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What's your thoughts on American Indian dogs? (This is a picture of 2 of them that came into the pet supply store I used to work at).
im gonna be honest, i know they exist but not much beyond that - they're not a breed i find particularly interesting, so i haven't looked into them. are these the same things as native american indian dogs, or are those different? there's sooo many of these generic-husky-shepherdy-wolfy projects that i can never remember what is what. but at least with NAIDs i'm pretty sure i remember some bullshit going around recently with a breeder(s?) claiming their dogs had no wolf content when they actually had a significant amount, which is, uh, wildly unethical.
i'm also innately distrustful of any sort of 'historic breed recreation' like this because they tend to be a very... almost fetishistic sort of project. especially considering this is supposed to be a recreation of the dogs that lived with native americans and first nations. are native people actually involved in this project and helping with guidance and direction? or is this just yet another case of Dog People deciding that a historic, landrace breed should Actually Look Like This and ignoring their place of origin? are we actually studying the historic dogs and using the modern american village dogs and rez dogs that still exist today as our founders? or are we just mashing wolfy-looking breeds together because wolves = majestic = totally native american?
idk man i'd love to be proven wrong here, so if someone can refute this and show me that this is a project sanctioned by actual native peoples and with a concise goal in mind, cool. but my surface impression has been more or less that it's Dog People playing dress-up with wolfy-looking dogs under the guise of claiming it's a breed recreation.
#sorry this is kind of shitty answer to what was probably an innocent question this kind of stuff just really strikes me as in poor taste#(the breed project not the question)#i am hiiiiiiiiiiiighly suspicious of historic breed recreations just on principal bc theyre virtually never done for realistic goals#more just 'hey this picture of an old dog looks cool lets mash a bunch of breeds together until i make a puppy that looks similar'#but like. even in this picture these just look like 2 GSD/husky mixes lol.#again look at real village dogs. or look at like greenland dogs that are still used for their historic work#bc spoiler: they dont look like fluffy husky-GSD mixes
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Demon slayer! MC working at the Mostro Lounge
Ok ok so Octavinelle's part of my demon slayer MC series is coming out soon and I have so many ideas that I can't fit in there bc I don't want my favoritism for Azul to show that badly so this is a thing.
Content: Azul pining over demon slayer!MC
No gendered pronouns are used for mc, only "you"
Warnings: Azul being oblivious to himself, angst if you squint and look away
Demon slayer! MC who enjoys working a little too much
At first, Azul figured you were just happy to finally be making money outside of Crowley’s shitty allowance. I mean, no one can be that genuinely excited to wait tables and wash dishes.
Except for you that is.
He wasn’t complaining, not at all, it was just a little unusual. You never complained about any work he assigned you, unlike a certain eel. You were even just as efficient at scaring away rowdy customers.
Truthfully, the reason why you liked working there was because you were so busy. It made you feel more normal, as if you really left behind your life as a slayer. Or maybe working just let you not think about it in the first place. Either way, Azul clearly appreciated the extra labor. Just as Grim appreciated the pricier tuna.
One day he caught you singing to yourself while you were washing dishes.
Hushabye baby bunny on the hill…
Tell me why your eyes are very red…
Because when my mother was expecting me she dined on red berries from a tree…
And that is why my eyes are so very red…
It was a simple lullaby, and yet you held such a genuine smile while singing. It must’ve been from your home. Were you feeling homesick? Is that why you’ve taken so many shifts lately?
He wanted to ask about it but reasoned against it. You always kept him at an arms length after his overblot. He didn’t want to make it worse by suddenly asking you such a personal question.
Maybe later then….
Demon slayer! Mc who is enamoured by the large aquariums all around them.
You tried so hard not to let your giddiness show when you first stepped foot in the lounge with Jack. Imagine! Tanks as large as these embedded to the walls with tons of colorful sea-life and fish, you never thought you'd see anything like it.
Tbh you were actually a little grateful for the whole situation, | mean, you got to go underwater and see the sea life outside of those tanks. Ace and Deuce were a little worried about how side tracked you suddenly got when y’all were down there lol.
So when you got a job at the Mostro Lounge and were now able to stare at those tanks all day you could barely hide your excitement.
Azul took notice of this quickly, you never let it distract you from work but it was a little endearing how you were so fascinated by the aquariums. Platonically, that is.
One day he caught you staring at one of the aquariums while you were cleaning tables after closing. There was a look on your face of innocent wonder, very different from the normally gloomy cloud that hung over your eyes.
From the angle he was at he couldn't tell what you were staring at. Whatever it was it held your attention in a vice grip, I mean you didn't even notice him as he walked closer. Or when he cleared his throat...or when he called your name... you're not ignoring him are you?
Azul called your name one more time and he finally caught your attention. You whipped your head around, "Oh! Sorry Azul I didn't notice you. Did you need something?"
Azul sighed, “Not in particular, I was just wondering what had your attention. It's not like you to stare off in the middle of work."
You smiled sheepishly, rubbing the nape of your neck as you answered, “Well, I was actually looking at this one little guy in the tank. You see I don't have stuff like this back in my world so it's all kind of new to me." You laughed, “It probably sounds a little stupid to you, being a merman and all."
Azul shook his head, “Not at all, which fish were you looking at?”
He expected you to point out on of the colorful fish around you. After all, their large fins and the way they effortlessly swam through the clear water was pleasing to the eye. He would never admit it, but he was a little upset. It was rare the insecurities from his past came up nowadays but you were different for a reason he couldn’t explain. He wanted to impress you, and if you were attracted to the fins that he could never have then what would he do then? Maybe he was thinking too much…
You smiled, and pointed to a small creature sitting at the bottom of the tank. It was perfectly camouflaged amount the sand and rocks. His heart did a flip, out of surprise or something else he couldn’t tell. He was just grateful you weren’t looking at him in that moment.
“That’s an octopus, I didn’t actually know we had one of them in here.” Floyd must have put it in, Azul thought bitterly.
“Wait, seriously? That’s what they look like?”
Azul cringed a little inwardly, preparing for the worst.
“That’s so cool! I never thought they looked like that. I mean, I’ve eaten them before but I’ve never seen one alive. I thought they were red!”
The look on your face was comparable to a kid getting candy you were so happy. You were enamored by the octopus the entire time? The little sea dweller stuck at the bottom while the other fish sore high above you?
God, why did he feel like this? Heat pooled in his cheeks as he watched the smile on your face grow wider.
He wished he could make you this happy everyday…
He adjusted his glasses unnecessarily and looked away, “All octopi have the ability to camouflage to their surroundings. Only a few species are red naturally.”
Suddenly he was caught in a whirlwind of your excited questions. He forgot how behind your world was in terms of science and research. There was probably no way for you to actually study any of this before now. Either way he was happy to answer all of them. He reasoned that this was the best way he could finally build actual trust. That was important for a good work environment between employer and employee after all…
Demon slayer!MC who once saved Azul from falling flat on the floor (although he can’t tell if he would’ve rather you let him fall)
He doesn’t know how it happened, sure he wasn’t the most graceful walking around when he first got legs but he couldn’t have seriously tripped on air!
He just was walking down the stairs to check if everything was running smoothly. Maybe he was distracted by the way you smiled at the customers as you took their orders, or the way you winked at him as you walked past. Either way he felt his stomach drop when his foot missed the next step. He slid backwards and braced himself-
Except it never came, rather than the edge of the stairs his head hit the comfort of your arms. were you always this strong?
He didn’t get to dwell on it for long though. He felt the uncomfortable stares and whispers a little too much for his liking. He quickly pushed himself out of you arms and adjusted himself.
“Are you alright Azul? You look a little red, you’re not sick are you?”
“No! No, I’m fine. Thank you.” He spoke quickly, desperately trying to avoid your eyes.
You frowned, but took his excuse with a sympathetic smile, “Alright, if you say so. Don’t work too hard alright? You could’ve gotten hurt.” With that you walked off to the kitchen, leaving him to deal with the customers who were suddenly very interested in the whole event.
What he would give to crawl into an octopot right now to hide away his fast beating heart…
*****
“Ehhh, Shrimpy you should just kiss him already.”
“Floyd! It’s not like that!”
“It was a stunning performance Prefect. I’m sure Azul appreciated it.”
“Jade! Not you too..” You sighed as you collected the orders for your table, “Azul could’ve gotten hurt so I helped him. That’s all.”
The twins laughed to themselves, keeping their sadistic grins plastered on their faces as you sighed.
Azul did look pretty cute all surprised like that though…
The twins gave you their signature eerie smile. There really was no convincing them. You just shook your head in defeat, smiling a little to yourself as you watched Azul talk to another customer. At least he’s alright…
#twisted wonderland#twst wonderland#twst x mc#fanfic#twisted wonderland imagines#twst imagines#azul ashengrotto#twst crossover demon slayer#demon slayer mc#demon slayer x twst#azul x mc#azul x reader#azul x demon slayer mc#Azul x demon slayer Yuu
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SPOILERS, Discussion II, Chapter 6 Part 2.
Don't read this if you haven't read this chapter.
This is an author answer/response to "Wednesdays_Destiny" on AO3 because I can't be bothered (or frustrated) to chop it up into God knows how many comments in their 10K limit.
Purple is direct Afterburn Canon/quote.
Pink is Wednesdays_Destiny's thoughts/q's.
THE COLORS ARE A LITTLE MESSED THIS TIME. IDK what happened, something happened when it saved to drafts. It's this trash site's problem. Not going back to fix it 💀
Fun video clip included under the cut.
>legitimate physical harm is fair game.<
>>>Usually such rules "everything except" happen after "except" happens, so I wonder if they had an incident previously.
It’s that they know that the different species have different levels of powers, some more potentially dangerous than others, so they respect each others’ differences by keeping each other safe. (This is a little spoilery.)
>it billowed out their noses as their<
>>>Yeah sorry that ship has sailed B/Y, nothing will beat the irritated dragon Wednesday.
Wednesday shotgunned Donovan on her birthday, too. It hits different though, I get it…Yoko has yet to win any hearts over. But shotgunning is still sexy.
>gives a vampire the benefit<
>>> Is that a benefit? Despite being able to mix you Just need to buy and consume more then?
If normal people mixed drugs the way vampires can, they’d all be dead. Or undead, if they’re lucky enough to be “resuscitated” by a vampire before the heart stops. Either way, vampires can't die of an OD.
>perhaps she just didn't remember<
>>>>I will admit I am curious what happened that she chose to forget it ever happened.
Well, we’ll just have to see if that question is ever answered in canon or in a flashback or in a deleted scene or in a short one shot or…
>those powers wouldn't show up for another few years<
curious if sirens/Gorgon also get their powers during puberty of it they have it from birth.
Sirens and Gorgons are born that way, with some minor changes as growth happens. And I’m taking from N/Canon that psychic powers don’t show up until just about mid-puberty. Wednesday’s psychic powers showed up after the Fester-like electricity did to a noticeable degree…that’s all I’ll say about that for now, since it’ll probably be covered in Chapter 7. And BTW, male sirens and gorgons are rarer than females; Kent and Ajax are the outliers of their kind. Telekinesis is male-dominated outside of vampires (where it’s gender neutral), but there are Addamses who have that. They have a wide array of powers in the family.
>since her very plain surname wasn't exactly memorable.<
>>>>What do you mean? Addams is like one of the most memorable last names there is.
It’s actually common (35th in the U.S.), except for the spelling. That’s why Enid spelled it “Adams” in her shitty blog. LOL
>cold and professional…. A sudden commotion<
>>>> And you blueball us pff. Given that she lost her virginity to our sheriff the farthest they went was a blowjob, maybe that explains how she was so good with Donovan first try - if she was "experimenting" with with boys previously.
I probably won’t write what happened (even though I know exactly what happened…) but she did not put her mouth on him. That I can tell you. It was, at first, honestly innocent “doctor” play.
>"I'm ovulating." <
>>>>Oohhh FucK
Oh no, someone’s gonna end up pregnant in their sophomore year of high school, oh nooooo…*cackling*
>the colorful rainbow rippling up and<
>>>>Talk about inconvenient, that prevents all types of exhibition kinks like having a remote vibe inside in the classroom, coming and trying to not move a muscle/be dead quiet so no one catches on. But besides that its fucking glorious.
I can imagine many, many funny scenarios where their orgasms happen in public.
>his sister's paranoid drug rages<
>>>>Glad I have never touched any type of drug, of any type. That sounds just horrible.
Some people can’t handle their drugs *at all*. Wednesday is smart and doesn’t take unnecessary risks (so far) with drugs. Divina has difficulty with it, and not necessarily because she takes too much (though sometimes she does…I think there’s a lot of pain and guilt in her since I already have their backstory written).
>the balloon inflated, rising off of his hand<
>>>>Now do that with Laurels head.
He’ll deal with some of his rage about “Ms. Thornhill” in the sequel, I think.
>strange tornado of feelings he had for an old, quirky acquaintance<
>>>>Given that Donovan is 55 he will be dead in 30ish years at the latest, then you will be a man and can go collect your woman. Till then run a FwB with Bianca.
*laughs in Omnipotent POV*
>gorgon was stone hard<
Punny American, I see.
🥸
>her during, manipulating pressure against her clit<
>>>>Or you could use your powers to massage parts you could not normally reach, like the roots and base of her clit instead.
Do you honestly believe that nerdy little Rowan who kissed like he was a thirsty dog lapping at a water bowl would know anything about female anatomy other than the clit and vagina? Plus even if he did, he’d still be lost since the siren’s weird labia kinda work differently (they’re able to move/ripple…kinda like Pseudobiceros bedfordi:
Persian Carpet Flatworm Pseudobiceros bedfordi )
See that rippling? That’s how their labia work. Only they also have lamellae (think the underside of a mushroom) that also move with that.
>amazingly satisfying cock, just big<
>>>>Imo missed opportunity to have him have a 4 inch cock and use his telekintetic powers to stretch the vagina of the girl he is with telekineticly making him always be the perfect fit.
Rowan was not a shapeshifter like his father, so extending his dick would hurt him and shortening the vag of the girl to make his tiny peen fit would hurt her (when Chance has sex with Weems, he changes things about himself to fit her, like his tongue, but honestly, he is already her perfect fit…ahem). As a telekinetic, he can only manipulate what is already there, whereas shapeshifters are...
...more flexible.
Plus I wanted to be kind to Rowan…it wasn’t his fault he lost his mind.
>"Is what all that we are?" "I dunno. I just have a feeling."<
>>>>The fact of having pictures of lots of ancient, important and powerful legacy in your hideout, a bunch of old valuable books...I have no idea how you would get that idea. The nightshades were always meant to be a trivial social club.
This is an N/Canon problem. Given that Bianca et al have had this kind of access to the library (hmm, how did they get it in the first place…I guess I’ll have to be the one to fricking explain it then, thanks N/Canon crap writers LOL) for at least two other semesters and HASN’T read any of those books, uh…yeah. Someone intro’ed the Nightshades as a “social club”. Hmm, I wonder whooooo………..
>Bianca held a bit of resentment<
>>>>As much as I love Enid, that is her biggest flaw, I suspect she runs the blog because she did not have any real friends - she was rooming alone before and Yoko had space, so she prob was using it to fill some void.
I’ve thought about that as well. She was rooming alone. Why? Poor Enid. Enid has her strengths, but she can be a little ditzy.
>"S'not like Addams hasn't made it abundantly clear that she doesn't want 'im."<
>>>>-They have history, she saved him, he saved her, in the infirmary, she looked...content, she finds him interesting (as the killer or not)... I get why he's holding out hope.
Bianca doesn’t know anything about their history.
> whose activity had made Divina's siren song a little louder<
>>>> The siren song is the power they use to manipulate, is the implication here it's like a cat purring? A cat's purr does have certain qualities of a siren song…
We saw how a “siren song” actually works (twice, once with Tyler and once with Coach Vlad). In order to manipulate someone, they have to state what they want them to do. With this aspect of a siren song, it’s more like a deep sea mating song. They’re not telling anyone to do anything, it’s not produced out of manipulation; it’s produced out of pleasure.
That said, have you ever heard a female cat's mating call? It’s not purring. A whale's call sounds like this. But the wails, as pleasant as they are (and they are pleasant, not as harsh as whale sounds) just happened to remind Xavier of cats/Morella.
>would suction into place around a female siren's cervix<
>>>>Tor, making up siren genitalia since Wednesday But I am curious, does that still work if the male siren is cut? Are sirens not cut?
Male sirens are never cut.
>"We have to go on ahead with your original plan,"<
>>>>Given you got killed via nightshade poisoning, Enid fights the Hyde and Wednesdays shoe killing thornkill your plan failed.
Hmm.
>her father out of those murder charges stemming<
>>>>Stemming from you - no one else saw Gomez holding that sword so it was you who put that whole ball rolling.
She described what she saw and the circumstances around it. She isn’t psychic, yanno. LOL Plus she was Enid’s age, or about.
>"You still think she could be the one?"<
>>>>Curious what the payoff for that one will be. As a possible theory, the chancellor is a Wednesday stalker by the end.
Hmm. I will say that eventually they will have some scenes together.
>Trust me…they're all safe, fucking each other under the moonlight.<
>>>>What? 6 out of the 300+ Students are safe and the others are just fucked. The bad fucked.
He assumes that the whole school is probably fucking under the moonlight too, so when he says “all” it’s extended to mean everyone in the castle. All horny teens. And he’s probably correct. I just haven’t gone into the dorms of the other three halls yet (which I have named, since the fucking fuck writers haven’t given us those names either).
>listening to Noble's concerns about the lack of progress on the case<
>>>> Interesting if I recall correctly Noble thought the murders to be a bear not any type of outcast. So there is no case in Noble's mind?
This is part of N/Canon that pisses me off; Noble used to be Sheriff. Meaning he was a cop, investigating crimes. So AB/C Noble heavily suspects that it really isn’t a bear, given the wounds. He tells Weems and the public that they’re bear attacks because he’s working to preserve their symbiotic relationship. Nevermore gets left alone from any ordinances/bigots like David Breeding because Nevermore contributes to his campaign and gives shitloads of cash to the city in taxes and donations.
>approved people just weren't human enough<
>>>>Oh no...is this going where I think it's going?
🤷🏽♂️🤷🏽♂️🤷🏽♂️🤷🏽♂️🤷🏽♂️
>pilgrims who persecuted and murdered outcasts<
>>>>Regarding my outcast questions, THIS is why it's important
You cannot even look at a Gorgon…
The original outcasts in the colonies did not include gorgons and sirens. More on that in the future, I already have things planned and am not spoiling that.
>when few outcasts were sent overseas<
>>>>Why? Looping back to some of my other questions, Georgians don't do it intentionally, so could you just tie one to the barrel of your tank and anyone trying to shoot at you gets stoned? They would be the best war asset, same with shapeshifters infiltrating the command level of the military Are outcasts even an only native American thing?
I don’t think outcasts normally like to get involved in Muggl — erm, norminal affairs. The only ones who were sent were vampires. Both groups would end up losing more than they would if they just left each other alone.
>and he lived in a trailer >like an accident by running her over with his truck<
>>>>Unless that truck had fist shaped tires, I do not see how that could have worked. Also, that is fucking brutal.
Men like Breeding are the type who would do something like this. And it’s been done before.
>building a decent case against someone<
>>>>While it would be great to have those violent people gone it would not solve the murders happening Donovan.
He’s just trying to buy time.
> That's one Hell of a 'therapist'<
>>>>It's called shock therapy I believe. With her fingers. And Shocks.
💀
>He'd been forbidden to masturbate<
>>>>Wednesday should get the same rule...also Him coming untouched thinking of her while also able to last multiple of her orgasms while inside her is confusing.
Wednesday lives by her own rules in all canon, LOL And a man can’t control his wet dreams. Also, the power of the mind vs. body is a strange thing. I’ve seen some men last through multiple orgasms. I’ve seen some who are one weak little stream and that’s it. So there is always the average, which is a big pond to find average fish in, but then you have the special ones, like Donovan and shape shifters.
>There was no way that he would have taken the chance of a perfect match.<
>>>>Then why bother? Frankly, this tells you very little. Only that both claws are related. It could be your wife's family had more hides in them that are still around I get him trying to deny it, but at least be sure of it and then deny it.
His wife’s family are all in France (though a lot of them are dead), and he wanted to be more than sure it was Tyler and not some other Hyde (in case there was another Hyde). Francie’s DNA may have been wiped from CODIS, but testing might still have record of it, thus Donovan wasn’t going to take the risk of the official channels finding the match. He’s a little paranoid since he’s pretty sure he still has copies of files that were otherwise ‘lost’.
>chided him for being weak and pathetic.<
>>>>How is Donovan weak and pathetic?
There is a method to my madness with these secondary, no-line characters. You're just going to have to trust me.
> What brought out Tyler's? <
>>>>You see there is this lovely woman, glasses, loves plants, hates outcasts, loves coffee and your sons cock.
#Gatesmonster has my attention atm.
>and was sitting up in his new black and white pet bed > the girl who had a soft spot for animals<
>>>>While that thought is adorable, I doubt she cares for animals as a whole, given she basically murdered two bags full of piranhas in the opener and besides loving her pet Nero I do not recall any other interactions with animals.
That she has a ‘way’ with animals is canon. She has hibernated with bears and swam with sharks. Those weren’t one of her usual ‘Wednesday being edgy’ lies, since Wednesday and Gomez confirm the shark thing. Bear hibernation was sort of confirmed with Eugene.
>since photography had been a hobby of his<
>>>>That is neat, giving our man some hobbies. Proper photography is hard too, and no selfies on whatever site currently is in are not photography
This is something that Wednesday and Donovan share/bond with over. She likes crime scene photography, so she was taught to develop her own film.
>that she had a mirror fetish<
>>>>Katoptronophilia you mean ?...Donovan, also using this chance to point out that kink and fetish are different, kink is optional but gives pleasure, fetish needs to be present to get pleasure at all.
I’m not going to go into this debate because it’s silly, especially when everyone is always contradicting themselves when trying to parse the difference. The Addamses all have it, hence the Hall of Mirrors. People can have a fetish for something but not have to indulge in it every time. How many times have people discovered their spouses’ fetishes after not having a clue about them before marriage? Plenty. As well, I see them as something that would immediately get someone off, where as a kink can be more drawn out.
>grim creeperism that kept everybody else at a distance<
>>>>That is such an interesting point, is Wednesday acting or is she genuine when she is creepy...Eg the hug with Enid, was that Wednesday, giving in "fine I like hugs" or was that purely for enid's sake
I have been meaning to do a series about the lies Wednesday tells whenever she wants to shock people. We already know she does this, purposely, within her first ten minutes with Enid. “Rumor has it that you killed a kid at your old school and your parents pulled a few strings to get you off…” “Actually it was two kids, but who’s counting?” (Lie, since she didn’t kill any kids at all, she just maimed Dalton.) “I was born on Friday the 13th.” (Lie, since her birthday on the show is in November and there was no Friday the 13th in November 2006.) “Sartre said ‘Hell is other people.’ He was my first crush.” (Very unlikely, LOL). Etc., etc.
>A sixteen-year-old Wednesday was more bold, perhaps reckless<
>>>> This is making me wonder who the first one to find out who shouldn't be, regarding "I fuck who I want, and there is nothing you can do about it"
Upcoming, Chapter 7.
>she was forced to keep rejecting the boy's advances<
>>>>-She seemed really shocked and pleased about that date location, unless she's faking the whole "iam into death" thing, a crypt would be the perfect spot to take the creepy goth girl, and of course a normal scary movie would be a joke to her, so either double down with a classic or go the inverse with a vibrant movie that is scary and torture for her.
I don’t think the ‘I’m into death’ thing is faked, but by this point in the AB story, she’s already had her candle lit birthday, and it was done better, even though it wasn’t in a crypt. Again, Tyler went with the assumptions here.
>>>>When Donovan leaves the way she looked to (her) bottom left "oh fuck how am i gonna explain that one to my man ?"
🙂
>"Do I scare you, Donovan?"<
>>>>I feel like...i saw that line befor...hmmm.
This whole scene before the truck was the one I had to take back from Part 1. So people read it there, first.
> with her electrical discharges<
>>>> Since I have yet to see a payoff to that little storyline, here is my newest take on it: She's gonna kill him with said electrical discharges during one of her most powerful orgasms she has for him
Nope.
>or into her womb<
Given how much he has filled her with already, there should be something in the oven already…
🙂
>slight strabismus in her right eye<
>>>>Is this something you made up? I saw your recent post with Wednesday/Tyler at the station, and she does have it but that could just be due to the distance he just went up to her?
Normal Wednesday/Jenna eyes:
She has it in the scene where they’re arresting Xavier…because she’s so full of pride and excitement that her right eye just wants to bug out into a different direction LMAO:
It's slight (I did say slight!).
Not tryna be mean, but it’s there (and also visible at split second times in other scenes/things she does). Doesn’t make her less cute. If Jenna God forbid ever saw this, I hope she knows that no one's perfect, certain sht can't be helped, she's cute in this whole series.
>"You're destroying your liver."<
>>>>Yeah well you decided to go for an old alcoholic, the limited expiration date was visible before you made your purchase Addams.
She didn’t know just how much he drank (not the beer in his desk, but the scotch), though, until…well. That answer is in this chapter too.
>"Doll, you know what it's like to make promises in this fucked up world we live in," <
>>>> love to hear his unwavering affection for her, iam sure nothing can shake that. Right?
He will love her until the day that he dies. ETA: And vice versa (she will love him until the day she dies as well).
>"Even if I dig up more bodies?" she asked<
>>>>Taking her to a court ordered gravedigging might be a good setting for a date with him.
Hmm.
>run down wasn't exactly something she was eager to witness either<
>>>>Given that Canon Wednesday stated she had it on her bucket list, does this mean your Wednesday is a softer version and part of the "I love death" she exhibits is fake?
“Bucket list” N/C comment was one of her lies/shock value/edgy comments, see above about her lies/sarcasm, to mess with people. AB/C Wednesday is pretty accurate to that except for how she behaves around Donovan, which is the softer part. And yet she will still say her ‘Wednesday lies’ around him, too. It’s just how she is. I feel like she does this to keep people at a distance so they never know the real truth around who she is…kind of a defense mechanism.
>it was horrific and she froze<
>>>>It really was not that bad Wednesday, Eugene's claw wounds were much more severe, speaking off, the mayor got killed because he got it figured out, why exactly got Eugene attacked again? Laurel specifically ordered Tyler there for what, injure him? As much as I love Eugene, he should be dead.
I’ve watched this scene more times than I can count just for the surprised and shocked gasp of hers that happens when Noble is hit, and to watch her hurriedly get the fk out of his SUV (hurried so much that she didn't bother to close the hatch) and run towards them. She was shocked by it/took no pleasure in it.
Regarding Eugene, I believe he survived because he had that thick jacket on. Rowan had his vest but it wasn’t zipped up, same goes for the camper in the beginning (I think). Eugene had layers that could’ve helped save him from deadlier wounds (Tylermonster didn’t have too much time to hack and slash at him like he did with Fabian, since Tylermonster could hear that Wednesday was on the way via them calling out to each other).
Also speaking of Eugene: Laurel fucking Gates could detach Noble from his ventilator, but not Eugene from his? COME ON!!!
>he hooked her leg over his hip and started thrusting<
>>>>I have to admit I had to reread this a couple times before (I think) I pictured it correctly...
Do I have to illustrate this with LEGO again? Her right leg is on the door frame because there’s no real space to put the left foot (his cruiser has a metal grate that separates arrestees in the back; but he does have some shelf space behind the front seats for shit like equipment, his hat, etc.). He hooked her left leg over him (with her pants having slid off her boot...those are wide-leg pants again).
>more pained sounds she made, the harder he fucked<
>>>>Is our sweetheart Donovan also into inflicting pain? It would appear so.
I think it’s harder to describe than that.
>there was nothing but blissful acceptance<
>>>>So breathplay is another Kink of hers.
Maybe.
>Donovan hated hearing her name fall from Tyler's lips<
>>>> The fuck did he even come from? I checked he was standing in a corner and when he is leaving he's using a different door like what.
I like to think he was coming in from the garage. The exterior of the house doesn’t match the interior shots anyway, so in AB/Canon, that door he came in from in the scene w Tyler was the garage. For all we know, it leads to the outside (probably N/Canon, but again...the house’s interior doesn’t match the exterior, as there’s another door on almost the same corner as that kitchen/dining/living room door below):
>"Came home during my shift last week.<
>>>>During an eventual next reread I will need to note down dates and day changes to see if this is one session we have been with them.
🙂
>his right in a fist near his face.<
I gotta say iam not sure how I feel about this Donovan, failing to do what is right is not equal to doing wrong...but getting violent (again based on his fearful reaction) is not excusable.
I wrote this scene before I discovered that in the original script, Donovan was supposed to smack him. I see why they cut it out, violence is never a solution and that saved Donovan from being a terrible guy in N/Canon, but at this point in the AB story, Donovan is overwhelmed. Think of how much higher this makes his stress level (to think that his own son could potentially find out or figure out that he’s been fucking ((and is totally in love with)) a younger girl). He’s unraveling, like Wednesday. Except Wednesday doesn’t have to look at a killer ((that he loves)) every night.
>I won't even mention what else I smell<
>>>>I mean, what else DO you smell ?, The Sheriff, her smelling freshly fucked/sweaty, possibly cum. Weed. A proper cake? It's not that bad Enid.
There are loads of other things werewolves can smell around other non-werewolves when they’re conscious of it.
> checking to make sure the flashlight still worked<
>>>> Not on you but the show, the fuck is up with those flashlights, modern flashlights are powerful enough to illuminate a fucking forest in the middle of the night as if its day, why do you run around with a candle on a stick basically? Fucking amateurs
I think they were trying to keep on the fact that Wednesday is still old fashioned. Hence her batteries for her flashlight instead of getting one that you can recharge, etc. Though she has a really weird flashlight that flashes red. I dunno why they did that (the scene where they come upon the Cadillac at the mansion). ETA 9/10/23: This was the one mistake I made so far in interpreting the series, the red flash was not her flashlight, it was the above lamp she turned on. Which still doesn't make sense, why red? Weird. Anyway, I missed that at first, but I know it now. (Another reason why I need to keep watching 7 and 8 while I write my 7 and 8. The sequencing and details are a bigger mess.)
>"Since the Rave'N.<
>>>>Ha Enid caught on immediately.
She sure did. It was especially strong after her birthday, in spite of the rain/some wash-offs.
>Wednesday was a really pretty girl<
>>>>Everyone loves Eugene. I have not met anyone who dislikes Eugene. Look how much fanfiction is Eugene centric. How often he gets the girl. Never.
He’ll get the girl. The people in this fandom forget about the Longbottom Effect.
>the other Furs can<
>>>>8 Hours runtime and we know a single Named fur: Enid, Murray/Esther do not count because they do not go to the school.
No vampires except Yoko, either.
>'clique' were all fucking each other.<
>>>>It does break my heart that sweet Ajax is cheating on Enid, at this point they are together and this confirms she has no idea.
Ajax…crap, I can’t type what I was gonna type. … 🙂
>if he's got a big — " "Enid."<
>>>>Damn it Enid not you too, men have more value than the size of their cocks! , just think about the size of their wallets!
She a typical curious teen girl. I’d have asked too.
>hideous looking monster.<
>>>>Given you have given the sirens new genitalia, are about to give Enid special lady parts, Is Laurel dealing with normal or "advanced" genitalia?
Laurel’s dealing with Tyler’s almost 7” long schlong. He hasn’t transformed during sex.
>they smelled like the boy who had accompanied them<
>>>>So she knows.
She doesn’t even have a suspicion yet because she literally has no clue as to what’s going on. Wednesday never talks to her about it because she doesn’t want to hear it (canon, after she faints and makes W move her own crime board). If you were Enid and you were totally sidetracked into doing something totally fucked up and suddenly came upon this bed that smelled like Tyler’s pheromones (and Laurel’s, but she can’t place it because she’s only smelled her in passing/didn’t really have cause to commit her scent to memory), you’d wonder WTF was going on, too.
>Disappeared. Evidence, disappeared<
>>>>God iam so upset that this is what happened and canon, really? Small little Laurel emptied out the whole place? ...
I have hated the writers for this, too. She’s small like Wednesday is. To move ALL of that stuff in so little time? COME ON.
Unless…she had help.
>to this case is somewhere, it never is!"<
>>>>How so? She brought you two DNA samples, and while the match between them was a bust, you luckily had a third sample so she DID confirm your suspicion by delivering you Tylers claw.
Rowan’s body wasn’t (which to him is still an unsolved mystery at this point), the cave got destroyed before they could get to it (THIS IS STUPID CANON TOO! The minute she gave him the claw she should have also told him where she fkn got it…there was more than enough time to get over to the damn cave to search it for prints/other evidence). AB/C Donovan also suspects that this evidence could’ve helped figure out who unlocked Tyler, so having a promise of it only to have it not pan out is frustrating to him, so he’s taking it out on her.
>what it was that he was keeping from her<
>>>>Iam so excited for the next two chapters to find out if they talk about Tyler being the hyde before the official reveal in canon, both of them basically know it's him, even more so once Enid provides her insight.
🙂
>We'll talk when I get back."<
>>>>Tyler bud, I know things have been hard but I really need you to stop monstering, my girlfriend is starting to suspect you.
Hmm.
>"I don't want that right now,"<
>"Shoulders…please." <
>>>>really appreciate that she tells him what she likes.
She’s been reading that communication is the key to a healthy sex life. …Or maybe she’s just bossy.
>rather liked that smell. It was the smell of her arousal<
>>>>The inclusion of smell in your sex scenes is something I love. It's a sense that is often overlooked.
I try to include it in everything, regardless (the cedar cabin, the aroma of beer in Wednesday’s first kiss, etc.). It’s something that a lot of shows (and fic) miss.
>"That sounds like a you problem,"<
>>>>No that's a both of you problem, if you do not help to make your partner decent again when they have to be, you're just an asshole.
She was being an asshole because she was pissed about him not believing her. She feels he knows better and needs to open up more, especially after the rough sex in the cruiser.
>"You don't have a choice — "<
>>>>This is not how it works Wednesday, because if it were you are in a relationship with Xavier or Tyler right now. Both sides need to agree to form and maintain a relationship, so once Donovan decides he needs a break, it is out of your hands.
Honestly, they should be talking to each other about everything re: the case. He doesn’t really need the break from her, he needs to be able to breathe easier since he knows his son is a killer and that he could end up killing the one thing that makes him feel like living again. But I’m also going by canon, so…they have to have a break.
>"Of course. My apologies for," she cleared her throat, "my behavior. Just now."<
>>>>Love that she realized that too and that she apologizes for it, Wednesday really struggles with admitting when she's wrong.
She haaaaaaates embarrassing herself, and that’s what she thinks it is.
>are relatively generative<
A word so big even google translate abandoned me. I "assume"(see what I mean?) she is not talking about the female reproductive cycle.
🙃
>GOD WHAt THE FUcK!!!!!!!!!<
>>>>funny to me. Based how you have the timeline fixed, she's gonna be very frustrated soon, based on my (possibly horrible) investigation:
-There is a Proper Full Moon…And yet the writers for the show can't be assed to check their shit...
And since they couldn’t figure out their shit about dates and moons and such, I’m working with it. I can’t fix their stupid. Well, I could, but I made a commitment not to mess with canon too much. The moons are too much, and I can only fix some things. There has to be at least a few days from this point in her breakdown until Noble's funeral, because funerals don't happen overnight. If that messes with the moon schedule, oh well.
>as her charged hands sparked like crazy and lit some of the pieces on fire<
>>>>Totally used that for my personal little story on how she executes laurel. A boot to the face is too easy.
I’ve only read one fic (and it was bad…to me it was) about how Wednesday ended up breaking Laurel’s neck when she booted her. But who said she was dead? N/C sure doesn’t.
>and Morticia wasn't sure what to do about her daughter's self-harm<
>>>>Tell Wednesday you used to self harm too, it might backfire horribly or she will stop in an attempt to not be like her mother.
That’s not how AB/C Morticia works. She has more problems than N/C Tish does, I think. Only because something needs to be part of why Wednesday is the way she is sometimes.
>on her mid-cut, the blood seeping from the long wound she created<
>>>>Given she's on the upturn now and thing prevented this session, this is the worst it is going to get right?
You think she’s on the upturn? *laughs in severely depressed Wednesday*
>Her scars from before were healing a lot better<
>>>>Foreshadowing to healing powers? If yes, it means she always had them and goody just unlocked them?
🙂
>if the break was permanent? <
>>>>Then you will kill Laurel in a really creative way and offer her heart to Donovan and ask for forgiveness.
Forgiveness for what? ;)
>What I do with my body is my bus — "<
>>>>That is a very good point. It is her business, inhaling any kind of smoke is hazardous to health - permanently, where as unless she kills herself, some cuts will heal into scars eventually.
So why does he actively support one type of self harm, and prevents the other?- (to my understanding eating demon lettus via food infusion is perfectly safe and fine, smoking is not)
You’re probably the only one reading this thinking that smoking weed is on par with cutting “self-harm”. They are not the same. For her, weed helps her mental health and electrical discharges (and it doesn’t do much harm to her anyway… 🙂). She hasn’t been smoking as much lately, so you’ll notice more zaps here and there. My father is an 81-year-old microbiologist & botanist (that I consult about a lot of things for parts of my writing)...he grows the weed I smoke for my own problems. I prefer to eat it and prefer to encourage eating over smoking, though.
>but what Thing said sent her spiraling into a full panic<
>>>>Dont blue ball us what did he say ?
I wrote this in the first response on AO3, but the italicized quote was what Thing signed, telling her it was going to be okay.
>smirking in satisfaction at her<
>>>>I hate her so much.
RIGHT? But that’s pure Laurel Gates evil. Fucking bitch. I fucking hate her. …But I love her at the same time. I think there’s something wrong with me. LOL
>>>>I have been considering to create a Tumblr account to be able to respond to your comments directly and have more in-depth conversations
STILL WAITING. ;)
>>>>Thank you so much for this story and the steamy smut you have in it, waiting excitedly for chapter 7.
The steam will only be in places other than Wenovan in this chapter, sadly. Feels kinda weird not writing their fuckbunny scenes right now, and before a few days ago, 7 was going to be absent of explicit sex. …Now it’s not. *cackling*
9/10/23: I uh...I changed my mind. LOL
#wednesday#wednesday addams#writing wednesday#writing fan fiction#wenovan#black bubblegum#satisfying afterburn chapter 6 part 2#quid pro woe#wednesday netflix#sheriff galpin#wednesday x donovan#wednesday addams x donovan galpin#jenna ortega#jamie mcshane
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🎀 pink (Din)
🧼 laundry detergent (fake dating)
🍄cottage core (innocent kink)
with some fluff and smut included maybe?? 🥺👉👈💘
Hi @ppslutt I don't think we've interacted so hello! Thank you for this request! Omg i am both soft and amused by this idea. Hope you like this... Din is such a cheeky bb but at the same time a feral fucking machine hehe
500 follower celebration (closed now)
Warnings: Asshole ex boyfriend, protective mando, innocent reader, unprotected piv smut, fingering, 18+
source: @reilink
"Can I sit here?"
Din startled. He had been glaring holes into the metal table at the cantina for so long he almost forgot there were other people around. He was in between bounties. Waiting for Karga to come up with something worth his time.
He nodded at the seat across from him which you fell into. He would usually say no, preferring to be left alone, but you were hardly a threat. Young and apparently unarmed. You looked stressed. Eyes darting all over the room. Were you in trouble?
"Thank you." You tapped your fingertips on the table. "My ex is here and I don't want him to see me alone."
"Are you in some kind of trouble?"
"No." You stare down at your lap. "I just don't want to talk to him."
That made sense, but Din couldn't understand why you were talking to him specifically. Most people feared Mandalorians. He expected you to want to hire him or ask him to kill your ex. You glanced over your shoulder. Din followed your gaze, identifying the man in question, an arrogant looking human with his arm around a girl with her back to you both.
"I'll leave you alone in a minute." You turned your attention back to him. "What's your name, sir?"
"Mando." He grunted. You replied with your name. Din's ears perked up when he heard it. The sound of it echoing in his mind. He had never heard such a name before. "Have you ever seen a Mandalorian before?" Din couldn't help but ask.
"Is that what you are?" You felt embarrassed at his amused tone. "Am I supposed to bow or something?"
Din chuckled, which came out as a crackle through the voice coder. "No. But people tend to stay away from me because- because we're killers."
"Oh." You swallowed a gasp. It never occurred to you to be afraid. "I didn't know. I've never been off world."
"What the fuck are you doing here?" You snapped your head up to see your ex standing over you, an angry look on his face. "I thought you didn't like going out."
"I-I can go where I please!" You jut your chin out.
"Fucking bitch. You're just spying on me, aren't you?" Your ex spat. Din clenched his fist, not liking the way this bastard was speaking to you. He could easily break this man's arm and hardly break a sweat.
"I'm not!" You cried shrilly. "I didn't know you'd even be here."
"What are you doing with him?" Your ex turned to Mando with a sneer. "Tryin to make me jealous?"
"Obviously it worked." You glared. "Now go away."
"No hang on- you're gonna come with me and we're gonna talk."
"I think it's time for you to go." Din rested his hand on his holster, his voice impossibly low. You shivered in your seat.
"Whatever." The man gave up, backing up a little. "Good luck with this one, Mando. She's a prude."
You looked down in shame feeling angry tears sting your eyes. It was hard to believe you once loved this asshole. Din felt his temper flare in his chest. Your ex finally left, looking over his shoulder a few times to watch you and Din.
"I'm sorry." You wrapped your arms around yourself. "I'll leave you alone now."
"I don't mind." Din said, surprising himself. He hated seeing you so upset. He thought about going up to that bastard and putting a hole in his chest, but that wouldn't make you feel better. "Can I get you something?"
"I don't know." You looked up at the bar trying to read the menu overhead.
"What kind of fake boyfriend would I be?" Din joked, hoping to see you smile. It worked. You let out a small giggle into your hand that made Din's heart constrict strangely. He ordered you a Tatooine Sunset.
"You don't want one?"
"No. Thank you." Din hesitated before adding "I don't remove my helmet."
"Ever?" Your eyes widened.
"Not in front of people."
"Oh." You took a small sip. "It's really yummy. Thank you."
Din noticed the prick from earlier still watching you both. "Come over here, ad'ika." He tapped the seat next to him.
"Why?" You asked, looking up from your cup.
"Because that nurf herder is watching us."
"Oh." You frowned, moving to sit next to Mando.
"Lean into me."
"Like this?" You asked again, tilting your head onto his cold beskar paldron.
"Yes. Good." Din nodded, enjoying the look of anger that passed over that bastard's face. "Sit closer."
"I-I am." You blushed, moving until your legs were pressed against him. He wasn't super comfortable with all the metal.
"On my lap, ad'ika." Din patted his thigh. He was being bold but something about your instant trust in him made him want to hold you closer. Feel your soft body on his. You go bright red as you stand and then perch on his knee. His gloved hand covered your lower back.
"Look at him." Din instructed, smirking behind his helmet.
"Oh he's so mad." You giggled. "This is fun, mando."
"It is, ad'ika." Din couldn't' help but agree.
"Wh-what does adeeka mean?" Your tongue got caught on the syllables.
"It means 'little one'."
"I'm-i'm not a child." You frowned, ducking your head. A weak objection as you were sitting in his lap right now.
"It's not just for children." Din placed another arm around your legs, pulling them more securely onto his lap. He regretted that he was in full armor because he could not feel you but that was also probably a good thing or else he'd be hard. You smelled divine.
"Mando he's still staring." You whispered against his cowl which was surprisingly soft.
"Shall we make him even more uncomfortable?"
"Mhm." You nodded, kissing Mando on his cool beskar helmet, where his cheek would be. "How's that?"
"You can do better than that." Din encouraged, enjoying the little game.
"Oh yeah!" You grinned, feeling your competitive spirit rising. "How about this?" You lowered your head, leaning against his neck, kissing him through the cowl. You could feel his warm neck and strong pulse against your lilps. He swallowed hard, his hand tightening over your thigh.
"We should walk out now. Really make him jealous." Din suggested, mostly to stop you from giving him a full on erection.
"Oh yeah." You hopped off his lap, taking his large leather clad hand in yours. "Come on."
Once outside in the warm sun you laughed at your antics. You had never had so much fun. You used to fear your ex. He was mean and cruel. You felt safe now that you had Mando. You tried not to worry what would happen when Mando was gone. Din watched you hungrily, beaming up at him, your face lit up in the daylight. He subtly turned off his tracking view in his visor so he could just see you without any distractions on his screen.
"Thank you Mando."
"You're welcome." He let go of your hand making your face fall. "What's wrong?"
"I want to keep playing."
"What do you propose?" Din felt his cock twitch behind his flight suit.
"I think he would be really jealous if I had marks on my neck." You suggested boldly. Din shook his head in disbelief.
"You are not a prude, you know that? I'm sorry he said that to you."
"I was only a prude with him. He was ugly." You grimaced but recovered. "You're beautiful, Mando, and I want- I want you. Not just to make him jealous but I want you."
"Oh Ad'ika..." Din chuckled. "We can do both."
This led to Din taking you in the alleyway behind the cantina. First he knelt down between your legs and fingered you until you were dripping into his hand. He wanted to watch your little cunt squeeze and flutter. Your little mewls grew louder and louder until you came with a cry. Din loved how innocent you were. You didn't even know how to be quiet. You didn't hide your pleasure. He hoped your shitty ex was listening. Hearing your sounds that he never got to draw from you.
Next he stood lifting you up with ease onto his hips. You were already delirious from your first orgasm you shot up to the stars when he entered you. You tightened your legs around his waist, holding onto his broad shoulders. All thoughts of being seen or herd left your mind. You were overwhelmed, Mando pushing into every corner of your senses along with your pussy.
"Fuck..." Din grunted, feeling your hot walls suck him to the hilt. It had been so long he realized how sensitive he was. And you were so tight. He held your ass up, pulling it to grind into him with every stroke.
"Oh Mando!" Your head fell back against the wall. "This-it's so good."
"Mmm you feel amazing, ad'ika. So fucking perfect." Din watched your face slacken with the pleasure he was giving you, your plush lips teasing him. He wanted to feel them. He wanted to put his lips over every inch of you. Your eyes were drooping, staring right into his visor.
"Stay with me, little one. Look- look at us." He fucked harder, leaning back slightly despite the ache in his lower back, watching the point where your flesh met. Your little swollen clit was sitting right on top of his dick, smashing against his pelvis with every stroke.
"Oh-Maker-I'm gonna cum again." You cried, scrabbling against his shoulders for better leverage. You wanted to fuck him back. Din readjusted his grip allowing one hand to be free to circle your clit.
"Who's making you cum?"
"You! You, Mando!" You cried feeling your stomach go incredibly tight then spasming with your orgasm.
"You think anyone else could make you feel this?" Din sped up also nearing his own climax. His voice was rough and torn up, cracking and stressing the voicecoder.
"No-no one else!" You answered eagerly, wanting to please him. "I don't want anyone else."
"Good girl. Fuck- you want to be mine?" He felt his cock twitching. He was seconds away from cumming inside of you. This was the last chance to pull out.
"I want to-be yours- please." You nodded vigorously, looking up at him so he could see you meant it. You dug your heels into his lower back. His grunts became short and quick with each thrust then he came abruptly, crashing his forehead against yours. You gasped feeling the spot where you were joined grow incredibly wet.
"Stars..." Din hissed feeling his pleasure prickle down his spine into his cock. "You mean it, ad'ika?"
"Yes. Show me the stars, Mando."
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
My masterlist
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Sudden Desire
Steve Rogers - One Shot
~~
Two stories in one week? Just call this DB’s apology for being so shitty with updating lately. I really am sorry though, I’ve just been dealing with a lot, but good things are coming! I’m hoping to update my Andy Barber soon, but until then...enjoy 🙃😌
Word Count: 7,051
Warnings: SMUT, Infidelity, Drinking, Arguing, Swearing, Angst, Drama, Adult Themes, MINORS DNI, 18+
Summary: You and Steve have been tiptoeing the line of friends and lovers for a long time. What happens when neither of you can hold back anymore?
Song(s) That Inspired This Chapter:
Sudden Desire - Hayley Williams
Part 2
~~
You stand in the back of the press room, watching reporters all fight to get their questions answered by America’s Golden Boy. He stood there, small and soft smile on his face, arm, standing tall and looking ever much like the sweet and kind man the world has come to know and love, and her lovingly looking up at him.
America’s Boy Next Door.
However, after what happened 2 weeks ago, you know him as your own personal torture chamber.
You knew you were out of line, but you would just blame it on the alcohol Tony had been practically shoving down your throat all night. Besides, it’s not like Captain Rogers seemed to mind all of the ‘accidental’ touching, side glances, and small smiles his way.
It was all innocent though and you’re sure he knows that. He’s been married to Sharon for what feels like forever. No, you’re just a girl with a silly little crush and you’re sure he’s just laughing it off.
“Funny that you choose to wear this on the night that Agent Rogers isn’t here,” Nat smiles as she leans against the counter next to you.
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Knee high maroon high heel boots? A mini black skirt? With a long sleeve black tight black sweater to match? Plus, you’re hair is down and has bounce to it.”
“You’re point, Missy?” you questioned, raising your eyebrow.
“It’s just funny that you would wear such a ‘fuck me please’ outfit, when she isn’t here,” she chuckled.
“Her not coming was a last minute thing. I was planning on wearing this because someone” you nudge her “always tells me to wear clothes that have more...pop, I believe was the word you used,” you laughed softly as Nat shook her head.
“That’s fair, but still...”
“Still what?”
“You in this outfit, their marriage on the rocks, and now her not coming last minute-”
“Their marriage is on the rocks?”
“They argue all the time. Steve’s been sleeping at the compound a lot. They’re trying to make it work...well, Sharon more so than Steve, but still, I know they’ve been going to therapy.”
“What does that mean? Sharon more so than Steve?”
“Steve just doesn’t...fuck,” Nat sighed, before looking around to make sure no one was around to hear her. No one meaning Steve or Bucky, cause he’d snitch on her in an instant. “Steve hasn’t been in love for a while. After everything with the snap, then the arguments about him retiring and her having a child, I think...I know he’s over it.”
“How do you know?”
“We’ve talked about it. He came over to Bruce’s about 2 months ago and we talked for hours. He feels awful because he doesn’t want to hurt Sharon, but he’s just not in love anymore. He brought up getting a divorce and that’s when she started suggesting therapy and them doing more stuff together. He just doesn’t care to try anymore, though.”
“And when you say everything that happened with the snap, I’m assuming you mean him and me spending so much time together?”
“You two did kiss.”
“It was just a kiss! I was sad...we were both sad and it just happened. The minute we broke away, we both apologized and decided to never talk about it. We’re just friends.”
“So you’re gonna tell me you haven’t seen the way he’s been looking at you tonight?”
“He’s been drinking Thor’s drink. He’s probably just a little buzzed, Nat.”
“Sure,” she smirked “friends don’t look at friends like that.”
“What are you two talking about? My ears are burning,” Steve smiled as he walked.
“Oh, just friends...friendships and how great they are,” Nat smirked at you before pushing herself off of the counter. “I’m gonna go find Bruce. I have a feeling he’s had one too many beers and I should be taking him home soon.”
Nat smiled at Steve before giving you a knowing looking and made her way out of the kitchen.
“Did I walk in on something?” Steve asked, eyebrow raised.
“No no,” you laughed softly, taking a sip of whatever it was Tony had made you. “Just a bit of catching up, it’s been a while since we’ve been able to talk. The Avengers being so busy and all,” you tease and Steve rolled his eyes.
“The world is back to itself, for the most part, so that means criminals and aliens are back to try and destroy it.”
“You can always count on chaos.”
“That’s true,” he chuckled, walking over to you “something seems off. You okay?”
“Me? I’m fine. Tonight was good, it’s been fun. I really think we all needed this. Too bad Sharon couldn’t come.” “Yeah well...priorities,” he sighed before taking a drink of what was in his glass.
“Are you okay? It’s been a while since we’ve spoken too,” you asked, looking him in the eyes.
“I’m fine-”
“Steve.”
“I really am fine. I’m just trying to adjust to some things and it takes time.”
“What kind of things?”
“Someone’s full of questions tonight,” he laughed and you awkwardly laughed along. “Don’t worry about me, I’ll be okay,” he smiled softly.
“I always worry about you,” you all but mumbled before downing the rest of your drink. “I should get going though. It’s gonna start raining soon and I walked here.”
“What? No! I just got a chance to talk to you, stay!”
“We can do lunch this week or maybe next week.”
“I really miss you, please stay. You can stay at my place tonight, I’ll drive us myself.”
“You’ve had a few yourself,” you chuckled at the cup in Steve’s hand.
“This will be my last one. Please...don’t go,” he pleaded softly, standing directly in front of you, leaving little distance between the two of you, looking down at you.
“O-okay,” you stuttered out, starting to feel hot.
For the rest of the night, you and Steve were inseparable. You didn’t think anything of it when he took your hand in his as means to keep you close to him, nor when he placed his hand on your thigh when you two took a seat to continue your conversations with Clint and Thor. It wasn’t like you two hadn’t touched each other before or been close, it had just been a while. You two used to spend all of your time together.
It was normal.
However, your breath did hitch in your throat when he subtly wrapped his arm around your waist and whispered that he thought you two should be leaving because the rain was starting to pick up.
That was new.
The entire car ride to his place, he had your playlist on shuffle while you both tried to fill the drive with empty and meaningless conversation, but the tension was unavoidable. Yes, Steve kept his eyes on the road whole, but he also kept his hand on his upper thigh. The most you dared to do was lightly run your fingers up and down his arm.
When he turned onto his street the song that started playing only made things worse.
‘I wanted him to kiss me how
With open mouth and open mouth
We keep our distance now
I wanna feel his hands go down
I try not to think about
What happened last night outside his house
Too far to go back now
Just wanna feel his hands go down’
His grip on your thigh tightened a little when he reached the mansion at the end of the block. The one you had been in so many times. Slept over in, laughed in, cried in, danced in, kissed in...you had been there so many times, but it felt different.
It felt too heavy for you and as your breathing started to speed up a little, you knew you should have asked him to take you home, but you couldn’t. You didn’t want to.
‘Sudden, sudden desire
Sudden, sudden desire
A sudden desire’
You both sat in the car for a moment, staring at the large house in front of you. You were mentally prepping yourself to be the good friend you had always been, but when you looked over at Steve he seemed conflicted. He was contemplating something, but you didn’t know what it could be.
Or maybe you did and you just wanted to pretend you didn’t.
‘Take the elephant by the hand and hold it
It’s cruel to tame a thing that don’t know it’s strength
But better to walk beside it
Mm, than underneath
My kind companion
Softens stone
My gentle giant
Painful reminder’
You took Steve’s hand in yours and gave it a gentle squeeze. Trying to reassure him that everything was fine. Everything would be fine. Just like you had done so many times in the past. He looked over to you and a small nervous smile came to his face. He was almost shaking.
‘Don’t look in my eyes, I feel a sudden desire (sudden, sudden desire)
Don’t know if I can deny a sudden desire (sudden, sudden desire)
Your fingerprints on my skin, a painful reminder
Don’t look in my, I feel a sudden desire (sudden, sudden desire)
A sudden desire’
“Lets get inside, this rain getting worse by the second,” he laughed awkwardly, turning the car off.
You both wasted no time running up the steps and staying close to each other, pointlessly trying to avoid the heavy raindrops. When he finally got the door unlocked, he gently placed his hand on your lower back to usher you in and one of the lines from the chorus of the last song you both listened to played on a loop in your head.
‘Your fingerprints on my skin, a painful reminder’
“Where’s Sharon? When I didn’t see her car, I thought she parked it in the garage, but it’s extremely quiet,” you laughed softly as looked around, taking off your jacket and placing it on his sofa.
So much had changed but it also felt like nothing had at all.
“She’s going to stay in D.C. because of the rain. She said she’ll meet me at work tomorrow and from there...”
“From there what?”
“We go to therapy. Do you want anything to drink?” he asked, throwing his coat on top of yours on the sofa.
“Um, I’ll have whiskey having. Steve, do you wanna talk about it?” you asked, feeling a bit guilty and following him into the kitchen.
“Not really,” he muttered two glasses and a bottle of whiskey for you and the bottle of whatever it is that Thor always brought to parties.
“Hey,” you called softly, placing your hand is back “put that down and talk to me. What’s going on?”
“I just wish...”
“You wish what?”
“Nothing.”
“Steve, it’s me. You can always talk to me.”
“I know that but-”
“But what?”
“Why did you break up with John after he was back from the Snap?”
“What?” you asked, caught off guard by the question.
“Why did you break up with him? You cried over him for so long and then you broke up with him 6 months after he got back.”
“I just...I didn’t feel the same anymore. Things had changed with me and it wasn’t fair to him to just string him along while I tried to get my shit together. It was just the right thing to do.”
“Why did your feelings change?” Steve asked, finally turning his gaze to meet yours. His blue eyes burning a hole into your soul.
“I don’t know,” you lied softly, starting to feel hot.
“Yes you do.”
“Steve-”
“I thought I stayed for Sharon. I had the chance to be with Peggy and I chose to come back. I told myself that it was because too much had happened and that I love Sharon, but the more I tried to make it work, the more I realized that she wasn’t the reason I stayed at all. You are.”
“Steve. Don’t. Don’t do this.”
“I know you feel the same way. That’s why you broke up with John and that’s why you’ve been staying away,” he stated softly, slowly making his way towards you.
“You’ve been staying away too,” you defended, slowly backing away. You still had time to run, nothing had happened yet.
You should’ve run.
“Out of guilt. Not towards Sharon, but towards you. I know how much you love her. How much you respect her. It’s not right, but I don’t want to be with her. I heard Nat tell you that I’ve been trying to get a divorce and I’m not mad. I want you to know, because Sharon is the only reason I haven’t said anything.”
“She loves you-”
“I love you.”
“She wants to make it work. She’s still-”
“I don’t care about what she wants,” he stated hotly, taking his ring off and throwing it across the kitchen. “I care about what you want. What we want.”
“Steve,” you said softly as your back hit the counter “don’t do this.”
“I see the gazes and longing stares,” he almost whispered, as he pressed his body against yours, while his hand softly started to stroke your arm. “Tonight...this outfit.”
“We’ve both had a lot to drink-”
“I’ve been out drinking with you,” he chuckled humorlessly “I know you can drink much more than you have tonight. I’ve already sobered up. Why fight this?”
“Because we can’t take it back when you regret it in the morning.”
“I won’t regret this,” he stated softly, using his forefinger to lift your chin softly to meet his gaze. “I love you, Y/N.”
“I love you too, Steve,” you responded in almost a whisper.
That was all it took for you to throw all your worries and guilt out the window. While he was the one that kissed, you’re the one who took it a step further when you slid your tongue across his bottom lip, desperately begging for entry which he instantly granted. As your tongues fought for dominance, you ignored the thoughts telling you how wrong it all was. Telling you that you’d feel so guilty in the morning.
“I’ve waited for you for so long,” he whispered desperately and hotly as he pushed up your skirt. “Fuck, black lace panties, huh?”
“If I had known the night was going to end like this, I wouldn’t have worn anything,” you moaned, feeling his fingers softly trace over your most sensitive bud that was barely covered.
“Shit, I need you now.”
He picked you up and you instinctively wrapped your legs around his waist. You two were upstairs in no time and hadn’t even noticed that you had made it to his bedroom until your back was pressed up against the door.
You didn’t have time to think about the fact that his room was also her room, because he was grinding against your clothed and soaked channel, and you were doing your best not to rush it. You wanted to make it last as long as possible. The repercussions of your actions would be waiting for you the next day and you didn’t want to think about it.
“You are so fucking perfect, you know that?” he asked, laying you down on the bed, before starting to unbutton his shirt and removing it.
You were both frozen there for a moment. Lost in the weight of what was going to happen, because neither of you were strong enough anymore. Steve Rogers could save the world, but he couldn’t stop his heart from craving you in the worst possible way.
And you? You had been bound to him from the moment he smiled at you.
It was inevitable.
“Steve, we can still stop this-”
“I don’t want to stop this,” he stated in a low growl, unzipping one of your heels and throwing it to the ground “and neither do you.”
“I know what we want, but still-”
“I’m tired of doing whatever everyone wants,” he said, voice still low and desperate as he removed your other heel and tossed it to the ground. “Doing what everyone wants is what kept me from acting sooner. I’m done waiting for Sharon to agree and I’m done avoiding you. I’m tired of missing you. Tired of needing you.”
“Steve-”
“Tell me you want to stop and I will. I’ll take you home right now and we’ll pretend this never happened,” he promised softly.
Your silence was all he needed.
He stroked your calf softly, before dipping down to kiss his way up your leg. Every moan and soft whisper of ‘please’ had him eagerly making his way closer to where you needed him most. When he had finally reached your upper thigh, biting and licking in the most vulgar way, you grabbed a fist full of his hair as you arched your back.
You needed him.
“Steve please,” you begged in a way you didn’t know you were capable of.
“What do you need, Honey?” he asked, pushing your panties to the side and groaning at the soaked site in front of him
“Do something, anything. Make me feel that is the right thing to do,” you begged.
Steve’s mouth was on you almost instantly. While you whimpered and writhed against him, he pushed two thick fingers deep within you, only making you even crazier.
He didn’t take it easy on you, sucking and licking on your clit with more determination each time you came undone for him. When you bucked your hips forward, he laid an arm across your stomach in an attempt to keep you still.
“Don’t...don’t want to wait anymore. Can’t,” you breathed out after he brought you off with his tongue for the final time. “I need to feel you, please...” you pathetically whimpered while trying to bring yourself back down to earth.
“If only you knew how long I’ve been waiting to hear you say that,” Steve smirked against your inner thigh before propping himself up and undoing his pants.
When he took himself out of his slacks and stroked himself a little, you couldn’t help but bite your bottom lip. He was even more gorgeous than you ever imagined. He, every part of him, was too beautiful to put into words.
He leaned down and whispered into your ear, “I need to hear you say it again.”
“Say what?”
“That you love me.”
The look on his face almost made your heart break. He felt so terrible but he was done fighting. He needed validation from you. “I love you so much, Steve. I always have and I always will,” you responded breathlessly.
When Steve slowly pushed himself inside of you, you moaned at the pleasurable pain of him stretching you out. “Holy shit!”
“Jesus! You’re fucking tight!” Steve groaned as he bottomed out. “Am I the biggest you’ve ever had?” he questioned, cocky grin playing on his lips.
All you could do was nod.
“I can fucking tell, the way your body begs for me...shit!” he muttered, clenching his eyes shut as he continued to move within you.
“More...I need more...please! Destroy me,” you whimpered, tears stinging your eyes as dug your nails into his back.
Steve started to pound into you relentlessly, as he gripped the bed sheets, you moaned and begged underneath him in a desperate and pathetic way that you had never done before.
“Even before that fucking kiss,” he grunted, picking up his pace as you dug your nails deeper into his back “I knew you were the one. You’ve always been the only one and I’m so fucking sorry!”
“Just be here with me now,” you managed to breathe out, meeting his gaze as you wrapped your legs around his waist.
“I love you so much,” he said so softly that it was almost a whisper. Like it was just a secret for you to know.
“I love you, Steve,” you whimpered while trying to fight off the orgasm that had been building up deep within you.
“We have all night, baby. There’s no way I’m letting this end as quick as it started.”
“Fuck!” you exclaimed, coming undone at his words and the look of pure ecstasy and love in his eyes.
Steve barely let you get yourself together before he wrapped a strong arm around your waist and guided you upward with him. “I don’t know how I’ve waited for you this long,” he grunted, upthrusting within you with so much vigor that you were almost instantly clenching around him again.
“I’ve needed you...always needed you,” you breathlessly confessed, too blissed out to keep in the secrets you had been holding for so long.
Steve pulled you as close to him as possible, trailing kisses from your earlobe down to your neck, letting his tongue slide freely and lightly across your collar bone, causing you to feel pleasure all over; mainly in your fingertips.
“Steve, I-I...I can’t...”
“It’s okay, baby. Daddy’s got you,” he cooed against your ear before biting down hard on your ear lobe.
You came hard for him again, not even embarrassed by the sound that left your mouth, soon being met with Steve following you after.
He had you 2 more times that night and wrapped his arm tight around your waist when you two fell asleep. Almost as if he were making sure you were real.
He awoke you early the next morning with his face between your legs and had you three more times before deciding you both needed to get to work.
And he didn’t bother to put his ring back on.
“You look exhausted,” Nat laughed when you met up with her for lunch. “Spend too much time with Steve last night?”
You just smiled and laughed nervously as you opened your cup of yogurt.
“You didn’t!” Nat exclaimed in almost a whisper.
“Then believe I didn’t and move on,” you muttered, swirling your yogurt around with your spoon.
“Y/N-”
“Don’t Nat. It’s not...it’s not that simple. Please don’t think that I just...it’s not that simple.”
“What about Sharon?”
“Please stop, one thing led to another and I just...I love him, Nat. I love him and he loves me, and my stomach hurts,” you groaned before leaning laying your head on the table.
You heard Nat sigh before she placed her hand softly on your back. “He isn’t wearing his wedding ring.”
“He took it off last night before...I told him that I think he should put it back on, but he was firm in his decision to keep it off. He swears that he doesn’t want to be with her, and what I can do except believe him? After last night...what choice do I have?” you almost sobbed.
You both finished your lunches in silence, you knowing that Nat was disappointed in you and Nat knowing you didn’t need a lecture. When you both started on your way back to Tony’s office, Nat for a meeting and you to get back to work, you were stopped in your tracks at the raised voices leaving Steve’s office.
“Do you like making me feel stupid, Steve?! Making me feel stupid!?”
“Sharon, the only person making you feel and look that way is you. I don’t know how many times I need to tell you that I want a divorce before you actually believe me.”
“What happened? You wanted therapy, we’ve been going and now you come to work without your wedding ring?!”
“Sharon-”
“No Steve! I’m trying my hardest to make this work and-”
“Sharon, this isn’t something new!” Steve finally snapped. “I’ve been trying to get us into therapy long before everything with Thanos and you didn’t want to go! Am I happy you’re back? Of course! However, just because I’m happy you’re back doesn’t mean I want to be with you anymore!”
“You have become so cruel,” she sobbed.
“Save the tears,” he sighed and you could tell he was frustrated “you do this every time-”
“Shouldn’t that say something? You saying every time?!”
“It says that you continuously rope me into stay in this sham of marriage every time we have this argument and I’m done! I don’t fucking want to be married to you anymore and I’m not backing down anymore!”
“You just need time! We’ll talk about this at home-”
“I’m staying at the compound. I want out, Sharon!” Steve warned.
“This isn’t over!” she yelled before swinging the door open.
Her eyes landed on both you and Nat, but you didn’t miss (or like) the way she glared at you.
“Miss Y/L/N, may I see you in my office?” Steve asked once his eyes locked with yours.
You didn’t like or miss the way everyone’s eyes were on you as you made your way into his office.
Once Steve closed the door behind you, his lips were on yours almost instantly.
“Stop,” you breathed out once you two broke apart. “We can’t...Steve, last night can’t happen again.”
“It can happen for the rest of our lives,” he smiled before pressing soft kisses down your neck.
“She wants to make it work-”
“She wants all of the attention and nice things that come along with being my wife. She doesn’t....she hasn’t wanted me in a long time.”
You took his face in your hands and gave him a sad and soft smile. “You can...if she’s willing to fight for you-”
“Stop,” he commanded softly. “I’m not who she’s fighting for. She wants wants status and a title. If I hadn’t been so desperate and lonely in the beginning...she was never the one for me.”
“Don’t...don’t do this to me if you aren’t-”
“You think everything I told you last night was a lie? Before, during, and after? You are everything to me. We will be together,” he promised softly before hiking your skirt up around your waist.”Stay at the compound with me tonight,” he whispered hotly against your neck before biting down hard as his hand traveled down into your panties.
“N-no,” you stuttered at the feel of his two fingers pushing into you “we can’t...not until you file for the divorce.”
“I never want to spend another night without you again,” he growled, fucking you faster.
“I-I...shit!” you cried out as your release got closer and closer.
“Careful baygirl, can’t have you making as much noise as you did last night. Or this morning,” he smirked against your skin.
You clenched your eyes shut and balled your hands into a fist on either side of you. You were convinced that Steve Rogers was going to be the death of you.
You let out a silent and choked gasp when you coated his fingers with your want and you heard him chuckle softly. “There’s my good girl.”
He shoved his two fingers into your mouth, which you happily licked and sucked clean, before forcing your legs around his waist and carrying you to then placing you gently on his desk.
“Steve-”
“Gotta be quiet, baby,” he taunts quietly, undoing his pants. The sight of him was still something you weren’t used to and it had you whining like a bitch in heat. “Tell me what you want,”
“You,” you admitted softly. “I always want...always need you.”
“You’ll always have me,” he promised softly before thrusting himself into you.
You let out a pathetic whimper at feel of him inside you again. Your eyes met his gaze and he was looking at you with pure love and admiration. Like you were the most important thing in his world.
“I love you so much,” he grunted softy, his grip on your thighs getting tighter. “I’m gonna spend the rest of my life with you, you want that?”
You nodded vigorously, “yes Steve, please!”
“’m never gonna be without you a again...shit!” he pitifully moaned “need you to cum right now, baby!” he commanded as softly as he could.
It’s not like you could disobey him, he played your body like a fucking fiddle. You let out a silent cry as your release hit hard then feeling him fill you up with his own release moments later. You both stayed that way for a moment, breathing heavy and holding onto each other as if the other could disappear at any moment.
“St-stay...stay with me tonight,” he softly begged after a beat, stoking your face softly with his thumb.
So you did.
You snuck in when the coast was clear and you told him that things couldn’t go any further until you two came to a clear understanding of what was going on between the two of you and what it meant.
Then you two just fell into a deep conversation about any and everything under the sun until you fell asleep.
It all felt so natural that for a moment, you forgot how wrong it was. You forgot that Sharon had honestly tried to befriend you when her and Steve became a couple. She knew you and Steve had been close since you started working there and she did her best to be okay with it.
With how things ended up, you couldn’t blame her for getting into an argument with Steve about him spending less time with you. Steve hadn’t necessarily agreed, and you knew he wouldn’t, so you made it easier by finding ways to keep yourself busy and away. It seemed like the right thing...at the time.
Which is why, after 4 days in your sinful heaven with Steve, you didn’t know why you were surprised to find her waiting at your desk when you came into work.
“Hey Y/N,” she smiled softly with a soft wave.
“Hey Sharon, what’s up?” you smiled back, avoiding the shame and guilt you felt as you took a seat.
“I just...shit,” she sighed. “First, I owe you an apology. I made Steve choose between you and me and that wasn’t fair. You were nothing but a good friend to him and I let my jealousy get in the way.”
“Sharon, you really don’t-”
“Oh, but I really do. I do because of what I’m about to ask,” she smiled weakly. “I know...I know he loves you. He’ll deny it forever, but I know him. He’s been hanging out with you and I’m almost positive he’s told you what’s been going on. Especially after you heard that argument outside his office a few days ago.”
“Sharon I-”
“It’s okay, I’m not mad at you for anything. I know you two haven’t done anything, but I know...I know that he wants you...I know he’ll try. I’m doing my best to save my marriage and I’m so sorry to ask this of you again,” she started to sob, doing her best to wipe away the tears that had fought to escape. “Please...I can’t compete with you and despite what he says, I do love him. If I have any chance at making this work, I need you to stay away. Please?” she cried, turning away from you.
You had never felt so terrible in your life. What were you supposed to do? She was married to him and at the end of the day, no matter how romantic it all seemed, you were still the mistress at the end of the day.
So, you started to stay away again.
You stopped going to the compound, you found ways to avoid his office and him, you never stayed at work longer than you had to, and you ignored all of his texts and phone calls. It hurt more than anything you had ever felt, but you kept telling yourself it was the right thing. Even when Steve showed up at your apartment practically sobbing and begging you to talk to him. You missed him so much, but Sharon was making a real effort. If staying away could help them, that’s what you would do.
Which is why when Tony asked you to be at the press conference the night before, you tried to find any possible way out.
“Tony, there’s no reason for me to be there. Why can’t Pepper-?”
“She’s leaving tonight for a press conference in California about a new plant we’re opening. She’s trained you and you’re the one I trust.”
“Tony-”
“What’s going on with you, Y/N? You haven’t been like yourself for a while.”
“Nothing,” you snapped, running a frustrated hand through your hair.
“Does it have something to do with why Rogers is so moody? Did something-”
“What time do you need me there?”
“Y/N, you know you can always talk to me about anything.”
“I know I can, I just...I can’t right now. What time do you need me there?”
“8am at the compound to go over everything with the team,” he sighed.
“Fine, I’ll see everyone tomorrow at 8.”
It didn’t help that when you got there this morning, you saw Sharon leaving Steve’s room, him following not too far behind.
When he saw you, he almost instantly ran over to you.
“Where the-”
“Tony’s waiting,” you quickly interrupted, clearing your throat and looking away so you wouldn’t fall apart in front of everyone. So he wouldn’t see you fall apart.
“Stop it and talk to me,” he begged softly. “What? What did she say?”
“It clearly doesn’t matter.”
“Nothing happened!” he whispered harshly. “She came over drunk and crying and it was late. I let her sleep it off in my room and I slept in Bruce’s room. All I did was check on her. That’s it!”
“Steve, we can’t do this now. Besides, there’s nothing to discuss. I’m happy you two are working it out.”
“Y/N...please-”
“Steve go, you have work to do,” you stated firmly, finally meeting his gaze.
Once he saw the pain in your eyes, he let out a deep sigh and made his way over to the team, who all had their eyes on the both of you.
Them and Sharon.
For almost all of the press conference, Steve’s eyes always made their way back to you, and you just wanted to die. Being able to love him, even if just for a little while, was better than nothing. However, that doesn’t dull any of the pain you feel. Watching Sharon look up at him with so much love and pride in her eyes makes you realize that you’ve made the right choice.
You’re so busy trying to keep yourself occupied with going over your notes that you don’t see him looking you over as a reporter asks him about his retirement plans.
“Captain Rogers? Any comment?” the reporter follows up.
Your eyes meet before he turns his attention to the reporter, “I’m sorry, what did you ask?”
“Retirement? You’ve been saving the world since World War II. Any plans on slowing down soon? Maybe starting a family or just living a quiet life outside of the Avengers?”
‘Won’t fit in the room, big balloon
Trails me cause I can’t let go
Everywhere I am, it sticks close like a friend
Just like him
Just like him
Friendly reminder of a sudden desire’
Steve locks eyes with you before answering the question. “After we open this Academy and get it up and running, I plan on passing my shield on to Sam Wilson and joining the parts of the Avengers that are more behind the scenes,” he says proudly gaining gasps from everyone, Avengers included, because they clearly had not planned for this. “As for slowing down and starting a family,” he starts, eyes suddenly hopeful, “I hope that once my divorce from Agent Sharon Carter finalizes, Miss Y/L/N will accept my proposal and choose to start a life of happiness and love with me,” he smiles at you.
Almost instantly, attention and camera flashes are on you, asking for your answer and if you’re okay with being the woman who breaks up the Avengers, but none of that matters. Not even Sharon burning a hole into your head with her stare of full hatred.
What matters is that Steve chooses you and he does it in front of the world. Now with his eyes on you, along with everyone else, you have a choice to make. Do you follow your heart or run and hide?
‘I wanted him to kiss me how
With open mouth and open mouth
We keep our distance now
I wanna feel his hand go down
I try not to think about
What happened last night outside his house
Too far to go back now
Just wanna feel his hands go down’
~~
taglist: @whxre4cevans, @itsbrittany425, @sweetflowerdreams
#Marvel AU#Steve Rogers#Steven Grant Rogers#steve rogers smut#steve rogers x reader#Sharon Carter#Sharon Rogers#The Avengers#The Avengers AU#Marvel#marvel fan fic#marvel fanfic#Marvel Universe#marvel fanfiction#captain america#fanfiction#fan fiction#fanfic#fan fic#fan fic smut#Smut#Steve Rogers One Shot#One Shot
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'Getting secretly jealous when one of them brings someone home or goes on a date' with Jamie Oleksiak
“Are you going to be home tonight?”
It was an innocent question and you thought nothing of it initially.
“Yeah, my only plans are to binge something on Netflix and order in.”
“Great, that kind of works out perfectly. Would you be down to respond to an email from my agent? It needs to answered pretty quickly and I won’t be around.”
“Oh yeah? Do you have a hot date or something, Jamieson?
“Actually, yeah, I do have a date.”
“Oh.”
*
“She’s going to call in about an hour, thank you again for doing this, I know it’s probably not something you want to do but I appreciate it so much.”
“Of course, Jam, what are best friends for?”
Jamie was out the door dressed in his best less than ten minutes later and you were left alone in your shared apartment feeling like the absolute fool that you were.
You knew better than to fall in love with your best friend. You knew he would never return your feelings and that when he did finally find someone to settle down with, because of course he would, you would have to accept it and deal with it and move out so that she could move in and take your place.
She wasn’t taking your place entirely though, because you were never the one he truly wanted. You were the friend, you always had been, and he eventually he stop looking at you as his number one because he realized that wasn’t what you were anymore.
*
You knew it was coming at some point, but it hit you hard that the beginning of the end had finally arrived.
“Eve’s coming over tonight, you think you can find something to do? I kind of want it to be just us.”
“You’ve never minded me being home before.”
“I know,” you didn’t miss Jamie roll his eyes, “tonight is going to be special, will you please stay out tonight?”
“Sure,” you shook off the sadness threatening to spill over the edge, “i’ll get a hotel or something.”
“Thanks,” he pulled you into a quick hug before almost pushing you away as he sped out the door.
This was it. You wiped the tears away as you packed an overnight bag and booked a room across town.
*
Can I come home or did you already move my shit out of our apartment to make space for her closet?
It was petty, you knew that much, but you were hurt and upset and Jamie had already made his mind up, so why the fuck not get a little shitty?
You didn’t expect him to respond at all, because you were pretty sure he no longer cared you, the person he claimed was a best friend. He was obviously way too busy with his girl.
????
Can I come home yet?
I still fucking live there. Remember me? Your ‘best friend’?
You had checked out of your hotel room and spent almost an hour driving around Seattle waiting for a response from Jamie but had received nothing.
Fuck it. I’m coming home. Sorry if I interrupt your honeymoon.
*
It might have been considered common courtesy to knock before entering, but fuck that because you lived there, but you unlocked the door and slammed it hard against the back wall.
You were home and you wanted to make that completely clear.
“Jamie? Jamie’s girlfriend? I’m home.”
No response, which meant, you assumed, they weren’t there.
You headed into the kitchen and grabbed a bottle of water from the fridge before returning to your room and turning on Netflix. Shutting the door behind you was necessary in case Jamie and his princess came back, because you didn’t want to see or do or think about anything that had to do with that situation.
*
The soft knock at your door pulled you out of sleep but you were pretty sure it was Jamie and you weren’t in the mood to talk to him.
“Yeah?”
He knocked again, this time harder, still not saying anything.
Rolling your eyes, you jumped out of bed and pulled the door open, “what?!”
You expected to meet a cocky, committed to someone else, resolute Jamie Oleksiak when you opened the door. Instead you got a teary eyed, red faced, pretty drunk Jamie Oleksiak and you weren’t quite sure what you should do with that.
“Uh, Jamie? You good?”
“No.”
“No?”
You had been assuming the worst and that was weirdly comforting because you thought there was an end in sight to your current situation. Jamie openly crying and being vulnerable was something you weren’t prepared for.
“I tried to propose tonight.”
“You tried?”
“Yes, I fucking tried and I couldn’t fucking do it.”
“Why?”
He looked at you like you had just asked him the dumbest question in the world. He looked at you like you had ordered French fries at a place where you get your oil changed. Jamie looked at you like you were a fucking alien asking for human service.
“You really don’t know why?”
*
You didn’t, because why would you? Jamie was your best friend and he had never given you any reason to think otherwise.
“No, Jamie, I don’t.”
“Come on,” he ran a hand through his hair, “you really don’t know?”
“No..”
You’d been in love with Jamie Oleksiak for years but you assumed he wasn’t interested in anything serious with anyone and you were perfectly fine with being his best friend, because it was easy and you knew that the women in his life weren’t going to last as long as you were.
That was you thought. You assumed you’d fill some space until he found someone.
Neither of you realized that Jamie had found his person years ago, and, neither of you had realized that it was you.
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I saw that you're taking prompts, from the dialogue list. Can I get number 20? “I’ve never had someone taking care of me before.” for starker obviously. I'm excited, I love reading your works. Thank you in advance!
Hi anon! That means so much to me and I’m v glad to be taking this as my first prompt. Thank you 💙
I kinda want to try some new things with some of these prompts, so I’m gonna go at this with omega Tony and alpha Peter and see where it goes. I hope that’s okay with you anon and that everyone likes it 😘
Same age college AU, omegaverse, alpha Peter Parker, omega Tony Stark, some angst and some fluff at the end.
—
It’s a well known fact that Tony Stark has a shitty family.
Well, at least to anyone who knows him, it is. They know how he’ll do anything to not be at home when his father is around, to get out of the endless pressures of social events and promotional things and questions of mating and management and all of the things that he hated about being born an omega and being attached to the last name Stark to top it all off—
For years, it was just him. Some flings, mainly to piss his father off, but he never had his attention for longer than the time it took to scold him or order him around, and his mother was never much help, either. He had precious few friends growing up, never really made any real ones until college when he met Rhodey and Pepper — an alpha and a beta respectively that helped him manage things there and that were the first people to truly understand the depths of struggles he had going on at home.
And they were great friends, still are, but there was never anything more there between them. They helped him float through the first year of school, and then—
And then came Peter Parker.
Tony doesn’t hate all alphas on principle, although he is often rather tempted to try to, what with how they were shoved in his face most of his life. They were great for a good fling but most of them were meatheads. As horny as Tony was, he couldn’t allow just anyone to be close to him, nothing too get to serious, because he’s got a lot of responsibility coming down to him and he needs the right partner — alpha or otherwise — to be willing to deal with that. Not that he’s particularly interested in mating right now but he also isn’t going to allow someone close enough to potentially mark him knowing the repercussions of that.
He’s the heir to Stark Industries, sure, but he’s still an omega. An alpha will have significant legal power over him once they’re mated. And he wants to be the one to run SI, to take on his legacy, to build, to create, and to run his business, and he’s not going to let anyone stop him, even if that means flings forever.
(Not that that’s legally going to fly because he can’t take over until he’s considered qualified which implies a certain amount of stability that translates into having an alpha that’s more than just a fuck buddy but—)
It doesn’t matter. None of it matters after he meets Peter.
Peter is a year younger than him in school, technically, but biologically they’re the same age. Peter just started a bit later than most — and for good reasons, as Tony comes to find out.
He’s in one of Tony’s engineering classes and his organic chemistry class and the omega would be lying if he said he wasn’t immediately taken with him.
He can’t help it. Peter is cute, with his overgrown curls and slim form and silky skin and shy little smile and—
The other man is all alpha, there’s no doubt about it. He exudes it without even trying, but there’s a shyness to him, too. He’s not a meathead; he’s a sweetheart. From day one he’s respectful of Tony in class, kind when he sees him around campus, and that makes them the perfect lab partners in chemistry, and after knowing that, it’s just the natural choice for them to partner for the project in engineering and then—
Then things spiral, and Tony doesn’t even care.
He’s seeking the alpha’s attention, and Peter, the innocent, shy thing he is, is happy to give, to dote on Tony in ways that he would resist if they were coming from anyone else.
They’re not even fucking, but it’s intimate, so intimate that he can’t even explain it, and he loves it, scarily so. It both soothes and sets all his instincts on edge at the same time.
By mid semester they both have keys to come and go freely from each other’s rooms. It’s more common to see them together than it is to ever spot one of them out alone. The whole school probably thinks they’re a couple, and even though they’ve never made it official — and he’s never allowed himself to even come close to considering it before — Tony can’t bring himself to mind.
As midterms approach, though, Tony locks himself in to focus on his work. He doesn’t mean to, really; it’s just that hours studying slip into full nights and then he hasn’t eaten and he hasn’t left the room, even missing one of his classes because he doesn’t realize the time.
Peter hasn’t come by in days and except for the occasional check in text, Tony hasn’t heard from him, either. But they’re both busy with midterms so he really isn’t surprised. In fact he barely has time to eat, let alone check his phone, so even if he was texting him regularly Tony probably wouldn’t be answering.
Except mid terms or no, of course Peter notices when Tony misses class. And when his texts go unanswered by the absorbed omega, he doesn’t hesitate to show up and let himself in.
Tony doesn’t even realize anyone is there until he feels a hand on his shoulder. He jumps so hard he nearly knocks the chair back, and when he turns around he sees Peter, stepping back and holding his hands up in the universal “I surrender” gesture, clearly not having meant to startle him.
“I’m sorry, I knocked but you didn’t answer so I let myself in. I just— you weren’t in class, and I was worried… are you okay? When was the last time you ate?” It takes all of two seconds for Peter’s sheepishness to melt into concern, and he steps forward again, closing the distance between them to tilt Tony’s chin up, looking at the shadow stretching across his jaw where he hasn’t shaved in a few days. “You’ve lost weight,” he murmurs, thumb brushing over Tony’s cheekbone tenderly — which, yeah, is definitely more prominent than it was at the beginning of the week.
Tony’s eyes flutter and he leans into the touch for a moment before refocusing and shaking it off. “I’m fine. This is normal, Peter. I know what I’m doing.”
“Do you?” Peter raises an eyebrow. “Do you even know what day it is?”
“It’s Saturday—“
“It’s Monday, Tony. 1pm on Monday, at that. You missed engineering this morning and you haven’t answered my texts all weekend.” Surprise flits across Tony’s face at that, because — yeah, last time he checked it was Saturday, and he had no new texts from Peter, so— “When was the last time you ate?” Peter continues to prod, voice gentle but insistent.
Both aspects only serve to spark irritation in him, though. Tony bats Peter’s hand away from his face, frowning. He doesn’t need to be treated with kid gloves. “I ate a little while ago. I’m fine.”
“You don’t even know what day it is—“
“It all kind of blurs together when you’re not doing anything besides working, okay—“
“Two days is a lot of blur, Tony—“
“And just because I need a shave doesn’t mean I haven’t left my desk or that this isn’t totally normal for midterms—“
“You’re the one saying you haven’t left your desk, not me—“
“That’s not what I meant! I’m just saying—“
“I’m just saying you need to take a short break, it’s not that big of a deal—“
“I don’t need a break, I know my limits—“
“Tony, I really don’t think—“
“Jesus fucking— You’re not my alpha, Parker, would you fuck off?”
The words come out before he can stop them, and he flinched himself at the hurt on Peter’s face, the way the alpha physically recoils, shoving his hands in his pockets.
“I’m not— god, I know that, okay? I’m just trying to help you, Tony. Please, this isn’t sustainable. You need to eat. Just— let me find you something, and then I’ll leave, okay?”
Leave? No, he doesn’t want him to leave. But the only thing that comes out is a quiet “whatever,” and he watches Peter escape to the kitchen with a ball of guilt growing in his chest.
Peter is just trying to help. He likes Peter and he doesn’t want him to leave, he just— he panics, and then he snaps.
Because what if Peter wants more? What if he really likes him? And Tony is a fuck up that does shit like this when he feels emotions and has so much baggage attached to being with him and—
And Peter knows that, at least some of it. It’s been a few months of seeing each other nearly every day, now, and his family situation was never a secret.
So why is he still here? Oh god, did Tony just ruin it?
The thought, for reasons that he’s refusing to immediately think about, is almost too much to bear. He stands up, fumbling his way out of the chair and into the kitchen.
The smell hits him almost as soon as he enters, and he sucks in a deep breath. His traitorous stomach growls, loud and demanding.
Soup bubbles on the stove as Peter works at the counter, chopping up some fruits and vegetables. He’s already managed to put a few little storage containers of food together for him, and something in Tony’s gut feels warm at the sight. But it also drops — preparing premade meals most certainly means that Peter isn’t intending to come back.
He looks up when Tony enters, expression wary. “The soup was the quickest thing you had, and since I had to be here for as long as it takes to boil anyway I thought I would just—“
“Peter.” His own voice sounds remarkable calm for how shaky he suddenly feels, lurching towards the alpha at the countertop. “It’s okay. I… thank you, for this. I’m sorry.”
Peter looks taken aback by the apology. “Tony, you don’t have to apologize. You’re right; I’m not your alpha and it’s not my place to give you orders. I just… I care about you, okay? I just want to help. I know you don’t think about me that way, and I’m sorry I overstepped, but—“
“You’re wrong.”
“What?” The words draw Peter up short.
Tony takes a breath, looking down. He focuses on the alpha’s hands, watching him chop instead of looking at his face. It’s easier. “You’re wrong. It’s not that I don’t think of you that way. The problem is… that I do. And I… I’m not used to this. I’ve never had someone take care of me before. Not really, not in any way that mattered. And what I feel for you… it scares me.” He takes a little breath again, looking down at his own hands. “I want you to be my alpha, Peter. But I’m not really a good omega, and I just have so much shit that comes along with being with me. The thought of asking you to do that… what that could do to us… I just don’t think I could handle that.”
He hears the knife ting against the countertop as Peter sets it down, and the pitter patter of footsteps as the alpha crosses the room. He’s suddenly being drawn into a pair of lanky but surprisingly strong arms, surrounded by the musky, relaxing scent of alpha, and he practically melts into it, nestling his nose into the spot between the collar of Peter’s sweatshirt and his throat almost automatically.
Peter’s hand running up and down his back is soothing, relaxing him the rest of the way, and the press of the alpha’s chin against his head is just the perfect weight to be comfortable, reassuring.
“Tony… I’m not an idiot,” he says gently. “I know who you are. What you’ve done, where you came from, what’s expected of you — and yeah, I’m sure there’s more that you haven’t told me and that’s not public, but— I get why this is a struggle for you, and why you feel the need to put so much pressure on yourself. There’s nothing wrong with you for that and it is most definitely not your own fault that you’re not used to being taken care of. And you’ve no idea how badly or how long I’ve wanted to be your alpha.” He pulls back a little to look down at him, fingers scratching Tony’s scalp gently as he works his fingers through his hair. “But that doesn’t mean that this kind of behavior — towards yourself or others — is good or acceptable. It’s okay to let me take care of you — at least in small ways. I know you’re scared of losing your independence, but that’s not what I want for you, either. I just want to help.”
“Help,” Tony echoes, eyes drifting to the pan on the stove and then back to Peter. “I… I think I’d like that.” He bites his lip, looking up at him. They’re about the same size and height, but this close, wrapped in the alpha’s arms and scent, with his steady gaze on him, he can’t help but feel small by comparison. “You really want to be my alpha?”
“Only if you want me to be, but…” Peter looks down at him and cracks his shy little smile. “I’d like to try, if you’d let me.”
“I’d like that,” Tony admits. He shifts to press up against him, putting a hand on his chest. “I’d also really like it if you’d kiss me.”
Peter looks a little surprised, but not unpleasantly. Still, he shakes his head, giving him a little push back. “Tony, you didn’t even know what day it was. God knows when the last time you brushed your teeth is. No offense, but… ew.”
Tony just laughs a little, unable to help himself. “If I brush my teeth…?”
“Maybe. If you eat your food as well.” Peter moves back to the counter, finishing up the container he was working on. “We can’t be doing anything that’s going to burn you extra calories when you don’t have enough to begin with, hm?”
Tony finds himself grinning. “That’s an argument I can get behind. Literally and metaphorically.”
Peter flashes a grin in return, voice back to that gentle but insistent tone that he knows so well when he says, “Go, Tony.”
And for once, Tony is all too happy to obey.
#starker#ironspider#peter parker x tony stark#tony stark x peter parker#prompting#my prompts#my writing#kris talks#kris answers#omega tony stark#alpha peter parker#starker omegaverse#fluff
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to hell and back || damien darkblood x reader
pairing: damien darkblood x partner reader (gn, no y/n)
fandom: invincible
word count: 1448
summary: after omni-man flees earth and things begin to settle down, cecil feels he owes you -- the demon detective’s partner in solving crime -- a favor.
warnings: none
a/n: a sequel to this. darkblood deserves better, and by the gods, i’m giving it to him! enjoy, my fellow simps.
———
“If anything happens to them, on your head it will be, Cecil!”
Those were the final words of the demon as the pits of hell called him home, and as Cecil met his gaze, he knew it was no threat. It was a promise, and though he considered himself a bastard, Cecil saw no need to keep you in danger. He knew without Darkblood around, you were a target for Nolan. He’d already had security detail on you, but against Omni-Man, he knew it was useless. If he ever decided he wanted you dead, there’d be nothing stopping him.
Then, if Cecil was lucky (or maybe unlucky) to stay out of the warpath, he’d have Darkblood breathing down his neck, even with such distance between this world and his.
Sending him back to Hell wasn’t something Cecil wanted to do. It was a necessity. He owed him big time for that, and he’d start with keeping you off Nolan’s radar.
The official report was that you’d gone to stay with an imaginary Aunt Sue, somewhere in the Dakotas, but the reality was you were to be kept in the Global Defense Agency Headquarters -- well hidden, out of sight, and away from Nolan Grayson.
No one told you a thing. You’d been in your apartment, waiting for Damien to show up with those coffees he’d promised. Evidence, photos, and papers of theories and notes were scattered around the small space, occupying every inch of surface area, as you paced, a bad feeling in the pit of your stomach growing stronger and stronger the longer your demon detective was away. Something was wrong, and as Cecil Stedman appeared suddenly before you, making you jump out of your skin, you knew for sure.
“You’re the demon’s partner, right?”
“Yeah, that’s me. I guess you’re Cecil.”
“You guess right. You need to come with us.”
“Why?”
“You’re not safe anymore.”
“What?”
“I can’t answer your questions now. Pack a bag. You won’t be coming back for a while.”
You didn’t argue. You didn’t have a choice.
The Global Defense Agency took care of your monthly expenses while you were gone, as if that made any of this less scary or confusing. All you’d been told was Damien was back in Hell, Cecil put him there, and you were in danger.
No one told you much else. Cecil had acted civil toward you -- kind, even -- but it didn’t help. Damien was gone, it was Cecil’s fault, and life may never be normal again.
All because you two asked questions.
Because you wanted the truth.
And you both had paid the price: freedom.
Meanwhile, Omni-Man roamed free, ready to kill again.
You lost count of how long you’d been at GDA HQ when Nolan finally struck.
Initially, you’d been barred from the control room, but Cecil let you choose to watch the chaos or stay blind to it.
You choose not to watch. No one needed you to be in the room when all of the ruin, disaster, and chaos you and Damien knew would happen happened. Based on what Cecil told you after, you were glad you decided to stay out of it.
All of those innocent people, now dead. All of that destruction. All of that carnage, and for what? Omni-Man had fled.
It was for nothing.
And Debbie…
You’d offered as much comfort as you could. You knew how it felt to lose a loved one (it took all you had not to look pointedly at Cecil when you told her that) and the woman needed someone to lean on. Someone not quite so cold as Cecil.
And he’d watched you. Despite everything, you comforted Debbie and Mark, putting on a brave face as if you haven’t lost everything, too. Cecil knows you’re still hurting -- why wouldn’t you be?
Cecil was many things, and a man who paid his debts was absolutely one of them.
He’d been searching since he put Darkblood back in Hell for it: the spell to undo what he did. To summon him back. His plan was always to bring him back, if such a thing existed. He’d had his people looking for months with no luck, and he’d already given you the all clear to go home, with the promise your rent and utilities were paid for until you could get back on your feet.
Yeah. Right. How the fuck do you do that? Your partner -- not only in profession but your partner -- was gone, your office had been trashed, and your apartment felt so empty it was somehow suffocating.
For weeks after you’d returned, you’d laid on the couch, staring at the ceiling, jumping at any change in the temperature, hoping one day you’d look up and see him, only to find it was the apartment complex’s shitty circulation.
The news talked about things going back to normal, yet normal sounded like a foreign language now. How was the world supposed to be any kind of normal again?
Cecil made a few visits to check on you, but you regarded him with coldness that could rival that of Damien’s. He couldn’t blame you.
You’d lost track of the days when the sigh that escaped your lips was accompanied by a small fog. You froze, sitting up from your temporary home on the couch before exhaling again. Just to be sure.
And there it was again: the small visage of your breath indicating the decrease in temperature you’d been ignoring out of lost hope.
“Damien…?”
“Yes, amare?” the gruff baritone was music to your ears as you turned toward your kitchen. There he was: red, large, and intimidating -- yet that soft look in his gaze remained, as if no time at all had passed.
“Damien!” you leapt over the couch, nearly tumbling to the ground before two strong arms grab you, pulling you into the warmest yet coldest bear hug you’ve ever gotten.
“Sorry for delay. Had to...speak with Cecil...” he rumbles, clawed hand carding through your hair, “Need to be ‘debriefed’ but...had to see you.”
“I can tell you what you missed.” you mumble, burying your face in his arms. He pulls you tighter still, resting his chin on the top of your head.
“Later,” he says.
And for a moment -- how long, you’re not sure -- you both just sit there on the living room floor, holding each other in a silent, loving embrace. Tears stream down your face, stinging from the cold emanating from Damien. His hand moves to brush them away, and the contact makes you cry more. You missed him. It had been so long.
After what felt like forever, you part -- just enough to look at each other. He, of course, looks no different. Demons didn’t age like humans did. You, however, probably look like shit. You hadn’t looked in a mirror in forever, but you knew your hair was much longer. You hadn’t bothered to get it cut in...how long had it been? It wasn’t like you could’ve gotten it cut, anyway. The city had been rebuilding, and getting anywhere was...well, hell.
“Beautiful as the day I lost you,” he says, and your tears well up again.
“I know I look like shit, Damien,” you say, trying to laugh off the sudden absence of your grief. He smiles slightly -- a rare sight.
“To me you look like heaven, amare,” he replies.
Amare. His nickname for you. You think its Latin, but you’ve never looked into what it means. You never asked, either, assuming he’d just tell you one day.
But you almost lost him.
You couldn’t bring yourself to look into it after he was gone, and now that he was here again….you decide to ask.
“You’ve called me that since we became partners. What does it mean?”
“Supposed to be a detective.” he replies. His own attempt at a joke, you muse. You’re in no mood for it.
“Damien, please.”
He looks at you fondly, placing a kiss to your forehead.
“Love. It means love.”
You should’ve figured, yet you find yourself crying again, and his arms wrap tighter around you in a protective, loving embrace.
There was more to be said between you two. You both know it. What happened to Damien in Hell? How did everything with Nolan go down here? Now that Cecil knew how to banish and summon Damien as he pleased, what would become of your demon detective?
All need answers. Resolutions.
But not now.
Now was the time for healing: for the world, for humanity, and for you and your demon in that tiny apartment.
You had him back, and though so much hangs in the air, that was enough.
#damien darkblood x reader#damien darkblood#damien darkblood/reader#clancy brown x reader#I HAVEN'T POSTED IN SO LONG AND I AM SO SORRY
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daisy chain
oop, back at it again with dragon dick kiri
thank you SO much to @brattyquirks and @shoutogepi for looking over this for me when i was sick of looking at it, and @ramen-rambles for the fun idea!! i appreciate the help so so much !! 🧡
pairing: kirishima x reader x bakugou
word count: 8.3k
warnings: explicit penetrative sex, M/M/F threesome, dildos, dragon dick kiri
this is part of the dragon dick kiri series
tip jar!
It had started out as a joke, a throwaway comment that you really hadn’t put all that much thought into. You didn’t expect it to grow into anything more, but maybe you should have; it was pretty typical of Bakugou to take an innocent comment and interpret it as a personal challenge, after all.
“I hate my life.” You announce to no one in particular, your voice echoing off of the bathroom tiles.
“Shut the fuck up.” Bakugou snarls. You can’t take the vicious heat in his voice seriously, given your current predicament, so you just opt to ignore it. “Will you just- ow! That hurts, you stupid, shitty-”
“Fuck off, this is not my fault!” You snap back. Your patience is frayed and barely hanging on by a thread, and you feel safe enough snapping back at Bakugou considering you’re confident that he’s in no position to try and kill you if he does happen to take issue with your tone.
“We’re not playing the blame game!” Bakugou snarls, which means that he’s definitely aware that he’s at fault here but doesn’t want to admit it. “All you have to do is-”
“I’m trying!”
“You’re not trying hard enough!”
You swear viciously and get to your feet, clambering out of the bathtub. You nearly slip on the wet tile floor, but just manage to keep your balance.
“Wait,” Bakugou says, and his tone has changed significantly. He sounds a little panicked now, as if he thinks that you’re about to abandon him to his fate, “Where the fuck are you going?”
You decide not to answer him, just because you’re feeling kind of petty, but when you remain quiet he tries to climb out of the bathtub after you. You notice the movement out of the corner of your eye and turn to look at him, scowling. “Will you stay where you are!”
“Where are you going!”
“I’m right here, I’m not leaving!” You go back to peering into the bathroom cabinet, thoroughly irritated by just about everything right now. “This is so stupid.”
“This was your idea.” Bakugou murmurs sulkily. His voice is quiet and resentful, and you’re probably not even supposed to hear it but you do hear it, and you whirl around.
“What?” Your voice comes out louder than you had intended, but you’re angry now. “What the hell is that supposed to mean? You came up with this all by yourself!”
Bakugou’s face is scrunched up in a mixture of pained discomfort and embarrassment, but he still manages to level you with a cuttingly annoyed glare. He opens his mouth to speak, and you ready yourself for whatever no doubt pathetic excuse is about to fall out of his mouth when your bickering is interrupted by a knock on the bathroom door.
“Hey,” Kirishima calls, concerned, “Are you guys okay in there?”
“Everything’s fine!” You yell at the same time as Bakugou practically screeches “Yes, fuck off!”
“Uhhh..” Kirishima remains unconvinced. The floor creaks as he shifts his weight around in front of the door. “What’s going on?”
You can’t blame him for being worried; both you and Bakugou have been locked in the bathroom for nearly twenty minutes. You and Kirishima had been relaxing on the couch while Bakugou showered when the shower had shut off abruptly and Bakugou had started roaring your name. You had gone running instinctively, leaving Kirishima wide-eyed and startled on the couch as you went crashing into the bathroom.
Nothing could have prepared you for the sight of Bakugou leaning over the ceramic edge of the bathtub with his fingers up his ass, red-faced and visibly panicking.
“It’s nothing to worry about, babe,” you call out to Kirishima, finally finding what you had been searching for and banging the cabinet shut. “We’ll be out soon, promise.”
After an excruciatingly long moment, Kirishima decides to take your word for it and retreats. You let out a breath, then turn back to Bakugou. He’s kneeling down, but his back is almost unnaturally straight and his jaw is clenched tight. His discomfort is obvious, but you really can’t bring yourself to feel all that sympathetic towards him - you still can’t believe he had the nerve to try and blame this on you.
You take a deep, fortifying breath, and slide your shoulders back. “Okay,” you say, “Bend over, ass up.”
Bakugou looks at you as though you’d just taken out a gun and threatened to shoot him. “What the fuck?”
“There is literally no other way to fish out the dildo that you lost up your ass, so just do it!” You hiss, your patience officially reaching its limit thanks to a healthy mixture of anger and embarrassment. You would rather be literally anywhere else right now, and you imagine Bakugou feels the same way.
The anger and embarrassment on his face only gets worse when he catches sight of the bottle of lube you’ve managed to fish out of the cabinet. He stays quiet as you climb back into the bathtub and situate yourself behind him and then, miraculously, he bends forward and braces himself on the rim of the bathtub with his ass jutting out towards you without saying a word.
“Okay,” you breathe. Now that his ass is actually being presented to you, you’re at a loss for what to do. “Um.”
“Just get on with it!” Bakugou hisses over his shoulder. The embarrassment is only fueling his anger, and you have a feeling that the only reason you haven’t been murdered so that no one else can ever learn about this is because the dildo lost somewhere up Bakugou’s rectum is hindering his movements.
“Okay!” You kneel down and squint at his ass. Though the shower is off, the tub is still wet and the moisture seeps through the knees of your jeans. You ignore the temporary discomfort as you pet awkwardly at Bakugou’s back to try and calm him down as your other hand slips towards his asshole. “God, this is awkward.”
“You don’t have to fucking point it out.” Bakugou grounds out through gritted teeth. His fists are clenching the edge of the tub so tight that his knuckles strain against the thin skin on his hands.
You uncap the lube and drizzle it all over your fingers. It might be a little overkill, but you’re already so far out of your comfort zone that you figure it’s better to be safe than sorry. The last thing you need is Bakugou snapping your head off because you accidentally hurt his ass. “Remind me why you shouted for me instead of Kirishima?”
Bakugou grumbles a little bit at that, but before he can answer the question you take the plunge and stick your fingers in his ass. It obviously takes him by surprise, because he lunges forward a bit and can’t quite bite back the strangled noise that’s punched out of his throat. “Fuck! Warn a guy before you go sticking your fingers up his ass!”
“You have a whole dildo up there, I doubt my fingers are gonna make that much of a difference.” You say, maybe a bit uncharitably. His asshole is lubed up pretty well, so your fingers slide in with ease, but he is pretty tight. You can totally see how his asshole slurped up the dildo as if it was suction powered. “Hey, you never answered my question.”
“What fucking question? Jesus-!” He jerks away from your fingers a little and bares his teeth at you over his shoulder, “Fucking take it easy!”
You glare at him, but don’t rise to it. “Why did you call for me instead of Kirishima?” It’s hard to keep your questing fingers gentle when you’re searching for something inside an asshole, but you do your best to try and keep Bakugou’s complaints to a minimum.
Bakugou exhales forcefully, the line of his shoulders tense and rigid. “I don’t know,” he says through gritted teeth, “I wasn’t thinking.”
You hum thoughtfully, but then your fingers brush the base of the dildo and you lose your train of thought. “Ah!” It’s difficult to get a grip on it, because of the copious amounts of lube and the awkward shape of the base. Everytime you almost catch a hold of it, you accidentally push it further in. “Fuck! Why the hell didn’t you use a dildo with some kind of flared base?”
“How many fucking dildos do you think I have on hand, huh?” Bakugou says. He’s obviously angry, but it’s a little difficult to take that anger seriously when you have several fingers stuffed in his anus. “This whole thing is your fault, anyway.”
This is roughly the third time he’s said something along those lines, so you remove your hand and sit back on your ankles, squinting at his upturned ass. “Okay, explain.”
Bakugou squirms, clearly antsy now that you’ve stopped trying to help him. “We talked about it last week!”
You just stare, at a loss. “Huh?”
He glares back at you, but when it becomes apparent that you genuinely don’t know what he’s talking about he’s forced to grumble, “When I asked you about Kirishima.”
You think for a long moment, mentally raking through every interaction you’ve had with Bakugou over the course of the week. You don’t remember ever saying anything that could have been construed as- oh. Oh, he’s gotta be joking.
One day last week, after a round of enthusiastically messy sex, you had been limping just a little. Bakugou, being the little shithead he was, laughed and prodded at you the whole way to the kitchen, and you had responded with an eye roll and an irritable “I’d like to see you take his dick, asshole.”
No reasonable person could ever have picked up your offhand remark as an actual challenge, but you weren’t dealing with a reasonable person right now. You go to cover your face with your hand only to remember that it was up Bakugou’s ass only moments previously, and quickly divert it away from your face. “You’ve gotta be kidding.”
Bakugou is flushed from the tip of his ears to his chest, a fetching shade of red. “You said you’d like to see it.”
“Oh, don’t pretend this is about what I want!”
“Well, obviously I want it too, but I wouldn’t be doing this if I thought you didn’t want it!” Bakugou snaps back. The two of you are irritable and embarrassed and your patience is at an all time low, but then Bakugou draws back and shuffles around on his knees so that he can actually see your face. “Do you want it? Fucking tell me if you don’t.”
You stare back at him dumbly, a little mesmerised by the vulnerability in his face. Bakugou has never presented himself as anything other than invincible in your presence, so this little sliver of emotional honestly has you melting a little bit. You glance away and allow yourself a moment to really think about what he’s proposing. You know that what he’s really hoping to do is prove that he can take Kirishima’s ridiculous dick better than you can.
It’s like he’s come to the conclusion that because he has no chance of beating Kirishima in the dick size contest, he has to compete with you for the best ability to take it. Honestly, you’re okay with that -- mainly because you’re pretty secure in the knowledge that he’s gonna lose.
You’d also be lying if you said the idea of getting to watch Kirishima fuck Bakugou didn’t cause you to heat up in between your legs.
“Hm.” You keep your face intentionally blank, watching Bakugou as he visibly fights not to fidget against the discomfort of both waiting for your response and the dildo up his hole. At last, you say, “Yeah. I want to see it.” Bakugou exhales, slow and steady, and nods. You don’t give him much of a chance to relax though. “Now, I need you to bend over properly. Face down, ass up. I need a better angle.”
Predictably, Bakugou doesn’t take that suggestion well, and it takes several more minutes of mingled arguing and coaxing before he finally sinks down into the requested position (though not without throwing a particularly venomous glare over his shoulder at you). You have to fight not to swear at him, because he’s the one that asked you for help here! It’s not as though you’re holding him hostage just so you can fish around in his asshole!
When he’s assumed the position, he buries his face in his arms. “Just get it fucking done.”
When faced with Bakugou on his knees in front of you, face down, ass up, with his back arched, you’re forced to face the rather irritating revelation that his ass is, like, perfect. It’s probably the perkiest damn thing you’ve ever seen in your life. You scowl at it, feeling both resentful and kind of turned on, before finally turning your attention to the task at hand. When you reach down to his asshole again, your fingers slide in with ease thanks to the lube and the fact that he’s already pretty well stretched.
Your fingers aren’t as long or wide as his are, but he still jerks against you as you poke around. His hips hunch forwards and he hisses like an angry cat as your fingers bump the base of the dildo, accidentally sliding it in a little further. “Fucking hell,” you murmur, brow scrunched in a deep frown, “How deep did you manage to get it?”
Bakugou bares his teeth in a grimace. “I ain’t blind, I’ve seen the size of Kirishima’s cock. I’m not stupid enough to go in without stretching myself out.”
“Just stupid enough to lose the dildo up your ass.” You mutter under your breath.
“The fuck did you just say?” Bakugou whips his head around to glare over his shoulder.
“Nothing!” You say hastily, deciding that you’ve probably pushed your luck far enough already. Your fingers jostle the dildo again and Bakugou lurches forward again, an odd pained sound leaving his lips. “Sorry, sorry!”
“Just-!” Bakugou’s voice is strained, and he’s buried his face in his arms again so that you can’t see him. “Fucking take it out!”
“I’m trying.” You grumble, trying not to sound petulant. If it were that easy, then surely he could have done it himself without your assistance! Bakugou grunts again when you finally manage to hook your fingers around the base of the dildo, but you barely notice as you excitedly say, “Hey! I got it!”
Bakugou braces himself, the whole length of his back flexing impressively as you begin to gradually pull the dildo out. It’s slow-going, mainly because you have to keep adjusting your grip so that it doesn’t slip right out of your fingertips, and Bakugou definitely doesn’t appreciate the slow speed. His fists are clenched tight and the flush has spread all down his neck and over his chest. His jaw is rolling constantly, and his eyes are squeezed shut. You actually feel kind of sorry for him, and you try your best to keep your movements as gentle and unobtrusive as possible.
That is, until you bump the dildo a little awkwardly and a downright filthy moan is torn from Bakugou’s throat. You both freeze, but Bakugou tensing up means that you nearly lose your grip on the dildo all over again. “Stop clenching!” You shriek, fingers scrabbling desperately against the hard plastic as you fight to keep a hold of it.
“Fuck you!” He yells back, but it seems like more of a reflexive response than anything else.
You shift backwards to try and get a better angle, and then you notice for the first time that his dick is hanging hard and heavy between his legs. “Bakugou Katsuki,” you say softly, watching as his back goes rigid at both your tone and your use of his full name, “How are you still hard? Are you seriously getting off on this?”
“No!” Bakugou snaps, his voice an octave higher than usual. “Fuck off! As if I’d get off to your grubby little fingers!”
“Grubby?” You sit back on your heels again, irritated. “Well, maybe I should just leave you here to take care of this little problem yourself, then. I don’t know why you called me in if my touch is so gross-”
“No!” Bakugou reaches behind him in an attempt to grab at your thighs to prevent you from moving, despite the fact that you haven’t made any real move to leave. “Just-!”
While he’s distracted, you give one quick tug and pull the entire length of the dildo out all at once. Bakugou’s whole body spasms as he lets out another strangled groan, and you don’t miss the way his dick twitches between his legs. You have to bite your lip to prevent yourself from laughing, because you have a feeling that Bakugou would not take that well. “It’s out!” you say, a little redundantly, and hold up the dildo.
Bakugou is still hunched over, his chest heaving slightly as he regulates his breathing. “Fucking hell.” He mutters without looking up. His hole is still loose and wet from the lube, and you have to look away as you feel yourself heating up with embarrassment.
You clear your throat pointedly, and raise your eyebrows when he finally turns to scowl up at you. “Aren’t you going to say thank you?”
“Hah? No.”
You scowl back at him. “I just did you a favour, dickhead.”
Bakugou totally ignores you as he climbs to his feet, wincing a little at the movement. You follow his lead, grumbling irritably, and when you’re both standing facing each other you’re hit with the realisation for the first time that Bakugou is very naked and still wet from his shower. “Okay then!” You say, probably too loudly. “Well! I’ll leave you to, uh, finish up?”
His dick is still hard, and you feel like it’s pointing accusingly at you. Bakugou is frowning thoughtfully at the dildo that’s still clutched awkwardly in your hands. “I’m still horny.”
“Yeah, I can see that.” You wonder if he’s asking for his dildo back, and then you realise that you don’t want it yourself so you shove it into his chest.
He takes it absent-mindedly, his frown transferring to focus on you. “Are you turned on?”
“What?”
His gaze drops to your legs, and you’re embarrassed to realise that he’s caught your thighs rubbing together. Before you can say anything, he says, “I’m not judging. If you get wet from playing with my ass that’s your own business.”
“You’re such a dickhead.” It’s not really an answer, but you both know that he really doesn’t need one.
His gaze moves to the door, thoughtful, as his tongue darts out to wet his lips. “I’m ready if you are.”
It takes an embarrassingly long moment to catch on to what he means. Your gaze flicks from the door to the dildo. It is, admittedly, fairly large; it’s probably about ten inches long, and decently thick. It’s a small miracle that it ever got lost inside Bakugou’s ass. And yet; Kirishima’s dick is definitely larger.
There’s no way of telling Bakugou this without inadvertently starting an argument, so you let it go. “Yeah. Yeah, okay.”
Bakugou grins, wild and anticipatory, and hops out of the tub. His erection swings heavily between his legs in a motion that’s almost obscene as he swaggers towards the bathroom door and flicks open the lock. When you move to follow him, he sticks his arm out and frowns at the length of your body. “Take your clothes off.”
“Huh?” You glance down at yourself. “Right now? Why can’t I take them off in the bedroom?”
“Because we’re going into this fucking ready, come on.” He tugs impatiently at your shirt.
“Okay, okay.” You slap at his hands before starting to tug your clothes off. It takes a bit of extra effort to get the damp jeans off because they’ve started to cling to your legs. Bakugou’s tugging hands are significantly more hindering than they are helpful, but eventually you’re standing naked with your clothes strewn all around your feet.
It takes effort not to comment on Bakugou’s impatience, and even then the main reason you don’t comment is because now there’s no dildo hindering his ability to murder you. When he yanks open the door, his shoulders are high and tense with anticipation, and he sets off down the hall towards the living room at a speed far too quick to be casual. You scurry after him, having the presence of mind to feel a little embarrassed and self-conscious at your total nudity as you both emerge into the living room. Bakugou, naturally, owns his nudity unrepentantly.
“Oi.” he says sharply, as eloquent as ever.
“You guys finally done? What happened, did Bakugou fall into the toil...et?” Kirishima’s voice trails off and pitches high as he turns his head from the couch, his eyes flying wide when he catches sight of you and Bakugou standing totally nude in the mouth of the hallway. “Uh. Whoa?”
“Let’s go, asshole, we’re ready to fuck.”
“What?” Kirishima looks vaguely as though he’s been hit by a metaphorical truck, but he jumps from the couch despite his obvious confusion. “Now?”
“Obviously, come on!”
Kirishima’s bewildered gaze flickers from Bakugou to you, and the most you can offer him is a companionably confused shrug. “Okay.” He starts to grin, as willing to go with the flow as ever. The front of his sweatpants is already beginning to tent, and you can’t help but chuckle at how easily aroused he is. “Yeah, okay. Great.”
Bakugou turns and marches back down the hall towards Kirishima’s room, securely confident that both you and Kirishima are following behind him. He’s right, obviously, and you can’t help but roll your eyes at his cockiness. Still though; walking behind him like this you get a great view of his ass, and what a great view it is.
When you glance up at Kirishima, you see that he’s already staring at your bare chest. “What the hell happened in the bathroom?” He asks quietly. He’s still grinning, his arousal obviously unaffected by his confusion.
“I’ll tell you later.” You promise. You know you’re only adding to his bewilderment, but you really don’t think you can succinctly explain the situation in the time it takes to get from the living room to the bedroom.
As always, Kirishima just takes the whole thing in his stride. “Okay.” He agrees with a ridiculous amount of cheer, then claps and rubs his hands together like a cheesy movie villain. “Let’s get going!”
When you enter Kirishima’s room, Bakugou is already spread out on the bed; his cock is laying hard and proud against the gloriously defined contours of his stomach, and his bicep bulges as he cushions his head with one arm. He looks positively pornographic, and you falter for a moment. The act of simply looking at him seems indecent.
Kirishima, naturally, just bounds right up and leaps onto the bed. “Lookin’ good, bro!”
“How many times do I have to tell you to not call me that when we’re about to-” Bakugou begins furiously, but the rest of his complaint is lost as Kirishima practically tackles him into the mattress. You have to admit, as you watch the two of them grapple like children on the bed, you’re begrudgingly impressed by Bakugou’s unflagging hard on; he must be really excited for what’s to come. You suppose you can’t blame him, really. Considering the slimy feeling between your thighs, you know that you’re just as excited. After a moment, Bakugou successfully shoves him off. “Idiot,” he says, completely lacking any sort of heat, “Are we doing this or what?”
“You’re so impatient br- uh, dude.”
“Dude is not an improvement, you fucking-”
Kirishima ignores the beginning of Bakugou’s rant and turns to you, making ridiculous grabby motions. “Get over here, gorgeous!”
A slow, coy grin begins to spread over your face as you look slowly between Kirishima and Bakugou. They both seem to puff up just a little under your gaze; Kirishima squares his shoulders and grins unrepentantly at you, a very obvious wet patch beginning to form under the conspicuous bulge in his sweatpants, while Bakugou’s stomach flexes as he acts as though he had forgotten that you were there. You hum, stepping forward but stopping just out of arm's reach. “Not yet.” You decide, tilting your head to meet Bakugou’s gaze head on.
He grins, wide and challenging. His eyes are dark and excited, but he doesn’t speak up to clue Kirishima in on what he’s planning just yet. Kirishima, meanwhile, is pouting. “Aw, why are you teasing? Can’t you see we’re eager to go?”
“I can see that,” you admit, because honestly if you had somehow managed to miss the blindingly obvious evidence of their arousal there would have to be something seriously wrong with you. “But we’re going to try something different tonight.”
“Take these off.” Bakugou finally says, reaching out and snapping at the waistband of Kirishima’s sweatpants.
Kirishima jumps, startled, as the elastic smacks into the skin of his lower stomach. “What?” he says a little dumbly, looking from you to Bakugou. Even though he’s a little slow on the uptake, he begins wriggling out of his sweatpants until he’s left in his special supportive jockstrap. The jock is already pretty wet with precum, and even though it’s been specifically designed with large and unusual penises in mind, it’s having trouble containing his straining erection.
Bakugou gazes at the overworked fabric, his gaze intense and unwavering. “That, too.”
“Okay.” Kirishima agrees, breathless. He seems to have come to the conclusion that it’s best to put aside his confusion for the time being and simply go with the flow, which is probably the best for the time being. When Bakugou decides that he wants something, you just have to go with it; to do otherwise would be like trying to fight a force of nature. Apparently anything longer than instantly is too long for Bakugou, and he lunges forward to help Kirishima take off the jock. Bakugou’s idea of helping seems more along the lines of ‘tearing it off’, but Kirishima seems to find the urgency flattering.
Once Kirishima is appropriately naked, Bakugou sits back and just looks at him. You understand that particular reaction all too well -- it’s easy to look at Kirishima’s dick and think that it’s super hot (because in all honesty it is) but it’s another thing when you’re looking at it when you know that it’s going to be inside of you imminently. Kirishima’s cock has a rather unique way of inspiring a fight or flight instinct in even the bravest of men, and you’re rather gratified by the fact that even Bakugou Katsuki isn’t immune to that little frisson of unease and self-doubt.
“Uh oh, second thoughts?” You ask, teasing softly. You know he’s not really second guessing himself, you know that he’ll push through every single one of his own personal hesitations just to prove a point, but you can also see that he doesn’t know how to actually go about initiating what he wants.
Predictably, he shoots you a scathing look. “Hardly, dumbass.” He says, but still makes no move to do or say anything else. Kirishima sits in front of him, also unmoving, looking innocently perplexed other than the enormous hard on eagerly leaking onto his lower belly.
Idiots, you think, impossibly fond of them both. “Eijirou,” you begin softly. Both of them look to you, and you don’t miss the poorly concealed look of relief in Bakugou’s eyes when you take control of the talking part. “You’re going to fuck Katsuki tonight.”
Bakugou makes a soft noise as Kirishima’s eyes shoot wide, though you don’t know if it’s because you’ve finally spoken his desire into existence or if it’s because you used his first name. Either way, it has his hand reaching between his legs to tug at the hard, unwavering length of his erection. Meanwhile, Kirishima looks utterly thunderstruck. His mouth hangs open, his jaw slack, as he slowly turns his head to look at his best friend. “What?” He says stupidly, his thought process clearly struggling to keep up. He always seems to be slower to catch onto things when he’s horny, and you wonder if it’s because of all the blood being diverted away from his brain to fill out his ridiculously enormous dick.
It’s usually pretty endearing, but you can see the way that Bakugou begins to shift a little nervously the longer it takes for Kirishima to properly react. “Yes or no?” You say quickly, before Bakugou’s antsiness gets the chance to manifest into outright impatience or embarrassment.
“Yes!” Kirishima says quickly, but then his gaze darts down to his own hard on and back to Bakugou. “But- I mean. Can you- are you sure that you’re able to- I mean-”
It’s pretty funny watching him flounder to ask Bakugou if he’s sure he’s physically capable of taking him without saying something that Bakugou may take offence to, especially as Bakugou’s eyes begin to narrow. “What?”
“He’s already ready for you.” You decide to pipe up. Bakugou whips around to glare at you for offering that particular bit of information up, but you ignore it because it’s not as if Kirishima wasn’t about to find out as soon as he reached around to touch him, anyway.
“Really?” Kirishima asks, quietly awed.
“Yeah, I’m not dumb.” Bakugou says with a quick wave of his hand. “And I’m also not a total masochist.”
“Okay.” Kirishima says. His face is slowly starting to light up as he finally seems to come to terms with the fact that this is actually happening. “Wow. Okay, wow.”
“Yeah, yeah, whatever! Let’s go.” Bakugou snaps, his cheeks stained a pretty pink colour. “Stop fucking saying wow.”
You laugh, giddy excitement beginning to bubble up in your chest. You move to lean against the wall so you can watch from a fairly unobtrusive vantage point as Bakugou turns around so that his ass and back are facing Kirishima. They’re both excited for this, that much is obvious, but you still can’t quite shake off the belief that Bakugou has bitten off a little more than he can chew in this particular situation. Oh, well. Bakugou is the kind of person who learns by doing, you suppose.
Bakugou drops forward onto all fours, his back lightly arched and his face set and determined. If it weren’t for the fact that he was naked and hard as hell, you might think from his expression that he was about to beat down a particularly heinous criminal. Kirishima shuffles forward until he’s pressed flush against the back of his thighs, still looking vaguely as though he expects Bakugou to turn around and tell him that the entire situation was an elaborate prank. “You’re sure?” Kirishima says, his hand landing lightly on the outside of Bakugou’s hip and sliding gently up over his ribs.
“Obviously.” Bakugou drawls. Impressively, he seems to have wiped any trace of nerves cleanly out of his system. He looks like he always does when he’s about to face a challenge that he expects to crush; cocky, confident, and utterly single-minded. That particular look of sheer determination falters slightly as his gaze darts over to you, where you’re slouching against the wall watching. “The fuck are you all the way over there for?”
You raise your eyebrows. It hadn’t quite occurred to you that they might want you to take an active role in this, but Bakugou is frowning at you as though you’re a total idiot and Kirishima is making those silly little grabbing motions towards you again, his grin blinding. “Well, where do you want me to be?”
Bakugou narrows his eyes, chewing thoughtfully on the inside of his cheek. “Under me.” It’s phrased as an order but his voice ends in an almost imperceptible uptick, so it comes out sounding uncharacteristically unsure.
You hum as you climb up on the bed and slip underneath him, so that his arms are braced either side of your head and his knees are positioned in between your spread legs. You grin up at him, but he looks away with a little huff -- within seconds Kirishima’s head appears over his shoulder, and he offers you a grin so wide that you can see just about every single one of his sharp, shiny white teeth. You laugh at his goofy face, and feel hot liquid excitement settle in your belly and begin to simmer there as the reality of the situation begins to dawn on you. Bakugou’s hard on brushes against your navel as he shifts, leaving a little trail of precum on your skin. You’re startled to find yourself marveling at how little precum he produces; it’s kind of startling how quickly you’ve become used to Kirishima’s little sexual quirks as normal.
“Get on with it, shitty hair.” Bakugou snaps, the old nickname falling out of his mouth almost unconsciously. Kirishima’s hair is ungelled today, hanging loose over his brow and around his ears, although neither of you care to point this fact out. “Do you need me to draw you a map?”
Kirishima rolls his eyes. “Damn, man. Cool it with the attitude.”
You have no doubt that Bakugou is ready to snap back with another comment, but before he gets the chance to Kirishima’s large palms plant themselves down on Bakugou’s incongruously tiny waist as he ruts his hips experimentally against Bakugou’s ass. From your new and very comfortable vantage point, you get to see the look of realisation begin to sneak across Bakugou’s face; there is, after all, a pretty significant difference between deciding that you’re going to fuck Kirishima and actually feeling his cock press against you. The creeping cognizance of exactly how big Kirishima is can be nothing short of alarming, and nothing drives home that realisation faster than feeling the tip of his dick pressing against you.
If anything though, Bakugou’s initial moment of anxiety just seems to turn into more arousal. “Fuck.” He breathes quietly, his voice gone a little choked.
“How’s it feel?” You ask, half-teasing. You reach up and pet reassuringly at his shoulders and the side of his neck, feeling the solid muscle shift beneath your palm.
“Big.” It’s more of a groan than anything else, his scarlet eyes going a little glassy.
Behind him, Kirishima rumbles a low, genuinely amused chuckle. “I thought we already covered that.”
“Shut up. Just put it in.” Bakugou cranes his head over his shoulder, reaching to try and maneuver Kirishima himself. “Come on. I’m horny as hell, and I’m not gonna break. Stop fucking treating me like I’m [Y/N].”
You stiffen at that, and narrow your eyes. “I haven’t broken yet, asshole.”
“Whatever.” Bakugou rolls his head around to meet your scowl with a cocky smirk, “I’m gonna take it without whining like a bitch.”
Your irritated expression melts into a slow, anticipatory smile. “You’re gonna eat your words, Katsuki.” you croon up at him as Kirishima hooks his chin over his shoulder, biting his lip to stifle his own smile, “You’re gonna choke on them.”
Whatever Bakugou was planning on saying in return is interrupted by Kirishima dipping both thumbs into his ass and marvelling at the stretch. “Wow, you really did get yourself ready.” He says, and Bakugou exhales heavily as Kirishima grinds into him again. “Can I…?”
“Yes, just do it!” Bakugou unsuccessfully tries to shove his own hips back, his impatience written clear across his face.
Kirishima meets your gaze over Bakugou’s shoulder, his eyes wide and excited. ‘What the fuck!’ he mouths silently, still grinning. You smile back at him, trying hard not to laugh because Bakugou is also looking down at you. Being beneath the two of them is intimidating because they are both extremely large men, but also because they’re both staring at you and the weight of their combined gazes is really intense.
You can’t see what’s happening, but you know when Kirishima begins to press into Bakugou because both of their faces contort; Kirishima’s mouth drops open and his forehead crinkles, a ragged little moan escaping him, and Bakugou’s eyes shoot wide as he inhales sharply through his nose and apparently forgets to breathe out. “Oh god, oh fuck,” Kirishima whimpers, his head dropping down onto Bakugou’s shoulder. He’s trying to hold back to give Bakugou time to adjust, that much is obvious, but he seems a little more impatient than he usually is with you. While he’s being slow, his hips keep rutting forward in little aborted motions that lack the level of consideration that he usually takes with you -- but then again, Bakugou had insisted that he was able to take it.
You wonder if he’s beginning to second-guess himself; his jaw hangs slack and his eyes are wide and a little out of focus, his back beginning to hunch slightly as Kirishima presses forward. “Oh,” he grunts. His hands flex and fist into the sheets by your head, and he breathes hard through his nose. “Shit.”
Kirishima stills, though it’s clear that it takes a huge amount of effort. “Are you-” he pauses just short of asking Bakugou if he’s alright, and instead says, “Can I put in the rest?”
“The rest?” Bakugou says quickly, his voice several octaves higher than usual. “It’s not in yet?”
You start to laugh, and not even the murderous glare that Bakugou shoots your way can dampen your amusement. “Oh no, are you having trouble with just the tip?”
“I will kick your ass, dickhead. He’s entering somewhere that’s usually an exit, let him take it slow!” Bakugou plants his palm over your face and shoves you away so that you’re not looking directly at him before saying, “Whatever, put the rest in!”
Kirishima pays him no mind, instead peering at you over Bakugou’s shoulder. “I want you to feel good too.” He tells you, even though you can see the tension in his face and neck from forcing himself to stay still when every nerve in his body screamed at him to move. “Can Bakugou make you feel good?”
“I don’t know, can he?” You ask coyly, casting an eye down the length of Bakugou’s rigid body hovering above you; you doubt that Bakugou will have the presence of mind to pleasure you when Kirishima’s entire length is fucking inside of him.
As expected, Bakugou’s nostrils flare. “Don’t ask stupid fucking questions.” he snaps, one hand already slipping between your legs to tease at your clit. He blinks in surprise when his fingers slip along your slit. “Huh. You’re drenched.”
Your face heats up in embarrassment, but Kirishima’s face lights up with a wicked smile. “Is she?” he asks. His hand winds around the front of Bakugou’s hips, and you think for a moment that he’s going to touch you too. But then it’s Bakugou who stiffens with a bitten-back moan as Kirishima wraps a hand around his neglected hard-on and guides the tip of it to rub against your slick, eager pussy. Both you and Bakugou go still, surprised, as Kirishima quietly asks, “Is this okay?”
“Yes.” The word comes out on a moan as your head drops back to the sheets. You shift your hips and feel the tip of Bakugou’s cock slide just barely inside you. “Please!”
Bakugou swears, loud and vicious, as his hand comes to clamp down on your hip to keep you from fucking yourself onto him. “Fuck! Don’t do that, I’ll come-” he begins, but Kirishima chooses that moment to buck the rest of his own cock into Bakugou’s ass. The sudden harshness of the movement starts a chain reaction as Bakugou’s entire body is jolted forward, inadvertently pressing his own dick all the way inside you. He makes a sound like a wounded animal, his breathing ragged and heavy as his clutches at your hip. “Oh-! Shit, fuck, you absolute motherfucker-!”
Kirishima laughs breathlessly, his forehead dropping down to rest against Bakugou’s shoulder. “Taking too long.” he says, his words coming out syrupy and almost slurred. “God, feels so good…”
You can’t stop yourself from squirming a little, trying to get Bakugou’s dick just a little bit deeper; you had gotten used to the obscenely large size of Kirishima’s dick, and while Bakugou’s dick felt good, it wasn’t enough. Your squirming doesn’t get you very far though, because Bakugou’s grip on you tightens until he’s holding you firmly in place. “Stay still,” he grounds out, his voice ragged. His shoulders are hiked up around his ears as he breathes, and you wonder if it’s from pain or if he’s just so close to cumming right now that every touch straddles the line of too much. He swears again, and his head drops down onto your shoulder. “Feels like I’m gonna split in two.” He murmurs, voice tight.
“Poor baby,” you say, running a hand up along his shoulder blades. With his face buried into the crook of your neck like this, he’s unintentionally given you a perfect view of his arched back and raised ass. Like this, you can just about see where Kirishima is buried inside of him, the only part of his cock visible being the swollen, squishy area at the base. “If it’s too much, tell us, Katsuki.”
“S’not too much,” he mumbles into your neck, all the usual sharpness leached from his voice. “I can do it. It’s just… a lot. And you’re really fuckin’ soft inside, which isn’t fucking helping.” As if to emphasise his point he rocks his hips forward into you and then makes a weird little warbling sound into your ear.
Kirishima leans up and drapes himself along the length of Bakugou’s back, sending a wobbly grin your way. “I can’t- I have to-” His hips twitch, building into slow, rolling thrusts. “Bakugou- I need- Can I, Katsuki-?”
“Yeah.” Bakugou pants into your neck, the condensation of his breath gathering wetly against the flesh of your throat. “Yeah, fuck me.”
That’s all the permission Kirishima needs -- he lets out an excited little whimper before pulling out and shoving himself back inside all out once. The movement sends a jolt up Bakugou’s spine, and he sucks in a sharp breath but doesn’t move his face from your throat. Kirishima begins a rough, quick pace, his muscled thighs flexing as he drives into Bakugou again and again. Every thrust seems to drive the breath out of Bakugou’s lungs, and he wriggles his arms under your shoulders and clutches you to him as the force of Kirishima’s fucking sends his whole body rocking into yours.
“So big, shit!” Bakugou manages to gasp out, finally regaining the presence of mind to breathe properly.
“Yeah?” Kirishima whimpers, looking proud. “You look so good like this, man, you feel so nice wrapped around me. Does it feel good?”
“Uh huh.” Bakugou dips his head so that his face is buried in your tits, his ass raised even higher. “Fuck!”
Everytime Kirishima fucks into Bakugou he pushes Bakugou’s hips sharply into yours, until all three of you are essentially fucking each other in a daisy chain reaction. You writhe beneath Bakugou, squirming and working your hips back and forth along the length of Bakugou’s dick as he fucks you to the same rhythm that he’s being fucked to himself. “Harder.” You beg, hiking your legs up over Bakugou’s hips and squeezing tight as you’re both rocked by Kirishima.
Bakugou makes a muffled noise that is possibly encouragement. His hips oscillate wildly between thrusting back to meet Kirishima’s snapping pelvis and forward into your own wet heat, like he can’t decide between the two. There’s something impossibly intoxicating about being able to watch Kirishima positively ploughing into Bakugou’s ass, hunched over his back and clutching his waist and panting from the exertion, and simultaneously being able to feel how hard and fast he’s fucking him. You know you’re clenching up from the way Bakugou moans brokenly into your tits; your chest feels suspiciously wet, and you have a feeling that he’s actually being fucked so good that he’s drooling on you.
Despite the fact that Kirishima is jackrabbiting his hips into Bakugou so hard that Bakugou’s whole body is bouncing with the speed and force of it, Bakugou’s hips grind into yours at a slightly slower pace: his cock rubs insistently along every inch of the inside of your pussy every time a thrust knocks him forward again, grinding unrelentingly deep. Kirishima is visibly starting to fall into that mindlessly horny haze that means he’s getting close to cumming, but he still has the presence of mind to reach down and intertwine one of his hands with yours, the other gripping Bakugou’s hip as he guides him back and forth on his cock.
Neither of them are going to last long; it’s obvious from Kirishima’s desperate open-mouthed panting and the way he hunches over as his thrusting starts to turn messy, and it’s obvious from Bakugou’s raggedy breathing and his equally messy attempts to fuck further into you as he messily sucks at one of your tits.
What you’re not expecting, however, is how quickly your own orgasm is creeping up on you. This particular position isn’t super conducive to your own pleasure, but being fucked like this while having such strong visual stimulation is nice -- the pleasure isn’t bright or burning or all-consuming, but it’s building, and rapidly. Kirishima turning Bakugou into a gasping, sweaty mess on top of you is apparently a massive turn-on for you, which comes as a mild (but very pleasant) surprise, and you can’t stop yourself from jamming a hand down the middle of you and Bakugou so you can rub frantically at your clit.
The heat and weight of Bakugou plastered to your front is blistering, and every time Kirishima whines and fucks him forward into you it sends little jolts of pleasure shooting through you. Bakugou moans into your breastbone, and it sounds like he’s choking, as if he’s being fucked so thoroughly that his body has forgotten basic functions like how to breathe, and you find it so ridiculously hot that you let out an answering moan.
To your honest surprise, you cum first. Your orgasm rips through you with an intensity that leaves you genuinely startled, your body convulsing and arching as your mouth drops open soundlessly. “Oh!” is all you manage to gasp out, your hand clenching tight around Kirishima’s.
“Yes, baby!” Kirishima pants, his face bright and excited and extremely aroused, as delighted as ever at the chance to watch you lose yourself. “Oh- shit, I’m gonna- I’m close-!”
Bakugou’s head snaps up from your chest all of a sudden, his eyes blowing wide. “Is it getting bigger? Fuck, is it getting bigger?”
The extra inch Kirishima’s cock tends to grow when he comes is a sign that he’s just about to spill, though you could have guessed that from the way that his eyes have gone unfocused as the motion of his hips stutter and falter. You realise that this is Bakugou’s first time experiencing it, since he’s only ever seen Kirishima come when he’s buried inside of you.
Kirishima, meanwhile, is babbling away about how good he feels, about how good you and Bakugou feel and how good you two look. He lets out a high-pitched keening sound and then his whole body locks up as he strains against his orgasm, his hips spasming wildly. Bakugou makes a muffled sound into the sweaty, drool-slick skin of your chest, as he comes inside of you in turn, apparently driven over the edge by the combined sensation of Kirishima’s engorging cock and the veritable buckets of cum being emptied inside of him. You can feel the sticky, gooey slickness of Kirishima’s cum dripping onto your skin and the bedsheets. As always, it makes a mess, but the three of you are slumped boneless against each other, with no energy left to spare to so much as move a muscle, never mind to clean up.
Finally, after an indeterminable amount of time, Bakugou reaches around to shove Kirishima off of him with a groan. A visible wince passes over his face as Kirishima pulls out, accompanied by a veritable gush of cum as it spills out onto the bedsheets. “Shit. goddamn, that is so much fucking cum.” Bakugou mumbles, slumping over into the sheets and twisting away from the mess.
Kirishima worms his way over between the two of you so he can cuddle you both at once, his expression joyfully blissed out and lacking any sort of embarrassment. “I love you guys.” He says, nuzzling at the side of your sweaty face and patting affectionately at Bakugou’s shoulder.
You know from experience that the aftermath of taking Kirishima for the first time is uncomfortable at the least. You only have barely a moment to feel sympathy for Bakugou and his asshole before he looks down and grins hazily at you. “Told you I could take it.”
Your sympathy practically vanishes on the spot. “The only reason you could take it that good is because I practically fisted you beforehand.” You point out, totally irritated by the fact that he’s chosen to apparently forget about all your hard work.
Kirishima’s gaze jumps between the two of you, exhausted and bewildered. “What the hell happened while you were in the bathroom?” He asks, his curiosity finally getting the better of him. His gaze travels lazily over the cum staining all three of you, and obviously thinks of the way you two had arrived naked into the sitting room together to practically corner him. “Actually,” he amends, stretching his arms over his head. His dick is rapidly softening, though it doesn’t look any less intimidating; you catch Bakugou staring at it, his expression visibly awed as he clearly marvels at how it had ever fit inside of him. “I don’t think I want to know. You two are so weird.”
#okay !! i am going to bed now cause it's late!!#kirishima x reader#kirishima eijirou x reader#dragon dick kiri#bakugou x reader#bakugou katsuki x reader#bakukiri x reader#bnha x reader#mha x reader
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Without Warning - Part IV
Part I | Part II | Part III | Part IV | Part V
Genre: angst, slight fluff
Pairing: Reader x Mark ft. Doyoung
Word Count: 3k
Summary: You and Doyoung had the best summer you could. Now that he’s hundreds of miles away in college, you have to go through senior year alone. You meet Mark at a time when Doyoung is making you feel like you’re single.
Mark was completely taken aback by the events of the night. You’d kissed him and you held his hand and you brought him into your room. Mark could hardly contain his excitement about having kissed you, touched you, and having been close enough to pick up on your scent. For him it wasn’t sexual. It didn’t have to be and, to be honest, he didn’t want it to be. At least, not right now. For now, he was just enjoying this innocence with you.
You went in your drawers and pulled out pajamas, sending Mark into anxiety. Please don’t change in front of me, please don’t change in front of me, he thought. The last thing he needed was to get hard right now and to potentially scare you away. He definitely wasn’t ready for something like that. Thankfully, you excused yourself into the bathroom and returned a couple minutes later with a freshly washed face and pajamas on.
You looked beautiful as ever, even with no makeup on. He’d seen you a few times without makeup but on most days, he noticed, you’d at least be wearing eyeliner. But here you were, no eyeliner, no mascara, and none of your usual lipgloss with the slight pink tint to it.
Mark was lying across your bed, heart racing. He was nervous because he’d never seen you in this state and, of course, because he liked you a lot. “You feeling okay?”
You nodded. “Just a little tired. Do you wanna watch my show with me?”
“Yeah. What show?”
“I started rewatching Sailor Moon.”
“I’m down for whatever.”
You crawled into the bed with him and snuggled up to him, lying on his chest. He wasn’t sure if you could hear his heart racing but it was definitely racing. His heart pounded so hard he could hear it in his ears. He didn’t know if it was because he’d been drinking or what; he just knew that he was very aware of himself right now. Was he breathing too hard? Was he breathing at all? Did he still smell like alcohol? Did you actually like him, the same way he did? He had so many questions and most of them, he couldn’t answer at the moment.
One minute you were watching tv in silence and the next minute, you were asleep. Mark looked down at you and smiled at how cute you looked with your mouth slightly open. He wished he had this view all the time. With a sigh, he thought about all the things you could do if you were his. But for now, he caressed your hand as you slept. He stayed like that with you for the rest of the episode before he figured he shouldn’t overstay his welcome. He scooted from underneath you but before he could get out of the bed you reached out for him, grabbing onto his arm.
“Don’t go,” you mumbled.
“What?”
You opened your eyes and pouted. “Cuddle with me…”
Mark’s heart started racing again but he did what you asked. Plus, how could he resist when you made a face like that. He got under the blanket with you and pulled you closer. You snuggled up to him and said, “Goodnight.” Mark smiled and wrapped his arms around you. And with you in his arms, he fell asleep more quickly than he normally would.
*
“Y/N?”
Mark shot up, realizing that he probably should’ve asked you when and if your mom was coming back home. He looked down at you, still fast asleep. Should he hide under the bed? In the closet? He heard footsteps coming toward the closed door. Mark bolted into the closet, hoping that the door wasn’t the kind that would squeak as you opened it. Thankfully, it didn’t and he closed the door just enough. He took in a deep breath, praying that your mom had no reason to look in the closet.
“Y/N?” your mom said. She opened the door and Mark heard your mattress shift from outside the closet.
“Hey,” you said. He heard you yawn loudly. He couldn’t see you but he imagined it in his mind.
His heart raced while your mother spoke. Was he breathing too loud? Could your mom somehow sense his presence? Thankfully, he’d come over in his socks so there weren’t any shoes by the door to be evidence. He’d met your mom a couple times at this point but he was pretty sure your mom wouldn’t have been very happy to come home and find the two of you asleep in each other’s arms.
“Did you have fun with Mark and your friends?” She chuckled as Mark’s heart continued racing. “That’s good to hear. Anyway, it’s been a very long double shift so I think I’m going to take a bath with those bath salts you got me for my birthday. Get a little more sleep.”
“Okay,” you said, “See you later.”
Mark heard the door close and relief swept over him. A moment later, when he was sure your mom was gone, he whispered, “Y/N…”
“Mark?” You opened the closet door, surprised that Mark was there. You found him in between your jeans and your t-shirts. “Oh my God, I thought you left! I’m sorry, I forgot to set my alarm. I should’ve told you my mom was coming home in the morning. Unfortunately, she’s not on vacation in Mexico...”
“It’s all good,” he said, chuckling as he stepped out of the closet. “As long as she didn’t see us in the bed together, I think we’ll both survive.”
You laughed, too. “That was way too close.”
“Yeah, for sure. I should get out of here before your mom comes back...”
You nodded, moving out of his way. “Let me make sure she’s in the bathroom.” You left him in the room for a moment. Mark grabbed his phone from under your pillow. You came back and said, “The coast is clear.”
You waved him over and he followed you to the front door.
Mark turned to you. He needed to know before leaving here. “Can I ask you something?”
“Yeah,” you said, stretching.
“Do you remember anything from last night?”
You nodded. “I remember everything. I meant everything.”
That brought a wide smile to Mark’s face. He felt his cheeks get hot and he wasn’t sure if he was visibly blushing or not. Then again, he didn’t care. Hell, if you meant all the things you’d said, nothing else mattered. You wanted to kiss him, genuinely. He wasn’t sure if you liked him like that but you clearly felt something. And, for now, that was good enough for him.
You had something you wanted to say but you hesitated. Things had taken a turn since last night. “Um…”
Mark noticed your hesitation. He supposed things did get a little awkward. “What’s up?”
“Since we’re sober now, will you kiss me?” you asked, taking Mark by surprise. You’d been so forward for the last ten hours and he had no idea what to make of any of this. You didn’t know what had come over you the past few hours.
“Yeah.”
Mark leaned in slowly, pressing his lips to yours. Your lips felt the same, more or less. They weren’t as moist without lipgloss and they no longer tasted like cotton candy. But he enjoyed the kiss with you nevertheless. He pulled away a few seconds later with a smile. You looked into each other’s eyes for a moment and he kissed you again. “Is that what you wanted?”
“Yep.” You took his hand in yours and squeezed it. “Now get out of here before my mom catches you here.”
With a chuckle and a kiss on your cheek, Mark was gone with the wind.
*
Doyoung was annoyed and frustrated. He’d been trying to contact you for weeks on end to no avail. You’d dodged every obstacle. He’d hit you up on LINKEDIN, for God’s sake. He was putting in all that effort and you ignored him every time. He’d tried contacting you through your friends, on social media, and so on. But there was never any response.
And then the one opportunity he had to talk to you, you were drunk off your ass. Was it that bad that you couldn’t contact him sober? Was it that bad that you had to be drunk to speak to him?
He was frustrated because he fucked up. He fucked up and he didn’t mean to. New stressors in his life weren’t any excuse to treat you the way he did. He got caught up in this new life and he took you for granted. He assumed you’d stick around because you loved each other, even though he hadn’t been acting like it. College life became more important to him that managing the relationship. But he snapped that one time and that was all it took to destroy the relationship. He was so stupid not to realize what was going on, not to realize how distant he’d become. It didn’t look good on his part, as your boyfriend.
How could he have been so stupid? He missed you. Some days, you were all he thought about. Were you sleeping well at night? Were you having fun? Did you...miss him?
He was frustrated because he made a mistake, one that cost him even his friendship with you. He lost his girlfriend and his best friend, all at once. And he hated it. He missed being able to vent to you when he’d had a shitty day and he wished that he could call and tell you about it. But you took that option away from him and Amber and Phil weren’t much help either. He didn’t want to put them in the middle; it was an issue that he had with you and it wasn’t right to try to go through them.
Doyoung’s phone rang on his desk, disrupting him from his thoughts. It was his mother. She was the last person he wanted to speak to right now. He let it ring, hoping that she’d just leave it at that. The phone stopped ringing and he let out a sigh of relief. The relief only lasted for a few seconds and she started calling again. Doyoung rolled his eyes and sighed instead of hurling the phone across the room like he’d imagined in his head. He picked up the phone from off the desk and answered it.
“Hello?”
“Hey mom.”
“Just calling to check on you. How is everything?”
“It’s going okay. I’m working on a paper right now. I’m almost done. I got an B on my biology exam. I think I’m getting the hang of how I need to study for that class.”
“That’s good to hear. I’m sure you’ll do better for the next exam. Start preparing now so you can get a head start.” She cleared her throat. “Did you book your flight yet?”
“Yeah,” he said. “I’ve been so busy. I meant to tell you about it yesterday.”
“Good. The prices were getting more expensive.” She let out a deep sigh. “I can’t believe your brother is getting married in three weeks.”
“I can’t believe I’m going to have to come right back to school after.”
“Me either. But you know how event venues are. They got a good deal considering it’s a weekend.”
“It’s going to be a long weekend.”
It would be. But all he could think about was the possibility of seeing you while he was back home. He had so many things he wanted to say, so many things to make up for. He just wanted confirmation if things between you two were truly over. What would he find if he looked you in your eyes? Love, hate, or indifference?
*
Amber hit you in the arm with the copy of Romeo and Juliet that had been sitting on your desk. “You and Mark what?”
You shrugged and said, “We kissed...a few times. And he might’ve slept over last night...”
“Slept over? Did you guys do it?”
“No!” you said, probably a little more loudly than necessary. “It wasn’t like that. We just...cuddled and slept. But I forgot to set an alarm for when my mom came back so Mark must’ve heard her calling me and he hid in the closet.” You grabbed an oreo from the box sitting in the middle of the bed as Amber sat cross legged at the foot of the bed, waiting for the rest of the story. “At first I was sad because I thought he left in the middle of the night but he ended up in the closet because my mom came in to say hi.”
“Well this was definitely unexpected,” she said, “but Mark’s a pretty decent guy, being from the male species and all.”
“Yeah…”
“Why didn’t you tell me you liked Mark?”
“I didn’t know. I mean, I never thought about it.”
“So you’re not sure?”
“I think I do like him…I mean, I liked the kiss and the cuddling. And it’s not like he’s not attractive.”
“You’re not using him to get over Doyoung, right?”
You shook your head. Of course, getting over a two year relationship wouldn’t be easy but you had to move on eventually. And, with the way he treated you, it would be easier once you met someone who truly had your best interests in mind. Mark was a sweet guy and he was a good friend. Even though things had been platonic up until this point, Mark had become one of your closest friends. You could trust him with your life and you knew that, perhaps, you could trust him with your heart, too.
You weren’t sure what came over you that night but all you could think of at the time was “What if we kissed?” The alcohol gave you the nudge but you found yourself thinking of Mark constantly. And every time you did, you smiled. You remembered how you felt when things had gotten more romantic with Doyoung. You’d get butterflies when you heard his name and you were excited to see him everyday at school.
It was pretty early on but you knew that you were starting to like Mark, as more than just a friend.
*
Lucas jogged over toward Mark, sweaty and exhausted. He plopped down on the bench next to his friend and took a long swig from his water bottle. They’d been playing basketball for about an hour. “Ready to go?”
Mark nodded, standing up. “Yeah, let’s head back. I’m starving.”
Lucas stood too and they headed to the parking lot, in search of the car. Mark took out the keys to his parents’ car and got in. As Lucas got in the passenger, he said, “So what happened after we left last night? Did you tell her you like her?”
“Well we, uh, kissed...and I did tell her I like her.”
Lucas smirked. “So she likes you after all, huh?”
“I mean, I think so.”
“What do you mean, you think so? Did you ask her?”
“I mean I didn’t ask her directly.”
“So what the hell did you talk about then?”
“Well we actually didn’t do too much talking.”
As soon as the words left Mark’s mouth, he regretted them. He knew that it sounded a lot dirtier than he meant. And he knew that Lucas would take it the wrong way.
Lucas’ eyes widened as he took it the wrong way. “You fucked her?”
Mark turned in his seat. “No, no! We didn’t have sex or anything like that. I know it sounds kinda weird but she brought me over next door to hangout because she didn’t wanna be alone and then she kissed me and then she wanted me to stay over and cuddle with her. So we cuddled and we both fell asleep.”
“Cuddle, huh? We all know what cuddling leads to…”
“Hey, just because that’s what you and Marina do doesn’t mean it’s the same for me and Y/N! When are you going to start dating her anyway?”
“Hey! Don’t change the subject! We’re not talking about me and Rina. When are you going to take Y/N on a date?”
“Soon. I’m just not sure what we should do. Got any date ideas?”
“Y/N is a pretty simple girl. What about a picnic at the park? You could go around dinner and watch the sun set.”
*
Mark was feeling extra excited today. He got to the bus stop a few minutes early, so he could rehearse what he was going to say to you. He’d rehearsed it a million times last night into this morning. Initially, he thought about texting it to you but he decided against it; he figured that asking you in person would be better.
He’d been texting you all weekend but he hadn’t hung out with you. Part of him was hoping that the two of you could hang out at least once but you’d been out with your mom all day yesterday. And he understood because your mom hadn’t had a Sunday off in a while. He was satisfied with the kiss you promised him over text messages.
You snuck up on Mark without meaning to. He’d been so deep in his thoughts that he didn’t even see you coming in his peripheral vision. He jumped when you appeared in front of him, almost dropping his phone. “Shit!”
“Sorry,” you said, giggling, “I didn’t mean to scare you.”
“It’s okay.” He sighed. “Ready for school?”
“I’m never ready for school.”
Mark chuckled. “Are you busy this weekend?”
You shook your head. “Nope.”
“Would you wanna go on a date on Saturday?”
Your face lit up at his words. That made Mark happy. “I’d love that.” You hugged him, wrapping your arms around him tightly. And when you pulled away, you gave him that promised kiss.
That, of course, made Mark even happier.
***
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#nctwriters#nct fluff#nct angst#nct mark#mark x reader#nct x reader#nct imagines#nct reactions#nct fanfic#nct fanfiction#mark angst#mark fluff#mark imagines#mark reactions#mark fanfic#mark fanfiction#kpop angst#kpop fluff#kpop imagines#kpop reactions#kpop fanfic#kpop fanfiction#best friend!mark
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Clubbing 101
Written by @alliswell21
Prompt 144: She has a night of fun before the start of the semester. She meets this guy, they hit it off that they sleep together. But when she shows up to her class the next day, she sees the guy again. But he’s her professor and he’s way older than she originally thought. #olderPeeta [submitted by @animekpopxx]
Rating: Explicit. NSFW.
Tags and Warnings: Canon Divergence; College!AU; Age gap, older man/younger woman; The opposite to slow burn? Smut; Unprotected sex; technically impaired consent since alcohol, but their both into each other while sober too 🤷🏻♀️; Ethical dilemmas; Teacher/Student relationship (sort of); One Shot, with an ambiguous open ending? Almost 10K words. Unbetaed.
Notes: Thank you to the moderators once more for putting up with us, procrastinating writers. You gals are saints! Thank you to @animekpopxx for her amazing prompts that never fail to snag my attention and give me the best ideas ever! You rock! I projected this story to be a smutty short thing, but it sprouted words and a background out of nowhere and I had to forced myself to stop adding to it, to get back to my other submissions waiting in my docs. Hopefully, it’s a good read for the ones who take the chance with it.
Thank you all!
KPKPKPKPKP
It starts with a harmless ranting.
“I’m not outgoing, or fun. I’m not even ‘cool’… hell, I don’t care what my sister says, I’m too old for this place!” I tell the handsome, bearded, guy sitting in the barstool next to me, “She’s a med student, you know, but she insists that partying is part of the college experience, especially when one’s career is so demanding… plus, is the last weekend of summer break, which apparently means you’re contractually obligated to party extra hard,” I roll my eyes, “I never saw the appeal personally, but I let her drag me out here so I can keep an eye on her. Is not like I’m gonna let her piss away her future for a night of clubbing,” I scoff, taking a long pull of my beer.
The guy chuckles, but I’m not done just yet.
I slam down my bottle and continue listing my grievances, “The thing that grinds my gears, is that she begged for a ‘girls’ night out’, and instead of drinking with me and people watch, she goes off with the first fucker that asks her to dance! I mean… did it ever occur to her, I may want to dance with her on OUR girls’ night out?!” I scowl and gulp another mouthful of beer, “then, to add insult to injury, thirty minutes later I get a text from her, saying to go on home without her ‘cause she found a ride, followed by that cursed eggplant emoji, like I needed an illustration of what kind of ride she’s getting,” I mock gag, rearranging the strap of my tiny purse across my chest.
“I guess she’s young, and beautiful, and does work very hard, but if you invite me to go clubbing with you, don’t abandon me within the first 15 minutes of arriving!”
My companion winces before sipping his drink, and smiling ruefully, “That’s harsh… sorry you’re having a shitty night,”
“Meh… little sisters, right?!” I shrug.
The guy smiles crookedly at me, and I find myself enjoying his smile, “I wouldn’t know about that. I’m the baby of three brothers, and the only thing I got away with was learning how to wrestle and spring awesome comebacks on the fly… the brutes kept me on my toes,” he chuckles.
“Three boys? Sounds chaotic. Your poor mother!”
“Yeah… life’s chaotic.” He averts his eyes for a second, his smile goes away. I’m afraid I’ve said something wrong, but he suddenly looks back at me, and confesses, “I’m not into clubbing either.” His eyes sparkle, despite the awful, dim, blue lights bathing the place.
I smile, “Look at us wallflowers, bonding over drinks and sibling shenanigans,” we clink our drinks together and sip. I’m chatty and relaxed, so unlike myself; I guess the two beers I’ve had are starting to get to me. “I’m Katniss, by the way.”
“That’s pretty,” he says, shyly; makes my chest warm up. “Nice to meet you, Katniss. I’m Peeta.”
I arch my eyebrows, “Peter?” I repeat, because I’m pretty sure I miss-heard him over the obnoxiously loud music.
The guy shakes his head, “Pee-ta… like the bread?” He chuckles. Then adds, “Family name. Everyone on my dad’s side are bakers.”
I snort-laugh, “Punny!” I say, taking another sip. Yup, beer’s getting to me, I’m not this cleverly funny. “My dad was into survivalism and botany… I’m named after a plant also known as Duck Potato, so I win the weird name competition!”
“Hey, it’s something else to bond over,”
“Cheers to that!” We clink our drinks again, and partake in our booze.
He orders another whiskey neat when he’s out… sounds both snooty and distinguished at the same time. Goes well with his put together image, though: nicely trimmed beard, nicely combed hair, nice polo shirt with what I believe is a tiny loaf of bread embroidered on the chest, and dark-wash jeans… I think. It’s hard to tell under the black lights of the club.
He offers to get me another drink, and I order an appletini.
“J.D. from Scrubs always drank one,” I explain, swirling the coctel in my hand, “I’ve always been curious to try, but didn’t wanna spend my own money experimenting on a drink I could potentially hate.”
“Makes sense,” Peeta says, “So… what’s the verdict?”
“Is pretty good, actually. But I think I’ll stick with my Miller Light,”
Peeta nods, “I honestly don’t enjoy alcohol that much.”
I giggle. “Then, what brings you to this fine establishment tonight, sir, if you’re not much for clubbing, or drinking?” I watch him out of the corner of my eye.
I like that when he smiles, his eyes crinkle in the corners.
“I lost a bet against a colleague.”
“Oh,” I’m suddenly self conscious and a little uncomfortable. I give the guy a scrutinizing look, and ask suspiciously, “what was the punishment exactly?”
The man rolls his eyes. “I have to spend one whole hour in the club, without criticizing anything, like the bitter old man I am,” he grins, “My friend’s words. Not mine!” He raises both hands, claiming innocence.
I laugh at the face he pulls, “Well, you’ve just defaulted on that punishment,”
“How so?” He beams.
“With the look in your face! It spoke volumes!”
“Am I that transparent?”
“You read like a preschooler’s board book, pal!”
We both laugh, I drink my beer, and he throws back his whiskey neat.
“So…” he makes a show of looking at his watch, “I still have 33 minutes to kill before I’m allowed to run out of this place… I know I’m not a Med student, co-Ed, sister of yours, but… would you, um, like to dance with me?” He sounds adorably hopeful.
I glance at the man sideways, toying with my bottle.
He smirks, mischievously, “I promise, spirits make me more coordinated on the dance floor. I become this amazing dancer when I have a couple of drinks on… or so my brain believes. I probably look like an idiot, but I’m too goofy to know the difference. You’re welcome to be the judge it for yourself,”
I take my sweet time finishing the last dregs of my beer, and wrinkle my nose, “You sure you wanna dance to this shit, kids call music nowadays?” I smirk, pointing a finger up, motioning wide circles into the ether.
Peeta gives a full belly laugh.
I really do like his laugh!
“Isn’t it our only choice?” He ventures.
Not if you follow me home, my thirsty brain supplies; my lips on the other hand, just let through a hint of a smile, because I’m buzzed, but not drunk enough to proposition a total stranger. I’ve never been one to sleep around anyway.
“Okay,” I say, too enthused. “As long as we both agree that this isn’t music,”
“Oh no, this just barely passes as noise!” Peeta agrees readily.
He guides me to the packed dance floor, and we start moving to the booming, deafening tunes playing overhead.
I’m not sure if one could call this dancing. Everywhere I look people are writhing against each other, like a pack of zombies without grace or rhyme.
I’m not sure Peeta will get an accurate assessment of his dancing skills, compared to what I’m seeing, he’ll probably look like a professional; plus, it’s too dark and busy in here to really appreciate anything, really, but after a few minutes of just shifting in place, robotically, I snatch two bottle beers from a waitress walking by, offering one to my partner, hoping that’s enough to get us loosen up. The waitress stares at me until I rummage on my crossbody mini purse and toss a crumple ten on her tray.
The liquid boost works. Before I know it, I’m grinding my hips against his. Peeta’s just the right height for his thigh to fit between my legs and brush against my front. I get tired of undulating my arms in the air, so I drop them around his shoulders, and feel just how firm and broad he is under my touch.
Our chests are tightly pressed together, and I’m at the right angle to just stare at his plush-looking lips. I turn around before I do something brash, like kiss him in the mouth. Peeta doesn’t question it, he just places his hands on my hips, and starts moving to the music’s beat.
I bring the beer to my lips, but the bottle’s empty… oops! It doesn’t matter, I’m having the time of my life!
Peeta’s swaying guides me. I basically drape my back over his front, and bump my ass into his groin. I feel the hint of a bulge there, and press my rear into it again, just to confirm if I felt what I hope I felt.
Peeta’s fingers tighten on my hip, emboldening me to keep going until I’m practically twerking into him, and his slight bulge morphs into a full blown hard-on.
I twist in his arms to face him, my lust idled brain barely thinking rationally, “Are your 33 minutes done yet?” I yell into his ear, so he can hear me over the noise.
He doesn’t even look at his watch, “To hell with time! I‘ll stay here all night, if you want me to,” He answers loudly.
“Come on, then!” I push off his chest, and snatch up his hand before he can reply.
Leaving the dance floor is surprisingly easily, considering the crowd bouncing in place together.
I make no conscious plan on where we’re going; I’m arguably familiar with the layout of this place from my many visits since Prim turned 21; I’m only mildly surprised when we navigate across the club, all the way to the restrooms. It’s like my clit is making all the decisions tonight… good for it!
There’s a line of disgruntled women waiting to get inside the Ladies Room, but the Men’s Room is available, and Peeta lets me guide him into it, like one of those pull toys children have.
“It stinks in here,” I comment blandly, but make a beeline for the last stall with a door.
There’s one guy at the urinal, but he doesn’t even look up from his pants, so I just shrug it off and yank Peeta into the stall with me.
The space is tight, but once inside the stall, I push Peeta into the door, and attack his mouth.
He makes a startled noise at the back of his throat, but his hands and arms immediately press me into his body more fully. My own hands trek down to his belt, where I fiddle with the buckle until it’s undone, and I can access his pants’ button and fly.
He hisses when my fingers graze his warm erection, and bucks into my knuckles. I’m in the process of sticking my hand inside his boxers, when Peeta growls, sucking my lower lip into his mouth, and letting it go with a wet pop.
“Switch places,” he pants against my mouth, and hoists me up, until my back hits the door and his hands grab my hips possessively, jutting my pelvis forward, “I’m hungry, would you mind if I eat you out?”
“Okay,” I gasp.
Thank you for forcing me to wear your tiny, clubbing dress, Prim!
“You’ll allow it?” He asks, incredulous, rubbing circles on my hips with his thumbs.
“Yes… I’ll allow it!”
His smile is sexy, his stare is hypnotic. Damned my drunken ass! I can’t believe I’m willing to do this in a smelly bathroom stall!
Peeta sits on the toilet and licks his lips while staring up at me. His hands disappear under the stretchy material of my skirt, bumping my purse out of his way. He skims his fingers under the elastic of my panties, and I bite my lip, nodding eagerly.
Slowly, Peeta slides my underwear down my legs, the tips of his fingers follow, leaving a trail of fire in their wake. It’s the most erotic thing I’ve ever experienced!
Once he brings my panties to my knees, his hands rush back up my thighs, pushing the flimsy skirt around my waist. My underwear drops to my ankles on their own.
Peeta’s level eye with my crotch, and I squirm restlessly. “Beautiful… absolutely soaked,” he whispers in a daze, he inhales pulling me closer, “You smell divine!” He descends, nose first, into the thatch of dark curls between my thighs, making me moan. He ruts his face against me, and suddenly drops to his knees, grabbing my calf to pull my leg up.
But the movement gets prevented by my stupid underwear, tangled in my ankles. Without missing a beat, I toe my panties off, so Peeta can maneuver my body however he wants.
He drapes my leg over his shoulder, opening me up to his ravenous mouth. He grunts, burying his face into my core, and finally, FINALLY, his tongue swipes between my folds.
“Fuck!” I squeak.
My hands fly to tangle into his soft, perfectly coiffed hair. I nearly smother him, holding his face to my pussy, but he’s doing wicked things to me with his tongue: lapping, sucking, and nipping at my labia; drawing number eight figures around my clit with the tip of his tongue, to then sinking it deep inside my core. I can’t stop bucking into his mouth over and over.
When was the last time I was given head? Fuck if I know! Darius probably, he was decent, but didn’t do it often. And Thom was so boring at it, I actually preferred he didn’t do it. But this guy is amazing! A real expert in the matter!
“I’m so close! Please… I’m so close,” I wail like a cat in heat, writhing against the door.
Peeta looks up, and despite the horrendous lighting in the room, I realize he’s got the deepest blue eyes I’ve ever seen… too bad I can’t hold his gaze too long, because he starts rubbing my clit with his thumb, while fucking my hole with his tongue, and is all I can do not shout and scalp him in my delirium.
He doesn’t stop drinking my juices while I convulse above him. On the contrary, he retrieves his thumb, but keeps his mouth busy, lapping away all the slick I give him.
It’s too much.
I tug on his hair to pull him off of my sensitive privates.
Peeta takes one last lick with the flat of his tongue and looks up at me, smiling wolfishly, “Was that good?” His beard’s dripping with me, he wipes some of it off on his sleeve.
I snort, unsexy and definitely rude. “You made me cum so hard I saw stars… yeah, it was good. Better than good, really!” I smile down at him, and try to pull him off from the floor.
All the gel holding his curls in place is gone now, rubbed off on my palms. His hair is sticking up on the top and towards the back of his head. I reach up to try and smooth it back, “I’m sorry, I seem to have made a mess of your hair,” I giggle. It’s adorable, but I feel bad that I ruined it.
“You can mess my hair any time you want, Katniss.” He says, almost shyly, he places his hands on my waist, over the bunched up dress.
It’s a big turn on to me, how his words are so flirty, but he delivers them so sweetly and awed. Is unexpected and endearing… which is odd, because I don’t usually find people endearing at all!
We both chuckle.
He licks his lips, and I feel heat pool in my lower belly again.
“Come’ere!” I wrap my hand around his nape, and pull his lips to mine.
He responds immediately, licking the seam of my mouth. I suck on his tongue when he slides it against mine.
He moans.
“Fuck me, Peeta,” I rasp into the kiss, palming his dick through his jeans.
He groans, “Are you sure?” He barely holds back another groan when I squeeze his clothed erection.
“Cock. In me. Now!” I command through gritted teeth, trying to pull his cock out of his pants with one hand, while taking his hand, and splaying it on my boob.
“Okay… shit… this is… surreal! This has never happened to me before!” He kneads my tit, gently.
I’m not sure I was supposed to hear that, so I pretend I didn’t and turn, facing the door to wiggle my ass, in an attempt to convince him.
Peeta makes a noise in his throat, quickly followed by the sound of shifting clothes, and a metallic thump from his belt buckle hitting the toilet.
I whine when Peeta’s warm, heavy cock caressed my bare ass cheek. “Please don’t tease me,” I beg.
“Fuck, Katniss… do you really want this?”
“Yes, Peeta… put your cock inside my cunt, and fuck me all the way to next week! Now!”
His warm body cocoons mine, “Anything you want, sweetheart,” he whispers into my ear, and I feel the blunt head of his cock parting my folds, coating himself with my natural lubricants.
He finds my entrance, pushing inside just the tip. He gasps, “Fuck!” One big hand wraps around my hip to keep me steady, bracing his other arm on the door, above my head.
“Peeta… Please!” I wiggle my ass, making him sink another inch deep.
“Hold still,” He hisses, “I’m trying to hold back… not ramming in too roughly… embarrassing myself, cumming too fast,” His hot breath warms my nape. “You feel like heaven!” He growls, tightening his hold on me.
I’m torn, wishing he’d drill into me without mercy already, while another part of me is grateful he’s trying to stay under control… I don’t know which I want more…
When was the last time I had sex?
As if reading my thoughts, Peeta shares haltingly, “It’s been such a long time for me. I want it to last, but I’m
Not sure if I can,”
I don’t have time to second guess myself, because Peeta’s moving, and he’s massive!
“Don’t hold back!” I bleat, “I want it rough… I want it fast!” I gasp, clenching down on him. I paw at the door for purchase, trying not to face-plant on the cold, hard surface, while Peeta’s fat prick stretches me to the brink of pain! I can’t stay put for him any longer; I buck into him.
“I said to hold still!” He slaps my ass, hard. It stings, but it’s a welcomed feeling.
I moan and melt, finally relaxing enough for him to penetrate me all the way to the hilt. He stays there a moment, breathing harshly into my neck, squeezing my hip on and off.
“You’re so tight. So warm. So wet, Katniss.” He nuzzles my ear, “I’m gonna move now, I apologize beforehand in case this ends too soon for you…” He drags himself slowly out of me, just to plunge right back in with a swift, hard thrust.
I squeak; he grunts..
Peeta holds me by the waist, “You’re so pretty and sexy, Katniss. I can’t decide if you’re real, or the most vivid wet dream I’ve ever had…” he’s fucking me like a jackrabbit in rut.
I’m speechless, vaguely wondering if I didn’t dream him instead?
His cock head hits a spot deep inside me I’ve never reached before. I start babbling nonsense— mostly praising his cock and his strength— I don’t really know what I’m saying, but he seems to be enjoying it thoroughly by the increase in his speed and the volume of his grunts.
I’m joisted up and down his shaft like a rag doll; I wish I’d thought of hanging my stupid little purse somewhere before we started, because now it’s bumping on my thighs, distracting me from the great ducking I’m getting; it’s no matter… I can feel my orgasm building in my belly.
“I’m gonna cum, sweetheart… I want you to cum too,” He nibbles on my earlobe.
“Yes, Peeta! Please make me cum, I’m so close!”
One of his hands slides around my waist to play with my clit, while his other tweaks my nipples over my dress and bra. That, added to the sensation of my g-spot being prodded repeatedly, sends me spinning over the edge.
I must’ve screamed or something, because he clamps his hand over my mouth, and then he’s grunting, digging his forehead between my shoulder blades, and pulling me back against his unyielding body.
“Fuck…” he gasps and shivers behind me. I feel his dick pulsing, his rhythm faltering, and then he goes still.
Peeta sags a little, wedging his shoulder into the door to keep from falling. I’m surprised he still has the strength to hold me up too; I have to be dead weight at this point, since my legs feel like overcooked noodles and my arms gave out a minute ago.
We both try to catch our breaths, too spent and weak for much more, at least for a few minutes.
Peeta stirs. “Are you okay?” He breathes out, ruffling the loose wisps of my hair with his breath.
I chuckle, leaning my sweaty temple on the cool door. “I can’t feel my toes… which is excellent!”
“Good,” he sighs.
Three heart beats later, he straightens up and pulls out of me. An indecent amount of spend flows down my legs as soon as his cock dislodges from my pussy, but Peeta shoves something soft between my thighs quickly, before I have time to freak out about the mess.
I look down mildly curious, staring at an embroidery of a tiny loaf of bread. Vaguely, I wonder if that’s his uniform? He said he was a baker, right? At least he’s named after bread or something. I giggle. “Is this your shirt?” I ask, widening my stance to gracelessly wipe myself clean.
“Yeah,”
“Thank you,” I say, dazedly, turning sideways to smile at him gratefully.
He’s wearing a simple, white, cotton t-shirt when I return the polo to him, now spoiled with cum and slick. I’m caught off guard by how broad shoulder he is, and by how nice he smells… cinnamon and sweat. Weird combination, but pleasant. I wonder if he baked any bread today?
“Um… would you… would you like to put these back on?” He asks awkwardly, leaning down to pick up my discarded panties from besides the foot of the toilet bowl.
I wrinkle my nose, “Not really,” I mumble. “Who knows when was the last time that floor got cleaned. Gross.”
Peeta smiles and shakes his head, “Here,” he grabs his polo, covered in our juices, and wraps my underwear in it. “Now it’s hidden.”
My body is finally catching up with the advanced hour, the beers and the two amazing orgasms. I’m starting to feel sore everywhere, and my eyelids are getting heavy. “Wow… think I’m officially all partied out,” I chuckle weakly.
“Ditto,” Peeta agrees, his smile is shy. “So… there’s this little dinner about two blocks from here,” he starts, eyes downcast; the space seems to shrink around us, now that the frenzy of our physical activities is done with. “Would you like to grab a pancake or som—“
My phone rings, startling us both into silence. I frown, but scramble to find it in my purse, to check who could be calling me… apparently at 2 a.m.!
My frown deepens. Prim’s smiling face flashes on the screen. She was supposed to be getting some herself! “It’s my sister,” I whisper, tamping down my rising panic. I don’t ask if it’s okay to answer, I just do it. “Prim?”
“Where the hell are you?!” I have to pull the phone off, or risk eardrum rupture by my sister’s screeching. “I’ve been texting and calling you! I’ve been worried sick!”
I scowl at the wall, confused and little annoyed, “Prim… Prim, are you okay? Are you hurt? Do you need me to come get you somewhere?” I try to ask.
“What?! No. I’m home! But you aren’t, and I’ve been scared shitless trying to find you!”
I give Peeta an apologetic grimace, and blindly feel around for the lock to get out of the stall. “Um… why are you home so early? Last time I heard from you, you were getting a ride,” I’m trying to sound unaffected; It’s all I can think to say in my mortification.
“Never mind that! Why aren’t you home already? I thought you had to work in the morning and then go to sch—”
While Prim rages at me, I place a hand on the phone and turn to Peeta, still in the stall, awkwardly facing the wall, I assume to grant me some privacy. I’m sure he can hear my sister’s frantic chastisement from where he’s standing. “I’m sorry… you’d think I was a teenager instead of a grown ass adult,” I roll my eyes.
Peeta waves me off good naturedly. “It’s okay. I’m sorry for keeping you so late,”
I’m about to say something else, but Prim yells loudly, something about calling the police and checking the hospitals for me, which truly prompts a reaction from me, “Calm down! I’m still at the club, exactly where you left me!” I cover the phone with my palm again, and turn to him. “I’m… I’m gonna go? Before she threatens to send the marines in,” I try to joke, but our situation takes all the levity out of it, and my attempt dies off, lamely.
Peeta nods, smiling softly; somehow I can tell it’s not genuine.
“Little sisters, right?” I offer halfheartedly, twisting my lips.
“Can I… walk you out at least?” He asks quietly; Prim hasn’t stopped nagging this whole time.
“I… it’s not necessary, but thank you…”
Peeta nods again, looking disappointed.
I don’t get to tell him a proper goodbye, because two dude-bros come in the bathroom, letting the noise from the club filter in; one of the idiots elbows the other, and both start making some lewd comments about me, but Peeta steps in, eyes wild with anger, and tells the guys to knock it off. Prim hears the whole thing of course, and goes nuts herself asking what’s going on?
Peeta looks at me, and motions his head towards the door.
Message received, I step outside the bathroom and book it out of the club, “I’ll be home in a bit. I’m gonna call and Uber,”
“Call me as soon as you’re in it!” Prim demands.
“Fine! Now stop nagging me, will you?!”
I don’t realize I never looked back at Peeta to wave my goodbyes until I’m in the car, heading home. Regret truly is a bitch. I can’t help feeling like I just lost something important, but I have no idea what it is.
>>—————> * <————<<
It’s been a very long Monday. I’m mainly running on caffeine at the moment, and can’t wait to get home and pass out in my fluffy bed, to see if I can catch up on last nights lost hours of sleep.
I enter my last class of the day and find a seat in the middle of the third row. I pull my laptop, a writing pad and my mechanical pencil out of my bag, and watch as my classmates start filtering in one by one, greeting each other and finding their places, lazily.
I’m the oldest student in this class, which is not surprising. I’ve only just come back from my extended— 5 year— sabbatical; and did it only after I was completely sure I could handle my workload and the financial strain of both me and Prim going to college at the same time, without giving myself an early grave.
It’s been hard, but I’m glad I came back to finish my schooling, I only need a handful of credits to graduate, which is great!
I check my watch. We still have a few minutes to kill before class starts. The professor— Dr. Mellark, according to the copy of my schedule— is not here yet, so I pull up the banking app on my phone to give it another glance. The balance is still the same as the last two times I’ve seen it, but it doesn’t hurt to be extra careful when one is on a tight budget. I scheduled payments for the power, gas and rent to go out in the next few days, and I want to make sure there’s enough money in the bank to cover them. We’re looking fine for the month, financially speaking.
The door to the classroom swishes open, and I start signing off my app.
“Good afternoon ladies and germs; I’m doctor Mellark, and provided you’re in this room for an English class, I’ll like to welcome you to the amazing world of Classic Literature!” Says a deep, male voice I find oddly familiar. “By the way, don’t any of you dare to disagree with me on the awesomeness of classic lit… I’m a doctor, I know what I’m talking about… unless you ask me about medicine, then please be free to disregard everything I say, because I’m not ‘that’ kind of doctor!”
A murmure of little chuckles fills the room; even I smile, silencing my phone and putting it away, before looking up at the professor.
I choke on a strangled gasp when I finally set eyes on the man I assume is the teacher, dumping a worn, leather, messenger bag on the desk near the podium. He’s the last person I would’ve expected to have as a professor.
Oblivious to my predicament, Doctor Mellark— or as I know him: Peeta!— keeps introducing himself.
“I’ve been teaching this course for 14th years, but I’m always pleasantly surprised to hear the different points of views my students bring to our discussions on the classics we study, which in a nutshell, is the beauty of this class.” He pulls a ream of paper out of his bag, and gives it to a student in the front, “Please take a syllabus, and pass the rest to the next person, and so on… thank you!”
My face is burning. I think I’m gonna faint.
“But enough about me,” his voice booms, making my whole body shiver. “I don’t normally do roll calls or care about attendance, as long as you’re not missing assignments, and are here during discussions, so this is the first and last time I’ll be reading this list,” he rises a piece of paper above his head, I surmise has the students names on it, and he instructs, before reading, “I’ll call your names, and you’ll introduce yourself, briefly, that way we can all get acquainted with each other, yes?”
Ugh!
He can scratch my name off that list right now! We’re more than acquainted with each other.
Bile rises to my throat. An intrusive, bitter thought pesters me: how many of his students has he gotten ‘that’ familiar with?
But the thought dies off quickly. An even worse, more worrisome thought springs front and center in my mind: Did we use protection?!
Panic rises in my chest, a nervous queasiness settles in my belly; a distant memory of warm goo sliding down my legs comes to mind… Oh shit!
Oh shit, oh shit! We didn’t use a freaking condom? Who does that?!
Oh shit!
Would a Plan B still be effective right now? It’s been less than 24 hours…
Peeta’s reading names. People stand from their seats and talk about themselves. I haven’t heard one word they’ve said, but I’ve been watching how some of the female students bat their eyelashes and speak all breathily, smiling coyly at him… Peeta seems oblivious to the flirting, but I still feel a cocktail of unpleasant feelings in the pit of my stomach.
I realize, I’m jealous!
My ass is frozen in my sit, I’m not even breathing. I don’t think Peeta’s seen me yet, but… what will he do or say once my name comes up? I send a quick prayer to heaven, he won’t recognize me since I look nothing like I did last night at the club, with my hair down and my face all made-up. Right now and plain ol’ me… the rub is gonna be my name. Darn my dad and his awful naming whims!
Soon enough, he reads a name that makes him stutter, “Kat…Katniss? Everdeen?” He does a double take, “Katniss Everdeen…” his eyes are the size of saucers when he scans the lecture hall, swiftly. When he finds me, he looks back down at his paper, and says the name out loud again, unsure, “Katniss Everdeen?” Like he doesn’t believe what he’s reading.
I stand up woodenly, my voice cracks a little, “I’m—I’m Katniss Everdeen… hi!”
I’m about to drop back into my chair, but Peeta kinda mumbles, “You know, Arrowhead, or Katniss is a water plant? The root is edible… like a swamp potato?”
There are quiet little giggles all over the place.
Peeta clears his throat, his eyes flit away; his face’s blank of emotion, but his cheeks seem pinker than a second earlier, “I just read that online, believe it or not. Interesting facts about local flora, people. Reading is knowledge, but so is learning from one another… what can you tell us about yourself, Miss Everdeen, besides that you have a very unique first name?”
“I…” I harrumph, avoiding eye contact with Peeta at all costs, “I’m a part time student. Majoring in Botany. I took this class to fulfill my last English credits requirement for graduation. I do love books and classic literature, in particular.”
“Thank you… Miss Everdeen,” he rasps.
I sit down, clumsily, hoping this horrible, horrible moment is just a nightmare and that I’ll wake up any second now, drooling on my desk, with indentations of my notepad on my cheek, because anything would be less embarrassing than what I’m going through at this point.
Mercifully, Peeta calls a different name, and then another, and then another. I don’t look up from my notepad once.
Peeta for his part, sounds stiff and monotonous— or so I’d like to think— no more jokes or clever sayings. Maybe he’s not as affected as I am about this ordeal, and I’m just making it a bigger deal than it really is? Maybe he does have experience sleeping with students— I mean, it’s not unheard off, right?— Not that either of us had any idea we were engaging in a teacher-student affair last night…
Although, calling it an affair is generous; it was a measly one night stand. A chance encounter. Two people letting off steam before a busy week ahead.
I’m getting increasingly angry with all this thinking… and the class seems to drag on. It feels like an eternity, and my mind keeps churning up all kinds of questions: Why would he not say he was a teacher at this particular college? Did he lie about being a baker? Is his name even Peeta?
I scoffed at the thought.
To my horror, I hear him ask, “Anything to say, Miss Everdeen?”
Looking up at him requires a great deal of bravery and self admonishment, but I do my best and face him— he’s wearing glasses now, which makes my belly tightened for inexplicable reasons— “No, Doctor Mellark, nothing of consequence anyway,” I retort as venemosly as possible, without alerting anyone else there’s something weird going on between me and the professor.
Peeta grimaces slightly. Then looks away, “Very well, as I was saying, we will start with the basics: The Iliad and Moby Dick, since those are High school level works, I expect your reports to be sufficiently well researched, and your personal ideas on the text somewhat fleshed out. It doesn’t have to be in-depth. I’m just looking to determine everyone’s style and needs for the semester ahead…” he continues his spiel, and I feel free to go back to my stewing and my musings.
Before I know it, Peeta’s dismissing the class, wishing everyone a good rest of their evening.
I jump into action, packing my stuff with my head bowed, but then I hear him again.
“Miss Everdeen, a private word, please?” It’s much too quiet to have been said from his podium. I still startled when I look up and find him standing right against the first row of desks, directly in front of me.
His face is not quite stern, but he’s definitely less smiley than when we met.
I force down a gasp, because under the better lighting of the lecture hall, and close up, I can see a plethora of details I missed at the club; like the arresting blue of his eyes, the slight reddish of his neatly trimmed beard, peppered with silver whiskers all over, while his perfectly combed hair is almost all silver on the temples, and ashy blonde on the top. His shoulders are even broader than I remember.
He’s overall stockier than I originally thought, and just a smidge shorter, which is fine, he’s still the most handsome man I’ve ever met, and I wouldn’t mind climbing him like a tree—
I shake my head off the intrusive, lecheros thoughts. I’m literally lusting after my teacher, for goodness sakes! This is beyond a silly schoolgirl crush!
Peeta arches one dark blonde eyebrow at me, expectantly.
I nod curtly, because my tongue is stuck to the roof of my mouth, and gesture for him to lead the way.
I shove my laptop into my bag, and hastily shoulder the straps, hugging my writing pad to my chest, following my professor like a chastened little girl.
My stupid eyes find his ass, and I blink twice, at the exquisite sight in front of me. I groan internally.
He grabs his own bag, takes off his spectacles and slides them into his shirt pocket.
How old is this man?! He said he’s been teaching this class for 14 years, when do professors start their teaching careers? How did I never see him before now roaming campus? Is his age the reason he ate pussy like a master?
I shake my head, cursing my horny brain.
Peeta opens a door I have no idea how we came across, and then stands aside, gesturing for me to go in first.
I duck my head and step into a warmly decorated office, with a small desk and two chairs in the middle of the room. Bookshelves full of tomes line the office. A handful of pictures and framed diplomas hang from the only available wall space in the room, but I don’t get to study them before he catches my undivided attention.
“Let me start by apologizing,” Peeta stars, closing the door behind himself, “I assure you, it wasn’t my intention to cause you any stress, or embarrassment out there.” He pauses, “Would you like to sit?” He offers, wincing. He doesn’t wait and steps around me, to pace on the other side of his desk, “I… um, never been in this position before,” he scowls, “I’m not sure what assurances I can offer at the moment, except, that I will start the process to recuse myself from this class immediately, to not interfere with your academic—“
“Recuse yourself?” I cut him off, “what do you mean?”
Peeta squirms a little, and sits down heavily on his chair. My bag slides off my shoulder, and I just dump it in the empty chair I was offered a moment ago.
“Well, Miss Everdeen, it’s the right thing to do, given our circumstances. We’ve breached the appropriate boundaries of our pupil and teacher positions, and staying in the same class together will put you at a disadvantage… is a power imbalance situation, that calls for action.”
“Can you stop calling me ‘Miss Everdeen’? It’s weird…”
“I’m just trying to maintain an acceptable level of decorum between us,” he says sheepishly.
“That ship has already sailed,” I say tiredly.
“Perhaps, but it’s my responsibility to still try,” he rubs his forehead. “Anyway, I’ll call my department and see what is next. Stepping down myself is the only fair solution I see so far… it would be terribly unfair to ask you to switch classes. Simply disrespectful, but we both can agree this uncomfortable situation needs to be nipped in the bud, for both our sakes, Miss Everdeen.”
“This is bullshit!” I snap, “What happened in that club, isn’t that terrible of a problem! What we really need to do is stop acting so stiffly and guilty. By the way, you sound like a walking thesaurus!” I accuse, looking him in the eyes for the first time since he called my name at the lecture hall. “Stop it!”
Peeta inhales deeply, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Miss Everdeen, our actions last night may have been honest, and even innocent in nature, but they still carry consequences… unexpected ones, especially in light of the facts. And the facts are, that it would be unethical for me to remain in a position of authority over you. In any case… if you feel the need to report me to the school administration, for… harassment or inappropriate behavior or anything else, I won’t dispute any claims. I promise to distance myself from you and give you space so you can continue with your education without interference, in a safe environment.”
I grunt, “I’m not going to report you, because you didn’t do anything wrong. Sure, I thought you were a baker… I mean your story about your name, and that little loaf of bread embroidered into your shirt, I thought it was your uniform,” I shrug one shoulder.
“Sorry about that… I never meant to mislead you,” he says bashful.
I ignore him, “Either way, I was the one pulling you into that bathroom. I threw myself at you. I begged you to do things to me, and you just granted me my wishes…” like a sexy gentleman, “The sex is on me. I’m 26 years old, I’m not some bumbling teenager who hasn’t learned to take responsibility for her actions, so, please… stop trying to shield me, or protect me, or whatever it is you’re doing,” my arms flap around in frustration. I finally push my bag off the chair, and sink into it. “Look, Peeta—“
“Professor…” he corrects, frowning a little.
I roll my eyes, if he knew he’s just making it sound kinkier than it already is, he wouldn’t be so adamant about the freaking titles.
“Fine… Doctor Mellark,” I enunciate, pettily. “I specifically chose your class as my last English elective for two reasons. One: it’s exactly the amount of credits I need to graduate at the end of the semester. And two: it fits my schedule to a T, which is important, since I do have a full time job when I’m not a college student. So, I’m sure we can both be adults about this unfortunate situation, and simply forge on. There’s no need for you to recuse from teaching this class, and I have absolutely no intention of switching. We both can wear our big people britches, and pretend last night was a… what did you call it?” I wave my hands, as if the answer will materialize from thin air, “A vivid wet dream? And leave it at that!”
Peeta glares at me, looking aggravated for the first time since I met him. “It’ll be unethical to continue like everything is normal, Miss Everdeen.” Peeta argues, stubbornly.
“Nobody has to know about last night,” I say, exasperated, then a horrifying thought flashes in my mind, “Unless you bragged about it already!”
“No!” He straightens in his chair, looking offended, “I would never do something so vile,” He looks indignant, “plus, the fact still remains that something did happen last night, and I know about it! I can’t, in good faith, be your teacher.”
“Are you planning on showing me favoritism because you know what my pussy tastes like, Peeta?” I deadpan, “Or are you gonna blackmail me into doing it again?”
“Stop calling me Peeta!” He growls through his teeth, his very thick fingers clenching into fists on his armrests.
I blink at his reaction owlishly, realizing I’m truly pushing it this time.
“I’ve always prided myself on keeping my nose clean. Being a decent man and tutor. Never in 17 years of teaching have I slept with a co-ed, let alone a student in my own class.” He breathes deeply, then pins me to my chair, with those arresting blue eyes of his, burning with controlled anger, “I would never extort you or anyone for sexual favors, Katniss. While I don’t really want to lose my tenure or face other disciplinary actions from the school authorities, the one thing I truly don’t want to damage are my personal standards, and my self image.
“Katniss, I’m already biased when it comes to you. Being your professor won’t be exactly fair to anyone. I’m not saying I would give you A’s willy-nilly, nor that I would grade your papers any differently than I’d do your peers or that I’d be less critical of your work,”
“That’s reassuring,” I roll my eyes. “You’re telling me that if I bring you a shit essay, you might not be persuaded to let me redo it?”
He sighs, “I don’t know…” he scratches the back of his neck, “I’ll most likely hover over your desk a disproportionate amount of time compared to your classmates. There’s also a chance I’ll call on your name more often than the rest of them?”
“I still don’t hear one unscrupulous, wrong reason, why you can’t do your job, and teach this class.”
We sit there, staring at each other, at an impasse.
“Why are you so set on keeping me in that room, Miss Everdeen?” He asks, softly.
Finally, I relent, relaxing my tense shoulders, and exhaling tiredly. I raise my hands in defeat. “I don’t know, Peeta. Because I want to protect you, the same way you’re trying to protect me. But… recuse yourself if you have to. I still believe you’re a better man than your urges.”
Peeta relaxes in his chair too, “Thank you, Katniss.You didn’t have to say that, specially because you don’t know me. It still means a lot.”
I chew the inside of my lip, calculating stuff in my head. “You’re right, I don’t know you, but I consider myself an okay judge of character.” He opened this door, it’s time for me to walk through it, “Can I ask you some stuff?” I ask innocently.
Peeta arches his eyebrows. “Shoot,” he says.
“How old are you?”
“45. I’m sorry. I knew you were young last night… I just didn’t quite grasp just how young,” his eyes shift downwards, sheepish and uncomfortable.
“I’m an adult. I’ve been the head of my family for years. At this point, age is irrelevant for me.” I state, dismissively.
“What about your family?” He asks, tilting his head sideways.
It takes me a minute to answer. I cross my arms over my stomach, and exhale, “It’s been only Primrose and I for five years now. My mother had cancer. My father passed when I was eleven.” I rock in my chair, slightly, “That’s why my sister was being such a clingy bitch last night. She can’t bear to lose anyone else. Neither can I for that matter.”
Peeta leans forward on his desk. “I’m so sorry to hear that, Katniss.”
I sit back, feeling like a huge weight just got lifted off my shoulders. “It’s okay, really. I’m back in school, about to finish my last semester, Prim is doing great in university, the only debt we have right now is Prim’s car and my Target card… we are actually okay,” I smile, meekly at him.
“That’s… that’s good, Katniss. Admirable, really.”
“Peeta?” I start cautiously, “Would you really remove yourself from the class because of me?”
He looks me right in the eye, sincerity emanating fro his eyes. “Absolutely. Without hesitation. As soon as you leave, I’ll email my Head of Department, explaining my situation. Don’t worry, I won’t mention any names or details—“
I shake my head, vehemently.
Peeta squints, studying me cautiously, measuring me.
“Please… stay with me…”
Something in my tone catches his attention, and he eyes me curiously. “I’ve already told you why I can’t,” he says, almost soothingly.
I stand up. Go around my chair, and drop back down into it. I start shaking my leg nervously. “I had this feeling in my gut since last night. Like I lost something precious, I just couldn’t put a finger on it… I still can’t, to be honest. All I know, in my loins, is that I can’t let you step down from your position, and I sure as hell won’t walk away on you without figuring out what this…” I wiggle my fingers, pointing to the mouth of my stomach, “feeling is about.”
He stares at me.
I stand up again, and this time I just pace, to the wall with the pictures, and stare at a bunch of faces, too similar to Peeta’s not to be related to him somehow.
“I know I’m not making sense, but I just needed to say that.”
He watches me for a long beat, weighing his options no doubt, before answering, “I can’t be your teacher, Katniss…” he sighs, and rubs his forehead, “because I’m afraid seeing you every week, without being able to touch you will be absolute torture.”
“Really?” I bite my lip, giving him an open once over, not feeling one iota self conscious about. “How come?”
Peeta huffs, avoiding my eyes. “I’d be wondering what your breasts look like the whole time.” He confesses, flatly. “I didn’t get a chance to see them last night, and it kept me awake an indecent amount of time.” He twists his lips, “I’m gonna be pinning the whole semester, whether you’re in the classroom or not, craving the taste of your juices in my tongue, and worse of all, I’ll probably embarrass myself, giving me involuntary hard on’s just fantasizing about you.”
I practically prowl towards him. “You poor thing,” I coo, pouting. “Would you go home to masturbate on the soiled pair of panties I left behind on that dirty, bathroom floor?” I ask… more like, purr, really.
Peeta chuffs out an incredulous laugh, covering his face with both hands. He grunts, “Aw, fuck! That sounds so… it’s probably exactly what could happen. I’d try to stay professional in the classroom, but in the privacy of my home…” he chuckles weakly, shaking his head.
“What kind of fantasies are we entertaining here?” I ask, invested, and sit on the corner of his desk.
Peeta thins out his mouth, “Katniss… that’s a slippery slope you’re trying to climb,” he warns.
“Humor me?” I cajole.
He takes a stuttering breath. “I’ll bring you into this office, same way I did today, except I’ll rip your clothes off, throw you on the desk and take you hard and fast. From behind.”
I can’t stop a small sound at the back of my throat, nor the need to rub my thighs together.
I clear my throat, “I expect you’d want to fuck me on every surface in this office?”
Peeta pulls on the collar of his shirt, his face turning crimson, “And probably the lecture hall as well,” he adds conversationally.
I nod, scooting closer to where he sits. “I’m curious too you know. I didn’t get to see ‘any’ part of you naked. But my muscles still are deliciously sore from last night. A girl has to wonder… just how big a dick has to be to cause so much wreckage?”
It doesn’t take much effort at all to work him up. Peeta’s pants are tented in what looks like the most uncomfortable erection ever; he shifts in his chair to try and hide the effect my words have on him, yet, his hands remain folded on his lap, white knuckled with the effort of keeping himself in check. He’s really committed not to touch me while I’m still his student, but he rasps a question, full of concern.
“Did I hurt you?” His eyes search me, earnestly. “I’m sorry I was too rough, really,”
My heart gives a little somersault. “No, Peeta. You were pure perfection. I loved how you handled me.”
His lips twitch, and I’m amazed at how expressive his face is, even partially hidden under his near facial hair. “You said you were hungry last night before you got on your knees…” I murmur, “I think, next time I’ll return the favor,”
“Next time?”
I slide closer to him, but we both keep our hands to ourselves.
I lick my lips, resisting the urge to drop on my knees between his legs and gobble up his cock. I didn’t lie about wanting to see him in all his naked glory, but I can show the same level of restraint he does; I respect him for trying to keep a moral and ethical compass.
I smirk at him, slyly. “Are you sure you wanna abandon your post as my professor, now that my education is on the balance? We can wait a handful of months, Doctor Mellark… I promise not to tease you,” With that, I mean, I promise not to aggravate what could potentially be the worst case of blue balls in the history of slow burns.
Peeta hisses a mirthless chuckle, “You’re too much of a temptation, even if you don’t actively try teasing me, Katniss,”
I start playing with the end of my braided, dark hair. “You know what I’m most really looking forward to, from when I’m no longer your student?” I pose, shyly, “Going to that dinner you mentioned last night.” I shrug one shoulder. “I’ll let you buy me a stack of pancakes to celebrate my graduation. I’ll probably introduce you to my sister, Primrose… and we’d go from there… if you wanted to…”
Peeta smiles, disarmingly. “I’d love that too, Miss Everdeen.” He says quietly.
I let go of my braid, and hug myself, “Stay in the class?” I practically beg one last time. “We can do it, I know we can. We can have a platonic, completely innocent teacher-student relationship until I’m done with college,”
Peeta shakes his head. “We’ll see after I talk to my head of department. Who knows, maybe all the schedules are already locked in place, and I have no other choice but to stay put. There’s no guarantee a replacement is available for me.”
“We’ll make it work!” I say enthusiastically.
“Maybe…” he sighs, not entirely convinced.
I pull my phone out of my pocket to check the time. Time is running out, I gotta get to the pharmacy before my window of opportunity closes.
“Hey, Peeta… um, invasive, weird question?”
I wait for him to nod.
“Have you by any chance, have gotten a vasectomy at any point?”
“Mmm no, never had. Why?”
Aw shit!
I bite the inside of my cheek. “Hopefully no reason.” I say quickly, too nonchalant for my own good, and he catches on it, I can see the gears turning in his brain, “Okay,” I make a big show of yawning and stretching my arms, “I have to run some errands before going home and crashing for the night.”
Peeta cringes, “Are you… okay? Really, okay? You said you were sore?” His eyes rove over my face full of concern.
“I’m fine,” I smile, “nothing a long soaking in Epsom salts can’t cure.”
“Okay,” he says, unsure. “I don’t want to overstep any worse than I already have, but… I’ve been anxious, wondering if you were alright, if you got home fine to your sister since you left the club. Which, obviously you did… but, I wanted to kick myself for not asking your number, just to be able to check on you… and this is frown upon, a d completely unethical, but—“
“I’ll email you,” I say quickly. “Nothing explicit. But I’ll let you know I’m home and okay.” I’ve spoken to people in code before, this shouldn’t be a problem, and really, sending my professor an email with a time stamp and some innocuous question about the syllabus doesn’t have to be nefarious at all.
“Alright… Just let me know if there’s anything wrong, okay? I swear this won’t become a routine thing or anything, just this time, to give me peace of mind, and because it is late… and well, yesterday…”
“It’s fine, professor. I don’t mind. And… everything will work out,” I say shouldering my bag and pocketing my phone, “everything will work out, even if my Plan B doesn’t,” I smile and scurry out the door, before the puzzlement in his face has time to settle.
After all, a semester is only 15 weeks long, give or take… that’s plenty of time to figure things out.
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Get You
Pairing: Sammy Blais x Reader
Word Count: 4.9k
Warnings: Smut… Smutty smut smut. Just the works, you know?
A/N: In July, me and @bandgirlsclub were talking about my Sammy feels… and we talked about how he seems innocent and inexperienced, but he probably is a lil devil in the sheets. So, I needed to write it (for my own research and now for yours too.) This has like zero plot. It’s just sex. Enjoy and let me know what you think!! Title is based on the song “Get You” by Daniel Caesar and Kali Unchis. I couldn’t come up with another title name and I just love this song so, if you don’t like it... TOUGH.
Translations:
J'ai vraiment envie de toi: I really want you.
Vous êtes si belle: You’re so beautiful
Tu as tellement bo goût: You taste so good.
mon ange: My angel
Masterlist.
Then.
When you told your friends about your crush on Sammy Blais back in 2014, they all laughed in your face. Sammy Blais? They repeated after you admitted to it. How can you even see him as a sexual being? Like, what the fuck kind of question was that? You were insulted by their response, annoyed they so easily pushed him to the side for his other, more promiscuous teammates.
Sammy, as you knew him, was a bit quiet and reserved, but he was also always one of the funniest people in the room. If everyone just listened to him, like you did, they would understand why you found him so endearing. It was a combination of whispered jeers at his teammates and pointed looks shared from across a crowded room when someone did or said something stupid.
But how could they know any of that when he didn’t share it with anyone except you? He wasn’t making those same comments in your friends’ ears or sharing winks and eye rolls across the room with them either. It was only ever to you.
He thought your friends were nice enough, but they were a little too in-your-face for his liking. You, however, caught his attention because much like himself, you faded into the background as well. For the same reasons, you were drawn to each other. It was hard to find one of you without the other at parties like the one where the incident occurred.
As the 2014 NHL Draft approached, you realized it was now or never. Something needed to be done before he slipped away. And he was thinking the same thing.
That night, while the party raged on around you, you sat on the couch with your legs pulled up over his lap. His hand rested between your thighs, right at the top of your knee. His thumb traced circles along your skin as you talked about anything that could possibly get a response out of him, whether it be a giggle or one word or even an unexpected tangent.
You were unsure how long you spent on that couch with him, but your friends took notice and cleared the room to get you some privacy. They may not have understood the appeal of your crush on Sammy, but they sure as hell were going to get you what you wanted.
“Where’d the party go?” you asked, hoping that your nerves hadn’t crept into the sound of your voice. Sammy glanced around at the empty room and then sighed softly.
“Doesn’t matter to me,” he answered quite honestly. You laughed softly as you lifted your gaze to his. “Let’s be honest, we’re always looking for each other at these things.”
“You’re not wrong.”
Silence settled between the two of you for the first time as the reality of the relationship between you was clear. It had always been something a little bit more than friendship.
You were still smiling at each other, conversations shared through fleeting looks. He was unsure of himself, unsure of how you felt about him still after all this time. So, his next move was tentative. He couldn’t just come out and do it. He needed permission first.
“Can I kiss you?”
You nodded, unable to find the words that were stuck in the back of your throat.
Sammy leaned in, hand gripping your knee as he tugged you just a bit closer to him. And then his lips met yours in a slow and purposeful kiss. It was cautious and careful, like he was scared to break you, and you were practically dripping with anticipation for what else could come of it. His hands remained where they’d been, one in between your knees and then other against your cheek.
The kiss slowed and he pulled away looking bashful, but you were itching for more. You scooched in closer and leaned in again. He took the hint and did the same. He tried to add a little more spice to it and leaned in quickly to capture your lips. Instead, you ended up bumping heads and you bit his lip by accident.
“Ow.”
“I’m so sorry,” you blurted. He brought his fingers to his lip and there was a little blood on the pad of his thumb when he removed it. Suddenly, the front door opened and if the bleeding lip and minor concussion wasn’t even to ruin the moment, his teammates would.
“Party’s here!”
You were standing before you could even think and Sammy was left looking defeated as his teammates swept you up in hugs and greeted him. They plopped down right in the spot you’d once been and started opening beers to catch up with the rest of the party. Someone shoved a cold beer in Sammy’s hand, swallowing up the warmth that he’d once felt against your cheek.
He didn’t know if he should’ve gone after you, but he stayed put on the couch anyway. He figured he could at least give you a little space after knocking his forehead against yours. But, ultimately that ended up being a huge mistake.
For the rest of the night, he left a wide berth between the two of you. He could’ve blamed it on his nerves or embarrassment over that shitty first kiss. Ultimately, it was his immaturity that ruined it all. Looking back on it now, he could confidently say so.
It was nearing the end of the night when he heard you gossiping with the girls. He probably shouldn’t have stayed to eavesdrop, but he couldn’t help it. He felt like he was cemented in place.
“I don’t know what happened,” he heard you whisper. “We kissed, and then when we went to kiss again it was all so awkward. We bumped heads and I bit his lip. He started bleeding, and then the rest of the boys showed up, so I just got up and walked away.”
“See, I told you Sammy doesn’t really know what he’s doing when it comes to girls.”
You murmured, “Everything was going so well!”
“It’s just how he is.”
Sammy rolled his eyes, mentally beating himself up for fucking up what he’d been planning for months. He heard the fridge door open and then the hiss of a beer can opening, and then a long and loud sigh.
“I should’ve just listened to you guys.”
He straightened up, brows drawn together in frustration. Of all the responses he thought you’d give, that wasn’t one of them. Had all those months sitting on the couches at house parties not shown you who he really was? He wasn’t just some bumbling idiot with a little schoolboy crush.
“So, are you over it? The crush?”
Before you could answer, he slipped back down the hallway. He tossed his half-full beer can in a garbage bag and walked right out the front door and all the way home.
Now.
After that night, Sammy’s bruised ego took a long time to heal. He moved to St. Louis and put all his effort towards his hockey career, pushing the soul crushing moments shared with you to the back of his mind. His teammates took him under their wing quickly and he was taught how to scope out the bars for someone to take home. Through trial and error, Sammy learned how to flirt and, most importantly, how to make a woman cum.
There were moments that he thought back to that night and wished he could change it. Of all the crushes he’d had in his life, the one on you never went away. Though he avoided home like the plague, his friends were still friends of yours, so he heard about you from time-to-time. They practically begged him to visit, at least just once a year, to catch up with everyone. He was hesitant. Too bruised and stubborn to see you once again.
Sure enough, they broke him down and when he returned home after the end of the 2019-2020 season, he found himself at the very same party as you.
You were the first person he saw when he walked into his former teammate’s house because of course you would be. You were perched atop the kitchen counter in a dress and heels, champagne glass in hand. Even though the music in the apartment was loud, he heard your laughter loud and clear as he entered.
“Sammy!”
He was surprised by your exclamation and, although his other friends shouted his name as well, he only focused on you as you hopped off the counter and ran over to him. Your arms looped around his waist.
“I didn’t believe the boys when they said you were coming.”
You smelled the same, like lavender and vanilla and something fruity. Your hair felt soft under his touch as he pulled you tighter to his chest.
“I’m happy you’re here.”
He smiled at you and responded, “Me too.”
As soon as your hug was over, he was gone. His friends swept him up beneath their arms and ushered him off to grab drinks.
When you returned to the girls, they watched you with knowing looks.
“Still?” one of them asked. You were avoiding their eyes, that much was certain.
“What do you mean still?”
“You still have a crush on him?”
You took the last swig of your drink and waved them off dismissively, saying, “No, of course not. It’s been six years.”
Apparently, six years was just enough time for that crush to grow.
Everyone at the bar was equally as excited to see Sammy return home, so you felt a bit deflated when he spent the better part of the night catching up with people you knew he couldn’t stand. The Sammy you once knew wasn’t the Sammy before you. This Sammy possessed an air of confidence you’d never seen and carried himself around the bar like he had a million better things to do, even though you knew he’d just be at home on the couch if he didn’t accept the invite.
He’d grown out of the stage in his life where he needed to sneak off to the couch in the corner with you, and that realization stung more than you wanted to admit. So, as you watched him talk to another random girl about two hours into the night, you stepped outside into the cool Summer air. He caught sight of you as you went and, though he wanted to push the thought of joining you out of his mind, he ended up excusing himself from the conversation he was having just to follow you.
He exited the bar and stepped onto the pavement of the sidewalk outside, eyes grazing each smoker’s face to see if you’d blended in with any of them. And then, there you were, at the corner of the bar and an alleyway beside it.
“Hiding?” he asked as soon as he was within earshot. You looked up from your phone and smiled at him, pushing yourself just slightly off the wall to give him your full attention.
“Maybe.”
“Can I hide with you?”
“Of course.”
He leaned his shoulder up against the wall and crossed his arms over his chest. You tried not let your eyes wander, but it was hard to ignore how defined his muscles had gotten since the last time you’d seen him.
“Nothing’s really changed, huh? They’re all just as crazy as they’ve always been.”
You hummed and then spoke what had been on your mind all night, “We’ve changed. Neither one of us have ended up sneaking off to hide from the party.”
“Until now,” he added, motioning between the two of you and the outside air.
“Do you remember when we used to just sit in the corner at parties and talk all night?”
He nodded, responding, “That was the only reason I ever went to those parties.”
“That’s not true.”
“Did you ever see me anywhere other than by your side?”
You laughed at his question and that was answer enough.
“Do you remember when we kissed?” he asked. The question tumbled from his lips shamelessly. Not even a blush came over his cheeks as he asked. Yours, on the other hand, was clear. “I’ve thought about that kiss way more than I’d like to admit.”
When his eyes lifted to yours, you felt a chill run down your spine. His eyes were dark and yearning and they kept flickering to your lips and back to your eyes again. So, you said, “Me too.”
Everything that happened next was a blur. He grabbed your hand and tugged you out of sight into the alley. His hands gripped your hips and pressed you against the brick as his lips captured yours in a feverish and needy fashion.
You felt the kiss from your head to your toes. It was unlike the one you shared years ago. Sammy was more sure in himself, more confident, just like suspected. He had a lot to make up for. He nudged your legs apart with his knee as his tongue slipped past your lips and into your mouth. You moaned as you rubbed your core against his thigh.
“You have no idea how badly I’ve wanted to do this,” he spoke against your lips. You nodded, letting him know that you felt just the same. His lips hovered over your jaw for a moment before he pressed a kiss to it, then to the skin of your neck. Your head lulled to the side, giving him access to more skin. “I was just a kid back then. I had no idea how to handle a woman like you. But everything’s different now.”
“Different how?” you inquired, eager to know just what he meant by those words. He lifted his head from your neck and took your jaw between his fingers. He could tell you, or he could show you.
“Come home with me.”
You couldn’t leave fast enough. You went inside and complained to your girlfriends about stomach pains while he said goodbyes to the boys, letting them know he’d be taking an Uber with you to make sure you got home safely. No one batted an eye. Who would? It was just Sammy Blais.
Your car pulled up not even ten minutes later. He pulled the door open for you, stared at your ass as you entered, and then slid in right next to you, hand falling to your thigh once more. He shed himself of the light jacket he’d been wearing and threw it over your laps for a little privacy because keeping his hands to himself was not in the cards. With a dress that short, you couldn’t expect him to not touch you.
As the driver spoke nonsense into the otherwise quiet car, Sammy fingers trailed closer to your core until they were brushing along the fabric of your thong. A gasp escaped your lips at his touch.
“You alright, baby?” he asked, turning to look at you. The pet name caught you by surprise, but you simply bit your lip and nodded before dropping your head against his shoulder. He smiled contently and returned his attention to the man behind the wheel while his fingers continued their path.
He pushed the fabric aside and slipped a finger past the lips of your pussy. His movements were painfully slow and your heart hammered in your chest as you yearned for more. As if he could read your mind, he added a second finger to massage your folds and then he sunk them into your heat.
It was excruciating, the way he moved his fingers slowly in and out of you. You were desperate for more but each time you tried to get a little added friction, he pulled his fingers away with a warning glare. It was a sick game of cat and mouse that you were playing all the way to his apartment building.
He held your hand as you stepped out of the car on shaky legs and led you into the building. In the elevator, he lifted your chin and pressed a chaste kiss to your lips before turning your back to his chest and enveloping you in his arms. You could feel his erection pressed against your ass and your pussy throbbed in anticipation of what was to come.
The moment his apartment door was closed, he was pressing you against it.
“J'ai vraiment envie de toi,” he whispered against your throat. You whimpered as he pushed your thong to the side again and pushed his fingers back into your cunt, curling them against your g-spot. “You’re so wet.”
The way he’d already worked your pussy in the car made his touch even more intense. He circled your clit with his thumb. His fingers worked your pussy as he sucked a mark into your neck. It wasn’t long before you began to grind against his hand, already so close to your first orgasm of the night. It was right there, so close, and then he pulled his fingers out and stepped back.
“Bedroom.”
While you flitted off to the bedroom, Sammy took his time kicking his shoes off at the door and dropping his jacket over a kitchen chair. So, you took the opportunity to peel the dress from your body, leaving you only in your panties as you crawled up to his headboard. The sound of his belt hitting the floor in the hallway had you spreading your legs and sliding your fingers beneath the waistband.
When Sammy stepped into the room, you could see him swallow as his eyes caught on your fingers in your pussy. His eyes were dark as he walked towards the end of the bed. In one swift movement, he wrapped a hand around your ankle and yanked you down the bed before grabbing your wrists and pinning them above your head.
“You’re impatient,” he grunted. “This pussy’s mine tonight.” He pressed a rough kiss to your lips. His free hand danced up your thigh and returned to your core. He slid two fingers between your folds. “Do you understand?” You nodded. He curled his fingers inside of you. “I want to hear you. Whose pussy is this?”
“Yours,” you breathed out, chest heaving beneath him.
“Vous êtes si belle.”
He leaned down and attached his lips to your nipple, sucking and biting and drawing all the beautiful sounds from you. His free hand was back to work, tugging your panties down to your knees.
“Do you want my fingers or my mouth?” he asked. He sucked on the sweet spot below your ear, making it nearly impossible to speak. “Choose.”
“Your mouth,” you choked out. “I want your mouth.”
He left a trail of kisses from your neck all the way to your chest, tongue licking and sucking at your nipples before continuing down your stomach to your hips. As he began to your thighs, his fingers played with your nipples, setting off every nerve in your body. You opened your eyes to look down at him between your thighs and as soon as your gaze met his, he licked a stripe up your core.
You half-whispered, half-moaned, “Fuck.”
“Louder.”
Shy and reserved were two words that you’d never use to describe Sammy again, not after the way his tongue caressed you. The sounds that fell from your mouth only egged him on. He loved your moans, but he knew he could draw something more out of you. So, when his fingers began to work in tandem with his tongue and you released a scream, he was determined to get you to scream again.
You dropped your hands into his hair as his tongue stroked your core. You tugged and he groaned into your cunt, the vibration causing you to shudder beneath him. You began to grind against him as he tongue fucked you. The sound of your whimpers and heavy breathing only made him work harder and faster, eager to have you cum on his face.
“Tu as tellement bo goût.”
You quivered beneath him, moaning out his name as your first orgasm washed over you. He couldn’t take his eyes off your face as it twisted in pleasure while he continued to lap up the wetness of your pussy. You placed your hands at the top of his head as the stimulation became too much and pushed him away lightly.
He stood, admiring every inch of your naked body as you caught you breath beneath him. You looked fucking perfect and so fucked out already that he was too eager to see what you’d look like after taking his dick.
“Come on, baby,” he spoke softly. “You’re not tapping out are you?”
“Fuck you,” you grunted, blissed out smile betraying your own words.
“Please do,” he said, eyes dark.
After a deep breath, you got onto all fours before crawling to the end of bed to undo his jeans. He watched you hungrily as your fingers moved along the zipper and pushed the pants down. After he kicked them to the side, you trailed your fingers along the waistband of his underwear and watched him shiver. You never wanted to watch someone unravel more than you wanted him to.
You pulled them off and freed his cock, eyes lighting up at the size of it. He smiled down at you, admiring the way you looked on your knees for him.
Your hands curled around his member, gathering the precum from the tip to coat over it. He pulled his bottom lip between his teeth as he studied your every movement. One hand cupped your cheek and slid into the hair at the back of your head as you brought your lips closer. You wrapped your lips around his length, tongue flattening against it as you took him deeper.
He wanted to keep watching, but he could hardly keep his eyes open or his head from lulling to the side. Your mouth felt so good around him. With one hand on his shaft and the other on his balls, he could hardly think straight. Your tongue teased his tip before taking him in again, gasps escaping his mouth. Each time, you took him deeper and faster and he could feel his orgasm building.
“Stop,” he grunted, hand wrapping in your hair to keep you from continuing. You were knelt in front of him with your mouth open, tongue out, so ready to take him back into your mouth. It was hard to resist. “Fuck, I want you to keep going, but I need to cum while I’m inside that pretty little pussy of yours.”
You whimpered at his words.
“Lay down.”
You did as you were told once again and watched as he grabbed a condom from inside his bedside table and rolled it over his cock. You spread your legs as he crawled up the bed. His hands traveled up your thighs again and he ran his fingers along your folds as he captured your lips in his again. Then, he pulled away to wrap his hand around his shaft.
“You gonna take my cock, mon ange?” he asked, his voice soft and sweet contrasting the vulgarity of his question. You nodded, desperate to feel him inside of you after all this time. Your hands fluttered down to grab his length and pull it into you, but he pulled back. The smirk on his lips was teasing, mischievous. “Beg for it.”
“Sammy,” you whined. He shook his head, hand pumping himself as he waited impatiently to get what he wanted. “Please.”
“You can do better than that, pretty girl. Tell me how badly you want it.”
Never would you have thought those words could come from timid Sammy Blais, but he hovered over you, staring darkly at your naked form with demands falling effortlessly from his lips. This was what he’d been hiding this entire time? You wanted more of it.
“C’mon, baby,” you moaned. He watched your lips as you begged and brushed the head of his member along your entrance. “I need your cock. I want you to fill me up and fuck me until I’m screaming. Don’t make me wait any longer, please.”
Finally, he pushed into you. He sucked in a deep breath as you threw your head back, eyes clamping shut. He gave you a moment to adjust, using it for himself to breathe as well. He wanted this to last more than a few minutes. You nodded at him to move once you were ready and he fucked into you slowly, murmuring, “You’re so fucking tight.”
“You feel so good,” you told him, fingers curling through the hair at the nape of his neck. You wrapped your hands around his biceps as his thrusts got faster. When he bottomed out, he stilled to get a good look at the euphoria on your face. You met his eyes and wrapped your legs around his hips. “Harder, Sammy. Please.”
You were still begging and he fucking loved it. He snapped his hips to yours again, then again, and again. He swallowed your moans with his lips. You wrapped your legs around his hips, drawing him in farther. You were so full of him, but you just couldn’t get enough.
He buried his face into your neck as his thrusts became sloppier. He sucked along your neck, no doubt leaving marks that could be discovered tomorrow. Your nails dug into his shoulders leaving marks of your own. The sound of his heavy breathing and the whimpers falling from your lips indicated that you were both rapidly approaching your highs.
Sammy wrapped an arm around your waist and flipped your bodies to have you on top. In this new position, he heled you to his chest and fucked up into you. He was hitting every spot and you were a moaning mess with each thrust.
“Cum, YN,” he spoke through jagged breaths. “Cum all over my cock.”
His hand snaked back to your core as you rode him, massaging the sensitive bud to help get you to your orgasm. You chanted his name as your walls fluttered around him. He fucked you through your climax, French curses falling from his lips and into the skin of your neck.
He continued through your aftershocks, chasing his orgasm desperately as your obscene moans filled the room. He came with a final thrust that you felt in your stomach and he collapsed on top of you breathing heavily. Your fingernails scratched his back soothingly as he softened inside of you.
He rolled over and stared at the ceiling as his breathing evened out. You did the same, though one of your hands reached out to curl your fingers between his. He glanced over at you with pink cheeks and sighed, “Holy shit.”
After a moment, you asked, “Sammy, why haven’t you been fucking me like that since high school?”
He rolled over to hover over you once more and kissed you hard, all with a smile on his face.
“I’m sorry,” he whispered. “I told you that I didn’t know what I was doing back then.”
“Well, you definitely do now.”
“And that means I have six years to make up for,” he said, biting lightly on your bottom lip. “I hope you aren’t planning on sleeping for a while.”
Sammy picked you up and carried you out of the bedroom, smiling while listening to your giggles the entire way. When he dropped you, it was in the bathroom and he turned the shower on before turning to trail his eyes along your body to your eyes.
“How about a shower?”
Bonus
“Where’s YN?” one of your roommates called down the hall to the others in the kitchen. She was standing in your doorway, staring at the empty bed in front of her in confusion. The other girls approached from the kitchen and stopped once they saw what she was looking at.
“I thought Sammy brought her here last night.”
“Me too.”
“I thought one of you checked last night.”
The sound of a key in the lock of the front door had them running to the living room to greet you. You pushed the door open totally not expecting to be bombarded by the girls.
“Where have you been?” “Is that a St. Louis Blues sweatshirt?” “Is that Sammy’s number on the sleeve?” “Is that a hickey?!”
As they asked their questions and made assumptions, albeit correct ones, you walked into the kitchen to grab a water bottle. They followed, still echoing the same questions over and over. Finally, as you sat at the kitchen table, they simmered.
“I was at Sammy’s,” you said. You pinched the shoulder of the hoodie and waved the material. “and this is his sweatshirt,” you continued. You yanked the collar away from your neck. “and these are hickeys.”
“There’s more than one,” someone muttered.
The look on their faces were ones of pure shock. Their brains were struggling to understand what exactly happened last night, though the proof of it was right in front of them.
“You fucked Sammy?!”
You told them how his fingers worked you and the way he made you scream while you came like no other man had before. You told them about the shower you took after, how it was both and sexy and sweet the way that he washed your hair and then fucked you against the shower wall. And they sat there in shock, realizing that clearly they’d not known Sammy all that much after all.
Some things, though, you chose to keep to yourself. Like the sweet nothings he whispered in your ear this morning while he fucked you slowly and passionately in his bed just twenty minutes before dropping you off. And the promise he made to fuck you again, and again, and again.
#sammy blais fic#sammy blais imagine#hockey imagine#mk writes#nhl imagine#nhl fic#hockey smut#sammy blais story#st. louis blues fic#idk what else to tag
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ᴘᴀɪʀɪɴɢ: ot7 x reader || ᴡᴏʀᴅ ᴄᴏᴜɴᴛ: 12k || ɢᴇɴʀᴇ: smut - rated 18+
sᴜᴍᴍᴀʀʏ:
Sick of unsatisfying hookups, boring relationships or the company of your own hand? Apply today for the chance to be on bangasm.com’s very first reality show! Seven attractive young gentlemen will be vying for your choice of who is best in bed. All from different backgrounds, these men claim they’ll be able to rock your world, so don’t hesitate! Apply now!
Congratulations! You’ve been accepted as the Lady in the first season of The Gentlemen.
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ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢs: good god where to begin, loss of virginity : ) for real, big dick joon, cowgirl, unprotected sex, special appearance from namjoon’s sensitive neck o.o, premature ejaculation sorry bud, creampie, dom!joon still tho, sub!reader, sexting, dom!hoseok/master!hoseok, sub!jungkook, sub!reader agAIN, bondage and shibari, master/slave dynamics (sorry i have to spoil the prompt but want to properly TW this stuff, but the word slave is only used once out-of-scene), filmed sex, exhibitionism, voyeurism, hoseok wearing the tear dior fit you are WELCOME, fingering, orgasm control/denial, oral (m receiving), anal (m receiving), a position i am told is called a lucky pierre/french sandwich, threesome in case you couldn’t guess, aftercare, guided masturbation, phone sex, pet-names, discipline/punishment
banner designer @jamaisjoons | thank you my darling SFHS babies ! i love you
DAY EIGHT
“Are you ready to make your decision?”
No. Of course the answer is no, but there’s no delaying it anymore. “Is it nine already?”
Sejin sighs, shuffling to the side of the table to indicate you’re to sit beside him. When you do, facing the boys on the couch, your heart gives another sickening lurch. Sejin squeezes your shoulder kindly. “Just a game, sweetheart,” he assures quietly, before raising his voice into the authorial tone he used for announcements. “Thank you for all being here on time, any on topic questions before we begin?”
Nobody answers, not even Jin. There’s a tense atmosphere, and you feel caught right in the centre of it.
“Okay, then,” he says softly, sensing the sullen atmosphere. “I’d like to give each of the Gentlemen a chance to explain why Y/n should keep them in the show. Let’s go around the room. Yoongi?”
To Sejin’s left, perched on the end of the three-person couch, is the doctor himself, legs crossed and face relaxed. “Um, Y/n should keep me in becau-”
“Say it to her,” Sejin guides, shuffling back to move out of the way.
Reflexively, Yoongi glances up at you, and the calm warmth of his eyes reassures you. “Y/n, I’d ask you to keep me in because we’ve had a good time together so far, but there’s so much that we have yet to explore. Beyond that, I’d like to think I’m a good fit for the house, and I’ll continue to assist Jin-hyung in cooking many meals.” Once he’s done, he sends you a small smile, eyes glinting playfully.
The younger boy sitting next to him is not as cheerful. Bottom lip red from gnawing, Jungkook tucks his feet up on the couch, resting his chin on his knees. His eyes meet yours after Sejin signals for him to begin. “I really hope you don’t vote me out because I like it here a lot. You’re so cool, and the hyungs are so cool, and I feel really happy here. I know we haven’t spent a whole lot of quality time yet, but I want to, if I stick around long enough.”
You bite down harshly on your tongue, sending him a strained smile. Fuck, this sucks. Beside Jungkook is Hoseok, who props his elbow on the arm of the couch, posture casual but face stricken.
“Y/n,” Hoseok begins, voice tentative and uncharacteristically subdued, “you’re a very intelligent girl and you have a lot of potential in being a sub. I’d appreciate the opportunity to stay in and show you and the audience how enjoyable BDSM can be. We’re all very lucky men to be on the show with you.”
On the couch beside, Namjoon is the next one around. He pauses, eyes dancing about the room as he thinks. “I think it probably doesn’t make much sense to keep me in the game,” he allows. “I’m not experienced like the others and so it’s a little hard to defend on that front, but I think me staying allows you the advantage of being my first and best experience. I feel like with just a bit more time, I’ll really grow into my element, and I feel safe doing it with you. So I really hope I stay.”
Squished beside him is Jin, who sends you a big grin, even if it doesn’t fully reach his eyes. “This is so shitty,” he says with a laugh, “it’s harder than I was prepared for before I came, and I think that’s due partly to the warm environment that we’re developing with each other, but also because you, Y/n, are a very genuine and lively person. Of course this is a game about sex, but I don’t think any one of us could say that’s the only factor here. As for me, I ask that you keep me in at least a week more because I can promise not only a good time, but also an ear if you need one, and advice should you ever want it.” He pauses to glance around the room. “That goes for all of you,” Jin adds, “I cannot believe that I don’t hate any of you, I don’t know how the producers found such great people.”
His words ease a bit of the tension, and the rest of you let out laughs of relief, your heart easing slightly.
Next, it’s down on the floor for Taehyung, who seems to prefer sitting cross-legged on the carpet to any other spot in the room. “I really wanna stay here,” he pleads with his eyes locked on yours, so earnest, “you’re so fantastic, and Jungkookie and the hyungs are all so fantastic, and I don’t wanna go home so soon. And also I think in terms of sex and stuff, I bring a lot to the table.” Taehyung avoids Sejin’s gaze, fiddling with the hem of his shirt innocently even as he stares up through his eyelashes at the rest of you cheekily. “I think we saw that yesterday. Though in the future, hopefully it’ll cost me less.” He sends a withering glare at Yoongi and Jin. “You assholes.”
You let out a chuckle, Jin huffing in response and Yoongi just shrugging with a shameless grin. Finally, it’s Jimin’s turn, and your chest pangs as you remember the last time you were together. The way he squeezed your hand gently before getting out of the car last night, the way he walked you to your bedroom door, wishing you sweet dreams. The way you saw an entirely different man to the one he’s been advertising.
His eyes on you are imploring even as his back is straight and legs crossed. “I value the time I spend with you. This is, after all, a game about sex so I’ll defend myself by saying you can rest assured I’m skilled enough to please you well, but if you allow me to stay,” he drops eye contact, fiddling with his rings even as he fights to remain poised, “I do hope it’s not the sex alone that keeps me here.” Like a switch is flicked, his momentary vulnerability vanishes, and he glances up and sends you a smile, warm and at-ease, having said his piece.
“And Y/n,” Sejin guides from beside you, his kind eyes on you, “anything to say to the guys?”
Your heart stutters in your chest. It’s been a week? Why is this so hard? “I- First of all, this decision has been insanely hard. You’re all amazing, not just in bed but as people, and I hope that whoever has to leave will still stay in touch. It feels really cruel that I have to say goodbye to someone so soon. The reality is, none of you did bad, and there’s nobody I don’t like; nobody that doesn’t belong here. I’ve made my decision, but- I don’t know. I’m not happy with it, but I don’t think I’d be happy with any decision. In the end, I guess I just went for the least painful option.” You take a deep breath, eyes lifting to look at Hoseok, who sends you a sad smile. You open your mouth-
“Wait!” Sejin interrupts loudly. Everyone turns to look at him in unison, eyes wide. “There-” He breaks off with a sigh, glancing at the camera closest to him before looking back down at the group. “Listen; this will be edited out, but ratings have been doing far better than we’d ever anticipated. We already hired a third editor to keep up with demand and get more episodes out than was on the schedule, and there’s talk we may even start getting sponsorships because the support has been creating headlines, at least on Twitter. The higher-ups at Bangasm, well… they want to make an exception.”
You furrow your brows. “What do you mean?”
“You’ll see,” Sejin answers. “Act surprised.” The eight of you stare at him with varying degrees of bewilderment as he puffs his chest and carries his voice louder, switching back into producer mode. “Wait!” he repeats in the same tone as earlier. “The production team hasn’t been completely honest with you. This isn’t just a basic game with prompts each week like we told you. There will be a special advantage, a wildcard if you wish, that changes things up. They could affect the prompts, or how the game proceeds for that week. We call them Bangasm Bombs. And while we didn’t tell you, our production team has drawn the Bangasm Bomb for Week One.”
Sejin pauses to look at you all meaningfully. Jimin picks up the hint. “So; what’s the ‘Bangasm Bomb’ for this week?” he asks for you, gesturing quote marks with his fingers.
Your mind is starting to whir, possibilities beginning to percolate in your mind, but you aren’t prepared for what Sejin says next.
“Nobody goes home this week.”
Your mouth drops open, eyes darting around the room to see the open disbelief on the guys’ faces. “So I- I don’t have to send anyone home today?”
“No,” Sejin answers warmly, and you feel your shoulders sag in relief, a breath rushing out you didn’t know you were holding. Sejin winces, clearing his throat lightly. “That’s… the other thing.”
“Other thing?” Yoongi asks incredulously. “There’s more?”
“With the success of the show comes other benefits. For example; the CEO and treasurer of Bangasm have agreed to double our funding if we can keep the views up. No, Seokjin,” Sejin quips the second the eldest contestant raises his hand. Jin puts his hand down, lips pursed in a pout. “We’re changing the rules a bit. Before, we said if Y/n eliminated you, you’d pack your bags and leave. Now; you stay.”
Sejin can’t get another word out over the clamour that arises, everyone shocked and excited and confused all at once. He waves his hand for silence, and only after a minute or so everyone calms down.
“So, there’s just no eliminating?” Jungkook asks with a comically quizzical look on his face.
“Please just let me explain,” Sejin requests, sighing. “Yes, there will still be eliminations. But if you get eliminated, you stay in the house.”
“So it’s a free pass,” Jungkook surmises.
“Not quite. No longer will you not be competing in the game, but you won’t be able to have sex with or sexually touch Y/n in any way. If you do, then you’ll be sent out of the house for good.”
“No sex with Y/n?” Taehyung asks meaningfully. “So… otherwise…?”
Sejin sighs, a tired laugh falling from his lips. “Just no sex with Y/n,” he confirms. “If you touch Y/n sexually, you go home. If Y/n touches you, of course we can’t send her home, so we’ve devised a punishment.”
At the word punishment your head darts up to stare at the producer, but Hoseok beats you to the punch. “She’s gonna come join us in the bunkroom?”
“That’s for failing prompts, Hobi-hyung,” Namjoon points out, “Y/n doesn’t have any prompts.”
“Correct,” Sejin confirms. “If Y/n touches an eliminated member in a sexual manner, then that member gets to choose what she wears for the next 24 hours.”
You frown. “That doesn’t sound so…” you trail off when you glance up, only to be met with seven hungry sets of eyes. You can just about see the cogs turning in their brains as they stare at your body. “Ah.”
“Yes. So stick to the rules, and you get, as Jungkook so elegantly put, a free pass minus Y/n. Got it?”
The eight of you stay silent, still shell-shocked from the two revelations. This changed things. Now, when you voted someone off, they would get to stay, but they would get to stay. You can see both the positive and negative possibilities there, and it’s no surprise that a reality show would have such a sneaky plot twist.
So you’d have all seven fucking you for one more week, and then all seven every week in the future, only with your sexual prospects dropping as you went. It does ensure that you’ll begin voting for them purely based on sexual performance; considering their personalities in the house wasn’t an issue if you’d have those anyway.
As you glance around the room, you can’t help but wonder if your vote would’ve been different had you known that he’d get to stay. And you wonder if you’ll end up picking the same person in a week’s time, after a new set of prompts. The thought makes you sit up, turning to Sejin again.
“Will the boys draw their new prompts, then?” you ask. “Do I get to know the theme again?”
“Ah, of course-” Sejin breaks off to sit up, retrieving a stack of slightly crumpled papers from his back pocket. “This week’s theme is dynamics and roleplay. Come pick a card.”
Like last week, you pay close attention to the reactions of each of the seven. Namjoon blinks wide at his, but doesn’t seem as put off as last week, and his eyes go distant when he sits back down, like he’s already picturing it. Jimin takes two, one for him at one for Taehyung, and the two compare, Taehyung laughing at Jimin’s and Jimin smirking at Taehyung’s, brushing his clean-shaven cheek with the back of his knuckles and murmuring something in his ear.
When Jin gets his, he bites his tongue and shakes his head with a light laugh, and Yoongi’s mouth drops open upon reading his card, eyes darkening with lust. Jungkook winces at first, but thinks on it a moment longer and grins eagerly, taking a second glance and scrunching his nose cutely at it. Hoseok takes his last, calmly reading it with a pleased smirk, sliding it into his front pocket and taking a seat.
Your breath leaves you in a slow stream. You’re back to the not-knowing. Dynamics and roleplay. It could really be anything, you supposed. Naughty schoolgirl, pizza delivery guy. You didn’t watch a lot of porn but you vaguely knew some of the tropes, and it’ll be a rather interesting week indeed.
“That’s not all, of course,” Sejin adds, and you feel like your brain could implode with the information dump that this morning has been. “Would you like to hear the Bangasm Bomb for Week 2?”
“We find out now?” Hoseok questions. “Not at the end?”
“Well, in order to fulfil it you need to know now,” the producer explains. “This week, Y/n may not sleep in her own bed, and she may not sleep in the same bed twice.”
You blink, not expecting it to be directed at you. “I what?” Your mind catches up with the rule, and you let out a light laugh. “So, I’ll have to share with the other guys?”
"Let's not forget the type of show we're on," Yoongi points out, leveling an impressed stare at the producer. "Well-played."
"Thank you," Sejin replies shortly. "Now, that'll be all. Just a reminder, if your scene isn't filmed, it doesn't count, and it's okay if Y/n guesses the prompt, but if you tell her directly then your prompt is void. Seokjin; we ordered you a set of chef's knives that should be here later today. Please stop spamming the company's inquiries email."
He's out of the room before Jin can even react, open-mouthed but smug like the cat that got the cream.
The eight of you sit in silence for a moment or two, still reeling. It's Hoseok in the end that recovers first.
"So we all stay," he muses. "Even if we get voted off, we stay. Why is that both a blessing and a curse?"
"This is reality TV," Jimin points out calmly, "and it's porn on top of it. Tension and drama skyrockets ratings. Well; I'm going to make some coffees if anyone wants one."
Most of the group move back into the kitchen, rifling through cabinets like zombies to make their breakfasts, but Namjoon approaches you hesitantly, biting on his lip.
"Y/n, can I talk to you? Privately?"
You stand up off the coffee table, though still you're lifting your chin to meet his gaze. "Sure," you reply easily, "privately or privately privately?"
"Um," he hesitates, glancing towards the entrance foyer, where across the hall lies the unfilmed rec room. "Just privately is fine for now."
Everyone else distracted with the prospect of food and hot coffee, it's easy enough to just sit on the stairs, side-by-side and thighs touching. Like this, you become aware of how much bigger he is than you. Namjoon's legs sprawl out down to the bottom of the stairs, socked feet slipping slightly on the glossy stone floor, whereas yours are tucked on the step below you. He glances down at you with a nervous disposition, but his eyes are surprisingly steady.
"Hoseok-hyung and I slept in the bunk bed room last night, as you probably know," he explains. "Him and I talked a lot. About a bunch of things, but he helped me realise something. And after I got the prompt today, I was sure."
Your eyes widen as they watch him carefully. The roots of his purple are starting to grow out in a soft brunette that makes him look even younger, his face round yet gently sculpted, chin pressed out in solemnity. "Sure of what?" you question quietly.
Namjoon takes a slow breath, rubbing his palms over his knees. "I think it's better if I don't lose my virginity while doing some cheesy role-play for a porn show, you know? I know I chose to come here knowing what I was walking into, but... Hoseok suggested maybe we could use the rec room for some privacy and then I could just fill my prompt later in the week. Of course, the producers will probably get annoyed at me not losing my virginity on camera, but they never said I had to, and I think I want it to be something just for me, you know? Something that's just you and me, outside of the show. I understand if you don't want to do that, but if you're happy to, I think I'm ready now."
You take a few moments to fully process his words, the gravity of them. "You sure you're ready? If you are, I'm happy to do that, Joonie. I want it to be good for you. You deserve that."
He smiles at that, broadly, but with his head ducked down. "That means a lot," he admits, "but yeah. I'm ready. If you want to...?" He trails off, tipping his head in the direction of the private rec room.
You sit up straight. "Oh! You mean- now now? Yes, I can do that, wow, okay-"
"If that's alright?" he asks hastily, face pinched with worry, but you just stand up, holding out a hand to him. He takes it, letting you lead him to the door.
From the few times you've needed to use this room, it's been pretty empty. It's small; most likely originally intended as extra storage or a home office, and the producers had put a visibly second-hand couch on one wall, a skinny coffee table and a lamp in there.
Generally, it's a glorified staffroom of sorts, a time-out that's more valuable for its lack of cameras than anything actually inside. Today, though, you freeze in the hallway at the sight that greets you.
With the table pushed to one side, boasting two bottles of water, a box of tissues, a bottle of self-heating lube and a small bluetooth speaker, the rest of the room has been converted into a massive bed.
The floor is covered with blankets, sheets and duvets, thick enough to be like a bedroll, with pillows stacked on the edges. They cover most of the floor, roughly the size of a queen size bed. On top of the impressive set-up are a colourful variety of packaged condoms, arranged in a tasteful love-heart.
Namjoon groans at the display, pinching his brow. "Hoseok said he'd set up for me and make it a little more comfortable, I'm sorry."
"It's cute," you say with a laugh, "are you wanting to use condoms?"
Namjoon swallows. "Uh, you- what would you prefer?"
You shrug, collecting them up and flicking through the buffet of options. You chuckle as the majority are L and XL. Unsurprising. "I mean, we don't need one. So if you want to feel everything fully, I say go bare."
"G-go bare, please," he coughs out awkwardly, shutting and locking the door behind him, double-checking the handle. "Can we put some music on? It's really quiet in here."
"Of course." You busy yourself with the music, smiling at the fact that he must have appreciated it last time. By the time you select a nice playlist on your phone and pick a decent volume, Namjoon's surprised you by hastily stripping down to his underwear, shyly rubbing at his knees.
You stand stock-still for a moment, just taking in the gorgeous sight of his body, all understated muscle and bold lines and planes. He must do some form of exercise, because his chest is thick, as are his thighs, and his lower stomach is soft but lean. He's gorgeous, and between your legs you feel your excitement grow.
Hustling to strip your clothes off as a gentle guitar strumming fills the air, you feel the cool cotton of the duvet under your knees as you straddle Namjoon, the man sucking in a breath as your clothed pussy presses flush against his hardness.
"Give me a kiss," you ask softly, a suggestion to let him take control, and a sigh of relief leaves his lungs as he cups your face in his hands, tugging your lips onto his greedily.
The ferocity with which he kisses you takes your breath away. It's powerful, greedy and demanding like he's waited an eon to kiss you again. While he was surprisingly skilful the first time, now it feels like he's come into his own.
You make a noise of surprise in the back of your throat as you feel his tongue slipping between your lips, licking up into your mouth like he's trying to devour you. You're drunk on it, mind feeling hazy, but you manage to pull away for a moment, gasping out a, "how the hell did you get this good?"
Grunting, Namjoon's eyes flutter open and one of his hands slips back to cup the nape of your neck securely, preventing you from backing up further. "Hoseok gave me some tips," he admits. "Now get back here."
You let yourself be pulled in again and eaten alive, muffled groans and sighs of bliss slipping out between swipes of tongue and flashes of teeth, nipping at your bottom lip until it's swollen and aching in the best way.
Without realising, you've begin to grind your hips against him, needing friction, and he pants into your mouth at the feeling. The pleasure makes him sloppy, and you groan as his lips leave yours, veering down to kiss along your jawline, tugging on your earlobe before sucking blossoms of colour down your throat. You tip your head back, arching into his mouth and rocking your hips against him, the friction addictive.
"Gonna fuck you now," you hear him groan against your collarbone, lips on your skin that's slick from his spit. Even in your heightened state of arousal you can sense the slight question in his voice, like he's checking you're still okay with it.
More than okay, you glance down to see the point that joins you, your panties so wet that the grey of his boxers is marred by a dark spot, wet and clinging to the stiff outline of his cock. You curse lowly at the sight of it. "Fuck, please, I need you, Joonie."
He lets out a strangled sigh, hands trembling slightly as he pushes down the waistband of his boxers so that it rests below his balls, cock bobbing up to rest at his stomach. He swallows hard, eyes closed and back resting against the base of the couch. The sheets beneath you have heated up with your body temperature, arousal radiating off the two of you in waves.
When you first reach out to touch him, you keep your eyes on his face, on his reaction. The initial contact makes his brow twitch, eyes clenching shut. So thick your fingers don’t touch around him when you grasp his base, he’s definitely the biggest you’ve seen in the house; a touch of irony that the least experienced member had the biggest genetic advantage. His bottom lip finds his way tucked between his teeth, thighs tensing beneath you.
“Joonie,” you mumble in a mock pout, “are you gonna fuck me now or so I have to do all the work myself?”
His eyes fly open, gaze landing on your widened eyes of innocence, before darting down to where you’re gently stroking him, fingertips catching on the sensitive ridge beneath his head. “Hobi-hyung said you should ride me so you can get used to it.”
You chuckle, tapping your thumb over his weeping slit, making him hiss. “Let’s stop thinking about what Hobi said and start worrying about what you want. Do you want me to ride you? Feel how tight I am for you?”
He curses, brows knitting as he nods shakily, and you can’t hold yourself back any longer. With a low curl of thrill in your stomach, you sit up so you can quickly slip off your panties, before straddling him again. He feels heavy when you brush his length through your sodden folds, readying him for you, and the thought makes you groan lowly.
“Wanted you so bad,” you confess over the music in the background, now a simple drum beat that gives you rhythm as you grind your hips over him, letting his blunt head catch at your entrance. “Fuck.” His fingers are digging into your hips just with the feeling of your pussy clenching over his tip, and you lower yourself painfully slowly, adjusting to the way he stretches you to your limit, dragging inch by inch against your walls.
“H-oh god, it is, it’s so tight,” he comments with a hitch in his voice, and again you feel the muscles of his thighs twitch, like he’s fighting the urge to bury himself in you. Though the thought of it is hot, you’re merciful that he’s giving you time to grow accustomed to the sheer girth of his dick inside you.
“Does it feel good, Joonie?” you ask, the question panted as he takes your breath away, grinning at the quick stuttered nods he gives in reply, fingers flexing on the flesh of your hips and ass. By the time you’re sitting flush against his lap, you can barely breathe, a shaky hand pressing onto your stomach almost expecting to feel him bulging out of you from the inside. He’s not just the biggest on the show, but the biggest you’ve ever had, and you feel like you could cum just from rolling your hips against him.
“You feel so amazing, Y/n,” he praises, arms wrapping around your waist, pulling you in close so that he can press his lips to yours. You whine as he shifts in you, feeling shakier than ever, but appreciate the chance to adjust to him, tongue chasing his and fingers slipping into his hair as you kiss.
You’re content to stay like that for as long as he continues to move his mouth against you, mouth watering at the feeling of cockwarming him and joining your bodies so intimately, but the excitement of new sensation gets to him, and after a while he begins to shift, holding your hips down and grinding his hips.
Your jaw drops open, hands flying out to grip at his shoulders at the feeling. He’s so deep you can barely comprehend it, can barely think with his cock filling you so completely, and find yourself pleading quietly, an unintelligible babble of more, please more, need more. He shifts his posture as you sit on his length, uncrossing his legs and instead bracing them in front of him.
“Want me to fuck you like this?” he asks, nipping at your throat, and you shiver at the husky gravel of his tone. What happened to the shy virgin?
“Please, Joonie,” you gasp, clenching around him, “need you to move.”
His first thrust takes your breath away, punching the air out of your lungs. When he moves inside you it feels monumental, like a core piece of you shifting, and your eyes water with the delicious burn. You whine when he pauses for a moment, hands slipping down to knead at your ass. Namjoon’s eyes are like molten dark chocolate as they focus on you, rich and intense, and when your head tips down to kiss him again it’s so needy your teeth clash, the keening whimper in your throat sign enough that you want more.
It’s only once he begins to fuck you in earnest, bouncing you on his cock, that you see how truly affected he is. Strands of lilac cling to his temples as he sweats, chest heaving and hands trembling even as his fingers dig in hungrily. His lips are slick with spit, but he makes no move to wipe them clean, just biting onto his bottom lip and sucking, hips snapping up with bruising momentum.
You can’t catch your breath, but still you chase his lips like oxygen, needing to be as close as possible. His panting keeps you anchored as you moan shamelessly, toes curling and back arching. Your high approaches quickly enough that it shocks you, but there’s no escaping the pleasure that rushes through you with every snap of his hips.
You lose contact with his mouth, cheek resting limply on his shoulder as he speeds up his pace, the muscles in your legs failing you, twitching uncontrollably.
“No, no, no, fuck,” Namjoon chants lowly, and you feel a hand bury in your hair, holding you to the crook of his neck, “I’m sorry, I’m not gonna last.”
You moan at that, feeling him stiffen impossibly more inside you with every thrust. “Wan’ you to cum,” you promise in his ear, barely more than a gasped breath, “wanna cum with you.” To end the statement, you nuzzle your nose against his throat and nip at his pulse point. To your surprise, he shudders violently, suddenly going stock still.
Your eyes widen as hot ropes of cum fill you, Namjoon clutching you to him helplessly, groaning nonsense as his orgasm hits him out of nowhere. Your own high recedes, but you barely notice it as you sit up tiredly and clench around him, watching the pleasure flicker across his face as he rides the high.
“Fuck,” he breathes, eyes cast towards the ceiling and chest still heaving, “I’m so sorry, I… sensitive neck.”
You grin, running your hands up to gently brush over it, feeling him pulse inside you, spurting the final drops of cum from his spent cock. “Don’t apologise,” you assure, leaning in quickly to nibble at his lips and give him a lazy, indulgent kiss. “That was really fucking hot.”
He laughs, cheeks pinkening slightly, and you feel your heart warm at the return of the shy Namjoon you’d gotten used to. So he’s a lot more dominant and confident in the heat of the moment, you muse as he catches his breath, good to know.
When you find your strength again, slowly sitting up off him, you wince at the rush of cum leaving you, and the uncomfortable feeling of emptiness. That’s only exacerbated by the fact that you haven’t cum yet, but it’s his first time and you don’t want him to feel bad. Collapsing on the sheets beside him, you rest your head on his shoulder, breath still coming in shallow pants. “Good?”
“Good god, Y/n,” he exclaims earnestly, “I think I might be a sex addict now.”
A surprised peal of laughter leaves your lungs, and you shove him playfully before crawling over to the coffee table, cracking open a bottle of water and cleaning yourself up with the available tissues. “Hoseok really did think this through, huh?” you muse, chucking him the box once you’re done.
Namjoon clears up the cum on his cock and thighs, grimacing at the way some of it has stained his boxers, but he sends you a guilty look. “I’m sorry.”
You frown, reaching for your clothes. “What do you mean?”
“You didn’t-”
Whatever Namjoon is about to say is cut off by a sudden thud that gives you both a fright, followed by three polite albeit enthusiastic knocks. You stare in bewilderment at the door, before hastily dressing yourself.
“Is everything alright?” Namjoon calls out, putting his underwear back on properly and hopping into his pants. “Has something happened?”
“I should hope so, young grasshopper!” an enthusiastic voice chirps from the other side of the door, muffled but unmistakably Hoseok. “You’ve popped your cherry, Kim Namjoon!”
The academic winces, reaching out to unlock the door once he’s made sure the two of you are dressed. “Hoseok, what are you doing? Wha-?” He breaks off once he opens the door, and you rush around behind him to see what gave him pause.
In the foyer are Hoseok, Taehyung and Jin, all in matching paper birthday hats, the strings of thin elastic digging into their chins. Hoseok’s holding two more in his hands, and he thrusts them towards you as Taehyung wiggles the weighty bottle of champagne in his grasp. Behind them, Jin calmly holds a kitchen knife.
“What’s going on?” you ask in bewilderment, stepping out into the foyer and wincing at the ache between your legs with each step. “Why the fuck are you holding a knife?”
Jin, his bright blue party hat on at a jaunty angle, stares down at his hands blankly before gasping, tucking it behind his back. “Sometimes I forget I’m still holding it.”
“That’s extremely alarming,” Namjoon says with a frown. “I still don’t understand why you’re all gathered outside the door.”
“It’s time for the party, hyung,” Taehyung explains, “to celebrate you finally getting your dick wet.”
Your cheeks go flaming red as you glance at Namjoon, the poor man spluttering and eyes wide like he didn’t know what to do. “If there’s champagne, I’m there,” you announce calmly. “Come on, Joonie, let’s go celebrate.”
Namjoon visibly relaxes when you aren’t offended, flicking you a warm smile. “Is everyone wearing a hat?” he questions incredulously, taking the thin cone card.
“Mo-mostly everyone,” Hoseok answers suspiciously.
“It’s just you guys, isn’t it?”
“Well, if you both wore one, we’d have the majority.”
You grin, patting Hoseok on the shoulder as you walk past him into the foyer. “Let’s just go,” you call out to the guys behind you, “there better be food.”
As expected, the three that greeted you were the only ones wearing party hats. At the dining table, which has been laden with aromatic dishes, steaming rice and empty champagne flutes, the other three await. Jimin’s is resting beside his plate and chopsticks, untouched. Beside him, Yoongi has his upside down, using it as a bowl for the rice snacks he’s munching happily on. The youngest man in the house hasn’t even noticed you’ve arrived, using it like a very inefficient telescope, one eye scrunched shut and the other focused on the pinhole at the top of the cone. Sitting at the head of the table, he aims it at Jimin, mouth hanging open as he tries to see through the tiny gap.
Giving up, he waves the wide end around the room, desperate to catch a glimpse of something. Once the cone lands on the five of you, he gasps, chucking down the party hat. “You’re back! I didn’t start eating the cake, like you said!”
Jin frowns. “That sounds awfully suspicious.” Knife still in hand, he makes his way to the kitchen island, where you catch a glimpse of a beautifully iced cake with writing on the top that you’re too far away to read.
Jungkook shifts restlessly in his seat, staring worriedly at Jin. “The- um, the birds attacked it.” If you look closely, you think you can see the slightest hint of vanilla icing in the crook of his mouth.
Jin stares at the cake desolately. “The birds?” he deadpans.
“Seagulls, you know,” Jungkook tries to pass off casually, the pink of his tongue dashing out to lick the sugar off his lips. “Absolute vultures.”
Hoseok tsks in disappointment. “Was it seagulls or was it vultures?”
Jungkook stays silent an inexplicably long amount of time, glancing slowly between Hoseok and Jin. His eyes are wide like he’s trying to work out the lie in his head “...It was me.”
Jin’s fingers are pressed to his temple as he sighs. “Right.” Setting down the knife, he picks up the cake and brings it to the table, placing it in the middle of the table. The rest of you all take a seat, filling in the spaces around the table. Taehyung slips in beside Jimin, Hoseok at the end of the table opposite Jungkook, and finally Jin, Namjoon, and you take the last of the seats.
The cake is beautiful, neat and fluffy buttercream all over with swooping cursive written in a thin black stream. Unfortunately, a very delicate but obvious slice has been taken out so you have to focus to work out what the writing says. Once you do, you let out a reluctant chuckle, watching Namjoon blush once more, tucking his hands into the sleeves of his shirt shyly.
“‘Here lies Namjoon’s virginity,’” you recite, “‘1994-2020.’ Who came up with that?”
“That’s not impor-” Jin begins, but Taehyung swiftly cuts him off.
“I did!” he declares proudly. “Everyone agreed mine was funnier than Jin-hyung’s.”
“Obviously not everyone,” Jin replies bitterly, dishing himself up some of the rice closest to him. “Dig in, everyone, Yoongi and I worked hard on this. And congratulations Namjoon,” he adds, though he sends Namjoon a genuine smile, eyes twinkling.
After everyone says their congratulations, the food is dug into and the cork of the bottle is popped, conversation flowing like the champagne.
Over time, Namjoon seems to get used to the chatter about sex, perhaps not feeling so left out of the loop, and his face is more open and relaxed than ever, a dimple poking out when he smiles. You occasionally reach out to shove him playfully or squeeze his arm as the chatter continues, and he no longer freezes or stiffens up. It warms your heart that he feels a little more comfortable amongst you.
You’re happy to tuck into your meal, having worked up an appetite for lunch, but it’s barely more than a second after finishing your first helping that your phone buzzes.
You slip it out casually, frowning when you see it’s a notification that you’ve been added to a group-chat.
After that, you smother a scoff and slip your phone back into your pocket, hoping if your cheeks are red they can safely be attributed to the alcohol.
Glancing up, you see Jungkook stand up suddenly, eyes wide with barely-contained excitement as he picks up his bowl, chopsticks and champagne flute, scurrying over to dump them in the sink before disappearing upstairs. Yoongi stares at his empty seat in confusion, but shrugs and takes another mouthful of cake. You eat yours quickly enough that your stomach flips, or perhaps that’s just the anticipation.
After you’re done it takes you a few moments to build up the courage to look across to Hoseok, feeling his gaze hot on your skin. When you do, your eyes lock immediately, but he just continues to stare, lips pressed in a narrow line.
Your heart leaps for a moment, wondering what that hard gaze means for you later on. Silently, as Taehyung continues to explain something to him with a mouth half-full of food, Hoseok lifts his eyebrow once, gaze darting to the roof. The message is clear. Go upstairs.
Biting your lip, you let Namjoon know you’re heading up, waving off his concern until he’s pulled back into a thread of conversation. You try to ignore the uncertain adrenaline rush that makes your hands tremble and your core throb all the way upstairs, until you’re knocking on Jungkook’s door.
The two of you share a look once he opens the door, one of anticipation and desire, and you let out a breathy chuckle.
“What the fuck have we gotten ourselves into?” you ask rhetorically, stepping in and collapsing onto the bed.
“I’ll take it if it means getting a good fuck,” he states matter-of-factly, sitting himself beside you and tucking his legs up. “Besides; I’ve wanted to see Hobi-hyung in action for a while.”
Sitting up, you think back to that day in the confessional booth, where he had so easily made you fall apart without even taking a single item of clothing off. You wondered if he’d deprive you of his body tonight as well.
“I think he’s angry at me,” you admit, “before I left, he looked… intense.”
“Why would he be angry at you?” Jungkook asks with a frown, his hand slipping under the baggy fabric of his black tee, rubbing at his shoulder like he’s aching to take the item off.
You go to shrug, but then your mind flicks back to this morning. “The elimination,” you realise, dread rising in your stomach just as much as your arousal is. “I think he knows I was going to eliminate him.”
Jungkook’s eyes widen, round enough to be saucers. “Wait, really? Why him?”
You find the words dry up in your throat. “I- God, I don’t know. How am I meant to choose anyone when you’re all amazing? Maybe his had the least impact on me, I suppose.” You eye the door to the walkway warily. “I guess he’s determined to change that now.”
Instead of replying, you’re taken aback when Jungkook throws his arms around you in a tight hug, his long hair brushing at your neck and shoulder as he tucks his chin into the hollow of your collarbone. Hesitantly, you bring your own arms up to hug him back, feeling your tension melt in the warm embrace.
“It must be so hard,” he murmurs, “I don’t think Hobi-hyung is really mad, you know? He probably just feels like he wasn’t good enough for you and wants to prove himself.”
This thought just sends another spike of guilt through you, but you have no time to dwell on it before the door is clicking open, making you and Jungkook instinctively jump apart.
Hoseok stands there, as intimidating as last time in all-black. Though he’s wearing just socks instead of the heavy duty boots he was in that day, there’s no denying the power he holds in the clothes he wears like armour. Leather pants so snug they’re like a second skin and a black long-sleeved shirt, tight but breathable cotton with a harness of thin leather straps providing some structure. His raven hair is swept back, but just a single stray lock hangs low over his brow, drawing your eyes back to his. “Starting without me?” he questions lightly, though his face is devoid of humour.
You swallow hard. “No… Master,” you add, seeing the expectant look on his face. Once he steps further into the room, you notice the black bag that was previously hidden behind his back. The duffel bag from last time. You suck in a breath and clench your thighs before you can even think to stop yourself, and Hoseok’s positively gleam at the sound.
“Both of you have been very naughty today,” he explains, dumping the bag on the bed beside Jungkook, beginning to casually pull a heap of bright red nylon rope out. “Little Jungkookie ate the cake that Jin-hyung worked so hard on, even when he was specifically asked not to. And Y/n… Y/n knows exactly what she did.” Your eyes widen when Hoseok sets the multiple lengths of rope to one side in a neat folded coil and reaches back into the bag to produce a pair of wide, heavy-duty shears.
“Woah, hyung,” Jungkook exclaims in alarm, “I can apologise for the cake, I-”
“Settle, Jungkook, it’s okay,” Hoseok explains softly. “I told you we’re gonna be tying you up, yeah? This is so that we can cut the ropes quickly in case you want out. They aren’t part of the scene.”
You feel a thrill run through your veins at the gentle click of metal resting on the nightstand once Hoseok sets the scissors down. He hadn’t needed them for when your arms were tied. It meant that whatever you were going to do tonight would be more intense. The thought of everyone else downstairs having a good time and hanging out while you and Jungkook were up here getting bound by Hoseok… it somehow feels even more illicit and dirty.
“Let’s do Jungkookie first, hm?” the dom proposes. “I’ve been wanting to see what you’d look like all prettied up for me. Choose red just for you.”
Jungkook positively preens at the compliment, hands tucking into his lap and chest puffing out. “I’m excited, Master!”
Hoseok gestures for Jungkook to remove his clothes with a flat expression. “Don’t be,” he retorts calmly, “this isn’t a reward, it’s discipline. We’re going to learn a lesson about behaving.”
The camboy trembles, hastily shucking off his baggy shirt and pushing his sweatpants down, naked except for a pair of white socks. Your breath is taken away by how easily he bares himself to the cameras and to the two of you, eyes eager and nervous as Hoseok picks up one of the longer lengths of rope.
“I want you to kneel, Jungkookie,” Hoseok instructs, “kneel on the bed for me, arms at your sides.”
Jungkook obeys, breath hitching as Hoseok approaches, passing the coil over his palm. You watch with baited breath as a bright red strand of rope is run around his narrow waist. As the professional dom begins looping, knotting and wrapping the rope around Jungkook’s torso, the boy’s eyes grow lidded, cock twitching as it rests back against his lower abdomen.
It takes a while, but time is as smooth as velvet in the soft silence of the room, just gentle breaths and the whir of nylon rope sliding so beautifully along Jungkook’s skin.
By the time Hoseok is done, Jungkook’s eyes barely open, so content with the feeling of being patiently wrapped up, and he hums lightly as Hoseok rechecks the tightness of each loop, slipping two fingers between rope and skin in several places.
Rather than bondage or restraint, this looks like art. An elaborate harness of red contrasts beautifully against the pale golden flesh below, hardness of his chest and abs softened by the vaguely fishnet pattern, loops that interlock and curve across his body gracefully, the most careful and precise lattice of scarlet ropes.
“Pretty, isn’t he?” Hoseok questions, and a finger comes down to run through the glossy precum that has been smeared onto Jungkook’s lower stomach. The boy hisses, arching his hips up in search of contact, but all it takes is a sharp swat at the head of his cock and Jungkook is whining, thighs flexing with the force of keeping still. “Patience, my little prince,” Hoseok tuts, patting Jungkook’s cheek with a hand still wet with the camboy’s own precum, “we’re gonna teach you how to be patient today.”
Jungkook groans low in his throat, lips parting at the term of endearment, and Hoseok grins at it, tiger-like.
“Oh, do you like that, hm? Wanna be my special prince today?” Hoseok runs his fingers through Jungkook’s long hair, the camboy sucking in a sharp breath when they snag on some knots. Jungkook nods, eyes round and glittering as he looks up at his Master. Hoseok pouts, tapping him once on the end of his button nose. “It’s a shame you weren’t behaving today, then wasn’t it? Maybe if you’re good for me tonight, you can earn it.”
Jungkook’s brows lift pleadingly, looking so small under Hoseok’s harsh stare. “I’ll be good, though, Master.”
“Mm, I’m sure you will,” Hoseok confirms, swiping a thumb over Jungkook’s nipple to make him shiver, before he fixes an iron gaze onto you.
You swallow, slipping out of your clothes as quickly as you can once he gives the same gesture as before, crossing your legs and arms to try and preserve some dignity. Hoseok just tuts, picking up two of the remaining sections of nylon rope, only one still left waiting on the bed.
“Hands at your sides, kneeling,” he instructs sharply, and you feel the way your walls clench at the authority in his voice as you hustle to get into position.
The harness he puts you in is different to Jungkook’s, accentuating your breasts with bands both above and below them, leaving your stomach free but doubling the rope over so that every loop that wraps around you is twice as thick. The final tie is slipped up between your breasts, around the back of your neck and tucking back down to hold it all together, and your breath shallows at the secure feeling of the rope.
It’s peaceful; the warm stripes of friction as he pulls strands through loops, the gentle flicking of the ends against your skin until he folds them away, the way it embraces your chest so snugly, but not too tight. It’s only once he’s done checking the rope like he did with Jungkook that he picks up the second, shorter length of nylon, and by then you already feel the sleepy yet electric haze of subspace seeping throughout your body.
“Hands,” he instructs, and you hold them out for him, watching with heightened arousal as he binds them, the rope wrapping around and between your wrists until they’re locked together. Last time your hands were bound behind your back but like this, you can watch him as he works.
It’s quick - a testament to his expertise - but you spend every moment with your eyes locked onto him. The eyes, gleaming with control and satisfaction, the pink tip of his tongue poking out just slightly as he focuses. His thin fingers, looping and wrapping and knotting with such skill.
His last move, eyes darting up and smirking once he catches you watching him, is to connect the thick cuff-like ropes to the top of your harness, pinning them up to your chest, folded hands resting at the base of your throat. You instinctively tug once he’s done, only to feel the rope around your back tighten and dig in, but no distance made. The feeling of being at his mercy only adds to the slick gathering between your thighs.
Once he steps back, eying the two of you up, your breath catches in your throat. Both you and Jungkook are fully naked, somehow feeling even more vulnerable in the rope, and Hoseok stands across from the bed in all his black leather glory, eyes raking over you like he’s assessing his work.
“Are you gonna touch us, Master?” Jungkook questions in a small voice, fingers clutching at his own thighs, cock flushed and needy between them.
“Not you yet, Jungkookie. Gotta warm Y/n up first.” Your eyes widen - for what? - but Hoseok is moving closer run a hand down Jungkook’s back, fingers jumping over the strands of rope. “Do you wanna help me, baby?”
Jungkook nods, blushing when Hoseok pinches lightly at his cheek.
Hoseok leans over to you, carding his fingers into your hair and curling them in so that he can hold you steady. Like this, kneeling on the bed, you have to tilt your head back to meet his gaze, but he just tuts, holding you face-forward to Jungkook. “You wanna give her a kiss, Kookie?”
You swallow, fingers interlocking together as you look over to the camboy. He looks so needy, blissed out and pretty in his red rope, cock untouched and weeping. Your lips part automatically, tongue darting out to wet your lips and you don’t miss the way Jungkook’s eyes are drawn to it, lids now as he nods.
With your hands pinned to your chest and kneeling, you don’t feel able to meet him halfway so you just wait as Jungkook crawls to you, glancing up at Hoseok for permission before burying your hands in your hair alongside the dom’s. With barely a second to suck in a breath, Jungkook ducks his head, his lips descending onto yours with sweet, unrestrained need.
Unable to touch him back, you let your eyes slip shut with the soft presses of his mouth, taking everything he gives you. Everything about Jungkook in this moment is soft; his lips, his thumbs brushing across your cheekbones, even the subtle scent of vanilla as his hair tickles your face - but the stiff grip in your hair is anything but, reminding you where exactly you are and the hand you’re under.
Your breath hitches as two things happen at once; Jungkook’s tongue presses into your mouth, deepening the kiss, and behind you Hoseok shifts, getting up on the bed behind you. Though you can’t see him, you become even more aware of his commanding presence, through the simple gesture of a fingertip, tracing beside lines of rope with a touch so light you shiver.
“You both look so pretty for me,” Hoseok murmurs warmly, his voice closer than you’d expected him to be, sounding like it’s right beside your air. Jungkook doubles his efforts in response, and your core is alight with excitement when you instinctively go to touch him, only to be reminded of the restraint you’re in.
Jungkook kisses without abandon, not hurried but deep and purposeful. Though you still tremble under Hoseok’s teasing touch, your mind is so enraptured by Jungkook’s tongue in your mouth and teeth on your lips that you lose track of it.
The camboy doesn’t dare venture his hands further than your face, cupping it so tenderly as he delves into you, so your eyes fly open with shock when two fingers are suddenly slipping through your folds, running over your clit for a single delicious moment of pleasure. You moan in shock and pull away to look down.
Between your kneeling legs is the slender but calloused hand of your Master himself, wrapped around your front and slipping inside you without question like you’re his. His to explore, his to ruin. You pant at the intrusion of two fingers, clenching around him, but his only response is to tug suddenly at your hair, pulling your gaze back up again.
Nipping sharply at the bridge of your ear, Hoseok scolds you. “I didn’t tell you to stop,” he growls harshly, “did I?”
“Sorry, Master,” you reply without thinking, barely a moment before you let out a muffled squeak from Jungkook joining you together again, wasting no time to obey.
Hoseok doesn’t stop his motions between your legs; on the contrary, he continues without pause, fingers moving inside you with a steady urgency.
For a while, your brows furrow, hips rocking below him. He keeps missing your g-spot, fingers too straight to press against it on each thrust, and he moves to three fingers without touching your clit at all, hand held foward off of you to avoid friction. You moan brokenly into Jungkook’s mouth as you realise Hoseok’s doing it intentionally, stretching you out almost clinically, without regard or want for your pleasure. You go weak at the thought, sinking forward into Jungkook’s embrace, but soon enough the fingers are removed from you completely. Empty and unsatisfied just like earlier, you huff and begin to kiss the camboy more frantically, desperate for some pleasure to replace it.
But Hoseok clearly isn’t having it. “Stop,” he commands shortly, “hands off.”
Jungkook sits back quickly, making sure you won’t slump over before he presses his hands to his thighs again, cock twitching at the continued neglect. Blinking, he licks his swollen lips and glances behind you to Hoseok in confusion. “Master?”
Your mouth goes dry when you hear the unmistakable sound of a zip being lowered. Hoseok’s hand leaves your hair suddenly, and you feel unmoored between the two men, just you and your hands tucked under your chin. “You tasted her pretty little pussy in Week One, didn’t you, Jungkookie? Would you like her to return the favour?”
Eyes wide, you drop your gaze down to Jungkook’s aching dick, as it twitches and leaks another thin trail of precum, the boy groaning. “Please, Master.” His fingers flex, holding back from touching it. “‘Hurts,” he whines.
You bite your lip, mouth watering. He’s not as big as Namjoon, but you know how fully he filled you just yesterday, and to have him in your mouth… “Please,” you croak out, fingers wiggling in the air as you’re unable to lower yourself to him.
“Good girl,” Hoseok praises, hands strong on your shoulders as he helps you down, elbows propping yourself up awkwardly in the space that Jungkook’s shuffled back from. “Gotta warm Kookie up too, don’t we? Open up, princess.”
Like this, you’re able to keep upright, but barely, craning your neck to look up at Jungkook. His cock is in front of you, and this close you can see just how flushed it is, the tip almost perfect. Hoping your pleading gaze can communicate your desperation, you open your mouth, letting your tongue rest just over your bottom lip.
Jungkook’s brows furrow in wanton need as he glances towards Hoseok. “Can I touch her, Master? Help her?”
“Of course,” Hoseok’s voice allows from behind you, palms running over the flesh of your ass, “but my little prince better not cum.”
Jungkook visibly shivers at the nickname, hips jerking uselessly. “Y-yes, Master,” he allows, before tipping your chin up so gently, gripping himself to guide his length into your waiting mouth.
You moan the moment your lips wrap around his tip, the tang of his precum bursting on your tongue as you flick it over the slit, making Jungkook thrust up again, enough that his cock reaches the back of your mouth. You’re barely able to avoid gagging, but you inhale harshly through your nose, blinking up at him as he brushes your hair back with a shaky apology.
Knowing he can’t orgasm, Jungkook seems happy enough to lazily roll his hips, just enjoying the wet warmth around him as you follow his rhythm, enjoying the slight ache of your jaw around his girth. Hoseok gives you only a few moments to reach this equilibrium before you feel his cock lining up against you.
Eyes widening, you’re given no time to prepare as he slides inside you, slowly but without pause, making your back arch with the intrusion.
You moan, muffled, as Hoseok pulls out and begins to pick up a steady pace, once again sliding right past your g-spot, not fast enough to make your toes curl and not deep enough to make your eyes roll. There’s no denying he’s doing it on purpose, and the thought that he might not let you cum at all has you whining desperately around Jungkook’s cock, loud enough that Hoseok hears.
To your disappointment, he tsks and pulls out, tugging at your hair to pull you off Jungkook. “What the fuck?” you complain bitterly, sucking off the drool that’s accumulated in the corners of your mouth. Equally deprived, Jungkook makes a noise of confusion, but before he can speak up, a commanding voice calls out to you.
“That’s it, on your back,” Hoseok orders, making you jump as he smacks the flesh of your ass. “If you’re gonna be ungrateful you won’t get anything at all.”
You pout, craning your neck to look back at him. “Hobi,” you whine, hoping to appeal to that soft inner that got you what you wanted the last time you were scening with him, but it doesn’t work.
Impatient, his hands find your hips, flipping you around unceremoniously. Your breath is punched out of you as you’re suddenly landing on your back, and you whimper as he hooks a finger in your harness over the top of your breast, using it to tug you higher up the bed so that him and Jungkook are on either side of your waist.
“You’ve been far better behaved,” Hoseok directs at Jungkook casually, reaching into the duffle bag to pull out a square foil packet, “so you’ll get my cock instead.”
Jungkook bites his lip harshly, shuffling on his knees as Hoseok rolls a condom on. “Thank you, Master,” he replies politely, eyes lidded and needy.
“What a good boy,” Hoseok coos, reaching over to brush a fond hand over Jungkook’s cheek. “Do you wanna fuck Y/n too, my little prince?” You let out a low groan at the prospect, at the way Hoseok speaks for you like you’re a toy of his. The thought is more erotic than you’d expect, and your legs part unconsciously.
Jungkook whimpers at the sight, dark hair curling at his temples with perspiration. “Please, Master.”
“Go on, then, baby.” Hoseok gestures for him to straddle you, and you whimper as Jungkook’s form blocks the light from the ceiling, framing him in a silhouette of dark hair.
Your legs part further as he settles between them, cock brushing between your folds lightly until he puts a hand down to line himself up. With one arm bracing himself, Jungkook slowly drives his cock deep inside you, small rocking motions to get you accustomed to him as he bottoms out. The two of you groan in unison, the feeling of being full again like bliss.
Before Jungkook can set a pace, you hear Hoseok’s voice again behind him. “There’s only one thing,” the dom adds in an apologetic tone, “Y/n hasn’t earned an orgasm yet, not like my sweet prince has. If you want to fuck her, Jungkookie, she better not cum.”
You let out a frustrated moan, heel kicking into the mattress. “Fuck,” you whine, hips already rocking against Jungkook’s length inside of you, “are you serious?”
Calmly, Hoseok clicks open a bottle of what must be lube, and you feel Jungkook go lax above you, holding his weight off of your torso but dropping his head onto the bed beside yours, groaning lowly. “Of course I’m serious,” he explains simply as he preps Jungkook with his fingers, “I’m doing you a favour, Y/n. This way you won’t make the same mistake twice.”
You sob, feeling Jungkook twitch inside you from the pleasure he’s receiving from Hoseok. As the dom finally deems Jungkook ready and lines himself up, you realise why Hoseok was so popular at his job. Handling two subs, let alone one who was getting punished and one who was now getting rewarded, was a tough balance, and yet he does it with such cool and professional ease.
Jungkook curses, rocking his hips with stuttered gasps, and you feel the impact of Hoseok’s hips through Jungkook’s body as he thrusts the first time, the camboy hurriedly throwing his other arm up on the other side of your head to prop himself up with more stability. You can feel the rhythm as he gets fucked, and the way his chest heaves, breaths panting over your bare shoulder.
With your hands tied to your chest and lain on your back, you quickly realise there is nothing you can do to chase any pleasure for yourself, and you let out another low sob. You won’t be making the same mistake twice indeed, you muse as Jungkook barely shifts inside you. He feels so good, but it’s just not enough for you to get anywhere close to your own high. The lesson has most certainly been learned; if you want pleasure, you play by Hoseok’s rules.
“Please, Master,” you pipe up desperately, looking past Jungkook’s shoulder to the dom’s face, calm even as his hips rock with the graceful fluidity of a dancer, every stroke making Jungkook cry out. “I’ll do anything, Master, I’m sorry for being bad, just please let me come!”
A grin spreads across his face, satisfied, even as he grunts from exertion, Jungkook trembling above you as he’s brought mercilessly to the edge. “It’s too late for that,” Hoseok pants out with a chuckle, “it’s already time for my little prince to cum.”
Jungkook moans, a high-pitched keen at the pet-name, and the sound is so sinful you can’t help but clench, making him stiffen impossibly inside you.
It only takes a thrust or two more, and a gruff command to cum before Jungkook does just that, spilling inside you with a drawn-out whine, thanking his Master with every breath he can suck into his lungs.
He manages to keep his weight off of you as he rides his high, Hoseok fucking him into oversensitivity before he pulls out, leaving briefly to discard the condom. Jungkook pulls out of you with a wince, but a satisfied one, and rolls over onto his back, running his fingers under the lines of rope lazily as he catches his breath.
Once Hoseok returns, he begins untying you first, and as your wrists are loosened from your chest and promptly released, the cool air on your skin feels like defeat. Your eyes slip shut, a pout no doubt on your lips as you give him nothing but dead weight, forcing the professional to manhandle your torso as he undoes the rope bit by bit.
You open your eyes once he’s done, frowning at him as he releases the rope from Jungkook’s body. Without looking, Hoseok chastises you. “Don’t look at me like that,” he scolds, “I’m sure next time you’ll be behaved like our Jungkookie here.” The boy in question preens softly at the compliment, blinking up at Hoseok as the dom brushes his hair out of his eyes.
The sight warms your heart, and you can’t deny that Hoseok has the right to discipline you, no doubt feeling self-conscious about his place on the show. And the feeling of him playing you so skilfully is something that will stick with you for a good while. You press your thighs together, sighing out at the slick still between them.
After finishing with Jungkook, speaking quietly with him in praise or reassurance, he comes back around to you, rubbing at the few red marks on your chest and wrists that have appeared from your movements. His eyes search your face, and you’re surprised to see the absolute calm in them, clearly switched out of the Master persona and just into a dominant but caring one. “Not hurt?”
You shake your head after taking the time to really think it through, wiggling your fingers and toes.
“Not angry?”
Again, you take a moment to consider, but shake your head.
Hoseok smiles down at you, warm as he squeezes your hands fondly. “Good. Now I know you can’t sleep in your own bed, so Jungkookie has kindly offered for you to stay here with him. Take care of each other, okay? I’m just down the hall.”
By the time Hoseok zips up his pants - you note that even after all that, you hadn’t seen him properly naked - and gathers his bag, Jungkook’s managed to slip his legs under the blankets, snoring away peacefully with the aftermath of a good orgasm.
After the dom leaves, you get under the covers yourself, watching the relaxing cycle of Jungkook’s chest rising and falling, the way his eyes flutter lightly in his sleep, but it doesn’t lull you to unconsciousness.
Instead, the unsatisfied throb between your legs just grows more ferocious than ever. If you could just get yourself off…
Your hand trails down, slipping between your legs naturally, but the first swipe of your index finger against your clit gives you pause. Hoseok had pretty clearly stated that you weren’t to masturbate without permission unless you were in a scene with another contestant and, well…
You grimace as Jungkook snuffles in his sleep, wriggling around to get more comfortable. You can’t exactly wake him up.
Which leaves you with only one option.
Fuck it. As quietly as you can, you slip out of bed, stumbling over to your pile of clothes. After retrieving your phone - still somehow tucked neatly into your pants pocket - you hop back into bed and seek out the one contact who can alleviate your need. Hoseok himself.
You answer the call with shaking fingers, those not still buried inside you. When Hoseok’s voice comes through, it’s thankfully quiet and low, but the words still make you keen.
“Princess couldn’t wait until the morning, hm?” Hoseok chuckles quietly at your whine of response. “That’s okay. Let Master help you.”
You sigh out, sitting the phone so that it lies on the pillow beside you. “Please, Master,” you whisper, “can I touch my clit?”
“Fuck,” he curses under his breath, “such a polite girl now. Baby took her lesson well. You can touch it, princess. Get yourself close for me.”
When you change the angle of the fingers thrusting inside you to make room to rub at your clit, you could cry from the satisfaction, biting your lip to muffle the moan that’s pulled from your lungs.
Glancing quickly beside you to ensure Jungkook’s asleep, the sight of him sleeping so peacefully as you get off right beside him has you clenching down, and your back arches off the bed.
Your high is close, and the faster you strum your clit frantically, the more you pant, desperate to keep quiet. Your mouth drops open as you suddenly feel the orgasm approaching, and you turn to the phone on the pillow, getting close enough that he can hear your whisper. “I’m go-gonna cum, Hoseokie, fuck,” you choke out before quickly pressing your lips together, preventing further noise.
His voice is low velvet on the phone, a calm command. “Cum for Master now, princess.”
You feel your orgasm hit you like a tsunami, crashing so violently that you curl over your hands, shivering and convulsing as pleasure rocks every inch of your body. As it floods you entirely, you feel hot tears stream down your face, ones you didn’t even know you were shedding. Your thighs shake and your chest heaves and you don’t stop your fingers until there’s no more pleasure left to be milked from you.
When you finally cum down from your high, panting, you fumble clumsily for the phone. “Tha-thank you, Master.”
Perhaps it’s the post-orgasm delirium, but you swear you hear the smile in his voice when he murmurs, “you’re most welcome, princess. Now get some rest. You’ve earned it.”
After hanging up, you lock your phone and chuck it down onto the carpet beside the bed carelessly, the wetness between your thighs no longer uncomfortable, now just a satisfying reminder of the pleasure he finally allowed you. Taking one last look at the tranquil face of Jungkook as he slept, you let yourself join him in a blissful unconsciousness.
ELIMINATION GRAPH
No elimination this week ! What a doozy, huh? If you were curious, here are the results of the vote!
It was taken after exactly 48 hours of the poll being open, and required a sign-in with email to prevent spamming so that it was as fair as possible!
In the future, we’ll use this format for both Fan Favourite and Elimination voting. I’ll tell you the top three for audience fan-favourites in the following chapter, and for elimination you’ll find out Y/n’s final decision in the following chapter, plus this graph at the end for the complete results.
Thanks for all your support !
#bts smut#hoseok smut#jungkook smut#hopekook#bts x reader#jungkook x reader#hoseok x reader#bts series#bts fic#ficswithluv#maknaesmutsociety#hyungsmutsociety#magicshopnet#goldencloset#ksmutclub#smutcentralnet#btswriterscollective#btswritingcafe#btswritersnet#bangtanarmynet#bangtanhq#bangtanidx#bangtanfairygarden
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Sugar, Honey, Ice and Tea - Matthew Tkachuk (17)
all parts here
-
“Please take these as a gift, from a Flames player, to a very appreciated, supported and loved Flames staffer, my fucking ass,” you said to yourself but brought the bottles into your apartment anyway.
If Matthew didn’t want to drink the wine and was going to gift it to you with some cheesy note, you were definitely going to help yourself, without thanking him though, because fuck him.
It was almost noon and you were starving but entirely unwilling to cook yourself something at home so you got dressed and headed out for your favorite little diner. The place was called ‘The Crispy Biscuit’ and you’d been frequenting it since you moved to Calgary. Thirty people in the dining room was pushing capacity but the food was excellent and you never minded waiting to be seated.
“Good afternoon, dear, haven’t seen you in a little bit,” one of your favorite servers, an older woman with a kind smile named Anna, greeted you warmly, “that hockey team must be keeping you busy!”
“Hey Anna, they’re doing their best but I’ll always find time to get here.”
The two of you exchanged pleasant small talk as she lead you to your table. Lucky for you, it wasn’t busy and you were able to be seated immediately.
“Unsweet tea with two lemons?”
“I can’t tell if it’s a good or bad thing that I come here so often you know my drink order.”
“Maybe a little of both,” she gave you a quick wink and smile, “be right back with that.”
You knew what you were going to order, the grilled cheese sandwich and fry combo, but you looked over the menu anyway. It distracted you enough that you didn’t hear the door open and see the red mass of curls enter the restaurant.
“Hey, kiddo, how many for you today?”
“Just me.”
“First time here?”
“Yep, how’d you know?”
“I’d remember a head of hair as good as yours.”
*
Matthew had never been to ‘The Crispy Biscuit’ but he’d just completed an eight mile run and he was fucking hungry. The place seemed innocent enough, and he planned to treat himself to something outside his meal plan after that run, so he headed inside.
“Hey kiddo,” a kind older woman greeted him with a big smile, “how many for you today?”
“Just me.”
“First time here?”
How could she have known that? Matthew was skeptical but she was incredibly nice and he needed to eat as soon as he could.
“Yep, how’d you know?”
“I’d remember a head of hair as good as yours.”
He blushed at her comment and followed her to a booth against the wall. The restaurant wasn’t very busy and as soon as he was seated, his eyes were glued to the menu.
“Here, honey, water with lemon. Do you need a minute with the menu?”
He looked up for the first time and he froze when he saw her sitting in the next booth.
“Yes, if you don’t mind?”
“Not at all, I’ll be back in a few minutes.”
“Thank you.”
What the fuck was she doing there? Of all places in Calgary, why was she there? He couldn’t catch a fucking break.
*
Anna set your iced tea in front of you and took your order.
“Ol’ reliable, yeah? I’ll put it in now dear."
Anna took your order to the kitchen and you passed the time by allowing yourself to swim in your thoughts until a voice you knew all too well pulled you to the surface.
“Thank you.”
Matthew fucking Tkachuk was sitting in the booth next to yours. Of course he fucking was, but what had you done to deserve it? As far as you knew, this was your place and your place alone. Matthew didn’t get to just come in and take over, especially after everything that had gone down between the two of you.
You kept your eyes down but felt his gaze on you and you knew he had seen you, just as you had seen him.
“Ready to order, dear?”
You heard Anna asking Matthew if he was ready but you couldn’t look up at either of them.
“I actually need another minute, but my friend is sitting at that booth, do you mind if I join her?”
“Are you one of those hockey players keeping her busy?”
“Yeah,” you didn’t see his soft smile, “guilty as charged.”
“Go on over and join her, this is her day off though, so be gentle.”
Your heart swelled at Anna’s words. She knew nothing about you other than the information you had divulged while sitting at one of her tables, information she didn’t have to remember or even care about but she did anyway.
The happiness you felt dissipated as soon as you heard Matthew slide into the booth across from you and set his water glass on the table.
“Hey.”
*
It was a risk and he knew it, but there she was.
The stars had aligned and he had to fucking go for it, because when would be a better time than now?
“My friend is sitting at that booth, do you mind if I join her?”
“Are you one of those hockey players keeping her busy?”
“Yeah,” shit, she talked about the team to this woman, “guilty as charged.”
“Go on over and join her, this is her day off though, so be gentle.”
Matthew quietly slid into the booth across from her and kept his eyes on her while she kept her own on her fingernails that she was picking at.
“She told me to be gentle, which I intend to be, but we’ve gotta talk.”
“There’s nothing to talk about, Matthew. I was clear in my email.”
She still wasn’t willing to meet his eyes but at least she was responding, he was going to take that as a small victory.
“I know, I understand. You just want to be coworkers, and I want us to be together, so why don’t we compromise on something between? Friends?”
Another big risk, and a conclusion that he wasn’t entirely sure he had completely accepted, but it was all or nothing in that moment. She didn’t respond, but Anna saved them from the awkwardness by bringing two plates full of fries and grilled cheese sandwiches with ranch on the side.
“I figured I’d just double her order, since it’s your first time here and she’s a veteran, she knows what’s good. Is that okay?”
“That’s perfect, thank you.”
*
“That’s perfect, thank you.”
Fuck Matthew and his manners and his kindness and his shitty hockey play and his stupid feelings.
Fuck, did he really just say that?
“You want us to be together?”
You spat the question at him as you dipped a fry in the ranch and popped it into your mouth, “you really want that?”
“Yes.”
“I don’t fucking believe you, Tkachuk. Now, after that, I’m never going to believe a single thing you say.”
“Why not?”
This had to be an elaborate joke that the entire team, hell, maybe the entire Flames organization was in on.
“Why not?! Matthew, I don’t think you’re as stupid as I wish you were, so you can probably figure it out.”
The two of you sat in silence, eating together in the same booth while being a thousand miles apart mentally.
“This is why I’m offering to be friends. You’re pissed at me, I’ve been shitty to you for a long time and I know it and I’m sorry.”
“I don’t accept any of it. Not your apology and definitely not your feelings.”
*
“I don’t accept any of it. Not your apology and definitely not your feelings.”
He expected it, he was going to have to work for her and he was willing to, but that didn’t mean her initial rejection of him didn’t hurt.
“How is your grilled cheese? Hal uses garlic butter, garlic makes everything taste better.”
“It’s good, and I agree, garlic is the shit.”
“That’s one thing we can agree on, Matthew. Garlic is, indeed, the shit.”
She finished her food, excused herself from the table and left the restaurant twenty minutes before Matthew finished eating. He was aware of her departure this time, because he wasn’t going to make that mistake again, and he let her go without saying a word.
As soon as Matthew cleaned his plate, he took a photo and sent it.
*
It was reminiscent of your ‘date’ and you were so pissed off you had a hard time thinking straight.
It was a song you’d sang in the past, fuck him, fuck him, fuck. him. Matthew didn’t deserve you or anything to do with you.
You were perched on your couch as Onyx purred on your shoulder when he sent the message. It was a photo of his empty plate from the diner.
“Did they pump these sandwiches full of drugs? They’re fucking incredible! I hope you don’t mind me becoming a regular.”
Of course you minded, but you didn’t want anything to do with Matthew fucking Tkachuk.
You didn’t respond to his message, because as much as you hated him and wanted nothing to do with him, you just couldn’t commit to letting him go.
-
Study questions at the end the chapter (lol school): (1) Is she better off with Matt? (2) Is she better off alone? (3) Should she end up with Brady? (4) How do you want this to end? -- send all answers to ask
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Cotton Clouds
Bucky Barnes x Reader
Request: Hiii lovely! Could I kindly request a Bucky x plus!size reader - she is really shy and insecure about her body weight and is more like the chef to the avengers (cooking breakfast and dinner for them and that kind of stuff) she is also being secretly bullied by a lower rank agent and one day the bully shoves her and she falls over, hurting herself and Bucky saw everything and just!! Protective Bucky is my life. Please don't rush! There's no pressure from me 🖤 love you!!
Warnings: Angst, body shaming, insecurities, bullying, asshole agents, protective!Bucky, protective!Steve (kinda), language, broken noses, a little pussy that probably shat his pants, fluff, happy endings.
Word Count: 3,007
Authors Notes: thank you dear anon for sending in this request. I’ve combined this request for the @the-ss-horniest-book-club 24 hour surprise drabble and Summer Loving Challenge and I chose Rooftop bar/restaurant.
If anyone ever makes you feel this shitty, you just tell them to fuck off and mind their own business. Nobody, NOBODY has the right to degrade you for your weight or anything else for that matter. If they are bullying you, it only means there is a problem with their own reflection and it’s not actually you. You’re loved and James Buchanan Barnes loves and worships you so much.
My taglist is actually open so if you’d like to join please feel free to send me a message/ask :)
Since becoming a part of the Avenger family as their personal cook, you’ve established strong bonds with just about everyone on the team. They accepted you for who you were and never once made a disrespectful comment or snicker about your soft belly or thick thighs. Of course, it didn’t stop you from wishing you had a figure like Nat or Wanda, but the team didn’t make you feel less of a human and despite their kindness, you often still felt out of place and insecure about your weight. The one person who made you feel extra special was Bucky Barnes. During movie nights his fingers would circle your soft waist, his hugs also lasted a lot longer than what was considered necessary. Over time, the two of you became close friends. You ended up developing a small crush on him, imagining yourself waking up in his arms every morning and reminding you just how beautiful you are.
Around them, you were shy and barely spoke a word other than a good morning greeting or an ‘enjoy your meal’ as you dished out their food you had cooked. You were preparing some bacon and toast in the kitchen when James, an agent on the lower rank pranced into the kitchen, puffing his chest out and grinning at your shock of seeing him.
“Can I ask you a question?” he asks and takes a step closer, forcing you to take one step back. Your eyes flicked over his shoulder and saw 3 other of his friends snickering near the doorway.
“S-sure.” your voice croaked, ignoring the splutter from the coffee pot.
“Do you sleep in a bed like a normal human being, or do you sleep on the beach like a whale? I’m not sure where whales your size sleep.” The laughter behind James formed a lump in your throat.
“Morning folks! Uh James, you’re not supposed to be in here.” Steve walked in with his Captain America suit on and warned. His hands just above his belt as he took the burning bacon off the gas.
“Sorry Captain. Just had to ask Y/N for something.” James winked and smiled innocently at Steve. You never told anyone about the things James would say to you. They were far too embarrassing and you were secretly scared they felt the same way but just didn’t have the heart to say anything.
“No problem. Just don’t let it happen again.” Steve warned as James left, reaching up in the cupboard for a mug. He looks at you briefly, concern washes over his face as he saw you were batting tears away. “Hey are you okay? He didn’t do anything to you did he?” Steve wondered, folding his broad arms across his chest.
“No no! I’m fine really. Breakfast won’t be too long.” you lied and busied yourself in the kitchen that Tony had put in especially for your needs.
“Okay well look, if he or anyone is giving you any problems, you come to me alright? We don’t tolerate harassment here.” Steve gave your shoulder a squeeze, the words on the tip of your tongue that this has been going on for months. You want to tell Steve that but you’re hesitant and bite your tongue, just nodding and thanking the captain for caring so much. You quickly pull yourself back together and resume the task of breakfast.
Your hesitancy didn’t go amiss by Steve. He knew you wanted to say something but you were so shy he didn’t want to make you uncomfortable. He didn’t want you suffering either and since the team were leaving for a one month mission, he chose to ask Bucky to stay behind to keep an eye on things. Since Bucky was sidelined from an injury to his flesh arm, he wouldn’t have gone on this mission anyway.
Once breakfast to the Avengers was served and they were happy, you quickly untied the apron from around your waist and hung it on the hook. The kitchen was cleaned and you headed back to your room for a much needed shower and break. You would normally join the team for breakfast but after the question James asked, you quickly came up with an excuse why you wouldn’t be joining them today.
Your gaze was kept to the floor as you walked and your shoulder bumped into someone else’s. Before you could apologise, an obnoxious laugh pierced your ears.
“Watch where you’re going you glonk!” It was James and you sighed.
“Sorry.” you muttered and steadied yourself. Pulling your baggy shirt away from your stomach.
“Wouldn’t bother doing that. Unless you can stick a bag over your head and hide your ugly mug too.” James snickered, encouraged by the roaring laughter of his friends standing behind him, throwing the occasion comment in your face too.
“I said I was sorry!” hot tears rolled down your cheeks, leaving behind a wet streak in the process. “I’m sorry for everything!” you crumbled under the pressure. Apologising to this asshole for what exactly? For being softer than the other girls who worked in the compound? For being too shy to stand up for yourself? For not being good enough? In truth, you didn’t know why you were apologising. You were doing nothing wrong.
“Apologising won’t mean shit to me!” James taunted walking behind you and giving you a hard shove. You fall forwards, your knees hitting the hard marble floors first. Your hands stop your face from smashing against the floor.
“HEY!” a loud voice and footsteps echo through the hallway. The friends of James all scattered and ran down the hall as Bucky stalked towards you. “What the fuck are you doing?!” you recognised Bucky’s voice, of course you did. It was your favourite voice in the compound because it belonged to your crush. Bucky was a sweetheart, always making sure you felt better about yourself. He was quiet just like you, but the confidence he would give you made you feel so much better about yourself. Of course, it didn’t work so well since James started bullying you.
You peeked up. Bucky’s nostrils were flared, his jaw clenched and his eyes insanely wide, anger swirling around behind his irises. His metal arm whirring down by his side as he clenched and unclenched his fist. He saw what this jerk had done to you and no woman should be treated like that.
James remained silent, looking like a deer in headlights. Bucky wasn’t impressed by his lack of answers and with his metal arm, shoved James against the wall and his hand wrapped around his throat squeezing his windpipe slightly.
“You gonna talk now huh? Where have your fucking balls gone?” Bucky spat in his face, his flesh arm in a sling pressed against his chest.
“I- I am sorry!” James was gasping for air and Bucky eased off his throat just a little.
“How long has this been going on?” Bucky wanted answers, and he wanted them now.
As their confrontation was just getting started, you pushed yourself up off the floor ignoring the aching in your knees as you stood next to Bucky. Your hand on his metal arm to try and diffuse the situation. It was no use, Bucky hated bullies and he wasn’t going to let go of this guy’s throat until he had the answers he was asking.
“HOW LONG?!?!” Bucky roared, saliva spraying James’ face. You have never seen Bucky like this, so enraged and protective. It was almost like something or someone had woken The Winter Soldier up inside of him.
Bucky liked you a lot. He liked your soft belly, thick thighs and rosy red cheeks. Your disheveled hair in the mornings and your cooking was absolutely amazing. To him, you were the perfect wife. Without you even knowing, Bucky would often daydream about the two of you living in the country with your children and you baking some homemade pies. The two of you were like the perfect balance in his eyes, you were soft and fluffy and a sweetheart and he was damn sure no man or woman was going to ever hurt you.
“Months.” James gasped out. This angered Bucky more as he growled in his face.
“Bucky.” your voice was quiet as you pleaded with him, his eyes momentarily flicking down to yours with your soft eyes staring back at him that he loved so much. Bucky released his grip from his throat, but not before punching him square in the nose. The audible crack made you cringe and you brought your hands up to cover your mouth as blood dripped from the obvious broken nose.
“Let me tell you something you little shit. If you EVER approach Y/N again, if you EVER breathe in her direction or lay one dirty finger on her again and I promise you, not only will I break every finger on your hand and your legs but I’ll make sure you’re kicked off the team. Do you understand me you fucking asshole? You touch or speak to her ONE MORE TIME and don’t you dare test my patience.”
“Y-es Sergeant Barnes.” James was full on crying, either from the pain of his nose or the threats Bucky was spewing in his face or the combination of the two, you weren’t sure but as soon as Bucky stepped back and pulled your body close to his, James took off staggering up the hall, occasionally glancing back to make sure the winter soldier wasn’t following him, leaving droplets of blood as a trail.
“Are you alright sweetheart?” Bucky’s softer voice took you by surprise. His metal appendages stroked your warm cheeks and tucked a strand of hair behind your ear.
You shook her head and Bucky’s eyes narrowed. Your knees were badly bruised and he clicked his tongue. His arm wrapped around your shoulder and he walked you back to your room in silence. The anger was still radiating off him, just his very heavy breathing filling the silence. His disbelief that any human could hurt you the way James did. If you were not there, he most likely would have ripped him a new asshole. But since you weren’t a fighter, he didn’t want you scared or panicked.
When you eventually got back to your room, Bucky marveled at how beautiful, neat and tidy the space was. Books scattered over a couple of shelves and your computer neatly placed in the middle of a white desk with your pink and white office chair. You reminded him of a fluffy pink cloud with some chunks of marshmallows.
He loved the aesthetic comfort it provided.
“Wow this is so beautiful.” He complimented as you sat on the end of your bed. You smiled back sheepishly, feeling the warmth of the blush creep back up your neck and cheeks.
“Thank you.” you sighed. Bucky’s eyes were soft and so blue. You could stare into them for hours.
“You’re welcome doll. He won’t bother you again and if he does, you tell me immediately. I won’t be so kind next time.”
“I know. I’m just… ashamed.” you dipped your head and fiddled with the hem of your shirt.
“Doll, let me tell you something.” Bucky sighed as he took a seat next to you, throwing his arm back over your shoulder. Nuzzling your face into the warmth of his chest, breathing in his fresh sandalwood scent. “As a man who grew up in the really old days and a man who was given the best eyesight. I can honestly say, with my hand on my heart that you are really gorgeous, beautiful and so special. You have absolutely nothing to be ashamed of, the fault is with him, not you. Maybe he’s jealous because he doesn’t have killer thighs or something.” you chuckled into his chest, his heart pounding against your ear.
“You think I’m special?” your question was muffled but he heard you clearly. Your eyes glancing down at his thick thighs.
“Of course I do. You’re the first person I look for when I enter a room doll.”
“Thank you Bucky. You’re just amazing in every way.” You pulled away with a triumph toothy grin on your face and pink tinted cheeks.
“Don’t have to keep thankin’ me doll. Though if you really wanna say thanks, accept my invitation and come to dinner with me tonight.” he cocked an eyebrow and your anxiety washed through you.
“Wh-where?”
“There’s this rooftop restaurant Sam recommended and I really want to go but I don’t want to go alone.” he smiled sheepishly, rubbing the hairs on the back of his neck. “Please?” and out came the puppy eyes. You chuckled and nodded your head.
“Sure. Of course.” Bucky grinned and leaned in and pressed a kiss to your rounded cheek.
“Thanks doll. I’ll pick you up at 7pm.”
A few hours later
A loud knock - metal on wood sounded at your door and you sighed, checking out your attire for this evening. After hours of wondering what to wear and taking Nat’s advice and smoothed the dress over with your hands, giving one final look in the long mirror. You slipped into your expensive heels and opened the door. You gasped, Bucky was wearing a dark navy sweater with a collar, one arm missing as he kept it under the sweater and dark clad jeans matched with his combat boots. You saw the silver chain shining around his neck and you assumed he was wearing the dog tags he recently retrieved, his hair slicked back into a low bun in the nape of his neck, a day old stubble peppered his chin and cheeks and you were tempted to run your fingertips over the prickly hairs. While you were busy ogling his attire, he was also checking you out. Your choice of dress was gorgeous and it hugged your curves just perfectly, revealing just the right amount of cleavage that Bucky knew he would have a hard time keeping his eyes off during dinner. Your makeup was nothing too crazy, opting for a natural look.
“Wow doll, you look amazing.” Bucky gulped and shifted on the balls of his feet.
“You absolutely do too, Buck.” you exchanged a smile and walked down the hall with him, occasionally stealing glances at one another. When the two of you stepped out of the elevator into the lobby, he offered his arm and you gladly took it.
The restaurant Bucky took you to was absolutely perfect. A single candle in the middle of the 2 seater table with a rose in a vase. Champagne in a bucket of ice.
“People are staring.” you stated as Bucky pulled your chair out for you. He leaned down and kissed your cheek lovingly, causing an eruption of tingles in the pit of your belly.
“Let ‘em stare. Probably just jealous because I’m with the most sexiest woman here.” he spoke nonchalantly. You giggled and hid behind your hands. The city lights illuminated both of your features as you sat and talked about everything and anything that came to mind.
Bucky told you about the new music he was listening to and how he didn’t like it. You laughed and agreed and told him to listen to some 80s with a promise you’ll personally create him a playlist. Bucky told jokes and you laughed heartily. Exchanging flirty glances and smiles every now and then. The one thing that really set your soul on fire was when you caught him glancing at your chest and licking his lips. You were grateful to Nat for the suggestion of a push up bra to push your boobs together and made a mental note to thank her later.
“I have something for you.” Bucky said, putting down his glass of champagne and reaching into his front pocket of his jeans. He pulled out a small black velvet box and put it down in front of you. He laughed at the look on your face. “Don’t worry, it’s not an engagement ring.” he clarified and you blew some air out. Picking up the little black box, you gasped when you flicked the lid open. Wedged between the slit was an expensive looking silver ring with diamonds.
“Bucky! Oh my god! What is this?” Was he sure it wasn’t an engagement ring? The two of you weren’t even dating, surely he wouldn’t.
“It’s a promise ring. I was going to give it to you on the weekend when I was hoping you’d go to dinner with me when we were alone in the compound but things changed.” his chuckle turned into a smile and you mirrored it.
“It’s absolutely gorgeous!” removing the ring from the box, you slip it onto your finger and it fits like a glove. How he guessed your size was anyone’s guess.
“Doll. I promise you that I will be here to protect you. Nobody will ever dare speak a bad word to you again. But I also promise to take care of you and make you smile and laugh every single day. I care about you so much and I mean everything I’m saying. If you’ll have me of course.”
Tears pooled in the corners of your eyes as his words sank in. He really did mean them.
“My weight. It really doesn’t bother you?” you bit your lip with your eyebrows raised.
“No it absolutely doesn’t. And if you’d let me, I’d really like to spend a long time proving it to you that I love you and your body the way it is. I’ve waited a really long time for you doll. So, will you be mine?”
“Always.” Bucky reached over and grabbed your hand, bringing it up to his lips to kiss your knuckles.
“My doll.”
“My Bucky.”
“Forever your Bucky, doll. Let’s order dessert then we can go home and have some real dessert.” he winked and you chuckled, dipping your head and blushing for the hundredth time today.
Taglist: @jobean12-blog @marvelgirl7 @godofplumsandthunder @hawksmagnolia @crushedbyhyperbole @deanthedemon @sarge-barnes-sir @emilylyoness @jamesbarnesappreciationclub @littleredstarfish @kitkatd7
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Revelation Part 3
Harry Potter AU- Marauders Post Hogwarts
Link to Part 2
Pairings: Regulus Black x Reader
Rating: E- smut and sensitive themes
_________
One question, is that my shirt?
You looked up from the refrigerator keeping your face as innocent as possible. Regulus stood in the kitchen doorway with his arms crossed in the dom-like manner that made your heart pound.
My plan is about to work so well.
You thought gleefully before looking down at your body.
“So it is.”
You replied with an innocent smile. Regulus crossed the room and lifted you onto the kitchen counter.
“You’re playing with fire, little girl.”
The tone was teasing...teasing and oozing with passion. Reaching out, you yanked him to you by his shirt.
“Maybe I want to...daddy .”
The word left your mouth before you even thought about it. By the way that Regulus smirked, you could tell that he was assumed. Your hand went to the buttons of the shirt When you put it on you had only buttoned it halfway now you were more than happy to take it off.
“Leave it.”
Regulus ordered as he forcibly spread your legs and shoved a hand between themes. You gasped as his middle and index finger stroked over your clit and down to your entrance.
“No panties? Love, you are definitely playing with fire. If we do this, you know there is no stopping right?”
“I don’t think that I would be sitting her butt booty naked on the kitchen counter if I didn’t need a good fucking. Now take my heart like a man.”
That was all Regulus needed to hear. The last thing that he needed was you getting mad at him after the two of you had mind-blowing sex but since you gave him the green light...he was about to rock your world.
Regulus’ mouth was on yours kissing you hungrily. A year of pent-up passion between the two of you was finally flowing free. If either of you needed any sign that there were still “feelings” between the two of you here it was.
Your hands were fumbling with the buttons of the black button-down that Regulus was wearing. He groaned when you missed one button for the third time.
“Hold on.”
He said softly before yanking the shirt over his head and tossing it on the floor before going for the buckle of his pants. Tossing his hair over his shoulder, Regulus tilted your face back to his.
“Eyes up here, sugar. I have missed those pretty lips...fuck I have missed everything about you.”
“I’ve missed you too. Just fuck me already.”
You replied against Regulus’ mouth as he moved to kiss you again. Regulus pulled you off of the counter and gently shoved your top half down onto the surface.
“Soon.”
He commented before grazing your neck with his teeth. making your squirm against his body. It would be so easy to mark you up. Regulus could leave enough love bites so every man in the house would know that you were off-limits. Not that he really had the need to worry about any other man in the house trying to get you. Sirius was too busy charming Remus (that didn’t mean that Regulus had totally stopped worrying about his brother possibly developing feelings for you in the future). His cock was hard against your ass.
“Baby, you feel so good.”
Regulus moaned, rubbing his cock down the line of your ass. He pushed you forward, to push two fingers into your aching core. You cried out and was thankful no one else was home. Regulus’ fingers pushed deeper. Regulus finally placed his fingers with his cock...what you really wanted. Your pussy stretched to accommodate his size. Had you really forgotten about how good he felt when buried deep inside of you?
The two of you were so busy fucking that neither of you noticed Sirius step into the kitchen and freeze. He watched for a few moments, blinking, before turning and going to join Remus making a mental note on where to sanitize the next morning. Sirius at least had some gossip to share (Remus, you will never believe who I saw fucking in the kitchen. Okay, yeah, it was Reg and Y/n...I think she was wearing his shirt too.)
You, meanwhile, were so focused on the feeling of the head of Regulus’ cock cramming against your cervix that you couldn’t focus on much else. Regulus snaked a hand around your waist to toy with your clit.
“Come, princess.”
Regulus groaned against your back. The moment that he pressed down on your clit, you came without having to be told twice. You knew better than to make Regulus tell you twice. If he had to tell you twice, your ass would be red and raw. You weren’t for sure if he would do that tonight since this was the first fuck in so long. You decided not to press your luck as Regulus came inside of you. He collapsed on your back, holding onto you as tight as the pulsating died out.
“God damn, love, you know how to make me feel like a man.”
You pressed a kiss to Regulus’ wrist as he reached down his free hand to tug his pants back up.
“I’m sorry for everything that I did. This may be a shitty time to say it but I am.”
You slowly turned in his arms for a kiss.
“Let's just have fun. We can talk tomorrow.”
The next morning brought more drama than it did making up. You woke up with Regulus’ arm around you. The bed was nice and warm, almost encouraging you to snuggle back against Regulus and go to sleep, however, a voice caught your attention. It sounded like your old work partner from back in the states...Michael.
Wiggling out of Regulus’ arms you quickly pulled on your abandoned clothes.
“Where are you going?”
Regulus groaned, opening one eye to look at the clock 8:45. He never slept this late but today could be the one exception.
“I heard something downstairs.”
You quickly walked downstairs to where the voices were coming from. Sure enough, there sat Michael beside Moody. Sirius turned with a smile,
“Someone missed you.”
Michael jumped up and pulled you into a bone-breaking hug.
“What are you doing here?”
You asked with a smile. To say that you were surprised, would be an understatement. You assumed that when you told Michael goodbye, it was actually goodbye.
Michael was another interesting topic for you. He reminded you so much of Regulus (sarcasm) and Sirius (everything else) mixed together paired with an LA street smart cop. Had you not been so hurt over Regulus’ breaking up with you, you may have given Micahel a chance. The breakup had taken a lot out of you, including your ability to consider dating someone else. That didn’t mean that Michael didn’t try. He tried hard! The poor guy tried to charm you nonstop with no giving up insight.
“I woke up a couple of days ago and thought that it was time for a change of scenery. I heard London was nice, so here I am.”
“A move across the ocean is more than a change of scenery.”
You replied. Michael grinned.
“Well, a girl could have influenced my decision.”
Sirius was watching the whole thing with a raised eyebrow. You hadn’t mentioned some other guy that could be crushing over you….especially last night when his little brother was fucking you senseless a few feet away from where you stood now.
Before Sirius could say another word, Regulus stepped into the kitchen and his eyes immediately landed on Michael. He clearly saw the way that the dude had his hands wrapped around your waist.
“Y/n, what the hell?”
You winced before turning to face Regulus. One look at him, told you that he was pissed (even though he has no reason to be). It didn’t matter how good Michael was to you or how bad Regulus was to you, you would always choose Regulus.
“Reggie, everything is fine.”
You said before going to join him. Pressing a kiss to his cheek, you had the bright idea that this could be your perfect chance to show Regulus that you could easily be stolen from him if he didn’t treat you right. He would have to be willing to fight for you if the relationship were to work and sustain itself. Maybe it was cold and childish but it could work.
“Who’s the tool?”
Regulus asked slowly. Micahel frowned.
“My name is Michael. I’m her work partner from America. I’ve been transferred here on assignment.”
Regulus raised an eyebrow before letting himself regain his cool composure
“Well, isn’t that special. You’re an American? Just an FYI, the steering wheel in the car is on the other side and you lot drive on the wrong side of the road.”
Sirius quietly snorted and had to put his head down. That had to be one of the more savage takedowns that he had seen Regulus offer in some time...and it was brilliant.
You, meanwhile, were looking at Regulus out of the corner of your eyes while Michael faked a smile.
“Yeah, kind of figured that out. Thanks for the info. You are? I didn’t catch your name.”
“Regulus.”
Regulus kept his response basic. The least this idiot knew about him the better off things would probably be.
Michael meanwhile nodded suspiciously. He knew Regulus’ name well. This was the boyfriend. It all made sense now. Michael couldn't help but be curious if the two of you had already worked all of your issues or if this was just a “fuck and play” thing? If it was the latter of the two then Michael still had a chance with you...and Regulus could go fuck himself.
“Oh, you’re the boyfriend.”
Regulus nodded.
“Yeah, that’s me. I’m her boyfriend.”
You gently patted Regulus’ shoulder before focusing your attention back on Michael.
“Okay, that’s enough you two. Regulus, I’m going to take a shower. Sirius, make sure no one dies while I’m gone.
Sirius nodded. You knew that it was stupid to leave the room but the more Regulus and Michael got to know each other the better things would work in your favor. Should you feel bad for essentially using Michael like a piece of meat to make Regulus jealous? You knew the answer was definitely yes now.
You had been out of the room for a few moments when Remus decided to be the first one to speak.
“Let's all sit down.”
He had a feeling that things were about to get interesting. Remus caught Sirius’ gaze before motioning toward Regulus as if telling him to “mind his brother.”
Michael sat down at the table keeping his “sunny” disposition. His attention was on Regulus who was muttering in French to the male on his right. Michael had a feeling that they were talking about him too based on how the other brother, introduced as Sirius, was laughing.
“I think London is a lovely city. It's nice compared to Los Angeles but I don’t see as much to do.”
Regulus smirked up.
“Maybe you should have stayed in LA. I hear there are great street gangs to join.”
Michael’s pleasant smile faded.
“I’m an auror. That would be a little illegal. Is that a dark mark on your arm there Regulus? You were a dark wizard?”
Regulus glanced down at his left arm where his dark mark was clearly visible before looking up.
“Ah, so that’s what that is. There is no getting past you. To answer your question, yes I was a dark wizard...speaking of which would you like to see some real dark magic? I can show you…”
Michael’s cheeky smile faded as Regulus stared at him not blinking. Slipping his hand into his jacket, he decided to wrap a hand around his wand. Michael was still trying to figure out if he was actually in any danger or if Regulus was just screwing with him.
“Okay, Reg, that’s enough. You’ve made him shit his pants. Go take a shower with Y/n. I’m sure with her being all wet and slippery that she would love to see you.”
Sirius commented, breaking Regulus’ stare on Michael.
“Great idea, Sirius.”
________
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