four down, five to go…”

---

Author’s Note: Boy did I get that chapter out faster than I thought I would. The poll I held on the weekend to decide this chapter motivated me more than expected, and I cranked this out in just a couple of hours. Tzuyu’s thighs are hot as fuck and I’ve never written a thighjob before, so this was a fun learning experience lol.

Hmmm - Nayeon preprequel or Karaoke chapter next? Hmmmmmmmm….

#kpop fanfic #kpop fanfiction #kpop smut #male reader #pov smut #twice #twice tzuyu #chou tzuyu

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