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theharrowing · 1 year

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Collateral 🗡️ 18: You, me, and our men

Your ex-boyfriend gets in over his head working for the local mafia, and Boss Min has come to collect his payment: You.

But was it simply a matter of being in the wrong place at the wrong time? Or has he always had his sights on you?

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🗡️ Yoongi x Female Reader x Namjoon, Jungkook x Female Reader, Jungkook x Taehyung

🗡️ word count: 17.1k

🗡️ mafia au, strangers to lovers, graphic violence, major character injury, poly, smut, angst, fluff, nsfw, explicit 21+

🗡️ warnings: dear god, buckle up... discussion of drug use; very soft and fluffy moments; threesome; oral sex (m & f); screaming orgasm; multiple orgasms; playing footsie; punishment & reward; orgasm denial & control; voyeurism & exhibitionism; all of these men are shit heads; loud, sloppy oral; squirting; begging & teasing; light humiliation; safe words; Yoongi & Namjoon being domestic at a silly time; submissive Jeongguk; mc dominant for the first time; use of restraints; noona kink; hair pulling; face & body slapping; masturbation; praising; riding (forward & reverse); mirror sex; finger sucking; a little spanking; fingering; ass eating; overstimulation; after care; i love these characters so fucking much and it really shows ughhhhh.

🗡️ note: i really have no idea how i let the smut scene™ get so huge and wild, but i hope you enjoy it. after all the pent-up tension, it was fun to write. perhaps this scene being huge and gratuitous is my way of distracting you from the horrible realities of the Collateral universe, which will become extremely present in the next chapter. it feels more like a oneshot than a proper chapter, but...whatever. i know not one of you will complain. ok enjoy!!! i love you!!!

🗡️ beta read by @neoneunnajimin!

🗡️ posted on june 2023 | read on ao3

From the moment you wake up, your nerves are haywire.

You know two things to be true. The first is that this is the last day in the foreseeable future that you will be spending in Jimin's home. The second is that Yoongi will be home shortly after 2 PM.

When Jimin wakes you up by rubbing over your forehead and whispering sweetly, it dawns on you that this is the last time, and it causes a swirling of happiness and sadness to fill your chest. The sun blares through the window at an angle that you typically miss in your sleep, and you squint against the morning light, a sight that has become something of a stranger to you.

With a loud yawn, you rub sleep from your eyes. Then you grumble, feeling as if you had just gone to bed moments ago, frustrated to discover that it is only 10 AM and that you have, in fact, slept far less than normal. It is sweet for Jimin to wake you early on your last day; it warms your heart to know that he is up to something.

"I thought we could get some coffee and pastries before I send you off to the Min Mansion," Jimin suggests with a smile.

Today, Jimin is dressed casually in a burgundy turtleneck tucked into charcoal slacks, with his hair partially pushed off his forehead. His skin is dewy and clear of makeup, radiating with natural beauty. And you can tell his patience for you is wearing thin as his smile falters and his eyes widen; Jimin does not like to wait, and he is absolutely incapable of hiding anything on his face.

"Alright, alright," you mutter before he has the chance to complain.

With a somewhat indignant huff, you toss the warm, pretty pink and orange comforter aside and try not to lament how you will not be returning to its embrace. Then you pad over to the closet and choose a pair of black leggings and cozy green sweater, and you get dressed in there, knowing Jimin is still sitting on your bed, likely scrolling through his phone.

"Don't worry about your things," Jimin calls when you stand a little too long, taking in the sight of clothing and shoes scattered around, cluttering up a sliver of space in the large, walk-in closet. "I'll have Joonie come deal with it. He loves doing your peasant work."

"That is true," you respond with a smile, shutting off the light in the closet and walking out in socked feet. "If there is one thing Namjoon is good at, it is doing exactly what I want him to."

Jimin rolls his eyes dramatically, and mutters, "Gross," under his breath, and the two of you giggle as you exit the room into the hallway, and set out for a morning errand.

Hanging out with Jimin for several hours is a blast, and you spend most of the time seated on a café patio watching passersby and commenting on everything from the cooling weather to people's clothing styles and any random little thought that crops up in between. But as time ticks by, you become antsy.

By 1:30 PM, you are a wreck, checking your phone so often for a notification that Jimin snickers and tells you to relax.

At 1:45 PM when you get the "Almost home!" text from Namjoon, your heart becomes so frantic, you feel like you might throw up.

"Alright, let's get you home," Jimin grumbles when you announce the news with shaking hands clenched tight to your phone. Maybe caffeine was a mistake.

You are able to distract yourself a little with chatter during the drive, and even get lost in singing a song on the radio that you recognize as one of the tracks a dancer named Cherry enjoys stripping to. The breeze coming in through the windows as you leave the city pulls you into a calm state, and you close your eyes to enjoy the way the wind feels.

But as soon as the car pulls into Namjoon's driveway, your stomach is turmoil, sloshing and churning, threatening to make you sick. You realize you are squeezing your hands tightly when the dig of your nails begins to hurt your palms, and you open them wide, flexing and attempting to relax them before resting them against your knees and squeezing.

All you can think is, What if he hates me? What if he remembers every horrible thing I said? What if he never wants to see me again?

Of course, you do not fully believe any of that; you do not think Yoongi has it in him to hold a grudge over something like that, especially if Namjoon has relayed the things you said to him the other night. But you do fear that something you said could have stuck with Yoongi—burrowed deep into his subconscious to make a home, festering with hateful words during quiet moments when all he wants is peace.

"Dove?" Jimin asks softly, and you gasp, pulling your gaze from the black dashboard that had gone out of focus as you stared at it. You glance up to find the vehicle has stopped in front of Namjoon's garage.

"I'm scared," you mutter softly before you can stop yourself, squeezing your eyes closed to fight back the urge to cry.

"I know," Jimin responds as he reaches over to rub a hand over your shoulders and down your back. "But this is Yoongi, and he loves you. He is not going to be angry with you."

Although no tears have fallen, you press the sides of your index fingers below your eyes as if willing all condensation to stay put. And, with a deep exhale, you nod and say, "I don't think I worry about him being angry. But I do worry about him being hurt."

Jimin's hand slides up to your shoulder and gives it a squeeze, forcing your eyes to close involuntarily. "Go in there and talk to him," he urges, and you swallow thickly and nod some more.

"Thanks for everything," you mutter, smiling despite yourself.

"Any time, dove," Jimin responds, and you know that he means it.

The seatbelt feels heavy when you unbuckle it and release it to clunk against the door as it slides into resting position. With a slow, deep fortifying breath, you reach for the door handle and tug, then you begin the process of making your limbs move, one after the other, sluggish with anticipation.

As you approach the door, your heart pounds, and you wring your hands in front of you with each step forward that you take. It will be fine, you tell yourself over and over. It will be fine, it will be fine, itwillbefine.

Before you have a chance to lift your hand and knock, the door opens, and you squeeze your fists tight once more while taking in Namjoon's bright, beautiful smile. The urge to cry returns and your exhale rattles something fierce from deep in your lungs.

"Hey, sweetheart," Namjoon says, eyes soft and knowing, assessing your very clear signs of distress. He wears a fuzzy brown cardigan over a white tee with black slacks, looking soft like a teddy bear and so inviting. "Deep breaths, yeah?"

You nod and let out a chuckle of relief as you step through the threshold and lean against him. Namjoon wraps his arms around you and steps back into the house, pulling you along just enough to allow him to close the front door. Both of your hands grip onto the cardigan, and you rub over the soft fabric with your thumbs while toeing out of your sneakers one at a time.

"Alright, clingy," Namjoon jokes, rubbing splayed palms over your shoulders and back before attempting to release the hug and take a step away. You continue to hold on tight and step with him, causing Namjoon to laugh and take you firmly by the arms. "The only way out is through. Let's go release you from limbo; Yoongi is excited to see you."

Tears spill at the mention of Yoongi's name, and you heave an exhale, then stand straight and wipe uselessly under your eyes. Even as Namjoon rotates, you feel the urge to bury yourself forward once more, allowing your body to turn while your forehead rests against his chest.

"Darling," Yoongi's deep, soft, beautiful voice calls from beside you, "why are you crying?"

You hardly get a look at Yoongi as you back away from Namjoon and fling your arms around Yoongi's middle, gripping onto another soft sweater as you bury yourself into his chest. Yoongi wraps you in a warm, delicate hug and presses his lips to your temple, holding you there while you tremble and cry. He smells sweet and musky and perfectly him, and you are so terribly in love.

"I'm sorry," you manage to whimper.

Yoongi's hold on you tightens, and he slides his head beside yours, uttering soft shushes while his hands rove everywhere they can reach, squeezing your neck gently and patting over your hair.

His voice is barely above a whisper as he responds, "I'm sorry, too."

"I didn't mean anything I said," you sob, and Yoongi's hug tightens then softens.

"It's alright if you did," he says, voice full of love; no malice to be found. Because, of course, Yoongi is soft and understanding with you. Of course, he knows your heart. "You have every right to be hurt."

Finally, you release the hug and back up only far enough to smile at the face that greets you. Yoongi's hair is wild dark waves framing his beautiful face, and with tears in his eyes, he looks softer than ever before. He wears a light blue sweater, and you rub your hands over his chest searching for the words to say; overwhelmed by a flood of emotions.

You settle on a simple, "I love you," and it feels so right when it passes your lips. It feels so right when Yoongi's lips upturn into a sweet smile that reaches his eyes. "I love you, and I'm sorry, Yoongi. I'm so sorry."

"Let's sit?" Yoongi offers, and you exhale deeply, releasing so much tension that has built and built in your shoulders and chest.

Yoongi guides the three of you over to a large, light brown leather couch. The cushion groans as Yoongi sits, and you take your place beside him, followed by Namjoon, who sits on your other side. You bend your legs and turn your body to Yoongi, who does the same, facing you with his elbow against the backrest.

"You look great," Yoongi says with a smile, and although you are the most dressed down you have been in weeks, you return his smile, welcoming the compliment. With a teasing lift of a brow, he adds, "Namjoon says Jimin has been teaching you to dance?"

Warmth rises to your cheeks, and you chuckle, then nod. Yoongi waggles his eyebrows, making you laugh harder. You lift a hand to swat him on the chest, but Yoongi catches it and holds your palm against him, rubbing his thumb over the back of your hand.

"Yes, Jimin has been teaching me to dance," you respond somewhat sheepishly. "And Hyejin, a little."

"Ah, Hwasa!" Yoongi responds happily, smiling widely—devastatingly. "I'm so glad you spent time getting out and making friends. I was worried about you being cooped up in a dark mansion for three weeks."

You chuckle, but something heavy settles in your chest, making you frown. "I was drinking a lot at first. But dancing helped me get out of my head. It's been really good for me."

Yoongi releases your hand and attempts to scoot closer, knocking his knee against yours. In fluid, unspoken movements, Yoongi spreads his legs—lifts one leg to rest against the backrest and slide past you—and you mold into him, shifting onto your knees to slot yourself into the space he has made and scoot onto your side, wrapping your arms around his chest.

"Namjoon," you mutter against Yoongi's sweater. "This hug needs a Namjoon."

The sound of Yoongi's laughter rattling in his chest against your cheek is a symphony, and you squeeze him tighter, feeling love build and build and pour from you. The couch shifts behind you as Namjoon stands, and Yoongi attempts to scoot the two of you forward while Namjoon wedges himself behind Yoongi. The two of them shift around until one of Namjoon's legs slide beside Yoongi's, multiplying your hug as two more arms wrap around you, sinking you further against Yoongi's chest.

"Better," you mutter happily, tilting your head to press soft kisses to the underside of Yoongi's chin and against his throat. Yoongi sighs with a smile and tightens his hug, and you continue to kiss along the curve of his neck until Namjoon—whose lips are pressed just below Yoongi's ear—comes into view.

"Thank you for giving me another chance," Yoongi says, tugging at your heartstrings so hard you nearly cry again.

"You're not allowed to thank me for loving you," you complain against his skin, breathing in his musk.

Yoongi chuckles gentle and sweet and says, "On the contrary, I am extremely grateful for your love." His voice softens as he adds, "And I intend to do my best to never take you for granted again."

"I don't understand what drove you to use…" you blurt out, then trail off, unable to say the word heroin, feeling it lodge itself in your throat, sharp as a needle and thick as tar. As you swallow around the discomfort and continue, Yoongi's fingertips trace shapes against your back, and Namjoon gives your biceps a gentle squeeze. "I don't understand addiction at all, and I overreacted. Even if my feelings were genuine at the time, the things I said were awful. I want you to feel safe with me, and I want to support you through whatever you are going through. I guess I was just shocked, but that's no excuse to lash out."

Kisses litter your cheeks and forehead, firm and soft and lingering, punctuated with hums. Your eyes flutter closed, and you lean into Yoongi's lips, smiling as his body says so much without the use of words.

"I feel safe with you," Yoongi finally says, and you sigh, content. "I can't fully explain what drives me to use…and I can't promise I won't again…but I want to try to stay clean. I deserve to feel happy, and pushing you away or putting myself at risk of overdose are terrible ways to chase happiness."

"You can always talk to me," you offer despite silently acknowledging how huge and heavy and impossible some things might feel to voice. "And Namjoon."

"I'm going to resume therapy, too," Yoongi says. "I was talking to Christopher for a while, but stopped shortly before you moved in. I think it would be good for me to return to him."

You nod and bury your face against his neck, wondering if you should also talk to the family therapist. Some nights, you wake up screaming, returned by your subconscious to the night of the crash—to the sight of Taehyung stabbing a man clear through the gut with a blade.

Even now, the thought claws at your subconsciousness with such force that Namjoon says something softly, and you hear Yoongi hum in response, but the sounds are distant and hard to parse. You squeeze your eyes closed, determined to be present and not spiral, breathing away the memory of that night as best as you can.

"I hope the therapy helps," you say with a bit of a pout, feeling emotionally overwhelmed but with a desire to keep assuring Yoongi that you are here for him. "I'll do my best to love and support you."

Yoongi squeezes you tight and sighs against you, and Namjoon's hands slowly rub over your arms and Yoongi's in calming motions. This feels like the right time to voice what has been weighing on you so heavily, but as you open your mouth to speak, you begin to feel nervous. But why should you feel nervous with Yoongi? Since he began opening up to you, he has been supportive and understanding; asking him what the three of you are should not be scary.

"How would you define our…" you begin, trailing off while your pulse pounds loudly in your ears. "Our, uh…our relationship."

Four arms hug you tight, and Yoongi hums softly. Then, he asks, "You mean the fake engagement doesn't make my intentions clear enough?"

"No, you're right," you chide, lifting a hand to swat at Yoongi's shoulder, making him laugh harder. "Silly me."

It takes a moment for Yoongi's laughter to die. His shoulders continue to shake, and you give him time to respond truthfully while you rub his soft blue sweater between your thumb and forefinger.

"I consider the two of you my romantic partners," Yoongi finally says, voice low and sweet. "I consider us exclusive, but with an asterisk attached to the word, allowing you and Jeongguk to play around if that is something you still want."

"It is," you admit, feeling your cheeks warm.

"And the same goes for me," Namjoon says, making your smile widen. You already know these things to be true, but it feels so nice to hear them spoken aloud.

"Okay," you respond. "Good."

"I suppose we have never had this conversation," Yoongi muses. "We sort of just…fell into one another."

"A beautiful collision," Namjoon says, fingers tracing shapes against your shoulders. "I feel so lucky to have been pulled by such an undeniable gravitational force, creating a galaxy of beauty and warmth between the three of us."

"What the fuck," you mutter against Yoongi's sweater. "That was so poetic and cute. I want to kiss you so bad, but I don't want to move."

Namjoon chuckles and gives your shoulders a squeeze. "You have plenty of time to kiss me, don't worry."

With a dreamy sigh, you mutter, "Good."

The three of you sit like this for a while, quiet and tangled around one another. Then Namjoon's phone rings, shrill and loud, and he shifts around as he fishes the device from a pocket to answer.

"Hey, Tae," he says, and you smile to yourself; they say, speak of the devil, and he shall appear, but you only needed to think of him moments ago.

"Hey, would you two like to join Taehyung and Jeongguk for dinner?" Namjoon asks. "Jeongguk is cooking."

"Darling?" Yoongi prompts, and you nod without taking time to consider the offer. As nice as it is to have a quiet moment between just the three of you, you imagine Taehyung and Jeongguk are eager to see Yoongi again. And you did tell Jeongguk that you would be interested in the five of you getting together soon.

You, me, and our men.

Namjoon confirms that the three of you will be joining them, then ends the call and informs the two of you that you have just over two hours to get ready and meet at Taehyung's place.

"I need to change into something a little nicer," you grumble, reluctant to release Yoongi from your hold.

You remember the closet of things that are at Jimin's place, and you frown, feeling torn once more. You are glad to be returning to Yoongi's bed, by Yoongi and Namjoon's side, but having a little home away from home was nice.

"Let's head home, then?" Yoongi suggests, and you nod but continue to lean into him, breathing in his musk and feeling his warmth.

It takes coaxing to get off the couch, and you whine and grumble the entire way, stumbling over your feet as you move, arms still slung around Yoongi and refusing to let go. Namjoon chuckles and heads to the door first to put on his shoes, and Yoongi waddles in that direction, walking you backward and pressing you into the door while he leans and bends to put his shoes back on.

Only when you need to use your hands because shoving your feet into your sneakers proves feeble with the tongue and heels bending and getting stuck, do you release Yoongi, huffing and puffing indignantly the entire time.

"Want a piggyback ride, sweetheart?" Namjoon offers as he opens the front door, and you gasp loudly because yes, absolutely, you do.

"Yes, yes, yes," you chant, excited, and Namjoon walks outside, steps down the three short steps onto the ground, and stands with his arms held out to the sides. You run and leap onto him, wrapping your arms tight around his neck, making him wheeze as he reaches for your legs and adjusts you in his hold.

"Sorry, Joonbug," you mutter as you loosen your hold and place kisses along his nape, and Namjoon chuckles and says, "It'll take a lot more than that to kill me, don't worry."

Yoongi closes the door and falls into step beside the two of you, and off they walk to the dirt and gravel path that leads back to the main mansion. Yoongi reaches for one of Namjoon's hands, linking their fingers together, and you smile as you rest your head against Namjoon's shoulder, feeling safe and warm and happy—indestructible and untouchable in this soft, quiet moment.

The walk back is peaceful, with only the sounds of footfalls crunching softly guiding you home, and you close your eyes, relaxing and breathing in the gentle bouquet of Namjoon's skin, shampoo, and laundry detergent. Despite being big and strong, with more blood on his hands than you can imagine, Namjoon is sweet, sweet, sweet, filling you from limb to limb with so much affection.

You hear the ground change underfoot and open your eyes to find yourself being carried past the driveway and garage, toward the front door. It feels good to be home, and you straighten out and watch over Namjoon's head as Yoongi takes the lead and begins to unlock the front door. Although you have cried more than necessary for one day, tears well in your eyes, and you feel so inexplicably happy to finally be home.

Yoongi takes off his shoes, then pulls yours off for you, chucking them aside while Namjoon steps from the slides he wore. There is a very light atmospheric scent to the mansion that you only now realize you have missed, and you look around at everything that is just as it was the last time you saw it—frozen in time and waiting, shrouded in dust motes that sparkle in the sunlight.

Namjoon carries you through the main hall and up the stairs, holding onto Yoongi's hand once more. Once you reach the master suite, Namjoon bends to lower you to the bed, then spins before you have a chance to fully release your hold, and closes in fast, slotting his lips against yours and sending a thrill of arousal through you. It has been far too long, and you melt into his touch.

"We have two hours," Namjoon mutters against your lips, slotting himself between your spread legs. His mouth trails low, kissing and nipping at your neck and making you shiver. "I need to have both of you before I lose my fucking mind."

"You have me," you groan, lolling your head back with pleasure. "I'm all yours. You too, kitten."

"Kitten," Yoongi repeats in a low rasp as he climbs onto the bed behind you.

The tangle of bodies is chaotic and haphazard—ravenous. Hands push and tug and remove articles of clothing while mouths desperately attempt to remain attached to mouths and skin, bruisingly firm touches and moaned confessions, making up for lost time.

You slide to the floor eager to wrap your lips around Namjoon's half-hard cock, feeling him shudder beneath your fingertips while his whimper becomes lost between Yoongi's lips. Yoongi joins you on the soft rug, and you share your prize, watching with bated breath as his pretty doll lips wrap around Namjoon's hard length. And as a show of love, you graciously allow Yoongi to swallow Namjoon's cum.

Namjoon has you on your feet and then on your back against the dark comforter so fast your head spins, and the two of them take their time pulling orgasm after orgasm from you with their mouths and fingers until Yoongi finally spins you onto your hands and knees, and fucks you so hard, you scream into Namjoon's warm, open mouth.

"Taehyung's gonna kill us for being late," Namjoon jokes as he presses Yoongi into the mattress to stretch him on one finger, then two, all the way to four. When Yoongi makes you cum with his mouth mere moments before his own orgasm hits, it feels too good to be true. And when Namjoon's back arches and he fills Yoongi with his own release, the whorling mixture of moans and whimpers in the air lulls your trembling, achingly euphoric body deep into the comforter.

You are so fucked out and high on pleasure that Namjoon has to carry you to the shower.

When Jeongguk opens Taehyung's door wide and inviting, the first words that greet you are, "Taehyung is going to kill you for being late." His eyes drift between the three of you, and you watch as his gaze hones in on the bruise you sucked into Yoongi's throat hours before.

The savory scent of meat and spices hit your nose, and you take a deep inhale, smiling as you say, "It smells amazing."

Jeongguk beams and takes a step back, giving the three of you room to enter. He wears that damned silk leopard print shirt again, this time tucked into tight black slacks, and you smirk to yourself remembering the conversation you had at Paradise; the sweet boy took your teasing to heart.

You wear a simple black short-sleeve a-line mini dress that stops mid-thigh, with a heavy Cuban link necklace encrusted in diamonds, and your hair pulled back tight. Although your makeup application skills pale in comparison to Jimin's, you managed to paint a smoky look to your eyelids and allowed Yoongi to pick out a bright red for your lips. Yoongi and Namjoon wear black tucked into black, with several buttons undone, revealing skin and silver chains.

As you step into Taehyung's home and out of your heels, Jeongguk walks ahead through the living room, off to the right. Taehyung's home takes you by surprise. His furniture is extravagant and mismatched, gaudy floral velvets and curving, carved woods. Art pieces litter walls and surfaces, from landscapes to portraits and strange carvings that may be human bodies but could be amorphous blobs.

As you walk through the space, Yoongi takes your hand and tugs you slightly back, causing you to bump into him. "You can rile Jeonggukie up if you'd like to," he mutters in your ear. "Tease him a little."

Heat licks at your senses as you remember the discussion you had with Jeongguk. Nothing could happen without the others present, and here you are, under one roof with everyone at once. Your heart soars with hopeful anticipation, and you twist to send Yoongi a wink, making him chuckle.

As you round the dividing wall into the dining area, you find a long, sprawling table adorned with dishes and covered pots of food. Past that is a black marble island against which Taehyung stands, frowning while swirling a glass of deep red wine. He wears a burgundy shirt that nearly matches his beverage, tucked into dark brown slacks, and at the sight of him, you smile widely.

"Thanks for the invite," you beam, pleased when Taehyung does not miss a beat, grumbling, "Thanks for finally fucking showing up."

"Sorry, Taehyungah," Yoongi says as he slots an arm around your waist, kicking butterflies up in your tummy. "I've been away from these two for too long…I couldn't keep my hands to myself."

With a hum, Taehyung kicks from the island and says, "I suppose it was my fault for only giving you two hours." Adding, with a dismissive wave, "All is forgiven."

"How gracious," you mutter under your breath as Jeongguk brings a final dish to the table and Taehyung urges everyone to sit.

Yoongi surprises you by taking a seat beside Jeongguk, and Namjoon pulls out the chair in front of Jeongguk's for you, so you sit and scoot in while Namjoon sits across from Yoongi, to your left, and Taehyung places himself at the head, to your right. Taehyung lifts lids from dishes, revealing pan-seared steaks and sides of potatoes, steamed and pickled vegetables, and an inviting pile of glass noodles.

"Holy shit," you mutter as your mouth waters, and Namjoon grabs your plate, asking softly what you would like and how much of each serving.

Yoongi and Jeongguk serve themselves, discussing something lowly and impossible to hear while Taehyung fills your glass with red wine. Once everyone is settled with their plates in front of them, Jeongguk raises a toast.

"To Yoongi-hyung staying happy and healthy," he beams, turning to face Yoongi, whose cheeks flush as he smiles wide, showing off his gums. "Whatever it is you're going through, you're never alone, okay, hyung? I mean that. You have a lot of support."

"Alright, enough," Yoongi grumbles, shoving his wine glass forward for the rest of you to tap yours against. Although he is doing his best to appear as grumpy and impassive as possible, the joyful glimmer in his eyes is unmistakable.

Everyone drinks and then begins to eat, and you take a deep, calming exhale before digging in, bracing yourself for a delicious meal. The food is fantastic, and you fall back in your chair after only a few bites, almost frustrated by how well Jeongguk can cook.

Namjoon chuckles from your left, and you turn to find him watching you with a smile. "That good, huh?" he asks, knowing full well the physical and emotional anguish you are experiencing.

"It's ridiculous," you complain as you sit forward and continue to eat, and when you glance at Jeongguk, he is smiling around a bite of food.

"How are you liking the new position at Paradise?" Yoongi asks as everyone begins to slow down mid-meal.

"It's fun," Jeongguk responds happily, having a sip of wine.

This feels like a good time to rile Jeongguk up, and you take a sip of your wine and prepare yourself with a deep breath for impending foolery. Tentatively, slowly, you stretch your leg forward, searching with your toes for an ankle or a calf. When the side of your foot brushes against the side of a leg, you lock eyes with Jeongguk, who gazes curiously at you over his glass.

"Jimin says you've been really enjoying it there, and that everyone is warming up to you quickly," Yoongi continues, using a knife to cut off a section of his steak.

Jeongguk clears his throat, and you drop your leg away only enough to recalibrate your aim and try again. This time, you find the inside of a calf rather than the outside, and you very delicately rub your toes against him, feeling the soft material of his slacks gather and fall away.

"Y-yeah," Jeongguk stammers, repositioning himself in his seat so that his legs are even closer—easier for you to access. "I like it there a lot, and Jimin-hyung says I'm learning the ropes pretty fast.”

You push your leg up, grazing along Jeongguk's knee as you ask, "Is there anything our Jeonggukie can't do well?"

Jeongguk's eyes widen, and he clears his throat, failing to hide the effect you have on him from even a small touch. You glance at Yoongi to find his eyes flitting briefly down at the foot between Jeongguk's legs as he bites back a smile.

"Word on the street is you're little miss popular at Paradise, too," Taehyung says, turning your attention to him. He raises an eyebrow as if studying you, and suddenly you feel nervous, like a child caught misbehaving by their teacher. You wonder if there is any way he could know what you are up to.

You clear your throat and continue to lift and press your foot forward rubbing your toes against Jeongguk's inner thigh, and from the corner of your eye, you can see him jolting slightly before slouching himself a little closer.

"Jeonggukie," Taehyung says before you have a chance to respond to his earlier inquiry, cocking his head curiously. "Care to share with the class what seems to be the matter with you?"

Rather than letting up, you rub your foot back and forward, inching slowly closer to his crotch and making him shiver as he responds, "No-nothing. Why?"

Taehyung is fast on his feet, standing and rounding the table before you can move your foot away, but you still sit up quickly, feeling heat rise to your cheeks as Taehyung looks at Jeongguk, then looks at you.

"Playing footsie, I see," Taehyung says as he approaches Jeongguk's chair, places two hands on the tall wooden backrest, and leans close. "And without my permission."

"S-sorry, sir," Jeongguk says as his eyes fall to his plate. His entire demeanor shifts, making him seem small and weak compared to a moment ago.

"Hyung, what should we do to punish these two?"

Yoongi's smirk is sharp and knowing, and you begin to wonder whether this was his plan, all along. You wonder if he knew that encouraging you to rile up Jeongguk would get this kind of reaction from Taehyung. What if the two of them planned this ahead of time?

"Up to you, Taehyungah," Yoongi responds, sending a chill along your spine.

"I think Jeonggukie should get under the table and give our dollface here a taste of her own medicine," Taehyung suggests.

"Darling?" Yoongi asks, "Do you consent to this?"

"Yes," you respond softly, feeling somewhat dazed as your eyes trail from Yoongi's grin to Jeongguk's shocked expression and finally to a smirking Taehyung.

"You heard her, Jeongguk," Taehyung says firmly with a hint of impatience.

Without needing further instruction, Jeongguk pushes his chair back and sinks to his knees. "Yes, sir," he mutters before his head disappears under the table.

Your heart pounds, and you watch Yoongi, who sits and stares at you with his wine glass cradled between his fingers. The feeling of two warm hands spreading your legs makes you gasp and shudder, and you comply with allowing Jeongguk access, sinking further in your chair until your ass is right on its edge.

"I don't want to hear a sound from you, doll," Taehyung instructs, ripping your gaze from Yoongi to him. "If you so much as whimper, I won't let you fuck him. Understand?"

"Y-yes," you respond in time for the featherlight brush of fingers over your clothed heat, intaking a deep, quiet breath.

"Yes, sir," Taehyung instructs, and you nod emphatically as you correct yourself, saying, "Y-yes, sir."

Warm breath wafts between your legs, and you swallow thickly, glancing between Taehyung, Yoongi, and Namjoon, who all carry on as if nothing is happening. Taehyung takes Jeongguk's seat, and the three men discuss bringing The Tigers on to take care of Jeongguk's former responsibilities, and how things have been going while Yoongi has been away. It seems Namjoon has been the family point person in Yoongi's absence, but you cannot bring yourself to listen closely to their conversation because the feeling of lips dragging over your pussy shuts out all sound around you.

With a sigh that is as silent as you can manage, you let your head fall back against the wooden chair. Warmth laps over the mesh layer covering you, and you shiver as your pelvis angles upward, chasing the sensation. You want to beg Jeongguk to move your panties aside and touch you properly, and you bite your bottom lip to keep any sound from spilling.

Namjoon is the picture of nonchalance as he leans forward and reaches for a bottle of wine to fill his empty glass. When he turns to you and reaches for yours, which is still half full, his voice is so sweet and soft, asking, "Don't care for the wine, sweetheart?"

As if determined to spoil any chance of fucking you, Jeongguk chooses this moment to tug your panties away and press the pads of his fingers against you, spreading your lips slowly and firmly. Your eyes roll back as he rubs over your clit, and you shake your head, doing your best to stay present as you say, "It's good," breathy and clearly on the brink of losing it. "It's a good wine."

"Well, then drink up, darling," Yoongi suggests, raising an eyebrow as your chest heaves. "There's plenty more wine; don't be shy."

You tremble as you lean forward and reach for your glass, gripping the stem tightly to lift it to your lips. Jeongguk's tongue flicks against you in quick, teasing tastes, and you chug back a large gulp, gasping for air once it is swallowed down as pleasure mixes with hints of a buzz.

Jeongguk wastes no more time, licking and sucking your pussy with skill and vigor. He hums between your legs, making loud wet sounds with his mouth as if you are just another course in his expertly prepared meal. You wonder if he does it to taunt the men at the table, what with how loud he is.

Arousal builds quickly, flooding you hot and fast, making you scrape your fingernails into the arms of the wooden chair as you hold your lips taut between your teeth, desperate to stay silent. It feels good. So good that you have to puff out your cheeks in order to hold back from making any sound. So good that whenever one of the men attempts to speak to you, you respond in nods or a shake of the head, all the while keeping your eyes squeezed shut.

"Do you think we are too mean to her?" Taehyung teases, and you open your eyes to find the three men watching you with hungry, dark expressions. "Perhaps asking her not to make a sound was uncalled for. After all, Jeongguk loves eating pussy, and I imagine he is giving his all to our sweet doll."

"She is quite vocal," Yoongi says with a pout as if taking pity on you.

"And she does make the sweetest sounds," Namjoon adds with a grin.

Jeongguk slips a finger into your heat, forcing your entire body to simultaneously attempt to tense and relax. Although it is not much of a stretch, the angle forces him to press against your erogenous zone, and you tremble into the feeling.

"Dollface?" Taehyung asks, and you turn your attention to him with wide, eager eyes. "Do you think my punishment is too harsh?"

You look around to all three men, attempting to gauge their expressions, which are all somewhere between curious and stern. Although Taehyung seems to be offering you a lifeline, you worry that outright agreeing might be more dangerous in the long run.

"N-no, sir," you respond, sinking a little further into bliss as Jeongguk finger-fucks and eats you out. "Ah-I was naughty and deserve to be punished."

Taehyung seems pleased, eyes widening as he says, "My, what an obedient girl. You two must have a lot of fun with her, don't you?"

Namjoon leans and drapes an arm over your shoulders, and the weight of it paired with his light, distinguishing musk and delicate cologne does nothing to stave the many tumultuous sensations eager to pour from you. Already, you climb closer to orgasm; all Jeongguk would have to do is slip a second finger inside, and you would burst in seconds.

"We sure do," Namjoon groans beside you, and the sound of his voice is too much, causing your eyes to roll back once more as you bite your lips closed.

"Since you're so desperate to be good," Taehyung says almost sardonically, "I will let you make all the sounds you need to. But only after you have been granted permission to cum, which you have to beg for."

The men in this so-called family are infuriating with their need to make you beg, and you open your mouth, letting out a quiet shuttering sigh, then lift your gaze to your devious, gracious host and ask, "Please, sir. Please, may I cum?"

"Already?" Taehyung asks, cocking his head with surprise.

"She is extremely easy to please," Yoongi says, filling you with red-hot embarrassment.

"Especially since we already made her nice and sensitive earlier," Namjoon adds. "I bet she will become overstimulated fast."

"I'm close," you say, voice coming out a little too broken—too close to a whimper. "Sir, please. I'll never misbehave again, please, please."

The squelch of Jeongguk's finger fucking into you becomes audible, and Namjoon shifts beside you as he asks, "Are you using two fingers, Gguk?"

Frantically, you shake your head, eager to tell Namjoon, No, please, don't encourage him. But Jeongguk is obedient as can be, and he slides his finger out only to press two deep inside. The stretch makes your mouth fall agape, and you huff out silent vowels, holding back so much you practically choke on air.

"Please," you try again, staring ahead at Taehyung while doing your best to school your features. Pleasure tugs at every inch of you, knitting your brows and forcing your mouth open to hang wide, and you croak around each syllable, muttering like a prayer, "Please, please, please."

"Ggukie," Taehyung calls, "is she close, baby?"

Jeongguk licks a long, slow stripe over you, then calls, "Her muscles keep tensing and relaxing; she feels very close," before getting back to work, making your head absolutely spin.

"I am close," you mutter just above a whisper, desperate. "I'm so close. Please, sir. Please let me cum."

"Are you sure you deserve to?" Taehyung asks.

Petulance rises, and you rotate to glance between Yoongi and Namjoon with a look of sheer desperation that the two of them all but ignore. You confessed your love to these two monsters, and this is the way they treat you in a time of mental and emotional collapse; unbelievable!

"Please," you turn your attention back to Taehyung. You are so close to the edge, every fiber of your being trembles under the pressure of tightening your muscles and staving off release, but you are not sure you can hold on much longer. Orgasm denial is not something you are used to; pretty soon, your body will give into Jeongguk's very talented mouth and fingers and do what it wants to, permission be damned.

Yoongi stands slowly, scraping his chair legs against the wooden floor, then he rounds the table with a look of hunger, slowly stalking. Although you attempt to follow his movements, just having him nearer makes it more and more difficult to hold back. Clearly, these men are determined to torture you.

Yoongi grabs your chairback with both hands, which you see from the corners of your eyes, then he leans close, filling your senses with his musk, asking, "Is our Jeonggukie making you feel good, darling?"

You nod emphatically, biting your lips closed for fear of moaning if you attempt to speak. Jeongguk's fingers press over the sweet spot that makes you crumble so easily, and you squeeze your eyes closed in an attempt to hold your composure.

"Use your words, sweetheart," Namjoon instructs.

"Ye—" you huff and sigh, eyes widening as Jeongguk's tongue laves and twirls, sloppy and wet. "Y-yes, sir," you practically moan, jaw trembling around each syllable.

"Poor thing," Taehyung teases, "just look at her fall apart."

"Please, sir," you mutter, closing your eyes. "Please, please, please."

With each push and pull of Jeongguk's fingers, you lose the ability to hold on any longer. Your body quakes from the storm that rages inside you, and heat pools and pools, ebbing but never flowing.

"Please," you beg more desperately. "Sir, please!"

"Can't hold on any longer, can you?" Yoongi asks, and you shake your head, muttering, "No, sir; I can't."

With a sigh, almost as if he is annoyed, Taehyung sits forward with both elbows against the table and says, "Alright, pretty doll. Cum for us."

The moment you relax, orgasm rushes through you, dragging you straight to the depths of hell. You practically scream, "Oh, god!" as Jeongguk plunges his fingers deep, sucking at your clit gently in a rhythm that pulls pleasure from every inch of you.

You grip the chair tightly and squeeze your eyes closed, gasping and panting while you cum on Jeongguk's fingers and tongue, coating him in a release that pours from you, hitting your thighs in droplets. Yoongi's arms wrap around you, one splayed hand on your chest while the other loosely grips onto your throat, holding you firmly in place.

Overstimulation hits just as fast as your orgasm had, and you sob and begin to pull your hips back, eager to force Jeongguk to stop but unwilling to call a safe word or command him to. Jeongguk's mouth feels good—different from the ways Yoongi and Namjoon pleasure you, though you are incapable of determining how. Heat fills your cheeks at the thought of Jeongguk wanting this for as long as you have, and you begin to pull away with more intention, this time.

"Too much," you beg. "Please, I can't—"

Jeongguk's lips and fingers fall away instantly, leaving you drenched and shivering as the air hits your exposed pussy. Yoongi lets up on his hold around you, and you catch your breath, heaving each exhale through your lungs as if you had just been drowning.

"Magnificent," Taehyung praises with a smile. "Namjoon is right, you really do make pretty sounds, doll."

"Th-thank you, sir," you gasp, feeling equal parts thrilled and humiliated to cum with Taehyung watching you.

"Can you take more?" Taehyung asks with a raise of an eyebrow. He scoots his chair back and Jeongguk crawls between his legs, resting his head on Taehyung's lap with a dopey, wet smile that you can just barely see past the table. Taehyung rakes his fingers through Jeongguk's hair, keeping his eyes on you. "I can restrain this pretty boy and let you have your way with him, if you would like."

Using Jeongguk for your own pleasure sounds like a fantastic idea, and although you are overstimulated, you nod, slowing your breathing as you say, "I would like that, sir."

"Wonderful!" Taehyung beams, giving Jeongguk a soft pat on the head. "Get a head start, baby. I want to find you in the throne room, naked, in the center of the bed, understand?"

Jeongguk sits high on his knees, tilting his head up to Taehyung with an expression that pours over with affection. "Yes, sir," he says as Taehyung leans down and presses their lips together. Then he stands, and you notice the drool and cum that coats his chin and chest, shimmering in the light. Your gaze flickers to Taehyung just in time to notice him licking his lips, and you burn with the knowledge that he can also taste you.

Jeongguk leaves the room, and you take the opportunity to reach for your refilled wine glass and chug its contents back, gasping on your next breath while your hands tremble. Taehyung stands and returns to his seat, to the right of you, leaning against the top of the backrest.

"How are you feeling?" he asks in a tone sweet enough to take you by surprise.

"Good," you respond truthfully, sitting up and squeezing your thighs tight.

"It goes without saying, but you absolutely do not have to keep going if you need to stop," he assures you, and you smile, giving a slight nod and muttering, "I'm good. I'm enjoying myself."

"Yoongi-hyung? Namjoon-hyung?" Taehyung asks.

"Perfect," Namjoon responds as Yoongi says, "I'm having a great time."

"Good," Taehyung says, clapping his hands together once. "I was prepared to have more of a conversation, but none of that seems necessary, so let's dive right in. Jeongguk and I use the stoplight safeword system, do you know what that is?"

You clear your throat and nod, having learned about this from your days in sex work. "Green for continue, red for stop," you say, unsure what their use of yellow might be, as sometimes it can vary.

"Exactly," Taehyung praises as he walks over and leaves a gentle pat against your head. "Yellow means slow down or let up, depending on what you are doing. You can check in and demand a color, but he is good about calling when he needs to. As for you—" he raises an eyebrow with his hands on his hips, "—Jeongguk and I have agreed that you can fuck him as long as I get to tell you what to do. Yoongi and Namjoon are also welcome to command you. Of course, if there is something you do not enjoy, you get the final say and can call a color, or simply tell us no. We want you to enjoy this experience to the fullest and will never demand anything you dislike. Understand?"

"Yes, sir," you mutter while wrapping your head around everything, feeling equally eager and nervous.

"Perfect," Taehyung says. "I just need ten minutes to get him ready for you…we're in the first door on the right."

As Taehyung begins to walk in the direction Jeongguk went, you sit up with a start. "Wait," you say, feeling nervous to voice your concern. "I…I've never been…dominant, before. Is there anything I should know? Or do?"

With a grin, Taehyung turns his attention back to you, raking his eyes over you before he shrugs and says, "Just have fun. Jeongguk gets very sensitive if you tease him long enough…so you can lean into that if it's something you enjoy. That is, as long as you are being obedient to our orders."

You nod and say, "Understood," and Taehyung turns away and begins to exit the room.

"These heathens left a mess behind," Yoongi grumbles as he gets to work covering pots of food and moving them to the stove before opening the cabinets to find storage containers. Namjoon follows suit, collecting plates and wine glasses to rinse and stack in the sink, and you sit in your chair in a bit of a daze, staring around the room, half-noticing the curved shapes of wood carvings on the chairs and the faint shapes of houseplants that you are not able to fully perceive.

Once the table is clear, Yoongi pulls back a sleeve and checks his watch. "It's been about ten minutes," he says. "Shall we?"

"Best not to make Taehyung wait twice," Namjoon teases as he approaches and reaches a hand for you to take.

Everything feels hazy and dream-like as the two of them lead you through Taehyung's house to the stairs near the front foyer. Each step creeks gently underfoot, and the closer you climb to the second level, the more frenzied your heart becomes. Your panties are soaked, askew, and uncomfortable, and your hand prickles with sweat in Namjoon's firm hold, which you grip a little tighter once you get to the upper landing.

"Ready?" Namjoon asks sweetly, and you nod, muttering, "Yes, daddy," earning your palm a squeeze.

As soon as you turn to enter the hallway, and turn again to the first room on the right, it becomes evident that this is not the master suite but a room they have specifically for sex. To the left in this large room is a king-sized four-poster bed covered in black satin with black mesh hanging down over and tied neatly to each post. Rigged between the two posts at the head of the bed is some metal bar contraption that Jeongguk is attached to, and it takes a few moments of staring at him for the scene to fully settle in.

Jeongguk is nude with his hands over his head, arms extended long, with his wrists restrained high enough that he has to sit tall on his legs. Except his thighs have leather straps around them, connected to leather straps around his ankles, suspending him in a somewhat strange position, as he does not seem able to fully sit tall or relax all the way down.

"Breathtaking, isn't he?" Taehyung asks from a large black and gold throne to the right, overlooking the scene. He sits slouched against one arm of the square, wooden seat with a leg slung over the other arm, lounged and looking bored.

You nod and mutter, "Yes, sir," as you turn your attention back to Jeongguk, whose head hangs slightly forward, short dark hair messy and covering his eyes.

And he really is breathtaking. The way he sits has so many muscles taut and strained, covering his body in beautiful topography. His pierced nipples glimmer in the golden light of the room, and there is a perfectly inviting trail of dark hairs that travel from his cute, round navel down to the cock that hangs heavy and semi-soft between his legs.

"Jeonggukie," Taehyung calls, voice magnanimous yet sharp, "eyes up, baby."

Jeongguk lifts his head, and already his eyes look glazed over and a little lost, as if the simple act of being restrained is enough to give him immense pleasure. When his gaze lands on you, a dopey smile tugs at his lips, which he wets with his tongue, dragging the inviting pink muscle slowly as if to tell you that he can still taste you—or, perhaps, that he wants to taste you again.

"Dollface," Taehyung calls, and you turn to look at him with wide, eager eyes, feeling somewhat intoxicated by this entire scene and still reeling from what happened downstairs.

"Yes, sir?" you ask sweetly.

"Unless we say so, from now on, keep your eyes on Jeongguk, understand?"

"Yes, sir," you respond, turning your attention back to Jeongguk.

"I imagine this setup is a bit overwhelming for you," Taehyung continues. "What is your color, pretty?"

This setup is overwhelming, but you are incredibly intrigued and find this submissive side of Jeongguk rather promising. "Green, sir."

"Good," Taehyung says as Namjoon's palm slides away from your hold and both men walk toward Taehyung, leaving you alone. "I want you to strip, right where you stand, keeping your eyes on Jeongguk. Can you do that for us?"

With a nod, you swallow a lump of nervousness and respond, "Yes, sir."

The dress zips in the back, and you reach with your right hand, fumbling with the material before reaching with your left hand to grip onto the dress and slide the zipper down. You only make it a few inches and have to bunch the dress up even more, feeling grateful this the material is actually loose and that you are not stuck having to contort yourself uselessly for an audience. It takes time, though—bunching, unzipping, bunching some more, unzipping some more—until finally, you are able to reach back with your arms lowered and get ahold of the zipper, tugging it down to your waist.

Jeongguk watches intently as you slide the black dress down, away from your chest. You wear a thin, mesh black bra and matching panties, and you feel your nipples begin to harden beneath the material as the air hits your exposed skin, causing a very slight shiver to work its way along your back.

When the dress falls past your hips, down to the floor, all that covers you are thin, small swathes of black material, and you fight the urge to lift your arms to shield yourself, holding your arms stiffly to your sides while you stare at Jeongguk, who stares back.

"Strip all the way down, darling," Yoongi instructs, and you mutter, "Yes, sir," as you reach back and unclasp the bra.

Jeongguk's gaze widens and softens as the material falls away to the floor in a heap in front of you, and his eyes follow the path of your hands, down to where your thumbs hook under your panties and push-pull them away.

"Jeonggukie," Taehyung calls, "how is she?"

"Beautiful," Jeongguk responds in a dreamy, faraway tone. "She's perfect."

"Dollface, join our sweet boy on the bed, please," Taehyung instructs.

"Yes, sir," you say as you force your feet to step from the pile of clothing and move forward. The bed is tall enough that you need to place your hands down and swing one knee up, hoisting yourself forward. You crawl to Jeongguk, and then sit tall on your knees before him. From this close, he is a work of art—a perfect blend of soft and firm lines that appear handcrafted with utmost care.

"Dollface, I want you to tease our sweet Jeonggukie. You are not allowed to touch his cock or asshole unless given permission, but everything else is fair game. Rile him up, make him whine, make him beg. He likes it a little rough so don't be afraid to pinch, slap, scratch, bite…whatever it takes to drive him crazy. Does all this sound good?"

"Yes sir," you respond, unmoving as you decide where to start. It feels like you have been given too many choices, and suddenly, you feel overwhelmed. "Can I kiss him, sir?" you ask, inching closer on your knees.

"Of course, doll," Taehyung calls happily, and you continue to inch closer.

Sitting high on your knees, you reach up and drag the backs of your fingernails over Jeongguk's cheeks, causing him to tremble and take in a deep, slow breath. His eyelids flutter, but he keeps his gaze on you, lips lifting and moving slightly, as if he has something to say. As your right hand continues to work its way up, over a scratchy shaved undercut and into thick, straight hair, your left thumb drags down, over his bottom lip, pulling it past his teeth until it stretches to its limit and pops back into place.

"So pretty," you whisper, watching Jeongguk's eyes widen. He must not be allowed to speak unless spoken to, but you have been given no such instruction. "I've never done something like this before. You're my first."

Jeongguk's mouth twitches around a syllable left unvoiced, and you lean forward and suck his bottom lip between your teeth, soft at first, then a little harder, making Jeongguk gasp, tasting skin and metal. You dart your tongue out to soothe over the scrape of your teeth, unable to hold in a whimper when Jeongguk's tongue meets yours, and you take the sides of his face in both hands to deepen the kiss, shoving your tongue into his mouth, forcing him to open around you while he moans, soft and inviting.

You lick hints of your own arousal from his mouth, then smile against his lips as you say, "You taste like me…so sweet," watching with delight as he holds back from responding, brows knitting as if pained.

This time, when you kiss him, you take his hair in both hands and grip. Jeongguk groans as his head is yanked backward, and you suck and nip at his bottom lip, making him whimper uselessly, darting his tongue out as if in search of a deeper kiss—desperate.

"So pretty," you say again while nipping at his jaw, holding his hair tight in your grip and letting your teeth snag and tease the skin all the way to his ear.

Jeongguk trembles in your hold, and when you reach his ear, taking it gently in your teeth, he lets out a sweet little song of, "Ah-ah-ah," shivering madly in your grasp while his back arches.

"Oh you are sensitive," you tease before taking his earlobe between your teeth again, a little more roughly, until he cries out a pitchy little yelp.

"Color, baby?" you ask, to which Jeongguk quickly responds, "Green, noona."

Hearing Jeongguk call you noona should not excite you so much, but arousal builds between your legs, and you feel the urge to keep pushing him for more. You nibble down the long, salty-sweet expanse of Jeongguk's neck, savoring the taste of his sweat, dragging your fingernails from his hair, to the back of his neck, over to his shoulders, and down along his spine. Jeongguk responds in jerks and gasps, and you continue down, down, until your mouth reaches one of his pierced nipples.

With a flick of your tongue, Jeongguk responds as if he has been shocked, back bowing as his body shakes. His pebbled, pierced skin is inviting, and you lick again, this time slowly dragging your tongue over him, feeling every tiny curve, tasting hints of titanium.

You scrape your fingernails down Jeongguk's ribs while you suck his pierced nipple into your mouth, reveling in the sweet, broken sounds he makes. He seems to be holding back, and you feel determined to make him sob. Although you two are becoming closer as friends, he was a bit of a prick to you for months, and you intend to let him know that you have not forgotten.

"Color?" you ask, knowing it'll be green, just to make him speak.

"Green, noona," Jeongguk responds almost robotically—not good enough.

Once more, you sit up tall, taking his hair in one hand and his jaw in the other. Your hand trembles as you pull it back and crash your fingertips against his cheek, gasping in tandem as Jeongguk's eyes widen, difficult to read.

"Color?" you ask, receiving, "Green, noona," instantly.

You slap again, this time a little harder, and Jeongguk gasps but holds his composure nicely. So you tug his hair harder, just enough to pull his head back, before you slap again. The skin of his cheek begins to redden, and you give it quick, softer taps, moving your fingertips little by little, covering the expanse of his cheek.

"Color?"

"Green, noona."

This time, when you slap, it stings your fingertips, and Jeongguk groans. His cheeks seem to be the wrong place to tease, however, so you sit back, releasing his hair and rethinking your plan.

"Darling," Yoongi calls, and you nearly turn to look at him but correct yourself, staring Jeongguk in the eyes as you say, "Yes, sir?"

"The way he's suspended is really taxing on the legs. If you're trying to hurt the poor boy, I recommend the thighs."

Jeongguk's eyes widen further, and you smirk as you say, "Yes, sir."

From across the room, you hear Taehyung gleefully say, "Hyung you are evil."

Slowly, you drag your fingernails from Jeongguk's shoulders, along the curves of his pecs, down his ribs. Finally, at his hips, you allow yourself to look down and find a very inviting semi-erect cock hanging between his legs. Of course, Jeongguk is perfect in every way, and you bite your lip as you attempt to pull your vision away, to his thighs instead.

With both hands splayed open, you lift and crash your palms down onto Jeongguk's thighs, and he cries out, sobbing on the end of the sound. A thrill quakes through you, and you rub your hands over his thighs, lift both, and slam your left one down hard.

"Fu—ahh!" Jeongguk screams.

"Color, baby?" you ask sweetly.

You glance up and catch him hesitating before saying, "Green, noona."

Without giving him a chance to relax, you slap your right hand down, followed by your left, watching his face as it contorts in pleasured pain while he bleats pathetically.

"Color?"

"G-green, noona."

Again and again, you slap, moving your hands over to the sides of his thighs, rubbing your palms and alternating which side slaps, never in a discernable pattern, always to catch him off guard.

Finally, you ask, "Color, pretty," impressed when he gasps, "Yellow, noona!"

Gently, you rub your hands over his thighs and sink down low, rubbing your cheek and lips over his left thigh, smiling sweetly against him. From here, there is a gentle, inviting musk coming from his lap that is difficult to resist. You lick your lips at the thought of swallowing him whole, then turn your face away, kissing the sore, warm skin of his leg while breathing through the arousal that licks at you, urging you to be selfish and take.

"Sweetheart," Namjoon calls, and you sit up, eyes on Jeongguk as you say, "Yes, daddy?"

Curiosity flashes in Jeongguk's eyes, and you wonder if he is attempting to calculate the various dynamics of your relationship. Using the term daddy with an audience is slightly embarrassing, and you shift in place, waiting for his response.

"I don't think Jeongguk got a good enough look at you under that table. You should sit back and touch yourself for him…show him how wet he made you."

The edges of Jeongguk's lips curve, and you hesitate. It is not that you don't want to touch yourself with an audience, but it does add to the humiliation to have your two partners and one of their best friends sitting on the sidelines, watching you.

"Color, doll?" Taehyung asks.

Somehow, the concern in his voice grounds you, and you say, "Green, sir," adding, "Thank you for the advice, daddy," so that Namjoon does not feel left out.

"Such a good girl," Namjoon praises as you sit back and scoot enough to spread your thighs around Jeongguk.

There is more than enough room on the large bed to sprawl out, but you stay close, sweeping one of your feet against the outside of Jeongguk's restrained leg as you reach your hand between your legs and slowly drag your fingers over yourself, spreading and teasing your folds.

Desire burns through you as you touch yourself while Jeongguk watches, eyes wide and hungry, trailing from your pussy, over your body, and back down. Slowly, you sink your middle finger inside, and although the size is nowhere near enough to stretch, a thrill quakes through you, making you moan as you gather release from your earlier orgasm and pull your finger out.

Jeongguk licks his lips, intently watching as you use your slick finger to spread yourself and swirl over your clit. It feels good, a simmering pleasure that covers you in warmth, and you loll your head back, hesitant to let go enough to moan, whimpering more softly than usual.

"Be vocal, darling," Yoongi calls, and you squeeze your eyes closed for a second as you say, "Yes, sir," frustrated that absolutely nothing can get past these men, but also grateful for the push.

You still hesitate as you open your mouth to moan, but with each sound you make, Jeongguk appears to lose his composure more and more. With a nibble on your lower lip, you circle over your clit, then rub down to your hole, up and down, gathering more and more release, becoming wetter and wetter, all for him.

"Do you like what you see?" you ask, eager to tease despite the tremble in your voice.

"Yes, noona," Jeongguk gasps, swallowing thickly before his mouth falls wide.

"So wet for you, Jeonggukie," you moan, using your other hand to rub and pinch at your breasts. "Too bad you can't fuck me."

Jeongguk whimpers and shakes in his restraints, legs straining and arms moving. His distress urges you on, and you rub over your breasts more, gathering and squeezing the soft skin between your fingers while dipping two fingers into your pussy.

"I want you so bad," you pout, watching as Jeongguk crumbles. "My fingers aren't big enough…but you are."

"Please," Jeongguk mutters, sweat glistening on his forehead. "Please, sir. Please."

"Begging already?" Taehyung teases and Jeongguk nods emphatically.

Jeongguk's voice sounds dreamy, and he licks his lips again. "Please, sir. I've been good."

You can hear Taehyung stand and begin to approach before he comes into view, climbing onto the bed, on his knees, reaching up to drag his fingertips up and down the length of Jeongguk's arms. At first, you feel shy to be on display for him, but Taehyung does not regard you, keeping his eyes on Jeongguk.

"You really have been very good," Taehyung praises as he nuzzles against Jeongguk's neck. Jeongguk leans into the touch, doing his best to keep his eyes on you as Taehyung continues. "You cooked an excellent meal, and you were very obedient when I told you to make our doll cum."

"I've been good, sir," Jeongguk whimpers as if stuck on repeat. "Please, sir. I've been good."

Without another word, Taehyung reaches up and begins to undo Jeongguk's wrist restraints, slowly lowering his arms one by one and rubbing his palms from Jeongguk's shoulders to his hands. With a sigh that sounds like relief, Jeongguk sits back on his heels.

"I'll undo your legs too, but you have to behave," Taehyung says as he begins to unhook one of the thigh restraints. "You are only allowed to do as you are told and nothing more, understood?"

"Yes, sir," Jeongguk responds with a sharp smile, eyes focused on you.

Although your moments have slowed, you continue to tease yourself with your fingers, watching as Taehyung crawls around Jeongguk's back to free his other thigh. Taehyung crawls backward, then stands beside the bed, out of your direct line of vision.

"Sit back," he commands, patting the bed, and Jeongguk does as he is told, sliding back and extending his legs in front of him, settling against the tall wooden headboard.

"Dollface," Taehyung calls, and you keep your eyes on Jeongguk but instinctively begin to sit up as you respond, "Yes, sir?"

"He's all yours," Taehyung says as his voice travels back to where the throne sits. "Have fun."

"Thank you, sir," you respond as you sit forward, getting swiftly onto your hands and knees.

With the possibilities suddenly seemingly endless, you feel overwhelmed, but you crawl forward and cage Jeongguk's reddened thighs, hovering close to his leaking cock, which sits pretty and thick against his tummy.

"Is Jeongguk an impatient man, sir?" you ask, watching as Jeongguk fails to keep his expressions schooled, eyes sharpening and widening.

"Extremely impatient," Taehyung responds, making Jeongguk huff a sigh. "If you decide to go slow it might drive him insane."

With a smirk, you mutter, "Noted, sir," then lean forward, touching the very tip of your tongue to the very bottom of Jeongguk's shaft and dragging up slow, slow, slow. His skin is velvet-soft, and you drool as you lift your head just below the crown, humming as Jeongguk trembles and gasps.

You kiss over the crown, right where the skin is softest, pressing your lips nice and wide before sucking and lapping at the skin in slow, gentle movements. Jeongguk groans, sounding almost pained, and you continue to lick languidly, teasing the skin, giving him just enough pressure to feel something but not enough to satiate any hunger.

"Please," Jeongguk whispers, and you glance up, tongue outstretched against him, to find a look of desperation tugging at the corners of his eyes. You hesitate to respond for a fraction of a second, feeling momentarily astounded that this is happening.

"Please, what?" you urge, watching as his jaw trembles.

"Please, noona. Please touch me more."

Teasing Jeongguk is a thrill, but you are quickly losing your composure, and as much as you want to listen to him beg and beg, you are also too eager to continue holding back. In a swift movement, you tilt your head forward and swallow Jeongguk's cock, taking him only halfway while sucking on the tip.

Jeongguk moans loud and eager, music to your ears. You hear Taehyung say, "Hands at your sides," and imagine Jeongguk must have been moments away from taking your head in his hands, sending a thrill down your spine.

With a pleased groan, you lift your head and settle a little higher on your knees between Jeongguk's spread legs. At this angle, you can take him into your mouth much more easily, and you sink down until he nearly hits your throat, feeling the tight squeeze of your lips accommodate his girth.

"Fuck," Jeongguk mutters, "you feel so good."

Jeongguk's words of encouragement spur you on, and you hum happily as you bob your head slow but steady, lodging his cock into your throat just enough that it nearly makes you gag before coming back for air. You can hear the sound of his fists gripping the sheet below, soft material scratching against blunt fingernails—a quiet, tactile cry of desperation.

As you lift your head, you swirl your tongue over his shaft, then release, opening your eyes and looking upward, watching as Jeongguk melts from the sight of you holding your mouth wide, saliva falling like garland hung between your tongue and his cock.

"You taste good, Ggukie," you say as the spit breaks and falls against your chin and chest, some dripping onto your knees. Eager to tease but nervous to dirty talk, you swallow thickly and do your best to sound confident as you crawl high onto your knees and begin to straddle his lap. "I could do this all day…but I want to feel you so badly."

"God, yes," Jeongguk groans, gripping tightly to the comforter at his sides. "Please, noona."

"What a shame you can't touch me," you pout while wrapping your arms around his shoulders, sitting high on your knees. "I bet you could make me feel so good."

You tilt your hips low, dragging yourself over Jeongguk's length, coating him in your arousal. Jeongguk whimpers and it sounds so sweet and so needy, you bite your lip and smile. Slowly, you push your chest out, dragging your breasts over his clavicle and pecs, and Jeongguk looks pained from how little you are giving him.

You lean close and mutter, "Kiss me. Show me how badly you want me."

With a groan, Jeongguk tilts his mouth to yours and eagerly sucks at your bottom lip before prising your mouth open, making way for his tongue. You hold him steady, keeping his head close, but still, he leans his face into yours, groaning desperately, rough in the way his forehead and nose press against yours, desperate in the way his teeth gnash and nip between wide, ravenous licks.

You part from the kiss and grip onto Jeongguk's chin, smirking as you angle your hips forward, surprising yourself with how easily you snag Jeongguk's cock on your entrance and begin to lower yourself on him. Jeongguk's eyes widen then roll back as you lower and lift your hips just enough to tease his tip, sighing through the stretch.

"Please," Jeongguk mutters, eyes and mouth fluttering and trembling so pretty and so wrecked. "Noona, please fuck me. Please, please, please."

"Awe, baby," you tease, lowering yourself further, gasping a silent sob from how incredible he feels. "You sound so pretty when you beg."

"She caved so quickly," Taehyung grumbles, reminding you that you have an audience, causing your cheeks to warm with humiliation.

Yoongi chuckles as he mutters, "I'm actually shocked by how long she held out."

You roll your eyes despite Yoongi being correct about your impatience. Holding back for as long as you have has not been easy, and truthfully, you deserve to be praised for your efforts.

"Typically, she's begging us in an instant," Namjoon adds, and you bite back an indignant smile.

You would absolutely run your mouth if you thought the three doms chiding you would let you away with it, but you are not eager to test them—not with Taehyung, who seems to have the firmest willpower and most sadistic tendencies, present. You finally have Jeongguk nestled deep inside you, and you are not willing to fuck this up for either of you.

The unraveled straps of the restraints that were wrapped around Jeongguk's wrists hang low, about a foot above his shoulders, and you reach up, gripping onto the leather. You hold on tight and moan as you lift and swivel your hips, teasing Jeongguk's tip and pulling a soft, impatient huff from his chest.

Jeongguk's eyes rove over your body, up to your face, as he cranes his head back. He opens his mouth, but no sound comes out, and you tilt your head to the side to ask, "What is it? Speak, boy."

"Beautiful," Jeongguk mutters sweetly, and you feel your heart skip a beat. You smile, then bite it back, trying to be a tease, not feel fluffy.

"Shut up," you grumble quietly, lowering your hips just enough to make Jeongguk croak out a soft moan before lifting. With the help of the straps, you find a good angle for your back to arch, allowing you to bounce your ass just enough to tease his tip.

Jeongguk whines and huffs, squeezing the sheet below him, causing peaks of material to form—mountains of tested patience reaching a breaking point. And although it feels good to stretch yourself around just the end of him, you want the rest, so you release one strap and then the other, settling with your hands on his shoulders and sinking down deep with a moan and pleasure flows through you in waves.

"Fuck," Jeongguk whimpers, dragging the word out long.

The stretch is enough to make you quake, but you do not have the ability to keep teasing yourself, even if it means finally caving in and giving Jeongguk what he wants. You lift your hips and drop them, choking on a sob that is punctuated by a deep moan. Pleasure bursts and settles into your limbs, tingling through you like electricity, and you wrap your arms tight around his shoulder and neck and begin to fuck yourself on his length.

"Feels so good," you moan, eyes shut and head tilted back, using Jeongguk to chase your high, eager to cum all over him and make a fucking mess.

Jeongguk's lips drag over your neck and shoulder, huffing hot breath that turns your skin sticky, and you do your best to keep a steady rhythm, climbing closer and closer to bliss, reaching the precipice little by little.

"God, look at her," Namjoon groans, making you shiver. You shouldn't be so greedy, but you do wish Namjoon could climb onto this bed and help you use Jeongguk.

"Stunning, always," Yoongi responds, and your heart and soul yearn for him, desperate to feel Yoongi once more, even if it has only been hours since the last time.

"Our poor Gguk is going to rip holes in this sheet by the time I allow him to touch her," Taehyung teases. "I haven't seen him this wound up in ages."

Jeongguk sighs and groans, then leans slightly back as his head lolls from side to side. He looks like he is about to burst, and you slow your hips, watching intently as he shakes his head and frowns, muttering, "Please, noona, please don't stop."

Rather than listen to his pleas, you lift your hips all the way, sending his cock to hit his tummy in a wet splat. Jeongguk grumbles, and you lean in to nibble at his chin and jaw until he shivers, then you back away from his lap and spin around.

As soon as you turn away from Jeongguk and lift your head, you are met with your own reflection, staring back from a floor-to-ceiling mirror that runs from the door to the conjoining wall. You gasp as you take in the sight of yourself on your hands and knees covered in a sheen of sweat, with Jeongguk sitting high on his knees behind you.

Jeongguk watches the mirror, smiling as you regain your composure and back up on your knees, grabbing for his cock with one hand while lowering yourself down. As soon as you are partially seated on his erection, you use both hands to spread your ass, arching your back as you lower yourself, eyes on the mirror to see Jeongguk staring down, moaning with his mouth hung wide.

"Like what you see, baby?" you ask as you begin to raise and lower your hips.

Jeongguk's eyes snap to the mirror, and he appears dazed as he says, "Yes, noona."

You sit up high on your knees and anchor your hands against your thighs as you begin to ride Jeongguk, finding a steady rhythm that sends your pleasure building once more. At this angle, his tip rubs over your erogenous zone, and you tilt your head back, moaning and gasping with each delicious drag.

With one hand gripping to your thigh, you reach the other between your legs, rubbing over your clit, desperate to cum. Your hope is that once you orgasm, you can barter with the doms to allow Jeongguk to touch you; you want his hands on you, groping, squeezing, and holding you down. Just the thought alone has you speeding toward bliss, and you press your fingertips just a little more firmly against your clit and slam your hips down so hard it stings.

"Fuck," you whimper, chasing your high faster and faster, "Oh fuck, I'm gonna cum."

The sound of one of the men clicking his tongue against the roof of his mouth makes you jolt, and you begin to fear the worst. Sure enough, Taehyung asks, "Did we say you could cum, pretty?" and you begin to feel frantic, though you do not slow your movements.

"N-no," you mutter weakly, "but, I thought—"

"I'm just toying with you, pretty," Taehyung interrupts with a chuckle, filling you with relief.

"If I cum, will you let him touch me, sir?" you ask, watching Jeongguk's lips twitch through the mirror.

"I suppose I could allow that," Taehyung responds. "Since you've been so obedient."

"Yes," you whimper, lifting and slamming your hips, so close to the edge. "Thank you, sir."

"Fucking squeezing me," Jeongguk groans behind you, and you glance into the mirror to find him sitting tense, staring down at your ass.

Jeongguk looks fucked out and on the brink of collapse with sweat dripping down his neck and his face screwed up in both pleasure and impatience. You imagine him holding you down against the mattress to use you just as you have used him, and that thought is exactly what you need to plummet into euphoria.

"Fuck," you whimper, "I'm gonna—"

Your orgasm crashes through you, snapped suddenly with a burst of energy that throws you forward as you quake and sob, gripping onto the black satin sheet with both hands while you desperately move your hips, chasing more and more until you are no longer able to move, moaning and sobbing as your muscles tense and release around Jeongguk. You squeeze around him, eager to chase more bliss, but your body feels tired, and your legs quake.

"Sir, please," you whimper as your hips slow and you become too overcome to keep a steady rhythm, "please let him touch me."

"Jeongguk really has excellent stamina," Taehyung says, sending a chill through you as he adds, "if we allow him to fuck her, he might just break her in half."

"She can take it," Yoongi insists in a tone that is familiar and dangerous. "She can handle the two of us, after all."

After a short pause, Taehyung calls, "Jeonggukie," and you glance into the mirror, watching as Jeongguk's mouth twists into a sharp, dangerous smirk.

"Yes, sir?" he responds, eyes on your reflection.

"You have permission to touch and to speak," Taehyung says, and you watch as Jeongguk releases the poor sheet from his grip, stretching and squeezing his palms at his sides. "The hyungs say she cums really easily…but I bet you can't give her three more orgasms by the time you're finished."

It should be terrifying the way Jeongguk looks down at you suddenly as if you are a piece of meat, licking at his teeth while dragging his hands from your hips to your shoulders, and back down. Jeongguk adjusts behind you, still buried deep, and he settles with one hand on your hip and the other gripping the back of your neck.

"Stay on your hands and knees," Jeongguk instructs firmly, making you shiver. "And keep your eyes on me."

You barely have a chance to mutter, "Yes, sir," before he pulls his hips back and snaps them forward, spearing you on his length far deeper than when you were riding him. The pleasure-pain is incredible, and the moan that falls from your lips is broken, no more than rough a burst of air. Jeongguk wastes no time digging his fingertips into your soft skin and setting a pace that is brutal enough to make you scream.

It feels impossible to keep your eyes open and on Jeongguk's reflection, but you do your best, only allowing your eyelids to flutter closed momentarily. Jeongguk is very clearly punishing you for teasing him so much, and you do your best to take everything he gives you, moaning and sobbing with each deep thrust.

"Fuck, you feel so good, doll," Jeongguk groans, digging his fingertips deeper. "Do you have any idea how hard it was to keep my fucking hands off you?"

The hand around your neck moves up to your face, and Jeongguk slides two fingers into the side of your mouth, gently tugging as he holds your head up, keeping your back bowed and ass held high.

"Shit, you're so fucking tight," he groans, lifting the hand on your hip to smack your ass, making you squeal around his fingers from the tingle of pain. "So fucking wet."

Jeongguk's praises make your head spin, and it takes no time at all to chase another high. Your reflection is absolutely debauched, and you stare ahead at yourself and at Jeongguk, still unable to shake the surprise that this is actually, finally happening. Jeongguk is absolutely ruthless with his thrusts, and you squeeze around him in a rhythm that matches his, building and building your next orgasm, quaking uncontrollably as it begins to roll through you like a hurricane.

"You're fucking cuming again, aren't you?" Jeongguk groans as your muscles flutter around him.

"Yes," you mutter, attempting to nod with your head stuck in place. "Yes, please, please make me cum again."

Jeongguk slides the hand from your mouth, down to your shoulder, and fucks into you, moaning to match your sounds as your orgasm reaches its peak and causes you to sob and slip forward, unable to hold yourself up. Although you are disobeying his rule to stay on your hands, Jeongguk seems unphased, and he rubs his hands over your back and then presses your shoulders down into the soft sheet while his hips stay just as steady.

"She really is fucking easy," Jeongguk teases as he leans forward, pressing his weight into you.

You turn your head to the side and lock eyes with Namjoon, who sits on one wide, wooden arm of the throne with his legs spread wide, watching you with a fire burning in his gaze.

"Incredible, isn't she?" Yoongi asks, and you move your focus to him, on the other arm of the wooden throne, leaning forward with one elbow on his knee.

Jeongguk pulls out, and you sob, clenching around nothing while his hands move down the expanse of your back, to your ass. He spreads you wide with both palms while bending lowly then licks from your clit all the way to your asshole, and you gasp then whimper, sinking deeper forward while arching your back to present yourself as best as you can.

The sloppy, hungry way he laps over your cunt is intoxicating, and when he curves up to your ass to dig his tongue into your tight rim, you grip roughly at the satin sheet, babbling nonsense at the sensation. Two fingers slide into your pussy, and Jeongguk slurps at your ass while his fingers stroke your erogenous zone, humming and groaning loudly.

"Oh my god," you whimper as Jeongguk's ministrations intensify. There is no way you are going to last long like this, and you do your best to relax despite how taut you feel pulled from every delicious movement. You knew Jeongguk would be good, but this is practically soul-crushing with the way your pleasure builds and builds.

Jeongguk's fingers squelch inside you, and you feel the spray of your arousal hit your thighs while his tongue slurps and prods, breaching your hole and making a sloppy fucking mess.

"Please, Jeongguk," you whimper like a prayer into the sheet, which is sticky-warm with drool. "Please don't stop. Please, please, please."

Jeongguk groans into you, plunging his tongue and fingers in deep, pulling you apart at the threads. Orgasm hits like a freight train—fast and sudden and unforgiving, a crash without casualties. You scream and claw at the blanket as your release squirts from you, coating your thighs, sloppy and loud.

You quake and sob uncontrollably, lips dragging against satin as Jeongguk pulls his fingers from you and sinks low enough to lick over your cunt in firm, broad strokes. He hums as he devours you, squeezing at the backs of your thighs and filling you to the brim with oversensitivity.

"Two down, one to go," Jeongguk gasps as he sits back and releases you from his hold.

He pushes against your hip, sending you crashing into the mattress, and you mutter equal parts indignant and incoherent as he begins to turn you onto your back in a haphazard twist of heavy limbs. You feel exhausted, but you do your best, digging your head into the bed while settling onto your back.

Jeongguk towers over you tall and pretty like a demon of pleasure, glistening and muscular and so fucking handsome. You attempt to smile, panting around each breath, and Jeongguk crawls between your legs, lifting one over his shoulder while spreading the other wide.

"You look fucking wrecked, doll," he teases as he leans forward and rubs beneath your eyes, undoubtedly to clean up a mess of mascara that has smeared. You pout, and he chuckles, adding, "Still gorgeous though. Perfect, even. I would have been gunning for this pussy long ago if I had known how much fun you are."

"Shut the fuck up," you mutter breathlessly, making Jeongguk chuckle.

"Never made someone squirt before," he continues, lining his cock up with your aching entrance. "You've done wonders to inflate my ego, doll."

"Great," you mutter, attempting to roll your eyes indignantly, instead rolling them involuntarily as he slides in deep, filling you in one swift thrust.

You moan as your body responds, pelvis lifting and arousal crashing. Jeongguk begins to roll his hips in a dizzying, tantalizing motion, and you do your best to relax despite the turmoil that already builds, threatening to tear you asunder. You are dangerously close to overstimulation, but you do not want to call your safe word. Jeongguk still has not cum, and you desperately want him to.

"She's a goner," Namjoon chuckles, and you hate how well he can read you. "This will be her last orgasm before she becomes too overwhelmed, Gguk, so make sure you cum."

Jeongguk feigns a pout, reaching down to press two fingers between your lips, smiling softly when you do your best to suck around them. His hips are steady and much slower, dragging in a way that lets you feel every perfect inch of him along your swollen walls.

"I won't be able to last much longer," Jeongguk assures, voice dipped low and sweet. "Taehyung bragged about my stamina, but you got me so fucking worked up. You can call your safe word if you need to, though. Yoongi told me it's sakura."

You suck on Jeongguk's fingers and allow your eyes to close momentarily, drifting into a state of full-body bliss. Despite how heavy your limbs feel, you are floaty and weightless. Euphoric.

"How do you stay so fucking tight?" Jeongguk groans as his hips pick up a quicker pace, skin slapping against skin. "How are you so fucking wet?"

You want to complain and tell Jeongguk to shut up, but the thought of speaking feels like too much, so you continue to suck mindlessly while Jeongguk uses you. He needs to finish before you lose your grasp on reality, and you are teetering dangerously close to that edge, lulled by the rhythmic thrust of his cock.

Jeongguk moans and sighs, becoming louder the harder he fucks you. His voice is sweet when lilted high and pitchy, and inviting when it is deep and dulcet. You could drown in him, really—in fact, you think you just might.

Time and space slip—float away like vapor in the air. You lay pliant and malleable as Jeongguk bends forward and leans back, changing angles, spearing you deep, rubbing places inside you that are carved wide just for him. When he finally pulls his fingers from your mouth to press them against your clit, you feel like you are dreaming.

"One last orgasm," he pleads gently, twirling over you in incorrigible movements. "I won't last much longer."

You pull your arms over your head and stretch your back, arching into Jeongguk's steady, determined thrusts. With the final ounce of energy you have left, you tense and relax around his length, working your muscles to a rhythm that will help you cum. Not that you need to help him; Jeongguk's fingers work over your bud, pulling you closer and closer with each swipe of skin against skin.

"Close," you whimper, feeling pleasure build.

Jeongguk must take your affirmation as incentive to fuck harder, deeper, faster. Your eyes roll back as his pace reaches heights you have come to expect, and you grip at the satin sheet above your head as you stare into oblivion.

And then, you drop. All at once, without warning, your arousal reaches its breaking point and bursts.

"Fuck," you squeak through a sob, mouth frozen in bliss, desperately forming broken syllables until you are finally able to create words. "Oh fuck, I'm cuming. Jeongguk!"

Jeongguk leans forward, dropping your leg from his shoulder to the mattress and placing both hands beside your head. His pace falters as he leans close and slots his lips against yours, moaning and whimpering into your open mouth while he licks and sucks at your lips and tongue.

"Feels so good," Jeongguk groans into your mouth. "I'm gonna cum, holy shit."

Jeongguk trembles, body lurching forward before he is up on his knees, pulling out and spraying his release onto your tummy, warm and viscous, quickly turning cold. You giggle, though you are unsure what is funny; you feel absolutely fucking broken.

One of the men begins to clap—you assume Taehyung—and then the others join in. You drag your arms down, over your face, cringing as you attempt to roll into a ball and disappear. "Please don't make this weird," you grumble as you turn to your side, only slightly bothered by the trickle of cum that runs along your tummy, down to the sheet.

Jeongguk hovers close, chuckling and pulling on your shoulder to get you to return to your back, and you resist, sleepy and no longer in the mood for any of these men; fucked past your limit and reeling from everything that has transpired.

"Let's get you into a bath," Jeongguk offers, and you loosen your limbs a little, willing to tolerate them a little more if it means a nice hot bath. "Hyung has a huge jacuzzi in his room, and I bet he would be more than happy to turn it on and get it nice and warm for us."

"It would be my pleasure," Taehyung responds, and you hear the sound of wood creaking as he stands and walks out of the room, footsteps quieting the further he gets.

Behind you, the bed dips, and you roll onto your back, eager to find out whether Yoongi and Namjoon are here to bother you—pleased to see that it is both of them.

"Darling," Yoongi says with a grin, dancing fingertips over your leg, which is bent at the knee. His touch tickles, and you shiver but do nothing to make him stop. "How do you feel?"

"Great," you mutter without thinking, voice wrecked and rasped from screaming.

"That was quite the performance," Namjoon adds, sitting beside your head and wiping his hand over your forehead. "I'm surprised you had no issue with letting all of us watch that."

You shrug, still not fully grasping the gravity of the situation. "We're all friends," you mutter, making Yoongi chuckle.

Taehyung returns, and you grin widely, appreciative of him for letting you fuck Jeongguk. And sure, you are aware that your thought process is a bit ridiculous, but you feel drunk from this scenario—far more intoxicated than the two glasses of red wine could have made you.

To your surprise, Taehyung holds his arms out and asks, "May I?"

Your assumption is that he either wants to hug you, or that he plans to carry you off to the jacuzzi, and both options sound nice, so you roll onto your side and then to your knees and crawl haphazardly into his open arms.

"Do you always turn into such a little baby after getting fucked?" Taehyung asks, to which Yoongi and Namjoon say, "Yes," in tandem.

"Sometimes," you respond dreamily as Taehyung scoops you up bridal style, holding you close to his chest while whisking you away.

"It's cute," he responds, dulcet voice soft and pleasant.

"You're cute," you grumble as you reach your arms to lazily hang around Taehyung's neck, burying your face into his chest. He wears a cologne that is earthy and a little spicy; unique.

Taehyung chuckles, chest rattling softly against your cheek, and you close your eyes and hum into the feeling.

"I'm glad you had fun," Taehyung says as his slippered feet softly patter while he carries you down the hallway. "If you come to have any regrets or complaints later, we can all sit down and talk. I want you to feel comfortable with us; relationships are built on trust."

"I won't," you say, certain that there is nothing to regret. "I love you guys."

"We'll see how you're feeling in a few days, but it makes me happy to know that you feel good about everything now."

The sounds of Taehyung's footfalls change, and you open your eyes to find that you are in a room with wainscotted walls of what you imagine to be mahogany, though you are not certain. Then he turns once more, and you are in a bathroom that is a lot like Yoongi's, but everything is white and gold instead of black.

"Jeongguk has my permission to see you without my presence required. So as long as the hyungs are okay with it, the two of you can do anything you want. Personally, I don't care who sees you. Fuck on the stage at Paradise if you'd like."

"Now, now," Yoongi says, causing you to peek over Taehyung's shoulder, smiling when you see him entering the room and unbuttoning his shirt. "Let's not encourage them to fuck in public. Jeongguk might actually take it as a challenge, and we don't need rumors flying that Boss Min is a cuckold."

"For once, the rumors would be true, hyung," Jeongguk says gleefully as he sidles up to Yoongi, still fully naked and covered in sweat, slinging an arm over his shoulder.

Jeongguk winks at you, flashing a wide grin, and you bury your face against Taehyung's shoulder, feeling shy.

"Are you getting in too, hyung?" Jeongguk asks as Taehyung begins to set you down, lowering your legs until your toes touch a soft rug.

With reluctance, you release Taehyung, and he keeps an arm around your waist, holding his other arm out for you to grab onto while you step one leg over the side of the large, white jacuzzi tub. The water is warm enough that you hiss and nearly retract your leg, but you quickly acclimate and lean in, finding the seat with your foot and standing on it.

"Of course I'm getting in," Yoongi says, and you can hear the sounds of clothing being removed behind you. "Can't let our pretty darling have all the fun."

Taehyung sighs and mutters, "No fucking in the hot tub, hyung," making Yoongi chuckle.

It takes a lot of concentration to make your limbs cooperate, but you manage to get both feet into the jacuzzi and lower yourself enough to step into the center and wade over to the far seat. The warmth is soothing, and you sink down until only your head remains above water, watching through squinted eyes as Yoongi and Namjoon get undressed to their briefs.

Jeongguk is turned around, rubbing his hands over Taehyung's chest, muttering lowly, and you enjoy a glance at his round, muscular ass before closing your eyes, smiling to yourself.

The water sloshes gently as bodies enter the tub, and you do not need to open your eyes to know that the arm wrapping over your shoulder from the right belongs to Yoongi; his musk greets you, followed by the familiar weight of so many hugs. You sit up slightly and lean into Yoongi while familiar hands lift your feet onto familiar thighs and begin to massage thumbs into your tired arches.

"I had fun spending time with everyone at Paradise, but the real paradise is here with you," you mutter somewhat sleepily, feeling Yoongi laugh against your cheek.

"Corny," Yoongi teases with a squeeze of his arms around you, and more bodies enter the tub, shifting the water around to your left.

You want to open your eyes and take in the bright, happy smiles of the men around you. You want to thank them all for the fun and show your gratitude for the affection they have given you. Taehyung is a wonderful host, Jeongguk is an excellent cook, and both Yoongi and Namjoon have shown a great deal of trust in you for encouraging you and Jeongguk to enjoy each other; Taehyung, as well.

Your heart feels so full of joy, and your sore, aching body is soothed so perfectly in the warm tub. But your eyelids are heavy, and the warmth pulls you in. You hug Yoongi while the men chatter about things you are unable to keep track of, doing your best not to drift to sleep.

At least you know that you are not at risk of drowning. With Yoongi at your side, it is impossible not to feel safe.

Just look at me, baby, day and night Don't make me bad, make me bad, I'm addicted to you 이미 길들여진 내 맘을 자극해 Don't make me bad, bad, addicted to you 시작해 버린 이상 내 게 아님 안 돼

🎵 visit the playlist

this chapter was more or less an oasis, but the rest of the desert is to come. i cannot stress enough how shit is really about to spiral in the final arc.

thank you for reading!!! 💜💜💜 reblogs and comments make the world go ‘round, and likes are nice too!!! i love you, stay hydrated!!!

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#yoongi mafia #yoongi x reader #namjoon x reader #jungkook x reader #yoongi smut #namjoon smut #jungkook smut #bts mafia #bts smut #bts angst #bts poly #namgi smut #namjoon mafia #jungkook mafia #taehyung mafia #fic: collateral #Spotify

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lokisprettygirl · 1 year

Text

Under his influence (Post Avengers! Loki x female reader)

Read chapter 23 here //Series Masterlist

Chapter 24

Summary : Are these dreams just coincidences or there's some truth to it? You were about to get all the answers.

Warning: 18+, gratuitous smut, soft Dom Loki, dirty talking, sub space if you squint, mention of stalking, mention of psychological torture, angst, insecurities, ptsd, self deprecating behaviour, panic attack, praise kink, soft precious bean loki,

You stared at him for a moment as you tried to make sense of his words, how did he know? How did he know what had happened in your dream?

You remembered that day clear as today, you had approached Shawn and you told him why you were talking to him and he immediately went off as he called you a pervert and what not, once in a while the memory did prick your heart so you had just assumed that maybe seeing Loki instead of Shawn and having him treat you so nicely was the way for your brain to heal the hurt you still felt from that embarrassing ordeal.

Your mother proposed that you should spend the night there instead of going back to the hotel so you agreed and as you both reached the guest room you immediately locked the door and turned around to look at him

"How did you know? How do you know what happened in my dream?" He sighed as you said that and sat down on the bed.

"Come here" he tapped the side of the bed so you walked towards him but instead of sitting on the bed you climbed on his lap instead, your arms wrapped around his neck as you pecked him softly.

"This is going to sound very strange darling but I think we both had the same dream" you chuckled nervously as he said that.

"Are you messing with me?"

"I know it does seem like something i would do but i am not messing with you I promise"

"How is it possible?"

"I honestly have no clue but I think these weird dreams we have been having from past few days are not just coincidences. I fear there might be some truth to it, maybe it's something that was supposed to happen but a slight change in our paths diverted us from our destination"

"So that dream I had about Stephen.."

"It is possible that It may have been your reality elsewhere" you got off his lap as he said that.

"I don't understand..I'd never marry Stephen, this is all just a huge coincidence lo" he noticed how terrified you looked at the moment so he grabbed your arm and pulled you onto his lap again.

"It could be darling, it really could all just be a coincidence but it's still a substantial one don't you think? We would have met years before if I had come here the way me and Thor had planned" you looked at him shocked as he said that.

"What do you mean?"

"I was supposed to visit Midgard Along with Thor and the warriors three the same day you were at the fair with your sisters, you were supposed to meet me there" your eyes widened as he said that.

"Really you all had that awful bet with each other?" He cleared his throat as you questioned him.

"I am for certain not at all proud of my deeds in the past"

You smiled as he said that so he cupped your cheeks and pulled you closer to kiss you.

"But you really think you would have ..I mean…there were so many people at the fair, did you really notice me?"

"I told you I'd find you anywhere anytime" your eyes teared up as he said that.

"Are you saying that we were meant to be together? Soulmate type of stuff?" He let out a laugh as you said that.

"Not really, i do not believe in that –"

"Then what does it mean? What is all this about?"

"What I'm saying is that our paths were meant to collide, perhaps you were born to become mine someday precious y/n"

Okay that was a very sexy way to put in words.

"We could have met five years ago? Oh godddd" you got off his lap again as you realized that.

"Princess calm down"

"Noooo this is weird don't you see it? It's kind of creepy to be honest"

"It certainly is and I have no clue what I'm saying darling, maybe all these dreams are just a way to look into how our life had turned out if we made different decisions"

"Yeah that is possible, maybe it's just a coincidence"

He sighed as you said that.

"What?"

"Remember when I told you that I had a feeling there was another Stark the day I had escaped with the tesseract?" You nodded as he said that "and there were two Captains as well"

"Yesss what about it"

"What if they were from the future, from an alternate timeline "

"Ohhh God noo loki no"

"That would make sense, may be I was never to be in the possession of the tesseract, maybe I was supposed to go to Asgard and be prisoned for life"

"We wouldn't have met" he nodded as you said that.

"And we possibly didn't until–"

"Until what?"

"That party, your ex husband's birthday celebration where he had invited me"

"Why would I ever marry Stephen, he was rude and arrogant..it doesn't make any sense" you placed your hand on your forehead as you tried to make sense of these words.

"That is true"

"I don't want to think about it anymore it's scaring me" you sat down on his lap again and kissed him softly but it soon heated as he kissed you back with deeper intensity.

"Though I have to say it would have been amazing to meet you there, getting to spend my late twenties with you would have been blissful " your voice choked up as you mumbled against his mouth.

"I know sweetheart, it hurts to think of it now, perhaps if I had a companion such as you I never would have lost myself so tragically, perhaps instead of running away from who I was i would have run to you instead and i know deep down in my heart that you would have brought me back from the brink of the madness the way you have done in the past few months"

You hugged him tightly as he finished his words, he wasn't wrong. Maybe you two would have helped each other, several heartbreaks, several betrayals, all of those moments where you felt like giving up on everything, where living with yourself only got harder and harder, maybe you wouldn't have suffered so much if you had a friend like him in your life.

Yeah having him back then would have been a blessing but you were blessed to find him when you did, you were just glad that you did because if those dreams from the past are real then those dreams from the future must be what may have happened if Loki hadn't picked up the tesseract that day, you wouldn't have gotten the chance to see him or have him by your side for few more years, no you'd rather have this then whatever mess you had made out of your life. Marrying Stephen strange? What made you do that?.

Next morning Thor picked you both up and he dropped you both to New York at the Avengers towers since Loki had to be at a meeting. You wondered if you were going to travel via an airplane ever again. You did save time, money as well as the environment so it's not that you were complaining, just a thought you had.

"Just stay here and relax, I will return to you in an hour" he made you sit down on his bed as he said that.

"That's a long time what I'm going to do until then" you made a pout so he smiled, the mischievous smile on your face made him believe that you were teasing him.

"Hmm that is a huge problem" you smiled as he cupped your cheeks and leaned down to kiss you.

"It is, I'll just touch myself while you're gone" he gasped as you said that.

"Don't you dare do that"

"Are you telling me what to do?"

"Yes, and you're going to follow my commands like the good princess you are"

"We will see"

He shook his head before he made his way to the door, he turned around to look at you one more time and smiled before he left and then he was gone. His heart felt full, for once in his life he felt completely at peace.

You sighed and laid down on the bed but just to tease him further you pulled the straps of your dress lower and squeezed your arms to enhance your cleavage, clicking a naughty selfie you send it to him.

"You look lost, everything alright with lady y/n?" Thor asked him so Loki sighed. He knew he was going to come across as insane if he was to share the whole dream reality possibilities with anyone else.

"You adore her do you not?" Thor chuckled as Loki said that.

"You remember how we used to pretend that Lady Sif was our sister when we were childrens?" Loki smiled as he reminisced about his childhood.

"I do remember fairly well brother"

"I think I have found a real sister this time, so don't do anything that would make me lose her" Loki smiled and nodded in agreement, every woman he had ever been with in Asgard always salivated after his brother, there were plenty of times when they both slept with the same woman because she wanted Thor, you were the only woman he had ever known that picked a fight with his brother the first time they met, you always had your eyes on him only.

He knew he shouldn't have checked his phone in the middle of the meeting but he made the mistake and had an instant hard on, he could only see the curve of your bosom and even your full face wasn't visible but he saw your luscious plump lips and all he wanted to do was run to you and kiss you but he was stuck in a meeting instead.

When he went back to the room, he found you sleeping on the bed on your front, you made him wide awake and then went to sleep peacefully.

As you heard the door shutting you opened your eyes and looked at him, he waved his fingers and you noticed the bulge in his pants so you sat up.

"You know it's good for my ego that you find me so desirable" you crawled towards the edge of the bed and he closed the distance between you two.

"It's easier to hide the evidence of my arousal but it still pains me, I sat there for an hour just wanting to rub myself against you" you bit on your lips as he said that .

"Mmm can't you just magic away the pain or numb it?" You asked as you sat down on your knees and hooked your fingers around the loop of his pants to pull him closer, after unbuttoning him you pulled the zipper down, his eyes remained transfixed on your face.

"I certainly can, darling but what is the fun in that?"

"I have been dying to do this" his cock twitched at your words, your voice remained low and whispery. You wrapped your palms around his ass and pulled him closer to your face, his cock hit you right on the mouth.

He conjured a hair tie and you gasped at the beauty of it, it was thin and black but had studded beads decorating it, it wasn't ordinary, nothing about him was ordinary except you. He pulled your hair up in a ponytail and tied them with a band then he clutched them with his fist and pulled your hair slightly to make you look at him, leaning down he kissed you softly

"I love you, you will tell me even if you are feeling a smidgen of discomfort alright?" he murmured against your mouth and you squirmed on your spot. How did you get so lucky? How did you end up finding a man that loved you this way?

"Yess god"

"Is that how you're going to address me"

"Mmmhm do you like that?"

"Absolutely, i am your God darling"

His fingers scratched your scalp in a soothing manner as he kissed you, you unbuttoned his shirt so you could touch his bare skin, you planned to make this worth his time even though you had no experience in this department

"I have never done this before lo" you mumbled softly so he pulled away and looked at you,

"Never?"

"Noo i ..I never wanted to, never felt the need to do it" he smiled as you said that. A part of him was utterly revealed, he felt special that you had never pleased a man this way before.

"You will learn"

"Goddd you're sexy"

"Mmmm, do whatever you want to do darling" his voice was strict and commanding and you could feel yourself dripping, he was such a sweet baby sometimes that it always took you off guard whenever he shifted into this dominating mood.

You fisted his cock and gave him a stroke, his mouth opened and head rolled back as he let out a moan, your other hand caressed through his chest and then you moved them towards his ripped torso,

You laid his cock flat against his abs and kissed down from his shaft to the end of his balls, he mumbled a curse as you licked a stripe from bottom to the tip of his cock. Your hands grabbed his cheeks again and you pressed your face into his pelvis, the coarse hair rubbed against your face and tickled everywhere but you didn't care, you were too lost in his masculine intoxicating scent, the musk made you want to hump against him like an animal. The sight of you being so lost almost made him want to cum instantly. This was your fantasy and it was much more arousing than he had envisioned in his imagination.

The precum dripped from the tip of his cock so you licked it off before you sucked him in slowly, you knew you won't be able to swallow him completely, it was impossible. He was too big for your mouth and your gag reflex was sharp as hell

"You may have never done this before sweetheart but you sure know how to make me crumble so easily don't you?"

You smiled and kept your eyes on him as you sucked him in and out of your mouth slowly, your hands played with his balls and he seemed to be in heaven. As pulled him out, he looked down at you again, the naughty smirk on your face was damning, he pulled on your hair making you moan and wince all at once, pressing his thumb on your jaw he pulled your mouth open and pressed his cock inside your warmth.

He wasn't being harsh though, he was being very gentle as he fed you his cock, his hips jerked back and forth as he fucked your mouth slowly.

You squeezed on his thigh so he pulled out of you but instead of shoving his cock back in he immediately pulled you up slightly and kissed you as passionately as he could, he could taste himself on you.

"On your front sweet love" he mumbled softly so you laid down on your front, you felt his lips on your neck and then he unzipped your dress to lower the straps down but he didn't take it off, you felt him waving his fingers and a few seconds later you had his cock sliding in and out of your wetness.

"Mmmm i thought you'd come in my mouth dear God"

"Fuckkk darling i wasn't sure you wanted that" you whined as he said that. How could you not want to drink from him? You were utterly, intensely obsessed with him. Did he still doubt that?

"I am so thirsty for you, don't you see it? I'm so obsessed with you lo, you're my god and I'll let you do anything to me" You turned your head to look at him, your eyes were glassy as if you were high on drugs, he knew the look because he had been high with you before, you were getting drunk on him, he had never felt so turned on before.

He kissed you deeply before he pulled out of you.

"I love you so much princess.. I love you" he whispered softly before he turned you around and laid you on your back, he sat right above your face with his thighs wrapped around your shoulders.

"You wanted me to suffocate you hmm?" You moaned as he said that, you had never felt so horny in your life before, he made the condom disappear and then he shoved his cock into your mouth slowly, still being gentle as ever. You angled your head upwards as you flattened your tongue and felt him sliding in, placing his hands on the headboard he used them as an leverage to keep his weight proportioned so he wasn't crushing you, his hips bucked back and forth slowly as he made love to your mouth.

"Fuck yess darling, you're such a good subject for your god aren't you"

You would have answered him if your mouth wasn't so full of him, all your senses were closed off as he was the only thing you could smell, taste, see, hear and feel around you. This is exactly what you wanted and now that you had it you felt transcended into some other dimension.

Your hands wrapped around his ass and you gave him a squeeze, he pulled out of your mouth and you watched his fist wrap around his own cock, it always felt extremely erotic whenever he was touching himself and pleasing himself for you.

You took a deep breath as the sight saturated you, you couldn't even look at him at the moment, you felt so dirty but not in a bad way. Millions of thoughts were running in your head, he was your best friend, he was the guy that had cuddled you like a baby that first night, he was the love of your life and you just felt overwhelmed that this was even happening to you, that you had actually gotten so lucky just because he picked up that cube.

"Open up princess, drink every little drop" he grunted loudly as he came hard aiming it right into your wanting mouth and the moment you had a taste of his cum you just knew you were ruined forever, there would be no returning from this, you'd be his slave forever if he'd ask you to be.

You swallowed every last drop that he had blessed you with. He took a few seconds before you felt him step away from your face and he immediately had your legs wrapped around him, you gasped as you felt him sliding in again and he picked up a fast rhythm because he knew you were feeling overwhelmed.

"Lokiii lokiii…oh lokii" he looked at you as you chanted his name like a prayer, you seemed so out of your mind and he would be lying if he said he wasn't enjoying the sight of you being so mindless. You moaned his name over and over again as you came around him soon after, not much stimulation was required after his gratuitous display of domination.

"Mmmm lokii god please don't leave me" you whimpered so he cupped your cheeks and kissed you softly.

"Shhhh darling I'm right here..right here"

"You would leave" your eyes teared up so he shook his head,

"Never, you are mine for eternity and I am yours" your arms wrapped around his neck as you pulled him into an embrace, your mind felt hazy, you didn't even when he had picked you up but you got back to your senses you found yourself sitting between his legs in a bathtub few moments later.

You quickly turned around and wrapped your arms around his neck.

"What happened?" He smiled as you said that.

"You must have gotten overwhelmed my darling"

"I lose all the filters with you in bed"

"Ohhhh" he kissed you softly as you mumbled

"We need a safeword, you are kinkier than i anticipated" you chuckled as he said that.

"Mmhm and i enjoy that thoroughly, but I just want to keep you safe my sweet little princess, I'd never forgive myself if I was to hurt you "

"You could never hurt me lo i promise but I understand..I'd like a safeword too so I'm not hurting you…how about tesseract?"

He smiled as you said that.

"Perfect"

You felt ravenous after that intense workout so he took you to the kitchen area, that's where you both bumped into Darcy and you felt extremely awkward around her.

"Haven't seen you in a week Darcy, everything alright?" He asked her so she smiled.

"Yeah buddy..it's all good, I am just busy with my thesis" he nodded as she said that.

"Need help?" He smiled as he questioned and she sighed.

"No I'm almost done..see you later" she walked out after that and you noticed the worried look on his face so you caressed his arm in a comforting manner.

"She likes you" he looked at you surprised as if he could never believe that he was being thirsted after by so many people.

"What do you mean?"

"You know what I mean lo" he seemed worried as you said that.

"No, I never gave her a reason to do so, have I led her on?" You wrapped your arms around his waist as he said that.

"Nooo ..lo you don't lead people on, they just fall in love with you like I did, it's not that hard really"

"Well to be completely truthful I was trying to make you fall for me" you chuckled as he said that.

"Just…talk to her later okay? I know you like her ..as a friend " he nodded as you said that.

"You are still my best friend, you know that right?"

"Mmhmm"

Later that night Thor dropped you back at your apartment as loki had to be at a mission but just half an hour later you heard the knock on the door so you looked via the peephole and it was Loki.

"What are you doing here lo?" You smiled widely as you opened the door "Is this a new attire? Never seen it before" you asked him as you noticed the blue Asgardian leather attire he had on, it even had a large cape around the back, you had come to recognise the look of the Asgardian leather at least. But his attire wasn't the only thing different about him, his hair looked different as well.

"Is something wrong?" You asked him as you noticed the pale look on his face, his eyes were teary and he seemed as if he had seen a ghost.

You took a step back as something felt off about him, you could just feel it in your gut.

"You're not my loki are you?"

"No..but you're not my y/n either"

You took several steps behind you and your eyes welled up, you felt terrified. That's when Stephen appeared next to him. He had a costume on as well, you didn't understand what was happening but you knew none of this could be good. Stephen stepped towards you as he smiled.

"Good to see you again Y/n Y/l/n, I am Doctor Stephen strange, the sorcerer supreme, the protector of the Sanctum Santorum, we need to have a little chat"

👀👀👀👀👀👀👀👀👀👀👀👀👀👀

Note : You guys are going to get alot of the answers in the next chapter

Taglist (if you want to be tagged or removed let me know.. also I’m not able to tag some of you, please check your settings)

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#loki x female reader #loki #loki x reader fluff #loki x reader #loki x reader insert #loki x reader fic #loki x you #loki x reader angst #loki x reader smut #post avengers loki #canon divergent au #soft loki

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shina913 · 2 years

Text

The Boyfriend Experience | KNJ

The Boyfriend Experience: Namjoon

The BFE: Masterlist

Pairing: Escort!Namjoon x Fem!Reader

Rating: M 🔞

Genre: sex!work_AU; smut; PWP

Warnings: legal sex work (in this AU); sex for hire; cussing; explicit sexual conversations; soft!dom Namjoon; alcohol consumption; public sexual activities; dirty talk; exhibitionism; fingering; clit play; riding; breast play; heavy petting; protected sex

Word count: 6.6K words

Summary: 💬 It felt very similar to an actual date, as if we’d come back to my place after a dating app meet-up – except the part about me slipping him cash in an envelope, of course. The intimacy happened naturally. He didn’t ask me for directions on how to turn me on, I just let him do his thing.

A/N: Okay so, still having a rough couple weeks and just getting back into the swing of writing--and actually finishing--something. I think I was feeling a burnt out from work and just posting back to back to back so taking a month off was helpful. I'm just happy to finish something--another gratuitous PWP, no less 😂

Semi-beta'd so please excuse typos and redundancies!

Happy Birthday, Namjoonie! 🎉

‼️IMPORTANT: Although the narration will include Namjoon's name, OC/Reader will not address him as so because she booked him under an assumed alias. Weird, I know but--let's just go with it 😉

Your sneakers squeaked across the hard, marble surface as you barreled through the entrance. You were late for your date, mentally kicking yourself for answering your work phone during the weekend. It was just supposed to be a quick sign-off at the office–but nope! One task rolled into another, and next thing you knew, you had no time to go home and get dolled up.

You’d have to settle for your shirt-dress and sneakers–a far cry from the pantsuits and pencil skirts that you wore on the daily. At least you showered before you left your condo.

A few more steps in and you finally spot him, standing next to a banner that showcased the featured exhibit. Although, if anybody asked you, you’d sooner say that he could pass for an exhibit as well…except you’d prefer a private showing instead.

“Hi!” You greeted him from afar.

Namjoon smiled, looking up from the museum brochure that he held. A flash of his dimple, already making you feel flustered. “Hello! It’s good to see you again.”

You smiled as you stopped right in front of him. “It’s good to see you, too.”

You reach out for a handshake but he goes in for a hug. It takes you by surprise, but it’s a welcome one. This date was already off to a great start.

He was tall with cropped hair and golden skin–just as you remembered him from your introductory meeting, or–’mini-date’. Instead of the tailored suit he had on that evening, he was dressed more casually today. Still, he looked unbearably handsome. Those gentle features–only intensified by the heart-stopping smile that he beamed. And those dimples? Lord. They gave him that boyish but equally sexy charm that would make anyone weak in the knees.

“I hope you’ll forgive me. I’m not usually late but–I had a last-minute emergency at work and I had to take care of that.” You pull away from each other but his hand still lingers on your arm, squeezing it gently before it falls away. It felt…nice. He smelled nice, too.

“No big deal. And you haven’t offended me so–there’s nothing to forgive. I would have met you anywhere you needed me. I hope you didn’t feel rushed or anything.

“No, no. I really should have just ignored the call but…duty calls so…” you shrugged.

“Well…I know you said that you wanted a change of pace. I hope this is okay?”

It was certainly different from what you were used to. Typically, you arrange dates to meet up at a restaurant, a bar…or just cut to the chase and go straight to a hotel room.

“When we first spoke, you said that you liked museums and urban hikes. I thought it sounded like a great idea since I’ve done neither on any of my previous dates.”

“Neither have I,” he laughs. “My uh…dates are…usually predictable,” he smiled sheepishly.

“O-oh…Is that so?” You couldn’t help but feel inquisitive.

Realizing his mistake, he tries to correct it immediately. “I didn’t mean like that. I just meant–I’ve never gone on dates where the client gave me full control of…our activities.”

When you first met at the restaurant, he didn’t go all in with the hard-sell–unlike previous dates you’d had. He was soft-spoken and quite enigmatic. If this were any different date, you’d think he was being cagey and you’d immediately run in the other direction.

But there was something about him that reeled you in. Part of it was the thrill of uncovering that mystery.

And who were you kidding? Who could resist those dimples? And those eyes? It really was all very effortless for him.

During your mini-date, he asked you what you wanted out of the experience. And you told him for once–you wanted to relinquish control. Day in and day out, you were the decision-maker. You called the shots. It works out great at your day job, but every now and then, you thought it would be nice not to have that responsibility.

Your request was for him to plan a whole day around you. You established your hard limits, which he carefully noted. Typically, the escorts would let clients dictate how the date would go–the choice was yours. But you were tired of ‘typical’. So, your choice–was not to make choices for the day. It was uncharted territory but there was an element of excitement to it.

“Shall we?” He gestures down a hall and you follow him. He waits for your steps to fall in sync with his.

You started down one corridor, which held the featured artist’s early paintings. You’d heard of the artist before–he’s had historic murals installed within the city. One of them was on loan to the museum to round out the whole collection, which was deemed to be the largest in decades–or, at least, that’s what the brochure said.

When you stopped in front of one painting or showed any remote interest in one, he would start talking about the story behind it and point out small details such as the varying brush strokes. He even talks about the evolving style and other artists who influenced it.

He stood right beside you and you couldn’t help but study him some more. Even in a position as benign as standing, he exuded primal confidence. “This is one of my favorites.” His deep voice resonated, inciting a restless energy in your legs. You shifted where you stood, trying to ignore the growing need between your thighs.

Art didn’t interest you very much but hearing him talk about it emphatically and with so much enthusiasm–you wished you spent more time in museums–as long as he was there to talk you through every piece.

******

“Do you do this often?”

“Do what?”

“Tour museums.”

He smiles. “Yeah, mostly during my free time. Although, I’ve never taken dates here.”

“Why’s that?”

He lifted a shoulder. “I haven’t had many clients request for this specific date. They usually just want dinner or drinks. Sometimes, we’ll go to a scheduled event. Museums aren’t usually…fun.” He eyes you carefully as he stops in front of a portrait on display.

“I don’t see why this wouldn’t be considered a fun activity.” You tilt your head to the side to admire the portrait straight ahead. You could see him still staring at you from your peripheral vision.

“Some people don’t think it’s stimulating enough.” His voice was low and raspy.

You turn your head to the side to face him. “Hm. I beg to differ.”

And there it was again, that enigmatic smile. It excited you to think about what else he had in store for your date today.

******

After about two hours of marveling at paintings, you decided to take a break at the museum’s cafe for a light meal.

“Have you always enjoyed art?”

“Oh god, no!” He says emphatically. “No, this hobby is relatively new to me. I always thought museums were the most boring places. Until, I had a client take me to an event that was in one. I arrived a bit early just to familiarize myself with the place and…I found the exhibit really interesting that day.”

A moment later, he clears his throat and turns the conversation back to you. “But enough about me. Let’s talk about you.”

Although he sat across from you at the museum cafe, the tone of his voice made it feel like he was right beside you, whispering in your ear. It was a miracle how you managed to keep it together this whole time when all you wanted was him to punish you for some undetermined misbehavior.

You uncrossed your legs, only to switch sides and cross them again–the pressure providing a pathetic amount of relief to the searing ache that built up within you.

In an effort to remain nonchalant about it, you lean in slightly and propped your elbow on the table, cupping your chin on your hand. “What about me?”

“Well…I know that this isn’t your first experience,” he says, referring to booking escorts. “Why have you decided to change things around?”

You sighed wistfully. “I’m a ball-buster…on a daily basis. It’s my job.” You looked down, fidgeted with your glass, swiping your finger at the condensation that had built up on the outside.

“As soon as I show the slightest hint of weakness or start wavering, they’d start looking at me differently. Some people go to spas, some people turn to alcohol to unwind and let loose…” You paused to peer up at him. “I book escorts,” you say simply.

“Dating wasn’t doing it for you?”

Dating could be so cumbersome…and you’ve tried. You even tried one of those hookup apps. And while it was fun at first, it wasn’t entirely attachment-free.

Which is why you turned to escorts. It was anonymous and no-frills. The best of both worlds. You’ve booked a few ‘freelancers’ in the past…even having a couple of regular standbys. But after a while, the meetups and hookups started to feel a little stale. And since these guys had a two-three hour limit, you needed a good shakeup.

One of your longtime friends, who was a bored housewife, referred you to a very particular escort service. It was an exclusive club and you had to be referred by a current member to gain access.

You laughed. “I don’t have the patience to date…at least, not at the moment. Even the occasional hookup takes…effort. I happen to have specific needs that I want fulfilled quickly and hiring escorts takes the guesswork out of that.”

“And what is it that you need? Apart from something ‘different’ than what you normally get from other escorts?”

This was one of the things you enjoyed about escorts. They’re intent on getting to know more about you and what you like. They’re hard-wired to please their clients, to make sure that they keep coming back for more. That was their business, but at the end of the day, it was a judgment-free zone. And you appreciated that you can be honest about what you wanted and how you wanted it done.

“I just want to be handled.” You say to him frankly, without breaking eye contact.

He smiled. “And you think I’m the one who can take care of business for you?”

While scrolling through their app, Namjoon’s profile intrigued you, right off the bat. It was something in the look in his eyes that pulled you in. And your conversation during your initial meeting sealed the deal for you.

“Well…can you?” You already knew the answer but still wanted to challenge him.

He smiles cockily but doesn’t answer your question, but still stays on topic. “So, you like to be dominated every now and then?” He asks, based on what he’s read from your profile.

You relax your shoulders, leaning back in your seat. “In a way? But, on my own terms.”

He chuckled at your bossiness. “Hard habit to break?”

You smiled. “It’s…difficult to explain.”

“No, I get it, I think?” He smirked, mirroring your seating position, regarding you. “You’re used to having control over your job…your life. Once in a while, you want to let go a little bit…let things happen–but in a way where you still get to have a say in it. Is that pretty close?”

It sounded strange when he verbalized it–but that was exactly it. Being in control gets so exhausting. But you were human. You needed a safe space to allow yourself to be soft–without compromising your identity.

“To put it bluntly, yes.”

He smiles, looking pleased with himself. He glances at his watch, then at you. “Are you ready for our next stop?”

“Sure! Where to?”

“There’s a museum in the middle of the park that holds weekly themed events at night. Have you heard about it?”

You shook your head. “That seems unusual. A night at the museum? Do the exhibits come to life or something?”

He cocked an eyebrow then chuckled softly at your attempt at humor. “No…but I promise you, it’s still going to be as exciting, I’ll tell you that much.”

Your mouth falls open in shock. “Really?”

He nods gently.

You purse your lips, the mystery killing you. “Will you give me a hint?”

“And ruin the surprise?” He shook his head, taking a sip of his water.

You give him your best puppy eyes, trying to quietly appeal to him. But he stares back at you quietly, unyielding.

You decide to push your luck a bit and bat your eyelashes at him. “Please?”

At the sound of that, he flexed his jaw and leaned in closer to you. You’d never seen anything hotter. He lowered his voice, deciding to throw you a bone.

“Let’s just say…you’ll be saying that word a lot when we get there.”

That made you gulp audibly.

He grins mischievously. “C’mon, we should get going before it gets too crowded there.”

******

He wasn’t kidding about this place. You’ve driven past it before but dismissed it as another Natural History Museum and Aquarium. After years in this city, you never thought to come here during the day–much less at night.

After checking in to get your tickets scanned by the entrance. Namjoon tells you that this event is for guests aged 21 and over only. A guest services staff checks your IDs–you look away when he presents his and he does the same when you present yours. Careful to protect both your identities.

“Thank you both. Welcome to Night Life!” The staff says enthusiastically.

You walk through the glass doors. You crane your neck and scan the main hall. It doesn’t even look like a museum. Sure, there were signs leading to some exhibits and directions to the aquarium. Neon LED lights illuminated the space. There was a DJ booth whose music blasted through large speakers that were situated in strategic corners. There were cocktail carts with patrons lining up to get their drinks. It was practically a club!

“Wow–this is…different,” you remarked, still marveling at the space.

“You said you wanted ‘different’ so…” He trailed off.

Ask and you shall receive. Even though he planned this whole afternoon around things that he liked doing, he was still intent on pleasing you.

The service promised ‘satisfaction guaranteed.’ So far, you have yet to be disappointed.

“Looks fun!” You beamed in excitement.

“C’mon, let’s get you a drink,” he urges while you walk towards the closest mini-bar by the entrance.

******

Tonight’s theme was centered on wildlife photography. The museum had some guests of honor, famous photographers and documentarians who exhibited their work, which was also available for purchase.

You walked around, admiring the portraits. Very different from paintings and sculptures from your earlier museum trip, but no less interesting.

You ventured down to the lower level, where the aquarium was situated. High-top tables were spread out around the space but they left more than enough room for guests to move and admire the various exhibits.

You both stopped in front of one, which was situated in a quiet corner. Although most of the guests crowded around the jellyfishes, coral reef, and stingray exhibits–which were in larger tanks, this smaller tank fascinated you.

“Leafy seadragons. Pretty cool, huh?”

You hummed. “They’re beautiful. I’ve never seen anything like them.” These sea creatures moved slowly and gracefully in the water. It was like a seahorse but with a more fabulous outfit.

“They’re so…hypnotic,” you say distractedly.

He looked sideways at you, eyeing you intently. “When you booked me, you said it was because you wanted a different experience?”

“Yes, I did.” You cocked your head to the side, examining the exhibit for a few seconds before turning your attention back to him.

“Honestly, I was tired of the usual booking. Dinner, drinks, followed by sex–not that I’m complaining but….” You lifted a shoulder. “It gets pretty boring after a while,” you say flatly. “I thought I’d explore a bit more.”

He regarded you intently. “You know, this is the first time that a client has told me to plan out the date. I have to admit, I was pretty excited about it.”

That makes two of you.

“I wanted a change of pace. The men I’ve hired–they’re great and I liked them–for whatever purpose they served but…at a certain point, I wanted a bit more out of the dates.”

“Hmm…is this date ticking all of your boxes so far?”

He sidled up to you. The scent of his cologne hitting your senses. He didn’t bathe in it–unlike the other guys. It was subtle, but still potent enough to make you feel off-balance.

“Not all of it.” You stared at him hungrily. “There’s one more box that I haven’t quite determined yet.”

He smirked. “If you’re relying on your statistics, wouldn’t you think I’d have already fulfilled everything you wanted out of this experience?”

You smirked back at him. “Well, unlike you, I’m not big on guessing games or theories. I’m more of a—what’s the word—pragmatic? And I like to experience things firsthand before I come to my own conclusion.”

“Oh, is that right? You’d like to come to your own conclusion?”

“Yes.” You try not to sound too breathless.

“Hm. That’s fair.”

You sighed softly. “Because how would I know…what I don’t know? And I don’t trust hearsay.”

“I couldn’t agree more. So, when would you like to rectify that?” His hand crept up the small of your back and started drawing soft, circular patterns on it.

“As soon as possible. I’d hate to pay overtime if I don’t need to.”

“You won’t need to. One thing about me is that I’m very efficient. I prioritize quality…over quantity.” You turned your head to the side to find his face inches away from yours. “But…I can fulfill both, if you want.” He purred.

“Yes...”

“Yes, what?”

“Yes, that’s what I want,” you swallowed hard.

A smile ghosted his lips. He looked sideways for a brief moment then turned his hot gaze back to you. “Would you like a prelude?”

Your breath caught in your throat. Before you could answer, he backs you into a corner that you weren’t even aware of until now.

The barely lit, constricting space makes you feel a little bit panicked, but also excited.

“What if someone sees us?”

“Nobody will see us. I made sure of that,” he replied confidently. His hand gripped one side of your hip firmly, his fingers flexing, as if testing your limits.

You tilt your chin up, inching closer to his face. “You look like you’ve done this before,” you say breathily.

He dipped his head lower, his mouth a hair’s breadth away from you. “And if I have, would you care?”

His lips brushed behind your ear. One of his hands pressed flat to your stomach, the fingers splaying to urge you deeper into the corner. He was as aroused as you were, his cock already hard against your thigh.

You’d never gotten frisky in public–but that didn’t mean that it was a hardline for you. All you needed was the right partner for it.

Your hand slid down, past his waist, grazing his crotch. “As long as you know what you’re doing, I don’t really care.”

He lifted his head at your boldness and stared you down. You stared back at him in the dim light and nipped at his lower lip.

He groaned and sealed his mouth over yours. His lips were firm but exerted gentle pressure. You sighed and his tongue dipped inside. His kiss was confident, right on-brand with what he’s shown you so far…and it had the right amount of aggression that turned you on wildly.

He cupped the back of your head and the curve of your ass, giving it a firm squeeze. “If you want to stop at any point, just say so, YN. Do you understand?” He murmured past your lips.

You nodded.

“Say it,” he ordered.

“Yes. I understand.”

He caught your lips again, hand gliding past the hem of your dress and right up between your legs where he parted you with his fingers. He slid one finger into you, making you inhale sharply at the sensation.

He smiled through your kisses, pulling out then pushed back in with two fingers. You did your best to hold back a moan but a pathetic whine escaped your lips.

“Oh my god…” You were panting for him, your hips circling shamelessly onto his thrusting fingers. You felt like you’d lose your mind if he didn’t get you off.

You’d never been so turned on in your life. If anyone walked right past you right then and found you writhing in this corner while finger-fucked you, you wouldn’t care. You just wanted to cum.

“Do you want to hear all the ways I can please you, YN?” He holds one of your legs up with his free hand and rests it on his hip to spread you wider for him. Your cunt rippled around his stroking fingers, the rawness of his words pushing you to the brink.

He was breathing hard, too. His face was flushed, eager to give you what you needed, what you craved.

“I can do anything…everything you ask me to.” Hearing you whine softly, he takes your mouth again, swallowing the rest of your moans while his fingers pumped in and out of you.

Your insides pulsed erratically at the onslaught, that familiar feeling, surging within your belly. He withdrew his fingers and palmed your sex, rubbing rhythmic circles around your clit. You bucked your hips against his hand shamelessly, absolutely lost in the moment.

The music pumped through the speakers, swelling with a heavy bassline that thumped against your chest. One final stroke of his hand had you groaning into his mouth, your body stiffening as searing pleasure ripped right through you.

Your neck goes lax and you collapse on his shoulder, trying to catch your breath. You could feel his heart pounding against your chest.

“Fuck, you make the sexiest noises…I’m going to have so much fun with you tonight,” he chuckles darkly.

******

You waited until the coast was clear, giving him a few minutes to get his raging hardon down. Truth be told, you didn’t mind if he fucked you right then. But you were paying him a premium price…and you wanted to enjoy him to the fullest, preferably with all of his clothes off.

You called a car to head straight to the hotel where you booked a room for the night. You never took guys back into your home–it was too risky–didn’t matter how hot they were.

You continued to make out in the backseat. The driver, bless his heart, did his best to look away while you both sighed and giggled like horny teenagers.

When you arrived at the entrance, you tipped him generously as you and Namjoon practically sprinted past a crowded lobby and towards the bank of elevators. Thankfully, the hotel allowed you to check in earlier today. You didn’t think you’d be able to endure another second without his body pressed up against you.

You stumbled out of the elevators and staggering down the hall to your room. It was a challenge trying to untangle yourself from him. As you fumbled for the hotel keycard in your purse, his lips were on your neck, hands snaking up your dress. You hurried to pull the card out or you’d risk him fucking you out in the hallway.

The door clicks open and you both barrel into the room, his mouth shifting up to your lips to taste you again. Distantly, you hear him kick the door shut, continuing to back you further to the bedroom.

He spins you around, your back pressed against him, caging you while his hand roams all around your front. Squeezing your breast with one, the other rubbing at your clothed pussy.

You threw your head back in low moan as he nipped at your neck, grinding his hard cock between your ass cheeks.

Boy, did he know how to make a woman feel good…and abso-fucking-lutely aroused.

Somehow, you found yourself right by the foot of the bed. He spins you around again and pushes you softly, making you fall to the mattress. The hem of your dress scandalously hiked up past your waistline.

He hisses at the sight of your laced panties, so you decide to push his buttons. You pull your dress up over your head, leaving you laid up in your underwear. You reach back and unclasp your bra, tossing it to the side.

He bit his lower lip, as if fighting the animalistic urge to completely devour you.

Keeping his eyes trained on you, he unbuttoned his shirt, painfully slowly–before his fingers moved to undo his jeans in the same, controlled manner.

Your body practically vibrated with anxiety–beating you at your own game.

You grunted. “We don’t have all night, you know,” you said through gritted teeth while you watched his hand go past his boxer-briefs’ waistband, stroking his length beneath it.

“I know,” he says simply.

Your mouth was watering, you wanted him to take you, five minutes ago!

You scooched back further on the bed, lifted your hips to rid yourself of your panties. You spread your legs wide to entice him. “What are you waiting for then?”

“For you.”

You threw your head back in frustration and flatten your back on the mattress, staring at the ceiling. “What are you talking about? I’m ready!” You whine petulantly.

“I know that.” He pulled a condom out of his pants pocket.

“So, fuck me now!”

There was a beat of silence in the room, filled by the sound of your heaving breaths.

“You have to ask nicely first,” he says evenly.

You sat back up quickly at the sound of that. He was naked in front of you now, your core clenching involuntarily at the sight of him. He cocked his eyebrow at you until realization sets in and you recall your conversation from this afternoon.

You took a deep breath to dull the pounding in your chest.

“Please,” you say quietly.

“I can’t hear you.” He teases you further, slipping the condom casually down his length. Your mouth went dry.

You cleared your throat. This was what you wanted–to loosen the reins, give up control for a bit…and be dominated…on your own terms.

“Please,” you say a little louder.

“Please…what?”

“Please…Fuck. Me.” You enunciated every word for him.

He grinned wickedly, crawling up the mattress towards you, like a predator zeroing in on its prey. “That’s a good girl.”

You were pressed full-body against him, achingly aware of every hot, hard inch of him. You kissed him back, tasting him. Savoring him. Your skin was damp and way too sensitive, your breasts heavy and tender. Your clit throbbed for attention, the pounding reaching up to your ears along with your raging heartbeat.

He was levered over you, his arm supported his torso while his right hand gripped the back of your knee, sliding upward along your thigh in a firm glide.

A low rumble vibrated in his chest, the primitive sound sending goosebumps coursing through your pores.

In a daze, you watched Namjoon’s body lower, your legs sliding apart to accommodate the width of his hips. Your muscles strained with the urge to lift toward him, to hasten the contact between you that you’d been craving since he fingered you at the museum. Lowering his head, he took your mouth…hard, bruising your lips in the process.

You pulled on his silky strands, making him growl while your kisses deepened, stroking your tongue with lush licks of his own. You felt the same intense pounding of his heart against your chest, proof that he was right in this same moment with you.

“I want you so much,” you breathed out in between kisses. “What are you doing to me?”

“I’m going to make you cum over…and over…’til you beg me to stop.”

“Fuck, yes,” You muttered, aware that you weren’t offended. In fact, the rawness of his hunger for you was a serious aphrodisiac.

“Let me in, then.”

You very eagerly reached between you, reaching for his cock. Spreading wider for him you rubbed the tip against your slick folds. The contact would have made you orgasm at the friction but you preferred to cum while he was inside you.

You guided him to your center, gasping at the way he parted your flesh. He pushed in gently, causing your eyes to roll to the back of your head.

“You okay?”

“Yes,” you respond while your walls adjust to the stretch. “More…please.”

His jaw hardened. He pulled out slightly then slid his cock back in, pushing deeper. Your mouth falls open while he fills you to the brim.

“Ffuuckkk…” you dragged out, digging your nails into his biceps.

“You’re so tight…”

“You’re just huge,” you countered.

He chuckled devilishly, flashing that damned dimple at you. Tightening his hold, he starting fucking you, nailing your hips to the mattress with deep, fierce thrusts. Pleasure rippled through you again, pushing through you with every drive of his body.

He buried his face in your neck and held you tightly in place, fucking you hard and fast, whispering raw, sex-crazed words that drove you to absolute insanity.

“You feel me deep in you, huh? I can feel it against my stomach…my dick pounding into you.”

You’d give him this round. You made small, helpless sounds of want while his mouth ate yours. You were desperate for him, nails digging into his ass, struggling to meet his thrusts with your own.

“Come on, baby…” he ordered. “Cum for me now…”

You climaxed in such a rush that had you babbling incoherently, the sensation elevated by the way he’d possessed your body. He threw his head back, shuddering at the feel of your insides pulsating and gripping at him tightly.

Still trying to piece your brain back from your orgasm, you vaguely register him pulling out of you, making you wince.

Lifting you, he moved you, shifting your positions so that his back was to the headboard and you spread over him. Your bodies sliding against each other with a generous layer of sweat.

“Do you want to take your control back?”

Your breath hitched. While you enjoyed begging him to do things to you, you couldn’t fight the urge to take some of that power back for yourself.

“Yes,” you answered, definitely.

With your knees on either side of his hips, you straightened your spine, making you tower over him now.

Leaning back further, he stretched his arms on either side of him. “Go ahead and take it, then.”

You ran your hands down his chest, relishing the hardness of his muscles. Your fingers traced the ridges of his pectorals, his abdomen…your own personal, interactive art exhibit right in front of you.

You rocked your hips against him, stroking yourself with the hard length of his cock. His breath hissed out between clenched teeth.

“Don’t tease me–put me back in,” he practically demanded.

Now it was your turn to torture him. “Payback’s a bitch, isn’t it?”

He cupped your face and pressed his lips hard against yours. You reached down to stroke his length–the condom, covered in your slick.

He tensed but didn’t stop you. He handed control back to you. He closed his eyes and groaned at the delicious punishment you were giving to him. The sounds he made were both pained and erotic to you. You squeezed him gently, your touch deliberately tender as you sized him with your hands. You slid both of your fists up his length from root to tip, your breath catching when he shuddered beneath you.

Namjoon gripped your thighs, his hands sliding upwards until his thumbs grazed your taut nipples. He pinched and tugged at them, making you moan into his mouth.

“I can beg, too, if that’s what it takes to be inside you again,” he murmured into your mouth.

“Say it.” You stroked him with one hand.

One of his thumbs slid beneath you, the pad sliding through the slickness of your dripping core. “Please, YN…Fuck me,” he said so clearly, his eyes gleaming at you.

Your cheeks heated. The evenness of his tone sent a burst of confidence through you.

Setting your hands on his shoulders for balance, you lifted onto your knees, rising to gain the height you needed to hover over the tip of his cock. His hands gripped your hips, steadying you.

His hardness brushed past your inner thighs as he moved and you whimpered, so aching and empty, as if the orgasms he’d given you earlier had only aggravated your craving rather than sated it.

He tensed when you wrapped your fingers around him and positioned him, tucking the wide head against the saturated folds. The scent of sex was heavy and kicked the room’s temperature up several notches–it was a dizzying mix of need and pheromones that awakened every inch of you.

“God. YN,” he gasped as you lowered onto him, his hands flexing restlessly on your thighs.

You closed your eyes briefly. When you opened them, you were eye-to-eye, only inches apart.

“Move for me, please.” His gasped words were threaded with a hint of delicious agony.

He didn’t need to ask twice. Your hips rolled of their own volition.

He reached down, massaged your clit with the pad of his thumb, rubbing slow, expert circles. Your core tightened and clenched tightly around him in a vice-like grip. He was so agonizingly gorgeous, lying beneath you, watching you take what you wanted from him.

His neck arched, fighting to restrain himself from barrelling his hips against you. “Ah, fuck…you feel so good,” he bit out, his teeth grinding.

He was so deep you could hardly stand it, forcing you to shift from side to side, trying to ease the unexpected bite of discomfort with his size. But your body didn’t seem to care that he was too big. Your cunt took him greedily–as if it couldn’t get enough. Your walls rippled around him, squeezing…on the verge of orgasm.

Unable to contain himself any further, Namjoon cursed under his breath, held on to your hip with one hand, urging you to lean back with the other, as his chest heaved. You stretched your arms back, holding onto his thighs for support and leverage.

You opened up wider, taking more of him in. Your belly fluttered at how much deeper he sank, hitting the tip of your cervix, savoring the soreness as he pushed just past your limits.

His hips churned impatiently, meeting your thrusts. You lifted carefully, sliding up a few inches before he stopped you with that ferocious grasp on your hip.

Your eyes locked on each other as the pleasure coursed through your bodies. The sounds that escaped his lips spurred you, as if the pleasure were as unbearable for him as it was for you.

Somewhere along the way, primitive instinct took over you, leaving your body completely in charge. Your sole focus was the urge to fuck him out of his mind, the vicious need to ride him until the tension burst and set you free of this mindless, animalistic hunger.

“Fuck…yes…oh my god…so good,” you mewled, lost to him.

Using both hands, he directed your rhythm, his cock rubbing that tender, aching bundle of nerves inside you. You shook involuntarily, realizing that your orgasm was creeping up quicker than you anticipated.

“Ah, shit–I’m close,” you gasped out.

Leaning forward slightly, he captured you by the nape, pulling you closer to him. Your orgasm exploded through you, starting with deep, throbbing spasms of your core before radiating outward until you shivered all over.

He watched you fall apart, holding your gaze when you would’ve closed your eyes. Possessed by his stare, you cried hoarsely, cumming harder than you ever had, your body jerking with every pulse of your nerves.

He growled, pounding his hips up at you, yanking your hips lower to meet his merciless lunges. He tunneled into you, hitting you with every deep thrust.

You watched him intently, wanting–no, needing to see what it was like when he went over the edge. His eyes were wild, pupils dark and blown out wide…losing their focus as his control melted away, his face marred by the brutal need to climax.

He came with a feral growl…his deep, animalistic groans riveted you with their ferocity. He shook as his orgasm ripped through him, making you clench at the sensation of him spurting into the condom.

You cupped his face, his features softening after riding out his high. You brush your thumb across his lips, a small offering of comfort and intimacy as his stuttered, gasping breaths fanned your face.

He wrapped his arms around you, pressing his damp forehead against yours.

“Wow,” you breathed, shaken.

His lips twitched. “You can say that again.”

You both smiled, feeling dazed and high.

You stayed like that for a minute, holding each other, absorbing the aftershocks. He turned his head and kissed you softly, the gentle strokes of his tongue into your mouth, slowing the pounding in your chest to a steady thrum.

You lifted gingerly off him, biting your lip at the feel of him slipping wetly out of you. The friction was enough to make you want more. But you had to admit, you were spent–fully satisfied.

He disposed of the condom, offering to help clean you up–and you let him. Shortly after, he jumped into the shower.

******

You were in a bathrobe, in the middle of checking your emails when he stepped out of the bathroom, fully dressed again.

“Are you okay?” He asks, as if he hadn’t already checked on you minutes ago.

“Yes I am, thank you,” you replied. “Are you alright?”

He laughed. “I’ll admit, I think I need another minute.”

You smiled while you walked towards where you set your purse down, on the coffee table by the window. While he was in the shower, you picked it up off the floor after you dropped it haphazardly when you were both in the midst of your horny entanglement earlier.

“By the way, I should have given you this sooner.” You reached in to grab an envelope of cash and hand it to him. “I uh–sort of got distracted earlier,” you chuckled sheepishly.

“Well…you and me both,” he laughs, taking his payment. “As long as you don’t tell my boss about it.”

You gestured as if zipping your lips. “He’ll only hear about the good things,” you promised.

“Thank you,” he says, pocketing the money.

“Where are you off to now? Do you have other bookings today?” It wasn’t awkward for you to make smalltalk. It was all business anyway.

“I actually had to reschedule my next client,” he laughed, rubbing the back of his neck while he looked down at his phone that he held with his other hand. “You kind of wore me out. You’re making me rethink my workout regimen.”

You laughed heartily. “That might be a good idea. You’ve got to work on your stamina.” You winked at him before turning to your phone again, clicking at the screen.

His brows furrowed, feeling a little slighted. “Why’s that?

Before he gets an answer, his phone pings with a distinctive alert from his BFE app. When he glances at it to check, the crease between his eyebrows soften when the request pops up on his screen. He looks up at you and grins.

“Because I’m booking you again and I’m gonna need you to keep up with me.”

You’ve reached the end! Thank you so much for reading!

If you loved it, please comment, reblog, or send me feedback! 📩. I love hearing from readers! If you didn’t like it so much, I would still like to hear about it. Help me become a better writer! 💜

Tagging my KNJ hoes: @internetjunkdrawer @deepseavibez @itdoesntmatterwhy @e-cm @reliablemitten @miksancheese

#bts fanfiction #namjoon #namjoon x reader #kim namjoon #bangtanbathhouse #btswritingcafe #btshoneyhive #btscarnivalnet #namjoon smut #bts smut #bts kim namjoon #bts namjoon #bts rm #knj smut #TheBFE x knj

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optiwashere · 7 months

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this is your local fanfic writer in her natural morning habitat:

Wrapped in a blanket, listening to the new Sulphur Aeon, and writing silly modern AUs nobody asked for while trying to figure out how much additional smut she should write today before she has to go be an adult and clean and make her living space somewhat presentable. Disgusting.

Notes on my current projects under the break...

Chapter [spoiler] of the AU is ~6k but not necessarily finished. I may go back to add more smut, or add more build up, or add more aftermath. I like the ending it currently has, but we'll see.

Chapter [spoiler+1] of the AU is still way, way early in the drafting stage, but the fic as a whole is edging towards "comfortable to start posting" in terms of buffer chapters! This is so that I can write the AU while ALSO writing one-shots whenever I feel like it. I have an important thematic thread to weave in here, so this one will likely take a bit longer to get through.

On the modern AU front, and a sillier note, I have the first "Metal Shadowheart, but She's Secretly a Big Softie who Listens to Softly Sung Singer-Songwriter Music" playlist pretty much finalized. If I decide to keep doing these, the genres will evolve to reflect the AU. It's a stupid idea, but I love stupid ideas.

An Asheera/Shadowheart adventure-y, "wow you look hot after fighting" "no u" battlewives, explicit as all hell fic is at like 8k because I had to put in some emotional hurt/comfort at the end after all the violence and gratuitous amounts of oral sex. It might get even longer because I want more build, more sex, more fighting, and more aftermath. This thing could hit 10k, I really don't know with how it's turning out lmao. Needs an editing pass and whatever the fuck expansions I make to it.

The sequel to Burning Hands is written but I think it needs some tweaking before I post it. Roughly 3k in length. Maybe Karlach will finally get what she wanted? This could use some light expansion, and I know it needs line editing + more well-watered prose. Once that's fleshed out, it'll be ready to post (next week?)

Another Minthara/Lae'zel in the vein of "Minthara doms Lae'zel into the fucking dirt" is in the ideation phase. I have the general A to B to C planned out, but no writing is there yet. Won't be done for some time, sadly.

Nocturne/Shadowheart in the extreme early works. Like, basically it's just me trying to figure out how I want to write Nocturne in smut. Do I even make it graphic? This one won't be out for a while, for sure.

Word count progress for the week: 17, 663

Haven't been able to do much reading. I still need to finish Blood Bride by @raedmagdon and I'm always on my quest to sort Shadowheart/Female Character fics by no-comments and read all of those.

#random rambling about writing #anotheropti fanfiction mind soup #yeah that's a sensible tag #I think this could be fun?#whether I keep up with it on a regular schedule is another story lmfao #the rest of these tags are deranged posting #the fucking IA IA chants are so hot on this Sulphur Aeon album #and whoever is doing that Warrel Dane impression on the title track? I have deeply unclean thoughts #the title track of this album belongs to the genre I like to call 'blackened death metal to fuck to'#it just has that energy you know #that rhythm and atmosphere? you know the one #it ain't called a pulsing rhythm for nothing

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late-to-the-fandom · 1 year

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I hadn't planned to cheat on my current WIP with any more of the @daily-writing-challenge February prompts, but then today's word (opportunity) inspired me to finally get this out of my head.

This is M-Rated, 1,299 words and takes place in the universe of my Renathal and the Maw Walker series and finally gives the Maw Walker her name (since I can't really call her that through the post-Shadowlands sequel). Note: Sex is referenced in this story (hence M rating) but there is no actual smut, just gratuitous domestic fluff.

The Dark Prince of Revendreth rose early - as much as the concept existed in a realm with no true day or night - excited to finally bring to life a fantasy he had harboured an embarrassingly long time.

He was going to make the Maw Walker breakfast.

Fastening his dressing gown, he left her sleeping in his bed while he wended his way through the shadows of Darkwall Tower to the kitchen where his dredgers had begun his requested preparations. Most of the actual cooking was already complete, but it was Renathal who arranged the various fruits, spreads, and dainty pastries just so on the ornate tray, and he himself who carried it back up the many flights of stairs with Breakfist behind him, balancing the second tray of cups and carafes. One contained a proper breakfast tea, the other the thick, black, sludge-like coffee the Maw Walker had taken to drinking while in Zereth Mortis. Renathal had an idea she was living solely off the substance - something about the pinched, starved look new to her face - and part of the execution of this fantasy was utilitarian. He was determined to see her eat while he had the opportunity.

When he reached his bedroom and nudged the door open, he found the Maw Walker as he had expected: awake, sitting up and pushing back her tousled hair. She smiled sleepily at his entrance, then blinked when she noticed Breakfist behind him.

"Oh!" She snatched up the thick coverlet and raised it to her bare shoulders. "Sorry, I wasn't expecting company. Hello, Breakfist," she added with a polite nod at the dredger as he stopped short next to the bed.

"Breakfast for our Maw Walk- or...uh..."

The well-trained butler looked momentarily lost. He blinked muddily up at the Dark Prince as if hoping for a cue, but it was the Maw Walker who answered first.

"You can just call me my name, you know," she said.

Renathal, setting his tray of delicacies carefully on the bed and seating himself beside it, winced. He knew the Maw Walker’s offer was well-intentioned, but his Dredgers’ courtly etiquette would sooner see them fling themselves from Darkwall's high terrace than refer to anyone of her station by her personal name.

"Thank you, Breakfist, that will do," Renathal interjected, taking the dredger's tray of drink accoutrement and rescuing him from further awkwardness.

Breakfist gave Renathal an appropriately grateful bow.

"Your Highness." He turned to the Maw Walker. "Maw - Lady."

And he shuffled quickly from the room, snapping the door shut on the Maw Walker's giggles.

"Really, Ren, your dredgers stand too much on formality," she remarked, letting the blanket fall back to the bed.

Renathal, unwilling to be distracted, did not look up from his preparations atop the second tray.

"It is many eons too late to undo their training, I fear," he said, inflicting the foul-smelling coffee on his elegant porcelain teacup and passing it to her untempered.

The Maw Walker groaned gently.

"Have I told you I love you?" she asked, accepting the cup with eager hands.

"Not for several hours," he said seriously, now pouring his own, more satisfactory beverage. "Feel free to correct this oversight."

"Lean forward a bit."

She beckoned Renathal with a finger. He paused and leant dutifully over the tray.

"I love you," the Maw Walker murmured languidly against his lips, punctuating the pronouncement with a lazy kiss, still flavoured with the dregs of sleep.

Renathal shivered. He wondered if he would ever get tired of hearing those long-sought words. The Maw Walker returned to her coffee, but it was a minute before Renathal's mind cleared enough to remember his own drink and their earlier subject.

"Breakfist brings up a decent point," he said, stirring sugar into his tea.

"What is that?"

"What you are to be called in Revendreth now your career in Maw walking has come largely to an end."

The Maw Walker's careless shrug as she sipped was her only contribution.

"Of course," Renathal continued undaunted. "You could technically be considered the Princess of Revendreth."

There was a spluttering sound as the Maw Walker choked on her mouthful of coffee, several drops of the offensive liquid hitting Renathal in the face. He wiped them sedately with a linen napkin lifted from one of the trays and waited for her outburst to be satisfactorily explained.

"I ... think the rest of the realm might take umbrage with that," she managed at last.

"Fortunately, it is not an elected position."

"But... is now really the right time to force more royalty on the realm?” she argued. “Everyone is already having a rocky time adjusting to the new democratic power structure. Surely, this would look like an attempt to ensure a greater portion of power for yourself. The other Harvesters would consider it tantamount to an open declaration of war."

“I suppose.” Renathal lifted his teacup to hide the sour twist to his lips. He had rather set his heart on the idea of their titles being a matching set, and the fact that she was right did little to alleviate his disappointment. “The Prince’s consort would be the next most appropriate title then.”

The Maw Walker grimaced. Renathal doubted it had anything to do with her vile drink.

“No?”

He took pains to ensure his voice betrayed none of his growing concern, but - as always - the Maw Walker seemed to read it in his face.

“Renathal.” She set her cup down on the tray and reached for his free hand, fingers stroking reassuringly over each bone of his wrist. “I love you. But I don’t know if I want the fact that I’m having sex with you to be my titular achievement.”

“Really?” he asked, but the word brimmed with high humour. “An interesting perspective.”

The Maw Walker rolled her eyes, released his hand with a squeeze, and returned to her cup.

“Very well,” conceded Renathal with a deep sigh. “It is fortunate unselfish compromise is one of my many accomplished virtues.”

“And humility,” added the Maw Walker; Renathal pretended not to hear.

“Saviour of the Shadowlands, then. Surely that is a fitting titular achievement?”

“And a bit of a mouthful.”

“Ah, yes. Speaking of which -"

Renathal stole her half-raised cup and set it on the tray of foodstuffs, just out of her reach. Ignoring her little noise of displeasure, he selected a slice of purian and held it out firmly. The Maw Walker kept her eyes fastened on his as she ate it directly from his hand.

“Perhaps, Breakfist had the right idea,” mused Renathal, his voice low in his throat as she licked the juice from his fingers. “What about, “The Lady of Darkwall Tower”?”

“That sounds promising," she agreed, the words muffled against his skin.

“Yes?”

“I do like when you say it,” she admitted. “Although…” Anima coiled, hot and urgent, inside Renathal at the dark glint in the Maw Walker’s pale eyes. “I like when you call me practically anything.”

It was sometime later - after both trays had been hastily shunted from the bed, Renathal’s dressing gown thrown thoughtlessly atop them - that he resumed the topic.

“And what do you like best for me to call you?”

Renathal posed the question directly against the Maw Walker’s sweat-slicked skin.

“A difficult choice,” she said, still slightly breathless, running her fingers lazily through his long hair. “But I think … I like best to hear you say my name.”

“Hm.” He lifted his head from her chest thoughtfully. “A bit pedestrian.”

She clicked her tongue in faux offense.

“My name is anything but!”

“That is entirely true,” he conceded soothingly, crawling up the bed to say her name against her own lips like a kiss. “Elisewin.”

Elisewin's name comes from this lovely song by Italian piano/violin/cello group Ashram.

Click here to view the Wend in the Shadows Masterpost for all my post-Shadowlands Renathal stories. And, as always, if you enjoyed this story, I would love to hear about it.

#prince renathal #renathal x maw walker #Renathal fanfiction #Wow fanfiction #world of warcraft #shadowlands #venthyr #revendreth #Breakfist #darkwall tower #the maw walker #elisewin #light & shadows

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asymmetryestablished · 1 year

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~Fic Introduction Post~ #6

time to talk ZoSan? let’s talk ZoSan. three fics to discuss today, all three of them rated Explicit, so this is firmly a no-minors-allowed fic introduction post

fic 1: don't ask me who's driving.

in my notes on the original draft I believe I referred to this as a ‘contextless limo blowjob’. I was very much grabbed by a very specific mental image so I wrote it down. wasn’t the first time, won’t be the last, it makes for excellent fanfics.

the super fun spicy part of this fic is that Sanji is the dominant one for once! because while I adore submissive Sanji (so so so much), I think it’s very important to the ZoSan dynamic that Zolo also gets a chance to be subby sometimes. even if it is with the approximate attitude of a whole adult tiger daring you to try and scold it. which it is.

I’m proud of this fic from top to bottom. I wouldn’t necessarily rank it in my top five, but it’s solidly good quality from start to finish, and there are some excellent lines in there too.

it’s short (1.4k) and sweet, so if you love a good throatfuck & gratuitously thirsty descriptions of Sanji, give it a read!

fic 2: Two Masochists Attempt Wound Aftercare.

I watched one of the super early OP movies (I think it’s literally the second one?) purely to watch that one Sanji fight with the unnecessarily good animation. came out of it thinking, wow, that was really just 50 minutes of Sanji foot whump, huh. couple days later I stepped on a nail and wrote this fic.

do I have a ~Thing™~ about feet? no. do I have a ~Thing™~ about Sanji’s feet? ...maybe.

(I definitely have a thing about ZoSan foot worship. but that’s not a foot thing, that’s a weapons thing. anyway.)

this fic is 2.7k of foot care, wound-bandaging, and discussions of masochism. heavy on the banter and ZS friendship, with a generous dash of comedy. if you hate it when Zolo and Sanji get along with each other, then I’m afraid this fic isn’t for you, but if you like it when they’re friends, good news! so do I ^_^

fic 3: Just This Once.

🚨 FILTH ALERT 🚨

this is just under 1k words of excessively horny smut! feat. Sanji Whore Behaviour™, consensually cuckolded Zolo, casual exhibitionism, and more, plus dirty talk x1000 bonus. let’s fuckin’ go.

(basically, if you’re an AllSan shipper like me & think it’d be hot as hell if Sanji hooked up with a hot stranger and immediately went home to pester Zolo for round two... you’ll want to read this fic. trust me.)

in summary:

I love ZoSan. I also write ZoSan! do you love ZoSan? you should read mine. I think it’s pretty fun. also I have like 100 unfinished ZoSan fics lying around and the more attention I get for my existing ZoSan, the more motivated I am to write more of it. just saying.

#nsd’s fanfic introduction posts #zosan #zosan fanfic #roronoa zoro #blackleg sanji #pirate hunter zoro #vinsmoke sanji #smut fic #one piece sanji #one piece zoro #one piece fanfiction #wumpeece #one piece #op zosan #quoth nsd #fanfic talk #fanfic rec #fic rec

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the-sinking-ship · 3 years

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Artwork by @bluebutter-art. Do not use/repost without permission.

It's my faniversary, y'all!

One year ago TODAY, I posted my first Drarry fic, Stupid Love. I commissioned this artwork from the incomparable @bluebutter-art to celebrate and HOLY SHIT it's so beautiful! I can't tell you how long I've spent staring at it because I've lost track.

Read my stupid, sappy fangirl feelings under the cut...

Stupid Love was the first complete Drarry fic I flung into the world. It had been ages since I engaged with fandom as anything more than a consumer, but quarantined in my house with nothing but anxiety for company, I just started writing. I’ll admit, I never really expected anyone to read it. It felt like such a silly, frivolous story to share during a time so fraught with fear and uncertainty. But once I got started, I couldn’t stop! Fic writing became my therapy, my safe space to just do whatever the hell I wanted, and since then, I’ve poured countless hours into hundreds of thousands of words about these boys. I'm so lucky that I get to engage with creators that I admire, share my ridiculous fics with passionate readers, and gain treasured friends along the way.

To celebrate my fic-i-versary, I commissioned Blue, who is as sweet as she is brilliant, to illustrate a scene from Stupid Love and LET ME TELL YOU. I have been sitting on this masterpiece for months, literally counting down the days until I got to share it with everyone because LOOK AT IT. My god.

Thank you, Blue! You’ve made my dreams come true and I’m so honoured to add this artwork to my little collection. And thank you to all of YOU — friends, followers, and readers — for your kind comments, enthusiasm, and generosity in welcoming me into fandom. Here’s to another year of filthy smut and gratuitous banter!

Cheers!

xo Sly

#bluebutter-art #drarry fanart #drarry fic #stupid love fic #storiesfromthesinkingship #commission

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ttttaehyungie · 4 years

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lazy day cuddles | ksj x reader

lazy day cuddles | kim seokjin x reader

genre | established relationship, smut summary | As payment for waking you up, your boyfriend owes you cuddles. You’re here to collect that payment. Anything that happens beyond that? It’s not your doing. rating | 18+ word count | 2k words warnings | softttt smut, clit rubbing, nipple play, pwp a/n | i gotta admit, this is just gratuitous smut and cuddles LOL life has been really tough lately and i just wanted to write some soft smut alrite 🙈

Laid stretched out across the tiny couch, your boyfriend’s long legs spill over the wooden armrests, bare feet sticking peeking out from behind the cushions. His breathing, heavy with slumber, fills the living room with an atmosphere of serenity. One arm rests on his tummy, the other over his eyes to shield them from the bright noon sunlight that’s streaming in through your apartment windows.

You’re not surprised to find Jin napping. He was up before dawn for his fishing trip with Yoongi. As quiet as he’d tried to be while washing up, you were too light a sleeper to not have woken up from the running of the tap in the ensuite. Squinty and grumbling, it had taken many minty, damp kisses to your cheeks and the whispered promise of warm cuddles later to appease you. Through the foggy sleepiness, memories of Jin dragged themselves up, hair wet but fresh-smelling from the shower, crawling into bed for a nap after fishing trips. Ok. Cuddles are acceptable payment. With that, you released your grip on the white cotton of his t-shirt and let the waves of sleep pull you back under.

Only, you’d woken up alone today. It seems Jin didn’t make it to the bed this time for his usual post-fishing trip nap.

Crossing to the front of the couch, you kneel before your sleeping boyfriend and take a moment to admire his features, pulling his arm away from his face. The smooth, long breaths that he’d been taking stutters at that, signaling his rousing. You lean forward and pepper kisses across his face, skimming your lips across the smooth skin between pecks, knowing it will bring him to alertness.

Warm hands grasp your face gently, softly, and pull you in to meet plush lips that kiss yours with equal tenderness. Half-lidded dreamy eyes meet yours as you pull away.

“Hey,” he says, voice thick from having just woken up, and he clears his throat.

“Hey,” you parrot with a smile. “Why didn’t you come to bed?”

“Too tired. Didn’t wanna shower.”

“But you promised cuddles,” you whine jokingly. Jin responds by pulling you into him, smushing your face up in the juncture between his neck and shoulder, muffling your cries of not like this! and shaking you as he chuckles at your pleas.

When you break free, heaving a little for air but grinning, your heart is set alight when you catch sight of Jin’s matching grin. He stretches his arms out. “How about cuddles here?” he suggests.

It’s not the lazy cuddles between soft sheets that you originally planned, but it’s lazy cuddles with your boyfriend all the same. He lets out a soft oof as you accidentally elbow him in your enthusiasm to get to cuddling and you hurriedly apologize. He laughs. You and your love for cuddles are too cute for him to stay mad at. Clambering into his embrace to nestle yourself into his broad chest, you squirm around a little to find a comfortable position.

Nose buried in the soft white of his shirt, you take a deep inhale and are met with the floral fragrance of your laundry detergent, slightly muted undertones of ocean brine, and the familiarly thick scent of Seokjin that has become akin to home. With a kiss to his jaw -- which is conveniently within reach without much movement -- you lay your head back down on his chest and hum contentedly. This is what Saturdays are meant for. Soaking up the feeling of mutually shared body heat and relishing the feeling of your boyfriend gently stroking your back, sending goosebumps up your spine.

His hand dips under the fabric of your shirt as it continues its wandering. “No bra?” he asks. You shake your head. “Shameless.”

You scoff and pretend to get up. “I can put one on if it bothers you that much,” you quip, but Jin tugs you back down.

His gentle tracing resumes. “I didn’t say it bothered me.”

“You called it shameless.”

“Maybe I like my girlfriend being a little shameless,” he says, slipping a hand between you to stroke the side of your breast. When you turn to adjust your position, he seizes the chance to pinch the bud. The thrilling jolt of pleasure elicits a gasp from you.

“You’re really handsy today,” you note, but arch further into his grasp, and he takes it as confirmation to continue with his ministrations.

“Yeah, well, having you squirming on my dick and rubbing your soft chest up against mine doesn’t really help anything.”

“And here all I wanted was some cuddles,” you say, and it’s true that this was your only agenda. But the whimpers that escape you as he flicks his thumb against your nipple contradict the innocence to your statement.

“We can still cuddle,” he says. You eye him. You know him better than that. He laughs. “While doing other stuff.”

“And what might ‘other stuff’ include?” you tease, pushing him. He pushes back. The hand that’s unoccupied slips its way down from where it rested on your waist to skim the curve of your butt, till two fingers press firmly against your core. The feeling is muted through the extra layers of your sleep shorts and underwear, but it somehow makes it extra titillating. “Right here on the couch? Shameless.”

“I told you. Maybe I like shameless.”

There’s little space on your tiny couch, so you remain on top of Jin, but you plant your knees down on either side of his waist and lift your hips. With the new angle, your chests are pressed together, leaving him no space for his handsy wanderings on your chest. He pouts. But cuddles, you insist.

He relents and wraps an arm around you. The comforting warmth that emanates from him steadies you as he holds you close. And it’s a good thing it does. Because when his other hand slips under the waistband of your shorts and underwear, painstakingly slow as it slides down to your core, his hold is the only thing keeping you grounded. When he reaches his destination, he cups your mound for a moment. Teasing you. Just as you love to tease him.

“Jin. Please.”

Upon your whimpered plea, he parts your folds. A lone finger takes a long, slow swipe from your dripping hole to your quivering clit. There, it presses firmly as the pad of his finger drags up and down the bundle of nerves, aided by the slick of your own arousal.

You relish in the indulgent richness the ebbing pleasure of his strokes bring. It’s slow. Painfully but deliciously so. But it’s like a sampling that has whet your appetite and soon has you ravenous for more.

Rutting against his finger, you attempt to ramp up the pace. Jin lets you take over, stilling his movements. But before it can build up too much, he withdraws his fingers, the pleasure along with it, and you keen.

“I thought you liked me being shameless,” you huff, all pouty. He tilts his head to kiss your pout.

“I do,” he promises, moving to kiss the crease in your brow. “But I want to try something new.”

He doesn’t explain beyond that, but despite your confusion, you follow his cue as he begins stripping his shirt off and then yours. You trust him. Soon, your clothes are in a rumpled pile by the couch.

When you’re both naked and bare, you lay back onto the couch. You watch as Jin rolls the condom on and joins you to lay side by side this time. With your tiny couch, it’s a wonder that he’s not falling off. But somehow you manage.

Caged in between the soft cushions before you and the hard planes of Jin’s chest flush against your back, you realize there’s few places else you’d rather be. Time seems to have slowed back down to its leisurely crawl after your frantic stripping. It seems that Jin is on the same page, his wandering hands resuming their exploration as they come to fondle your chest once again.

Tilting your head back, Jin’s lips capture yours in a languid kiss. His hand makes its slow descent down to your core. But just as it arrives, it makes a seeming detour to your thigh. He hitches it up to guide it over his hip. Parting your folds in the same unhurried manner, he pushes inside you slowly, filling you up inch by inch.

“Is this okay?” he asks.

You nod. “More than okay,” you assure him.

He kisses your temple softly, and you shudder within his grasp. He eats this up, placing open-mouthed kisses along your shoulder. The feeling is all so much and yet not enough at all.

And then he moves. Carrying on with the stretched-out pace of things, he’s unrushed in his movements. Slipping a hand underneath you, he reaches around to gently squeeze your breast. His other hand finds your clit and he circles it with just the right amount of pressure to set you aglow with a simmering pleasure.

He continues on in this infinite cycle of pulling out, then sinking back into your wet heat, the pace measured and sedate. When you whine and try to increase the pace by bucking your hips against his, he calms your movements down with a hand on your hip -- fingers glistening slightly from your lingering arousal -- until you stop.

“Why?” you whine.

But what he says next is vocalized in such a hushed tone that somehow you catch it. You get what he’s trying to get at. “Just enjoy this moment.” You understand. The bubble of pleasure where he’s so wrapped up in you expands so you’re equally wrapped up in him. The quiet hum of pleasure is enough. It’s not quite a stagnant stasis but it’s not a frenzied chasing of highs either.

Instead, you rest in the confident assurance that your peak will come. Succumb to the bone-melting sensation that his gentle tweaks of your clit bring. And when they slowly, gradually, increase in pace infinitesimally, you clench your walls lightly, pulling a groan from him. The gruffness of it goes directly into your ear with the way you’re positioned, and it sends a new spark of arousal shooting down your spine.

You follow his pace, picking up when he does. But it never goes anything beyond relaxed. Yet, the pleasure builds, accumulating steadily like water behind a dam until it eventually cracks and breaks.

When you crest that peak, it’s like nothing else you’ve ever experienced. Rather than the usual bright flash, a quick high and the breathless, panting descent that accompanies it, your orgasm this time feels entirely different. It’s like you’re back floating in the ocean, casually rocked by the push and pull of the water that cradles you and lifts you ever higher till you ascended on a particularly big wave and now you’re riding it out gently, bonelessly, languorously as the tingling orgasm fills you from head to toe. You can still smell the salty ocean air that clings to Jin’s hair. The aptness of it fills you with a fuzzy warmth.

Soon after, Jin is grunting into your ear, his arms now encircling you and holding you tightly to his chest as he reaches his own peak. Tilting your head back to look at him, you take in the visual of him in his blissful post-orgasmic haze.

When his eyes finally flutter open, he gives you a close-lipped smile. The kind that makes your heart swell as it fills up with so much love for him that it brims over. He holds you in his gaze with galaxies in his eyes and you know he feels the same.

He makes quick work of the condom and helps you get back into your clothes after getting dressed himself. Sipping water from the cup he hands you, you glance at him from over the rim. “Is it bad if I still want to cuddle after this?” you ask.

He laughs at you, knowing your penchant for cuddling. “Hm,” he taps his chin in feigned thought. “After knowing we can have amazing sex while cuddling, I’m not opposed.”

You roll your eyes and swat at him lightly.

But when he proposes round two when you’re tucked under the covers after a quick shower, you don’t refuse.

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itmighthavebeenintentional · 4 years

Text

Walk Me Home - Ch 10

Summary: Twenty-four years ago, Kimberly Harper met a boy who changed the course of her entire life before up and leaving one night. She spent years moving past the memories, building a stable, satisfying career as professor of folklore and mythology at the local university. Then the accidents start, and she’s forced to seek help among her hunter contacts. All it takes is a knock on her office door to send Kimber’s carefully built emotional walls crumbling to the ground.

Featuring: Teen Winchesters, high school romance, reunions, misunderstandings, high intensity emotional turmoil, Dean’s love of pie, Dean being adorable, Sam being adorable and maybe a bit nosy eventually, much group adorkable-ness, show-style investigation, mention of our favorite werewolf, gratuitous and obvious love of fall, DID I MENTION ROMANCE, fluff, smut, tension.

Warnings: Show level violence, show level parental neglect (let’s not John bash, I’m just saying), show-style witchcraft, show-level mental manipulation, stalking, bit of angst, sexual content (higher than show level),swearing, general yearning

Word Count: 1856

Author’s Note: Had some extra time today, so I figured I’d go ahead and post. We’ve reached the end, folks. Thank you to everyone for reading, reblogging, liking, and especially all the lovely comments. A million thanks to @mskathywriteswords , @fangirlxwritesx67 , and @cracksinthewalls for helping my story shine. @thoughtslikeaminefield , thank you for the lovely image for the story. I hope everyone enjoyed it all as much as I do.

Keep in Mind: There are a lot of flashbacks. I tried to write current events in present tense and flashbacks in past tense. Here’s hoping I got everything right!

Please read/heed the warnings. 18+ ONLY.

In Case You Missed It: Ch 1 | Ch 2 | Ch 3 | Ch 4 | Ch 5 | Ch 6 | Ch 7 | Ch 8 | Ch 9 ItMightHaveBeenIntentional’s Masterlist

Chapter 10

“Sam looks really irritated,” Kimber whispers to Dean. The younger Winchester brother has just excused himself to the restroom, but the diner is pretty quiet, and she doesn’t want to risk Sam overhearing.

“Well, yeah,” Dean says, raising his coffee to take a deep, life-affirming slurp. He doesn’t bother to lower his tone or modulate his pitch in the slightest, and Kimber shoots him an exasperated look. “I stuck him with clean-up duty last night so I could get lucky. Not to mention, our room was the only free one at the motel, remember, so he either slept there or in his car. He’s not irritated, he’s pissed as hell and probably a little jealous.”

“But you didn’t get lucky last night,” Kimber says.

“Went home with my high school sweetheart, got to see her unmentionables, and spent the whole night in bed with her after eating semi-homemade apple pie. I’d say I got pretty damned lucky.”

She sends an elbow his way, but he’s expecting it and leans back so she overshoots and lands across his lap. She splutters indignantly as she rights herself while he takes another calm drink of his coffee.

“Seriously, though, he’s not pissed at you. The first few months after we left, the kid wouldn’t shut up about you. He practically worshipped you: hot, nerdy as hell, the whole package. And,” he adds, his teasing expression mellowing to one of genuine appreciation, “you really helped him out with that AP stuff. He got into Stanford because of you.”

“Shut up,” she says, her face heating. “He got into Stanford? That was him, and you know it. I just gave him some resources he didn’t know about, that’s all.”

“And I was able to keep up with all my AP classes no matter where we moved, which was a huge deal to me,” Sam says as he slides into the booth across from them. “You guys talking about me behind my back?”

“Always,” Dean smirks. “So, what’d you find out?”

“Does the name ‘Jim Weeks’ mean anything to you, Kimber?”

She frowns, setting her fork down on the edge of her plate. “It does. I helped him out, god, what...eight, nine years ago? He hadn’t been hunting very long, maybe a year or two, and he was investigating some...Let me think, hang on.” She closes her eyes, mentally shifting through years of research, both hers and others’.

“Human sacrifices. There was a symbol carved into all the victims. I helped him find the source, the deity it stood for. It was one of my closed cases; that’s why I didn’t bring it up. He called me a few weeks later, said he’d taken care of everything.”

“Well, he was wrong,” Sam says, his face grave. “I found his journal in the witch’s car. Jim documented you helping him, what you found, where you worked, and then how the case wrapped up. You actually helped him take down en entire coven of witches, guess he didn’t mention that part. Then he went on hunting for another seven and a half years, but a few months ago, he started to write about feeling like someone was watching him, tailing him from case to case.”

Sam pauses, giving her a moment to take in this new information, then he continues.

“Said he was starting to have periods of time where he didn’t remember stuff, would wake up in the middle of the road, in the middle of the woods. He wrote about finding a doll in his car one morning; it, uh..looked like him. Throat was slit, red paint, all of it.”

Sam clears his throat, flexing his fingers on the table top as he watches her carefully. Dean’s hand closes over hers under the table, and she realizes her fingers are shaking.

“Go on,” she says. She doesn’t want to hear what’s coming next, she really already knows, but she needs to hear it.

“The entries in his journal stop after that. The cover was soaked in dried blood. So...yeah. I did some checking, and Jim died a few months back. The scene was...nasty.”

“So, who was our nutbag?” Dean asks. His tone is rough as he squeezes Kimber’s fingers.

“I looked into the county records where Jim took down the coven. I don’t think he did too much research into the actual witches themselves; the coven included a family, a mom and dad and a teenager. Jim thought he got the whole coven, but maybe the teenager wasn’t at that meeting? At any rate, the papers from around then talked about the murdered couple’s missing child, and then the kid just dropped out of mention.”

“Okay, Jim was sloppy, and the kid survived, and what...swore revenge? How’d he find Jim again?”

“I found these folded up in the front of the journal,” Sam says, smoothing a couple of newspaper articles out on the table. The edges are frayed and ragged, torn rather than cut. There are dark smears on both, smudges and stains from who knows what, and Kimber’s gorge rises higher the longer she stares down at them.

The first article dates back to the first investigation, showing a grainy photograph of police and federal officers milling around behind crime scene tape. Kimber points to a figure off to the side, suited and facing the camera almost straight on.

“That’s Jim,” she says, her voice quiet. He looks painfully young in the photograph, and her chest twinges. The caption labels him as “FBI Special Agent Gaiman.”

She looks at the second article, which is much more recent. She notices immediately that the location is the same, the premise almost identical. “Town’s Dark Past Resurfaces After Nearly a Decade” reads the headline. She looks for Jim’s face, spotting it in the crowd once more, despite him aging considerably in the years since she met him.

“He used the same name again,” Dean says, shaking his head. “I mean, he didn’t have much choice, since it was probably the same cops on the case, but still. Probably how the witch found him. Might’ve started up the sacrifices again just to draw Jim out. Anything else in the car, Sam?”

Sam shakes his head, his mouth working as if he’s got a bad taste in his mouth. “More or less standard witch paraphernalia, a couple more knives. I didn’t see anything indicating we have anyone else to watch out for.”

Dean purses his lips, then looks to Kimber. “You doin’ okay?”

Kimber takes the question seriously, doing a quick bit of mental introspection. “Yeah, I think...I mean...Okay, so I’m still queasy, but I don’t feel like someone’s breathing down my neck anymore. I’m going to be jumpy for a while, and I am definitely not going to stop going to my Thursday night classes anytime soon. But, yeah. If I’m not completely okay at the moment, I know I’m going to be.”

“That’s my girl.” Dean leans over, pressing a kiss to Kimber’s cheek. Sam looks away, but not before Kimber catches the embarrassed smile on his face. Dean slides from the booth, strolling casually over to the register and grinning at the elderly waitress, who blushes and giggles as she takes the check from him.

“Dad wouldn’t let him call you,” Sam says quietly. Kimber’s eyes flash to Sam, startled.

“When we left. Dean wanted to. He tried to, but Dad said he couldn’t. Said you were a distraction we couldn’t afford. He absolutely forbade it. They got in a fight, the worst one I ever saw between them when we were kids, and Dad...he...well, he, uh...He put his foot down. And later, after Dad died...I think Dean was ashamed. Maybe. I dunno, but I think he didn’t feel like he could call you after all that time, felt like he’d let you down.”

Sam glances over his shoulder, and they both watch Dean lean down to whisper conspiratorially with the blushing waitress as he hands her his credit card. Dean turns back to Kimber, winking, and her last little bit of heartache flakes off and fades away.

“Maybe don’t hold it against him too much?” Sam says, his best puppy-dog face in place. Kimber has never seen such an earnest expression from a guy asking on behalf of another man before.

“So, what do we have on the docket, Sam?” Dean asks as he rejoins them. Kimber throws her arms around his neck, ignoring the twinge twinge of pain on the side of her throat, and kisses him soundly. He looks startled but pleased as she pulls away, eyes wide and cheeks ruddy.

“What was that for? I’m just askin’ so I can do it again.”

She clears her throat against an unexpected lump. Behind Sam, the waitress at the register gives her a double thumbs up. “I was just jealous of the attention you were giving the wait staff. Figured you thought I wasn’t paying you enough attention.”

Sam coughs discreetly, his mouth twitching from the effort of smothering his smile. “I actually don’t have any cases for us. I was thinking about going back to the bunker and reorganizing some of those files I‘ve been going through. You know, I could really use your help, Dean. Our inventories could use some alphabetizing, and-”

“Hard pass,” Dean says, flashing his brother a quick, mirthless smile.

“If you’re looking for something to do,” Kimber offers, then hesitates when Dean turns his focus to her. “Well, I mean...fall break is next week. There’s a harvest festival in town; we have a crafts fair and a big farmers market and a lot of baking competitions. It’s pretty fun. If...if you wanted to stay a little while, Dean.”

...

In the end, Dean stays nearly two weeks. They go to every single day of the festival, during which time, they pick out a new quilt for her bed and Dean makes himself actually sick at the pie tasting event. When he does finally leave, it’s with a promise to visit soon, and their phone numbers saved in each of their cells.

“I will say, I’m not overly fond of watching this car drive off,” Kimber says, hugging herself through the inadequate material of her sweater. The weather has turned genuinely cold, and she wishes she’d grabbed something heavier, but she hadn’t planned on staying outside for so long.

For some reason, though, she just can’t let go of him long enough for him to get into the car.

Dean rubs his hands briskly up and down her arms, his eyes sad and fond as they roam over her face. Before she can stop him, he pulls off his jacket, draping it over her shoulders and kissing her forehead.

“You look damned cute in my jacket,” he says gruffly. “One more for the road?”

And if her lips are still swollen and throbbing when he puts the car into gear and pulls away from the curb, if his hair looks like he came straight from bed, neither of them minds in the least.

…

The end.

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ohwereusingourmadeupnames · 4 years

Text

Sorry Not Sorry

Pairing: Peter Parker/Tony Stark Warnings: none - Pete is 20ish. There be smut, though. Summary:

Peter Parker runs a really popular Iron Man fan account on Twitter. One fine day, he accidentally posts a photo meant for that fan account on his official Spider-Man Twitter, instead.

Read it at AO3 here.

Getting home from class, Peter pulled his laptop out – a saucy smile on his face. MJ, the absolute perfect wingman, sent him the first sneak leaked from Tony’s latest Iron Man photoshoot with TIME Magazine during the last ten minutes of his Biophysics lecture and it took everything in him not to ditch the rest of his professor’s oh so exciting set of PowerPoint slides to rub one out in the bathroom. Swinging home with a hard-on tucked into his pants wasn’t exactly the definition of a good time. Dr. Simms had the greatest timing, though – the mention of a quiz during the next class saving Peter from having to embarrassingly excuse himself. Tucking his phone back into the pocket of his jeans, Pete forced himself to focus and get through the rest of class. He only needed to make it five more minutes – then he could swing as fast as momentum could carry him back to his small studio apartment where privacy was the name of the game.

His skin already felt flushed from the brief glance he allowed himself before pocketing his phone. The few minutes it took him to stealthily get to the roof, get his mask on, and web home from NYU’s notorious physics building felt like torture. More than once he mistimed his swings and had to accommodate with a well-aimed strand against a lower building or lamppost. Settling on the ground a couple blocks from his building, Peter used the last few steps to collect himself – to get in the zone and pull his fanboy pants on once again. The ability to see Iron Man in the flesh was a thrill – Peter as Spider-Man earned the man’s respect long ago. Yet, there was nothing like the secret fantasies he’d been harboring over the last few years as Peter Parker himself, a simple 20-year-old with a good old-fashioned boner for the beautiful man behind the brilliance that was Ironman.

With the laptop sitting on his legs, Peter started his ritualistic perusal of all the emails and forums. Since he’d been running an Ironman fan account for years, he got pretty exclusive access to new material courtesy of the connections he’d made freaking the fuck out about all things Iron Man and Tony Stark. Like so many times, his inbox was filled with links to Tumblr posts already putting the images into eloquent image collections – each one he scrolled by showing that patented Tony Stark sexiness.

This particular shoot made Tony look raw – the use of black and white enhancing the man’s natural ruggedness that made him so damn irresistible. One in particular stood out in each set – his heart pounding hard when he finally decided to click on it. They were obviously in the lab – the place not only cool but insanely aesthetically pleasing and recognizable. Tony’s shirt was of a lighter material, the shadow behind him enhancing the glow from the arc reactor that could be seen through the shirt. Though the image didn’t have any color in it, Tony’s chest illuminated life – the pulse of the arc reactor something that was hard to ignore. The Iron Man helmet was tucked carelessly under his arm – a faraway expression on the older man’s face. Whoever the photographer was got so many bonus points for the a-plus framing – the whole image was absolutely stunning. Without much thought, Peter clicked the little hearts on each post, his fingers carelessly reblogging the sets he liked the best and saving the rest for later. What fucking right did Tony have being that goddamn stunning?

He managed to find a singular still of his favorite photo to save to his phone, the image immediately going into a Twitter post with a typical ‘I’d let him fuck me’ caption. Most of his followers weren’t on yet, so he saved the post for later – not noticing the fact that he didn’t change the profile he saved the draft to. He could already see the threads, the excitement and wet seats from the beauty of these photos, the comments and retweets that would keep his phone blowing up for hours. For some reason, the action on his I Heart Iron Man account was way more important than anything that happened on the official Spider-Man account. That one was heavily monitored by one Pepper Potts and he rarely got any creative freedom when it came to the things he was able to post for the world to see. He usually received an email with a photo attached and a pre-planned caption – one that was both politically correct and wholesome enough to keep his friendly neighborhood superhero persona alive and well. He understood the necessity – the current age of social media was like the jungle and a single mistake could take down an entire pride. Being attached to The Avengers came with a bit of added pressure – but he listened and did what he was told – Spider-man was a good boy.

Peter Parker on the other hand, well, he’d been cooped up behind the mask for too long – and stuck in a lab with the single hottest human on the planet, of course. Upon being discovered by the man a little after his eighteenth birthday, Peter and Tony fell into an easy camaraderie. The older man appreciated his brain and recklessness – though he’d never admit to the latter. Working together through his internship with Stark Industries got him a little closer to the actual man himself – and Peter liked everything about him. His brilliance felt tangible – Peter able to feel Tony’s thought process when they were pushed up against one of the lab tables together, the web fluid code spread out on the holoscreen in front of them.

When he got an idea about something, Tony couldn’t be stop, slowed down, or deterred from the course. Many times, Peter watched Tony go from a raw idea to a solved puzzle in the matter of a couple of facial expressions. It made Peter want to clap his hands in excitement and pull the man flush against him all in one breath. He didn’t take into account, when he started getting to spend time with both Tony and Iron Man, that the difference between the two would soon be hard to discriminate – and his attraction became twofold.

Since getting to know the man behind the mask, Peter thought about putting his Iron Man fan account to rest a few times. Tony Stark, who Peter knew considered him a friend, deserved a lot more than the ‘fuck me, Tony’ memes he’d been known to create in his spare time long before he knew anything other than a schoolboy fantasy. Twitter told him just the other day that his account celebrated its fifth birthday – an accomplishment in and of itself in this day and age. The couple times he came close to finally getting rid of it, he found himself scrolling through the many, many – way too many posts he’d made over the years – inevitability unable to pull the trigger and actually delete the account. He figured, since the images could still pull such a reaction out of himself and others like him, well – what could it possibly hurt?

In all his time as the moderator of the fan account, he never once gave himself away. Despite all of the people wanting to be friends and meet in person – Peter managed to keep his identity and the anonymity of the account secure. Mainly because the only personal opinion he ever let anyone see was the one that said, ‘I want Tony Stark to top me & I don’t care who knows it!’ At the end of the day, that singular idea seemed to be more than enough for most people scrolling through his content. There were so many things he juggled on a daily basis – he couldn’t imagine what being caught out worshipping the man he’d come to really know and appreciate would be like.

Over the past couple of years, Peter tried his best to gain the respect of all of The Avengers. Despite being eighteen and technically an adult when he joined them, each member looked at him like a kid, or their younger brother they needed to protect. Little by little, he felt the acceptance from most of the group – Steve and Bruce were surprisingly in his corner relatively fast. The one person he craved to be seen for the man he was couldn’t decide how he felt on the matter. Tony could be so carefree, especially when they were in the lab together or joking around after a particularly good patrol. Tony could also be very protective and turn on ‘dad-mode’ just as easy. A part of Peter wanted to believe the other man cared for him so much that his protective nature couldn’t be helped. Though, the man was Iron Man – he spent his life getting into situations to protect other people. Whatever the deal was, Peter didn’t really know where he (not Spider-Man, the heroes were too close knit after so many battles together) stood with Tony Stark – so pining from a distance would have to do.

All of the excitement of freaking out with all of his fellow Iron Man fans made it easy to neglect the time. Glad for once that he listened to his instinct and didn’t decided to rub one out in the NYU bathrooms, Peter took his time enjoying each and every one of the photographs. Most afternoons left a little bit of time between coming home from class and heading to SI – a time in which Peter usually did the little bit of homework he usually had. Today, his routine went out the window the second he got his laptop open and the images on the screen. It didn’t make sense – how much attention the photos were getting from him. As he clicked through each one, he felt more and more – arousal at first, then something… different.

For whatever reason, this spread decided to highlight the man in the mask without the mask on – like the world needed more gratuitous pictures of the gorgeous Tony Stark (okay, it did – it really fucking did.) The lack of a full connection to Iron Man in the photos made Peter really think about how much of Tony Stark actually went into the superhero. Spider-Man was Peter’s alter ego – the mask kept him safe and allowed him to face recklessness head-on without a second thought. The principles that guided Spider-Man very much belonged to Peter Parker – but the friendly neighborhood Spider-Man was an entity of its own. The more Pete thought about the differences between Iron Man and Tony Stark – there weren’t many that didn’t have to do with the abilities of the suit. When the mask came off, Tony didn’t stop being Iron Man. It only took two years of getting to know the man to truly understand.

The haze of his realization and the fog of arousal that’d been collecting in the room slowly pulled Peter under – he let his left hand move away from the computer screen, his fingers skating across the fabric of his shirt until they settled on the button of his jeans. It didn’t take much to get the button undone, the zipper coming down easily a couple of seconds later. A soft sigh left his lips when the pressure he’d been staving off finally let up a little – his cock finally able to breath for the first time since leaving class. For a few minutes, he let himself continue to tease the tips of his fingers over the bulge that pressed so nicely against the front of his black Calvin Klein’s. Flipping through the photos a couple more times, Peter found a set of his favorite picture in a couple different tones – the heat he felt making him fist his cock, the material of his briefs already wet and humid. He let a soft moan leave his lips – the younger man finally letting his fingertips trail under the waistband, the skin-on-skin contact almost too good.

He clicked on the last of the photos in the set, Peter still hung up on the original – the black and white something he never knew he needed in a photo. The way Tony looked in it, Peter could almost imagine that same stare when he looked up and caught the older man looking his way. That thought sent a rush of heat to his middle – the precum pooling in his boxers starting to saturate the material, his cock literally dripping. He couldn’t resist wrapping his fingers around the head, the pad of his thumb smearing the liquid around.

It didn’t take long to imagine the look in Tony’s eyes actually being directed at him, the faraway look replaced with one of hunger and desire. Tony wouldn’t be shy about the way he wanted, either. Peter could only imagine how he’d pull his smaller body flush against his own – taking control of the situation without a second thought. He spent a lot of time thinking about how Tony would kiss, the man was so talented at everything – it would only make sense that Tony Stark was a world class kisser, too. When kissing became too much, he thought about the older man wiping all of the things off the desk behind them, picking Peter up, and having his wicked way with him on the flat surface. Oh, to feel the heavy press of Tony’s chest against his own.

The apex of the coiled heat in his stomach quickly approached – the Tony and Peter of his fantasy were sans clothes and happily rutting together on the table. The heavy drag of the older man’s cock would be overwhelming – each pass of the skin of it against Peter’s own trigger-happy dick bringing him closer and closer to the edge. A hitch in his breath brought Peter out of the fantasy, brown eyes watching as his own hand moved under the tent of his briefs. His skin felt like it was on fire, the heat inside him consuming every nerve ending before finally settling in the depths of his balls – the swell of it boiling over and bringing Peter along with it. He kept a slow rhythm going until the oversensitivity became too much. The spidey senses were a hell of a thing when it came to stimulation – many times overwhelming him from all angles. Coming down, Peter pulled his hand out of his pants, the stickiness making him chuckle. Only Peter would jerk off in the comfortability of his own home without getting out of his pants – at least he did his own laundry now.

It didn’t take long to get cleaned up, a quick wipe of his soiled briefs and a change of pants had him ready again in no time. Which ended up being a good thing – when he came out to check his phone, he noticed several text notifications and a missed call from Tony. His eyes bugged when he saw the time – he was hella late. So late, in fact, that he was surprised Iron Man himself wasn’t banging at his window. Sucking in a breath, Peter unlocked his phone to call Tony back, although, he didn’t get very far – Tony’s name popped up before he could get the app up. He swiped his thumb to answer the call, getting it before the first ring could finish.

“Mr. Stark, I’m so sorry. Time got away from me – I’m on my way, now,” Peter got out, the words immediately coming out of his mouth before Tony could get a word in edgewise. He inadvertently worried the man, the sheer amount of texts and calls showing that. The least he could do was be gracious and get his ass to work as fast as he possibly could. Pete heard Tony let out a sigh on the other end of the line – the older man obviously more relieved than mad. “Fuck, Pete – I got a little worried when you didn’t show up. I asked Friday to check in with Karen – but you weren’t wearing the suit, either. I don’t want to tell you how close I came to putting on my suit to come find you,” Tony tried to keep his tone light, though his words spoke louder than any feigned nonchalance could. “Glad you’re safe, kid,” Tony said, the words completely genuine. “I’m okay – sorry I worried you, Tony.” Peter smiled at his own words, then quickly disconnected the call with another promise to be there soon and get there safely.

Peter couldn’t keep the grin off his face when he thought about how well he actually knew Tony Stark. He knew the other wasn’t far from using the suit to make sure he was okay or find him if the case called for it. Though, the fact that he spent all that time fantasizing and getting off to the other man’s photos remained – so the joy of the feeling wasn’t… entirely pure. Shaking his head, Peter got himself into gear – his feet carrying him around the room at a record pace. The walk to the roof was quick, his energy renewed now that he’d handled the burn eating him up since Biophysics earlier and he was about to spend the next however many hours elbows deep in nanotech goodness with a person that was quickly becoming his favorite. Before pulling the mask on, Peter pulled his phone out and shot Tony a text.

Peter Parker [6:30PM]: Swinging your way. Peter Parker [6:30PM]: See you soon, Tony.

He smiled at the use of Mr. Stark’s name and let the joy from before settle in again – he felt good and intended to enjoy it. Clearing out his programs, Peter noticed he left the post from before sitting in his drafts. That wouldn’t do – especially since the world deserved to see the sexiness that was Tony Stark as Iron Man. And the world expected I Heart Iron Man to comment on something this monumental. He absentmindedly pulled the draft up and posted it – the younger man not bothering to make sure he posted to the right account. Pulling on his mask, Peter grinned to himself and started to run, his feet carrying him at a high speed off the edge of the roof and into a flawless swing – that was always the best part.

----

It felt invigorating, flowing from web to web throughout the gorgeous backdrop that was New York City. Before being discovered by Tony and later invited to join The Avengers, Pete spent many nights simply enjoying the fact that he could see the city from this perspective. Between battling muggers and making sure innocent people remained safe – Peter’s work was cut out for him, and the simple moments were really what made it worth it. He didn’t speed through his city swing the same way he did earlier that day, that burning desire simmering in the pit of his stomach right now, the need not burning hot and pulsing like earlier. Eventually, Peter landed on the landing port on top of Stark’s building – a soft sigh leaving his lips when his feet settled against the hard surface of the flattop. It took him a second to get his equilibrium back, the boy slightly dizzy for a few moments after stopping the gravity defying movements. He took his mask off then, now steady feet carrying him to the door of the elevator – the penthouse a couple seconds ride away.

Before he could get his hand on the button, Friday’s voice came out of nowhere. “Peter, you might want to move a little quicker. Something happened,” Friday said, the words making Pete’s heart beat a little faster. It didn’t take him that long to get from lower Queens to Stark Tower – he made the swing every day and almost always got it done in a few minutes. There hadn’t been anything noticeable in the sky and he didn’t see any alien technology trying to infiltrate their atmosphere. His eyebrows furrowed as he got into the elevator, the door obviously being opened by Friday - the AI smarter than her own good sometimes. “What’s up, Friday? I didn’t see anything when I was out over the city – I know I would’ve at least noticed trouble.” Peter spoke with curiosity in his voice, the idea of missing something big driving hm a little crazy. “For once, the country is safe, Peter. Have you looked at your phone lately? It seems like something got out that shouldn’t have,” Friday’s voice was matter-fact, but Peter knew if she could, a chuckle would’ve accompanied those words.

Without another thought, Peter pulled his phone from the pocket of his backpack he kept it in when he was otherwise occupied doing Spider-Man things. Clicking the button on the side, his eyes bulged when he saw the massive amount of notifications blowing up his phone. He didn’t understand what happened right away – his eyes catching all the likes and retweets of his latest tweet – but then, holy shit – the tweet being retweeted came from his Spider-Man account and not the fan account. “Holy shit. Friday, how many people have seen this? And Mr. Stark – did he –?” Peter felt like the elevator was closing in him – the ride taking way longer than it normally did. “Mr. Stark gets an alert when any of The Avengers send out a tweet,” Friday answered him truthfully. Peter already knew that – he’d given the older man shit about how close of an eye he kept on them all more than once over their time together. Sometimes jokingly, and sometimes with a malice that only a 20-year-old can bring. The elevator finally settled and for once in his entire life – Peter wasn’t ready for whatever waited for him on the other side of the sliding doors.

Not being prepared was an understatement. There were three bodies waiting for him the second he got off the elevator; Pepper, who looked absolutely appalled, Steve, who had the slightest bit of laughter in his eyes, despite the seriousness of his face – and Tony, who’s expression was the most unreadable. His gut clenched tightly when he took a step closer, all eyes on him. “I can explain – “ Peter started, but his words were immediately cut off. “Peter, this is the dumbest thing you could have done! I knew I shouldn’t have given you access to the official Twitter.” Pepper’s words cut, each one swiping salt into a wound that was slowly opening, the blood seeping from the gash little by little. “You need to delete it – now!” Her eyes flashed at that, the seriousness of the situation not really hitting him until that very moment. The tone of her voice was like Aunt May after he came home with a black eye, though the underlying worry did not exist in this lecture.

Peter didn’t hesitate – the phone was still gripped tightly in his fist from the initial humiliation that hit him in the elevator. Nimble fingers worked over the screen until Twitter was up and the tweet was gone – though millions of people already saw it if the traffic on it was anything to go by. Slamming his eyes shut before looking up at the people in front of him, Peter felt a wash of shame slip over him – how in the world did he look Tony Stark in the eyes now that he’d carelessly revealed himself to the other man. And the way he did it – the comment on that photo did not do his true feelings justice. What a fucking idiot, Peter thought – his hands clenching into fists once his phone was deposited back into his pocket. “I’m so fucking sorry,” Peter finally managed to get out, his head titling up until he could look at them. He avoided Tony’s eyes, though – the embarrassment too real and in his face at the moment.

“We’ll discuss this at a later date. Until then, please don’t post on Twitter at all. I need to go and do some damage control,” Pepper spoke with finality, the arms crossed over her chest relaxing as she started to walk away. “If you’ll excuse me, fellas.” Her heel clicks sounded louder than they’d ever been, each one reverberating around the penthouse – the feeling she left behind like final nails in a coffin. His cheeks still flaming, Peter looked over to Cap – the older man’s arms crossed much like Pepper’s, though the amusement in his eyes hadn’t left. In fact, Steve looked like he wanted to laugh in Peter’s face – the immensity of the situation not lost on the hero. “I don’t even know why I’m here, honestly. I think I wanted to see your face in person. We’ll meet as a group about this some other time – talk about how this might affect the dynamic of the collective,” Steve said, his words sure, the tempo and tone of his voice very much like normal. “Until then, I’ll leave you two be.” The blonde threw a look in Tony’s direction, then followed Pepper’s steps out – a hand landing on Peter’s shoulder for a quick second when the older man passed.

All at once, Peter found himself alone with Tony – the other man’s face still unreadable. Peter didn’t know what to say, the younger man hoping for once that Tony flew off the handle and lectured him. Anything was better than the expression on the older man’s face. “Tony, I – “ Peter still didn’t know what to say, his heart was beating so fast and the entire situation was stupidly overwhelming. He almost wished he could turn and run away, follow Steve’s footsteps and retreat into the elevator – the call of his studio apartment was much louder than normal. Instead of standing there, Peter moved a little farther into the apartment. His feet knew the path so well now – he’d spent more than enough time exploring the marble floored hallways, the rooms with their huge beds and even bigger screens on the wall, the lab and all of its techie glory. Over the past couple of years, this place became home. Hopefully his dumb ass libido didn’t lose that for him – he didn’t really know what he’d do with himself if he suddenly lost The Avengers, Tony, and the place he felt the most comfortable in one fell swoop.

His hands skimmed across the leather of the couch he sat in just the day before – the sounds of The Walking Dead playing in his ears at the memory. After getting done in the lab for the night, Tony nodded towards the couch – the older man obviously not ready for their time to end yet. In the recent weeks, Peter noticed their time in the lab always ended outside of the lab – whether they ate takeout and watched tv or played chess on the really cool black and white checkered board, there was always a bit of time spent outside of the lab. Last night, Tony puttered around the kitchen while Peter got settled on the couch – his brief conversation with Friday getting the series pulled up and their current episode onto the screen. A comfortable silence fell over them when Tony brought plates of fresh eggs and bacon over – both men always ravenous after their time in the lab. That time was so easy and now seemed like a lifetime ago. What good could possibly come from this? Peter hadn’t really thought about what would happen if Mr. Stark found out about the crazy obsession he let play out through a twitter feed.

Though the word obsession seemed a little heavy. When he first started following Iron Man, it was with rapt attention and idolization. He could still remember the first time he saw the hero on TV – the way his heart kind of beat in a way he’d never experienced before, and his palms got a little sweaty. He liked what the name Ironman represented. Then, well – a sexual awakening came not long after that and Iron Man seemed to be the fuel to that fire. For a couple of years, Peter felt himself falling for the illusion of what Iron Man represented. When he actually met the man, the hunger for Iron Man didn’t relinquish, not really – instead, it was replaced with what could only now be called actual feelings. Getting to know Tony made it impossible for him to not be totally in love with everything about him. The fact that he was Ironman only enhancing the deal that much more. He could have easily copped to an obsession a few years ago, but now – well, his keen eye noticed the attraction and the something else that came with it. Whether his friend decided to see it that way or not, Peter didn’t really know.

Footsteps coming closer to him brought Pete out of his memories, the firmness and cool feel of the couch still under his fingertips grounding him, keeping him in the moment now that he could see Tony in front of him. The older man stopped with a couple of feet between them, eyebrows slightly furrowed. “So, I guess we should talk, huh?” Tony asked, sarcasm in his voice evident – though the tone contained no malice, which was both interesting and insanely comforting all at once.

Peter watched as Tony walked around to the front of the couch and took a seat, his scar-specked hand patting the seat beside him until the younger man got the hint and joined him there. The couch was comfortable but, in that moment, Peter couldn’t find a place on the seat that felt right. Maybe that was the feeling of wanting to crawl out of his skin and run away – or maybe it was the guilt that sat steadily on his chest, pinning him uncomfortably to whatever spot he settled on. When he finally forced himself to stop wiggling, he noticed the miles of space between them. Just last night they sat shoulder to shoulder – the feeling something Peter didn’t realize he needed until right then.

His chest felt tight when he pulled in his next few breaths, nervousness running through him. In all 20 of his years, Peter couldn’t ever remember feeling this way. Apprehension, tension, embarrassment – and the worst of all, dread – crawled all over him like the spider that bit him to give him the powers he now wielded so expertly. “Tony, I really am sorry. I never – uh, I never meant for you to even… find out,” Peter started, the younger man not able to exist in the silence that settled between them any longer. Tony turned slightly, his left hip and side pressing against the couch so he could see Peter a little better. He seemed to be paying attention but made no move to contribute to the conversation. His eyes were cloudy, and his expression still sat neutral – the man a pro at poker faces and composure.

“This is pretty embarrassing, but I’ve obviously had a thing for you for a long time. More so now than ever before – and it’s different – but its been there and I’m just really fucking sorry.” Peter felt a little desperate with the last couple of words coming out of his mouth. The weight of how Tony reacted next pressed on him – each pound tangible in the tightness in his chest. Until that moment, they hadn’t made any direct eye contact – Peter avoiding it like the plague. Yet, for some insane reason, he felt a little better when their eyes finally did lock. Tony’s posture relaxed even further, a hand coming up to scratch at the salt and pepper hairs on the tip of his chin – the gesture one Peter knew to be a nervous tick Tony probably didn’t know he partook in. “I can’t say this was the best way for anything like this to come out. Pete – Friday managed to find the account you were trying to post to.” Peter sucked in a gasp, his face coloring to personify the flames that swooped over and engulfed him. How fucking great.

Tony wasn’t finished it seemed, the older man grabbing his own phone – thrusting it into Peter’s hands. Pete didn’t need to look down to see what was on the screen. He remembered each of the first five posts that were visible and hoped the world would swallow him whole. What a way to come out not only to the world, but to the object of his desire, too. “At least you have good taste,” Tony mumbled, the phone settling on the couch between them – the screen still bright, the most recent meme staring back at them both.

Peter still didn’t know what to say – what the hell could he say in a situation like this? Sorry spilled from his lips more times than he cared to think about. Aside from the humiliation, Peter felt a little curious about the calmness of Tony’s reaction. The older man had every right to be fuming – and in any other situation, he probably would have. Tony didn’t balk at opportunities to make his opinion known or tell someone else the way it truly was. The silence was broken when Tony spoke again – “Is the stuff you said true? Is that what you want from me? A little romp in the sheets with your fantasy?” The question was unexpected and totally knocked Peter off balance. It almost seemed like Tony was teasing him, but the sincerity of the question remained – Tony wanted to know.

“Yes – but also no. Iron Man was the dream. The thought that guided me through being a teenager and figuring out without much warning that girls were not on the menu. It felt good to experience excitement with other people about someone I – y’know, wanted. Then I met you and the way we seem to click changed things. The time we spend together in the lab is amazing – you’re the smartest person that I’ll get to work beside. Don’t tell Dr. Banner, though. You talk all this talk and act like you don’t care – but I know that’s total bull shit. You’re a good guy, Tony – no matter how much you don’t want that to be the case. I guess the fantasy turned into something else. I want that, you – but not just that. Iron Man doesn’t come without Tony Stark for me anymore – not when Tony Stark is the best part of the package.” Peter didn’t let himself stop until all the words were out of his mouth – if this was it, he at least needed to walk away having put everything out on the table between them. Considering he didn’t have any intention of Tony ever finding out, his expectations were not high – but a boy could dream.

The hand on his shoulder tightened and Peter looked up to see Tony staring at him – that same faraway look in his eyes like in the picture that got him in so much trouble to begin with. Pete could tell he was thinking, letting all of those words and what they meant process in the recesses of that big brain of his. Then, the hand moved to his cheek, the calloused fingers firm in their pressure against his skin. “You couldn’t just tell me? I know for a fact that a conversation like this could’ve saved a lot of people a lot of headache,” Tony’s voice was filled with humor, the words sounding different to Pete now that he could feel the heat of the other’s skin against his own. Tony shifted until they were close – the hand on his cheek sliding until it cupped the back of his neck. “Next time, just lay one on me or something, okay? No more of that crazy shit – if you’re posting pictures of me, it better be because you took it or we’re both in it.” Tony used the fingers on Peter’s neck to tilt his head until the younger man was looking at him square in the eye. Peter’s breath caught in his throat – the seconds passing by them at a glacial place. “The real thing is much better, anyway,” Tony finished, his lips quirking into a smirk that Peter couldn’t recall ever seeing before.

The distance was easy to close after that. Peter wanted to wipe the smirk off Tony’s face and feel what it felt like against his lips all at once. The heat on his neck from Tony’s fingers was starting to radiate down his back – the tendrils moving until they settled deep into his core, this heat different, running a little hotter than what he felt earlier in the day. Tilting his head, Peter felt Tony adjust too until they were angled perfectly – their lips sealed together tightly. A tongue started to trace at the seam of Peter’s lips, the younger man granting it access immediately. In the time he spent fantasizing about one Tony Stark and all the kisses they’d shared in his mind, he never could have pegged this particular flavor or feeling. He could taste the smoke of the man’s favorite bourbon on the back of his tongue, Tony probably downing a couple glasses the second he got the notification just to soothe his nerves. The delicious flavor layered on top of the booze could only be the man himself – something that was simply Tony. His lips were soft and insistent, the facial hair above his lips exotic in the way it teased across the skin of Pete’s upper lip. Years of experience allowed Tony to explore his mouth seamlessly – and when they pulled back, the look of pure want on the other’s face was unmistakable.

Pete felt his chest heave, the lack of oxygen consuming for a moment while he stared at the man still pressed against him. His lips were tingling, the simple thought that Tony kissed him making his brain feel like putty. The reprieve didn’t last long, though – Tony pressed forward, this time with much less abandon and way more passion. The kiss stared hot and wet, both men passed the point of exploration. Peter felt Tony’s other hand start to drift down his chest until it settled on his hip, the other’s leverage being used to pull him even closer. Now that they were pressed flush against each other, Peter could really feel what was under the suit. His own hands moved restlessly, first taking in the skin of Tony’s cheeks, then down his shoulders and arms – the muscles there firm, not just from controlling the Ironman suit but also all the hours spent in the lab. The roughness of Tony’s fingertips against the skin of his neck spoke of a man that worked with his hands and so did the rest of him.

Peter copied Tony’s move and slipped his hand down the middle of the other’s chest – his palm stopping when he came into contact with the arc reactor. He kept his hand there, the warmth of the unit seeping into his palm – like he figured, it radiated life and energy, even if it wasn’t actually from the unit but the man himself. Pulling out of the kiss, Peter watched as he moved his fingers over the reactor through Tony’s shirt – the thickness of it stopping the glow from emanating, but Peter knew it was there, anyway. “It’s warm,” Peter murmured, his eyes slipping from the motion of his fingers up to catch Tony’s eyes – a hazy lust sat within them combining with something Peter didn’t recognize.

Tony stayed silent for a second, his puffing chest letting the reactor press more firmly into Pete’s hand with every inhale of breath. “Good, if it wasn’t – I wouldn’t be alive,” Tony said back in reply – the hand around Peter’s neck moving until he grasped the younger man’s wrist between his fingers. “It feels a little weird when it’s touched. Like, I can feel your fingers all over me, instead of just over the top of my shirt.” Tony pulled Peter’s hand to him, his lips pressing a kiss to each of the fingers and then his palm. “Want to move this elsewhere?”

The inability to speak had Peter getting up off the couch quickly – he couldn’t believe this was happening, but he sure as fuck wasn’t going to miss the opportunity. He heard a chuckle leave Tony’s lips before the older man got from the couch and followed after Peter. His strong arm wrapped around Tony’s middle, Peter refusing to be parted from the other for too long. Though he never saw the room before, Peter knew exactly where he was headed. The door opened on its own accord; Friday’s technology really was amazing. The next thing Peter knew, Tony was pulling him close and pressing him against the door that was now shut. The older man’s lips were everywhere, the scruff of his goatee burning a path across the cheeks of his face, down his neck and across the bits of collar bone that were exposed under his shirt. Peter let a moan escape his lips, the attack on his skin intoxicating, each press of Tony’s lips or tug of his teeth made his skin prickle – the weight of the door pressing into his back even adding to the entire thing. His hands were uselessly tangled in the fabric of Tony’s shirt – his body under a trance from the bizarre situation and overwhelming stimuli.

Peter did not expect the next thing he saw to be Tony Stark on his knees in front of him, yet when he opened his eyes – the older man was there, his hands tracing over his flanks, lips mouthing over the obvious bulge in his too-tight pants. Then, hazy brown eyes were looking up at him, Tony’s hands catching up to the rest of him, those calloused fingers already working on the button and zip of his jeans. Tearing his glance away from Tony, Peter glanced further down to make sure he didn’t have any embarrassing boxers on, a soft breath of relief leaving his chest when he remembered the white Calvin’s he put on after getting himself cleaned up earlier.

The time for thinking was completely out the window when he felt a puff of air ghosting over the bulge pressing insistently against the front of his briefs. Tony’s hands were quick to pull his pants and briefs down, Peter clumsily kicking his shoes off to help with the process. His cock bobbed in front of the other man’s lips – Tony’s eyes glazing over further when he noticed the slick sitting on the tip of his dick. He was already leaking like crazy, his cock rock hard and balls drawn up against his skin. Tony looked up and caught Pete’s eye for a second before the younger man was nodding, answering the silent question without any hesitation.

The incredible heat surrounding him caught Peter off guard – his head smacking back against the door behind him from the intensity of it. The talented tongue pressed against the heavy vein on the underside of his cock and traced it – Peter moaning at the feeling of another drop of precum falling from the head of his dick. Tony moaned around him then, his fingers circling tightly at the end of Pete’s shaft to pump the last inch or two his mouth didn’t fit around. Between the drag of his tongue and the tight suction passing from the tip down to Tony’s fingers, Peter was a mess against the door in a couple of minutes. He tried to keep his hips from pressing forward, though he didn’t give a shit about his hand’s tightness in Tony’s hair – the other man seemed to enjoy it, anyway. Suddenly, Tony’s hands were gripping his hips, fingers digging into the skin and pressing – pressing until Peter could do nothing other than thrust forward. The need to cum flashed hotly across the front of Pete’s mind, his stomach tighter than tight – every single bit of him drawn up and ready to explode.

“Fuck – Tony, I’m gonna cum. I’m gonna cum if you don’t stop,” Peter babbled using the energy he had left to pick his head up off the door and look down at Tony. The older man didn’t let him go, in fact – those fingers tightened on his skin and his mouth moved until only the tip of his dick was in Tony’s mouth. One last hard suck and Pete was a goner – each pulse of release making him call out Tony’s name, his fingers probably brutal in the other’s hair where they gripped. Tony didn’t loosen his grip on his hips, instead using it to keep Peter upright when his knees threatened to buckle. “Holy fuck,” Peter moaned, one of his hands moving to grip tightly in his own hair – the pain of it keeping him grounded.

“Holy fuck is right. Get the rest of your clothes off, Pete. I can’t wait much longer to feel you against me,” Tony’s words were suddenly right by his ear – Peter’s eyes widening when he realized just how close the other man was pressed against him again. Tony palmed his dick, fingers tickling over the sensitive flesh teasingly – “you can go again, can’t you?” The question lingered there, Peter’s shit eating smirk answer enough for the both of them. The younger man quickly stripped, his shirt coming off over his head and then his socks – Peter so glad he didn’t notice before. Tony Stark sucked him off with his socks still on his feet – just like the noob he actually was. Peter practically jumped on the bed, his back settling against the softness of the sheets, the mattress beneath him one of the comfiest things he’d ever felt.

Peter didn’t spend much time thinking about the bed, though – his eyes were drawn to the older man starting the process of underdressing. Like any gentleman, he popped off the expensive watch from his wrist, the accessory finding its way to the proper place on the dresser he’d wandered over to. Next came the belt in his jeans, the leather making a ‘whoosh’ sound as each inch pulled from the loops. Pete felt his chest flushing, the heat in his core once again starting to bubble with arousal. Those talented fingers gripped the edge of Tony’s shirt, the older man slow with the job, the shirt moved inch by inch – each new flash of skin making Peter’s cheeks burn hotter and hotter. What he assumed to be hard muscular arms were chiseled, the definition of the muscle something Peter assumed most people Tony’s age weren’t really able to accomplish. His stomach wasn’t nearly as cut up as Peter’s, but the thick line of hair that trailed down it more than made up for it. Peter’s fingers itched to get caught in the coarse hair there – to pull and tug until he could feel the warm skin underneath. The last and most painstaking piece of clothing to come off was the other’s jeans. He undid the button with just his thumb – the zip coming down on its own – the obvious bulge there much bigger and prominent than Pete’s. He stepped out of them first, each leg being removed, then folded into a neat little pile.

Only then did he let a teasing smirk slip across his lips – the older man’s hand cupping himself through his underwear as he took Peter in, dark eyes roaming. Peter watched Tony give himself a squeeze before slipping his fingers under the waistband of those sexy briefs and pull until they were falling down his hips and onto the floor. “Wow,” Peter muttered, the word coming out before he could stop it. Tony laughed; his head thrown back from the sheer joy of it. “You’re one to talk, kid – damn, Pete,” Tony answered, the hand cupping himself now back giving his cock a few languid strokes. The whole show screamed dirty – the older man obviously okay with the fact that Peter thought so candidly about him. Tony was putting this on for Peter – each steady tug of his cock, the slow strip – even the amazing blowjob against the door.

Tony tortured Peter with the amazing view of the man stroking his cock for another couple of minutes. Peter taking the time to really look at the other man. His hands were speckled with white lines and severe scars, though they moved flawlessly over the warmed flesh of his own cock. His legs were long and lean – his thighs heavily muscled but not in a way that screamed ‘dumb meat head’. They were working man’s legs – and they helped carry the weight of the world on Tony’s shoulders. His chest was defined, though heavily scarred, too. The faint blue glow of the arc reactor added to the mood – Peter’s eyes selfishly settling on the incredible piece of tech for a moment or two longer than necessary. The man’s dick was long and thick – the appendage much heavier looking than his own. He could see the slightest hint of precum starting to collect on the head, Tony’s thumb moving over it to collect the fluid while he watched, using it to ease the glide of his fingers over the turgid flesh.

Pete chocked off a moan when Tony finally moved over to the bed and joined him, the older man pressing himself over Pete – the weight exactly what he dreamed it would be. The show was obviously over, Tony’s hunger tangible in a way it wasn’t just a minute ago when they were staring at each other across the room. He opened his legs and let Tony settle between them – the move bringing their cocks together. Pete’s hand slipped between them to wrap his fingers around them both – just to keep them sliding against one another, the younger man hungry for friction and heat. The moan he could feel come from the pit of Tony’s chest had him clenching his fingers, bringing them that much closer. Their hips swiveled and pumped together – the slickness drooling from Peter easing the slide in the most delicious of ways.

“I hope the fantasy of me topping you is still a thing. I need to fuck you so bad, Pete – I have not stopped thinking about it for ages now,” Tony mumbled against the side of Peter’s neck. Ages? Holy shit, Pete thought – his attraction wasn’t as one sided as he forced himself to believe all this time. That thought gave him renewed confidence and sent his mind spiraling in a million different directions.

“It is – it really, really is. Do you want me to tell you how I thought about you turning me onto my belly,” Peter thrust his hips up while he spoke – the slide still doing delicious things to his brain. “How you opened me up with just your tongue, then draped your weight over me and took what you wanted.” Tony’s hips were moving restlessly against his own – the older man’s pants and groans loud in his ear – the huff of his breath the only indicator for him to keep going. “Or do you want to hear about how I thought about sitting on your lap and riding your dick until I came a couple times across your chest – until I dragged an orgasm out of you with just the roll of my hips and squeeze of my ass?” Peter watched as Tony threw his head back and moaned “fuck” – the man starting to lose what little bit of control he seemed to be grasping to. “Fuck me, Tony – please, I want you to,” Peter finally panted out, his fingers squeezing their dicks once more before pulling his hand away, his fingers gripping onto Tony’s hip instead.

A hungry kiss was pressed into his lips, the slide of their tongues dirty and hot. Peter could feel the tiny thrusts against his stomach, the slick slide of a trail of precum that he didn’t know who it belonged to. He pulled away from the kiss – the need to breath overwhelming, his senses getting overloaded in the blink of an eye. Tony sat up a little, the older man taking the respite to stroke himself with one hand while the other reached into the bedside drawer – a victorious look on his face when he dropped the condom and lube on the sheets. He didn’t move to turn Peter over, so the younger man simply spread his legs wider – the indecent way he did it not lost on either of them. Tony heaved in a huge breath at the sight, his body moving on its own accord – the older man once again fitting snuggly between the v of his knees. A couple of kisses were peppered to the inside of his thigh, Tony distracting him from the sound of the lube cap being popped open and the feel of cold lube on his ass when he felt a finger pressing against his rim.

The moan that left him when Tony got the first finger in would’ve been embarrassing if it didn’t match the grunt Tony didn’t bother holding back. The stretch was nice – the little bit of burn biting across his skin, making the entire situation feel much more tangible. The subtle pump of the digit felt amazing and then Tony skimmed his prostate and Peter saw stars. “Tony, fuck!” Peter gasped out; his hole clenching tight around Tony’s finger.

The older man looked up at him, the view he’d been staring at obviously too much. Though, Peter watched his eyes glaze further when he took in the view of Peter laid out before him – long limbs and soft skin sweat covered and ripe for the picking. A second finger quickly joined the first, Tony now intimate with his sweet spot and the precum that dribbled from Pete’s cock when he hit it. His pace was steady and teasing. Time stood still as he laid back and absorbed. The third finger slipped in easily next to the others, the stretch so much and not enough – Peter’s senses were so overwhelmed, he probably couldn’t have told you his name or address in that moment.

The whispered “I want you across my lap” almost had him undone – Peter’s hand flew to his cock to grip the base tightly. He let out a sharp moan and tucked his head back against the mattress – his teeth digging into his bottom lip – “fuck, anything, Tony.” And he meant it, too. He dreamed about this so many different times, they probably couldn’t fuck enough to keep up with all the ways Tony could possibly want him. Tony pulled his fingers out lightly, the man pressing a quick kiss to Pete’s lips before he moved enough to sit on the mattress, his back pressed against the headboard of the huge bed. Those calloused hands fumbled a condom down the length of his dick, Tony smiling at him when he caught Pete’s eye.

Peter didn’t waste any time – after he felt Tony was adjusted enough, he opened the cap of the lube and poured a big drizzle of the stuff right on Tony’s cock. The older man moaned – his eyes widening when the coldness of the lube hit his smoldering hot flesh. His hand gripped Tony’s cock and gave it a stroke, the lube cool in his hand – the contrast of it making him shiver. He settled over Tony, the tip of that heavy cock pressed against his opening and Peter couldn’t help it – he sat back without warning, the head breaching first and then the rest of him sliding, sliding, sliding until Peter could feel the base of Tony’s hips. Tony felt amazing inside of him – Peter finally feeling completely full and totally connected with another human being.

The rhythm Peter set came naturally, the younger boy rolling his hips to get adjusted before he started to bounce on Tony’s length – the speed slow to start. Tony’s hands were tight on his hips, the older man pressing in right at the end of his stroke to get as much of his length into Peter as he could. They kept that up for a few minutes, moans and the sweet slap of flesh against flesh the only things heard in the room. Then, Peter adjusted slightly and sat back a little – the movement bringing the tip of Tony’s cock right against his prostate. “Oh god, that’s – fuck,” Peter got out through clenched teeth, the heat in his core no longer simmering, the rolling boil of it starting to come to the lip, threatening to spill over.

“Fuck, Pete. You feel amazing,” Tony murmured, the older man sitting up a little bit more to get a little deeper and to press them even closer together. His lips found the warm skin of Peter’s chest and his hands wrapped tightly around him – hips starting to join the action a little more. Peter felt the clench of Tony’s hands on the skin of his back as his thrusts started to speed up – the younger man sitting back more, letting the thrusts pummel into him hard and deep. By the end, each stroke tapped that spot inside him, the slapping of their skin loud and overwhelming with the way Tony huffed while he thrust and moaned when their bodies came together. The friction of their slick chests squeezing his cock pulled Peter over the edge – Tony’s name shouted from his lips before he went black for a second. Tony kept up his ruthless pace, Peter’s name coming off the other’s lips like a mantra until he too fell over the edge – Peter just able to catch the look on Tony’s face and the way his cum felt pulsing against the walls of his insides.

The come down from this orgasm took a little longer – Peter’s brain frazzled from the three orgasms he pulled from himself throughout the day and Tony’s weight more distracting than it had any right to be. The older man was pressing kisses against whatever skin he could reach, Peter finding himself more grounded with each touch. When he finally blinked away the haze of it all, Tony was looking up at him, one hand still clenched tightly around his middle while the other caressed the side of his cheek. Peter couldn’t help the soft smile that slipped across his lips, the man a fucking vision looking at him like he was – his touches still intoxicating, despite the fact that he was completely spent. “Wow,” Peter finally managed to mumble, his lips seeking out Tony’s for a sound kiss.

Managing just enough energy to get up off the other man’s lap, Peter collapsed against the comfortable mattress, his body melting into it. He watched with sleepy eyes as Tony got up and disposed of the condom, the man trekking into the bathroom for a minute or two before coming back and joining Pete on the bed. The soft press of a warm washcloth on his skin was surprising but not unwelcome. The simple fact that Tony cared enough to clean him up was exhilarating. Whatever happened after this, at least he knew Tony liked him enough to be good to him – especially after such an intense between them.

It didn’t look like Tony was going to make him leave or anything, so Peter let himself relax into the comfort of the sheets beneath him. The other’s weight surprised him a moment later when he felt Tony shift back onto the bed and gather him close – Peter’s back to Tony’s front, the soft thrum of the arc reactor pressing into his skin. No words were exchanged, the two simply settled down and snuggled up together. Tony pulled the blanket over them both with one hand, then pressed a couple of soft kisses against the back of his neck. Peter let the barely there pulse of the arc reactor and the rise and fall of Tony’s chest lull him to sleep.

If Peter was surprised when he woke up the next morning with Tony Stark spooning him tightly, he didn’t let it show. A small part of him thought Tony might run away like he seemed to do – but the man was still there, snoring peacefully against his neck. Tony actually seemed to be more relaxed now than Peter could ever remember seeing him. His hand moved to grasp onto the warm palm pressing against his chest – Peter slipping his fingers into the gaps of Tony’s to keep the man close. “You’re thinking too loud, Pete,” Tony said into the skin of his neck, the younger man not nearly as sneaky as he thought himself to be. The older man pressed a kiss against his neck and tightened his grip, a sigh leaving his lips. “How do you feel about pancakes?” Peter couldn’t help but chuckle and bring their joint hands to his lips. After pressing a kiss to the back of Tony’s, he nuzzled back and grinned. “Pancakes are my favorite, actually.”

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Later that morning, after admittedly way more time than either man usually spent in bed, Tony and Peter made pancakes together. The natural way they fit together hadn’t changed – instead, Peter could feel a different kind of closeness between them. A closeness that only grew the more time they spent together – in the lab, out on the town together, and in bed, though the time spent in bed would probably always be Peter’s favorite.

The next time Peter got the opportunity to post on Spider-Man’s Twitter feed, he snickered when he pressed post – the world probably not ready for the photo they’d just taken. They were on the roof of Stark Tower, Spider-Man’s mask was up just enough to show his lips and the helmet on the Ironman suit was pulled back to see Tony’s face. In the photo they were kissing, Spider-Man’s hand on the meat of Iron Man’s cheek and Iron Man – well, the roundness of that jumpsuit encased ass was the focal point and the glove was cupping it tightly. Pocketing the phone, Peter pulled his mask back down and grinned – this time, when the world saw Spider-Man’s love for Iron Man, it’d be reflected right back.

Tony wrapped the suits arm around his shoulders – the two looking at each other through their masks.

“Come on, Pete – city’s waiting.”

#starker #peter parker/tony stark #tony stark/peter parker #fics #marvel fanfiction #fan fics #ironspider #tony #peter #bobbie writes

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lesbianmonsterlover · 5 years

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Female Orc x Female Reader (NSFW)

Orc Lady MMA fighter! This story contains drinking, swearing, professional fighting, and gratuitous smut. Forewarned is forearmed!

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Your family had always been avid watchers of what other humans would consider violent blood-sports. Modern cage fighting is an art, especially when you’re dealing with someone whose major mode of fighting is submissions and takedowns. There’s something incredibly thrilling about it, and considering they’re two consenting, sapient adults there’s nothing you feel guilty about when it comes to watching them fight each other.

Your sister-in-law, your brother’s wife, was having her first professional bout. She had started working at a BJJ gym when she moved to your city during college, before she ever met your brother. It isn’t that she had ever thought this is where her life would take her, she started taking classes in fact as a mode of self defense and a healthy physical outlet. Her being good at it came as a complete surprise to even herself.

Your brother was out of town on a business trip, a sad fact of life considering his profession and position within the company where he worked. Finance could be time consuming and thankless, but the paycheck he got from his work meant that Liz could pursue her new dream of going pro. As her sister now, and considering you’d always wanted a sister growing up, you took it upon yourself to support her whenever your brother couldn’t. You’d go to her bouts, cheer her on, go drinking when she won and when she lost, iced her bruises. You loved her like a true sibling.

So, when your brother couldn’t make her first big fight, you were incredibly flattered when she asked if you’d join her instead. You donned the tee shirt she had made for the fight with her fighter name on it and some sponsors, made sure you looked presentable enough for when you’ll inevitably wind up on camera with her, and settled in for the evening. Your day started hours before the doors opened, helping her get in the right headspace with music and jokes, helping her stretch out, keeping her calm and centered.

When the two of you made the trip over to the venue, a huge arena where the local professional basketball and hockey teams played, you were surprised to see people already waiting outside by the athlete’s entrance. You guessed they were hoping to catch a glimpse of the big names, but you knew enough about how these things were run to know that they wouldn’t arrive until at least a few fights into the undercard.

Liz’s fight was second to last on the undercard, so the house would likely be packed by that point. You didn’t know whether to be thankful or not, her placement on the card meant that more people would see her fight and therefore if she’s good enough in the cage tonight she’d get more followers and her pro career would start off on a great note. That being said, the performance anxiety of your first fight is hard enough you’d assume, if the way she’s been acting the last week is any indication, so making it harder on her by adding the pressure of a bunch of drunk, judgemental attendees doesn’t seem like it would be great.

The two of you traverse the back hallways, with passes that get you into the behind the scenes staging area. As one of the few women fighting tonight she was given a semi-private area to warm up and keep limber. All four of the undercard women were in the visitor’s locker room, although there had been privacy created with the use of moving screens that the maintenance crew had set up to create some relatively spacious individual cubicles. There was one main card title fight between two women, an orc defending her middleweight belt for the twelfth consecutive time and an upcoming athlete from Russia who was undefeated, those two each got their own private warmup space same as the men on the main card.

The two of you were the first ones here from Liz’s crew, a fact which amped her up and not in the good way. “Marcos said he’d be here at three, fuck me it’s already three fifteen, come on.” You pull her into a hug, smoothing your hands over the french-braided pigtails you’d helped her with earlier.

“Relax, sis, just relax. You know how the trains are at this time of year, if he isn’t here in the next twenty minutes I’ll call over to the gym and ask when he left, deal?” She huffs but nods against your shoulder, hugging you back. “Breathe with me, okay? Easy in, and out, nice and slow. You’ve got this, you’re going to go out there and kick some serious ass, and then we’re going to sit in our nice ring seats and celebrate by getting obliterated on vodka and soda like a normal Friday night.”

The laugh she gives you, shoving you away playfully, is what you were going for. “If you think I’m paying for the expensive garbage vodka they have here you’re out of your fucking mind.” You scoffed and rolled your eyes, pulling up the side of your tee shirt to show a large-ish hip flask, the one she gifted you when she asked you to be a bridesmaid.

“We’ll have to supplement it with a few expensive drinks, so we don’t raise too many eyebrows, but you know me better than that by now.” She reaches for it and you swat at her hand, wagging your finger in her face like a caricature of a mother. “No, bad Lizzy, no drinking before fighting.” She pouts at you and you can only laugh at her. “How mature, which one of us is older again?”

“Yeah yeah, I hate when you’re right. At least give me some water, you don’t want me in there all dehydrated. Help, I’m wasting away right before your eyes, dying of thirst.” She’s comically flopped across her bench, arm slung across her face in despair. The ‘oof’ she gives when you gently lob her water bottle at her stomach makes your snort out a laugh.

“Come on, don’t abuse my fighters before their bout.” Your shoulder is clapped by a huge hand and you turn to find the bright smile of Marcos, Liz’s coach, and his brother Julian her cutman. Her third corner man won’t be joining you until closer to fight time, coming from his normal day job to help out in her corner as he does in their training ring. Marcos and Julian are both objectively incredibly handsome men, if a little rough from years of fighting experience. Tall Brazilian walls of muscle, with tan skin and long curly black hair. Julian would probably be considered better looking, if only because Marcos has some serious cauliflower ear going and one broken nose that wasn’t quite set properly. They’re both quite tall and fit, but not really your type considering they’re packing some equipment you’re not into using.

Marcos gives you a serious look, but still warm. “You’ve done a good job keeping her head clear and relaxed today, thank you.” Liz is busy chatting with Julian and getting properly stretched out, and Marcos keeps his voice quiet enough that they don’t overhear. “It’s going to make tonight go much smoother if we can help her focus on the fight and not everything surrounding it, so thank you.” You just blush and smile, waving it off.

“She’s my sister, I love her, I want her to go out there and kick some ass. So, anything I can do to help I’m happy.” He beams at you, patting your cheek with almost fatherly affection.

“Good, you remind me of my brother. We’ll have to start training you to be in the corner with us if you can keep her this calm on a big fight day.” You laugh, but when he declares he’s serious answer back that you’re absolutely willing, but today is not the day to start.

The next few hours are a blur of keeping Liz distracted enough that she can slip into her fight-brain as she calls it, and before you know it you’re place in ringside seats reserved for families to watch the bouts waiting for her entrance song. At the first few bars of ‘Knights of Cydonia’ you stand up and start to cheer. You’ve got your cell phone out and recording, knowing she’s going to want to see later, and you go wild as she finally steps out onto the arena floor and makes her way towards the cage. She ignores you as she passes, but you don’t take it personally knowing that she’s got tunnel vision for the door.

Her opponent Bryn is currently 1-1, a half-orc from a relatively prominent gym in a neighboring state. She looks intimidating, considering she’s a few inches taller that your sister in law, but where Liz isn’t as tall she’s consideribly stockier, and their reach is surprisingly near equal in terms of measurements.

You’re sure the referee for Liz’s bout is a half-dwarf, if the insanely impressive braided beard down to his navel is anything to go by. When his hand goes down between the fighters, Liz and Bryn tap gloves before getting into their stances. It’s a few seconds of sizing each other up before Bryn goes in, closing the gap. She sends out a pretty telegraphed jab and Liz blocks it without trouble, answering with a blow to Bryn’s ribs that connects. Grasping the back of Bryn’s head, Liz tugs down to force Bryn’s face to meet Liz’s knee.

When Bryn’s head pops back up she’s sporting a cut on her nose, and she’s starting to leak blood down her cheek. She grimaces at Liz and snarls, you suppose it’s meant to intimidate her but she obviously doesn’t know Liz very well. Liz just roars right back and goes in for a takedown.

Bryn, you suppose, is a striker, if her lack of takedown defense is anything to go by. When Liz goes for her leg Bryn is a step too slow to dodge, and goes down like a sack of bricks onto the canvas. You cheer loudly “‘atta girl!” and watch with rapt attention as Liz locks her legs around Bryn’s arm. The grip she has on Bryn’s hand and the way she tugs forces Bryn’s elbow back over Liz’s hip. Bryn taps, the bell rings. You scream. Victory by submission in the first round, not even a minute in. You’re almost cackling with joy as Liz does a celebratory lap around the ring before being hoisted up by her coach.

She thanks you in her post fight interview, and you look like a deer in the headlights when a camera gets trained on you and you’re up on the jumbo-tron. Oh god, not like this. You smile a little shyly and give an awkward wave before the feed cuts back to your sister in law and you can relax. When she leaves the ring she grabs you from the seat and pulls you back with them. “Holy shit!” That’s about all the two of you can say for the next few minutes as you help her untape her hands and brush out her hair. She’s changed into more normal clothes and the two of you are back out at your seats for the main card fights just as they’re announcing the winner of the final undercard bout.

“You were great out there, good fight. You locked in that arm bar quick like nobody’s business, that’s a natural talent.” You watch as your sister in law starts to converse with arguably the most gorgeous orc woman you’ve ever seen. She’s tall just sitting, you don’t even want to hazard a guess at how tall she is standing. Her long hair is side shaved, and pushed over the top of her head to expose the bare side and her pointy ear. The cauliflower ear tells you she’s a fighter even before you notice how incredibly muscular she is. She’s broad with huge biceps and traps, her breasts are a bit small for her frame and she hasn’t bothered with implants, and you want to know if she has abs. You bet she does. She and Liz are talking shop, and you’re trying not to stare at this hot, hot orc. Liz glances at you knowingly, she knows your type, and snags her arm around your shoulders to pull you in over her, introducing you.

“Ushat, this is my sister in law and constant cheer section.” You introduce yourself by name to Ushat, and she shakes your hand with her huge and calloused one. She looks like she’s blushing a little when you two make eye contact, so you try to hit her with your sweetest and most affectionate smile, the one that’s melted more than a few hearts in your time.

“It’s really nice to meet you Ushat.” She’s definitely blushing now, but she smiles at you gently.

“If you two want to hold hands you could just say so and switch seats with me.” Liz smirks at you, and the two of you just now realize how long you’ve been shaking hands for. You both pull away like the other one is on fire, cheeks hot and stuttering out apologies. “So Ushat here is the current women’s heavyweight champ.” You stare over at her with wonder, which makes the green in her cheeks get darker as she blushes harder.

“Ah, yeah, y’know. Been fightin’ for a loooong time. Kinda orcish culture. I’m impressed your sister here was able to take down that half orc so handily. I think my kind tend to underestimate humans because some of you are very cute and small.” She smiles a little at you, her impressive tusks flashing in the low light of the arena. Liz, for what it’s worth, looks incredibly smug. Self-satisfied barely begins to describe it, she’s been talking about setting you up on a date for a long time but this kind of takes the cake.

“Alright ladies, I’m going to get a round of drinks. You two be sitting next to each other when I get back or no more flirting, I don’t want to be between the two of you anyway ‘m gonna get diabetes, you’ll ruin my career before it’s even started.” She’s jokingly frustrated and shoves the side of your face with the kind of aggressive affection only a sibling can manage.

Ushat is still blushing a dark green, her lightly mossy skin made dark emerald with it. She slings one of her huge arms over the back of the now vacant chair where Liz had been sitting. With her free hand she gestures a little shyly at the now free seat, looking satisfied if a little surprised when you blushingly sidle up next to her. Your thigh is soft compared to hers, you’re pretty sure anyone is soft compared to her considering how close she’s pressed against you. The way her stance widens in the chair ensures that you’re pressed together from knee to hip, and she even relaxes her posture some to press up against your side, your shoulder neatly tucked underneath her arm, your head slotting onto her shoulder like you two were made for each other.

Liz’s grin goes almost impossibly wide as she sees the two of you while walking back. She doesn’t say anything though, knowing how shy you and Ushat have been so far in your interactions she doesn’t want to run the risk of scaring you two apart. So she passes the drinks around instead and proposes a toast to new friends, the little eyebrow waggle at the end she just could repress. You snort a little laugh into your cup but take a deep drink, sighing at the light burn of the double pour. “The bartender gave us an extra pour on top because of how badass I was.” Liz preens, and Ushat gives her a proud grin.

“Rudolf doesn’t do that for just anyone, so you’ve made a good impression. Unsurprising! That fight really was great.” The two continue to talk shop over you, but you can’t find it in you to mind too much. You enjoy listening to the deep timbre of Ushat’s voice, and before you know it you’ve finished your drink, topped off by a healthy pour from the flask at your side, and snuggled further into the warm side of the orc next to you. When they announce the first fight and the first of the two fighters starts to walk out to their music Ushat begins clapping. She doesn’t pull away from you though, or remove her arm, no she crosses her other arm in front of you to basically pull you into an embrace. She isn’t giving thunderous applause, just enough to be polite, but it does pull you further against her to the point that you have to brace yourself up with a hand on her side.

When she stops applauding after the second fighter has made it to the ring you don’t make any moves to pull back. You keep yourself snuggled into her side, one hand resting on her firm stomach while your head is leaned fully against her shoulder. You’re definitely getting past the tipsy stage and into the drunk stage, if how affectionate you’re feeling is anything to go by. The arm Ushat has behind you shifts so that you’re corralled in the crook of her elbow while her hand lifts to thread her fingers in your hair. She smiles down at you, and you can only grin back up at her.

The night is kind of a blur, although you and Ushat have gotten to know each other better. Sometime around the fourth bout of the main card they announce that she’s in the arena, and she’s thrown up on the jumbotron with you still tucked into her arm. While the majority of you is cut out of the main shot, the camera does manage to catch her pressing a kiss to the crown of your head when she thinks they’ve cut away.

It’s late by the time the fights are over, the orc having successfully defended her belt once again and declaring herself the greatest. Ushat is pleased, passing on her congratulations in orcish with her arm still around you as the fighter passes by. When she stands for the first time that night you realize how huge she really is, the top of your head just barely reaches her clavicle. She laughs loudly, palming your head and tugging you close again. “You’re so dainty!” She sounds amused, pulling your hand up against hers and holding them palm to palm the tips of your fingers only reaching the first knuckle of hers. “Look! I can almost close my hand!”

It’s such a smooth move you don’t actually recognize it for what it is until the day after, and when she does in fact close her hand she laces her fingers through yours. She tugs you around and you follow without protest, her and Liz having become fast friends and Ushat taking Liz to meet some promoters and sponsors. You feel a bit like arm candy, the conversation mostly above you but you’re happy that Ushat and Liz want you there with them. It’s nearly five in the morning when you all leave and the three of you are sufficiently trashed. The stumble back to your apartment is a short three blocks, and Liz takes the pull out couch as she’s used to.

You’ve stripped off your jeans and shirt, your bra undone and halfway off you when Ushat walks into your room having come out of the bathroom. You freeze with your bra pressed up against your breasts by your hands but otherwise unsecured, and you can’t help staring at how much smooth and scarred green skin she’s showing. She’s in a skimpy spaghetti strap tank top and black bikini cut panties. The grin she fixes you with is sultry, her dark eyes burning. “Don’t stop on my account kitten.” Her eyes rake over your bare legs and the way your panties hug your form, lingering on the softness of your stomach before moving up your neck to your blushing face.

You bite your lower lip in contemplation before slowly lowering your hands and letting you bra drop to the floor. Ushat lets out a low and pleasure growl, almost humming. She stalks up to you, towering over you and gripping your chin between her thumb and forefinger. She stoops down to kiss you, and with a satisfied moan you slip your hands up her chest and over her shoulders to cling to her. Her huge hands caress up the back of your thighs and she takes advantage of your distraction to pick you up and toss you on the bed. She’s hypnotized by the way your breasts bounce as you settle on the mattress, and she brings her hands up to cup them. Thumbing over your nipples she grins as you let out a whine of pleasure.

Ushat kisses you again, and the smooth cool surface of her tusks pressed against your soft cheeks. You surprise her by swiping your tongue along her lower lip first, and she opens her mouth to meet your tongue with her own. They caress each other, rather than wrestling for dominance, and when you lay back and allow her to explore your pliant mouth she knows it’s willing and not coerced.

One of her hands continues to grope and your breasts sloppily, moving back and forth with her attention as her other hand pushes down your stomach and under your panties. You tug your lips from hers to throw back your head and cry out for her. “Fuck, Ushat!” She chuckles huskily against your neck when you cry out for her.

“That’s the idea kitten, don’t worry ‘m’gonna take good care of you.” When her fingers push between your labia she finds you already wet and waiting, and she snarls against your neck. “Fuck baby, you been ready for me all night haven’tcha?” She bites down on your shoulder, chuckling again as your hips buck up into her hand. “Ushat knows whatcha want baby, I gotcha.” One of her thick, calloused fingers slowly pushes into your waiting pussy. She groans at how hot and tight you feel around just one of her fingers. “Fuck baby, you got a real tight pussy, gonna stretch you out nice and good.” She licks up your neck wetly, biting harshly at your earlobe as she pushes a second finger into you, angling her hand to rub your clit with her thumb. You let out a broken cry, tugging at her shirt in order to press against her skin on skin.

In order to avoid having to stop fingering you, she just tears off her shirt, leaving the tatters on the floor nearby as she smashes her lips against yours again. Your hands grope at her strong back and shoulders before moving around to her front, skimming up to palm her small breasts. Her dark nipples are begging for your mouth, and as if she knows what you’re thinking she shifts her position just enough to be leaning completely above you, fingers pumping in and out of your soaking pussy. She groans when you lift your head enough to take one of her nipples in your mouth, sucking gently and flicking your tongue over the hardened bud.

She moves so her hips are just above yours, her legs splayed between yours and wrapped around your own so that you couldn’t close them even if you wanted to. She slowly leans down until you’re completely flush with her, held in control as she fingers your eager pussy. She has you pinned with her weight to the point where you can do literally nothing but moan and accept whatever it is she wants to give you. The broken sob of her name as she presses a third of her impossibly thick fingers inside of you makes her laugh, satisfied. She kisses the crown of your head, whispering praises. “Don’t worry baby, we’ll stop here for tonight, but eventually that cute little human pussy of yours is going to take my whole hand.” The way you twitch around her at the words makes her chuckle against your hair. “You like that thought huh kitten? At least this needy pussy of yours does.” She shoves her fingers in particularly harshly, making you moan and your eyes roll back in your head.

She starts rubbing her thumb over your clit again, and your walls begin to flutter with the stimulation. “That’s it kitten, cum for me, gonna make you feel so good baby, that’s it.” You’re panting under her, trying to writhe or buck your hips or do literally anything, but Ushat just chuckles at your shifting muscles pinned under hers. “No baby just take it, you’re gonna take what I give you kitten. Be a good girl and cum for me.”

The way she growls that last sentence in your ear, paired with the endless stimulation of your clit and those thick rough fingers inside you, takes you over the edge. You cry out her name and tense underneath her, muscles screaming to contract or do anything. All your body can focus on is the feeling between your legs, considering it can’t do anything else with its excess energy. You can’t believe when you squirt against her hand, but she just gives a satisfied growl and slowly brings you back down to earth.

You’re half asleep by the time your heart rate calms down, and you notice Ushat is trying to climb out of bed. You pout up at her sleepily, grabbing her huge wrist. “Stay? Please? I know this was fast but I was kinda hoping you’d stick around.” She just grins at you, using her cleaner hand to thumb your cheek with open affection.

“Just gettin you a towel, kitten. Gotta clean you up.” She wanders half naked into the bathroom and brings back a damp hand towel to wipe up between your thighs, gently cleaning your labia with the warm cloth. She tosses the towel across the room into your laundry hamper and crawls back into the bed behind you. She pulls you back against her chest, wrapping you up in her warm embrace and burying her nose in your hair at the crown of your head.

You aren’t sure when you fell asleep, quickly seems to be the answer. You wake up to your bed shaking, and you whimper and cling closer to the pillow that seems to be jumping. It calms down slightly, still vibrating but less destructive. “Sorry kitten, go back to sleep.” You crack open an eye and glance up at just the right time to get a kiss on the forehead from Ushat, who stayed the full night with you.

She’s on her Instagram, posting a picture of the two of you from last night along with Liz. “Whatcha doin’?” Your sleepy voice makes her smile gently.

“Gettin’ some damage control done. I’m not about to have people accusing me of being ashamed of my girlfriend.” She flicks over to an article on some MMA site where the still of her placing a kiss to your head ringside is front and center. ‘Ushat Cruelbeast Spotted Getting Cozy With Fighter’s Sister!’ is the headline, and you snort. Really? So uncreative. “I like you, a lot, I want to date you. I don’t want people thinking I’m just using you to get under some other figher’s skin. Which is fucking ridiculous by the way, I mean we’re not even close to the same weight class and never will be, so why would I be dating you to get under the skin of a figher I’d never fight? Fuckin’ hetero dudes can’t fathom why a human girl might want to date a big scary orc girl. Or why a girl would want to date another girl at all really.”

Your laugh makes her laugh, and the two of you are cracking up in bed. It takes a few minutes to calm down and you find yourself draped over her chest while you rest your chin over her heart, looking up at her earnestly. “I don’t think you’re scary. I mean, you’re for sure huge, but you aren’t scary at all. You know the first thing I thought when I saw you was some variation of ‘oh no she’s too hot, I can’t talk to her, she’s way too hot.’” She snorts and buries her face into your hair, apparently her favorite thing to do whenever you embarrass her.

“Come on pretty kitty, let’s get dressed and join your sister for breakfast. Then, ‘m gonna go home and get changed to take you on a proper date. And then, kitten, we’re gonna start workin’ on that promise I made you last night.” Your answering whimper makes her laugh, and she stands while hefting you up over her shoulder. “Come on kitten, unless you want your sister walkin’ in and finding us like this.” She emphasizes her statement with a firm slap to your ass, making you laugh. This might be the best morning ever.

#Female Orc #Fem Orc #Female Reader #Fem Reader #WLW #Lesbian Love #Lesbian Fiction #my writing #exophilia

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crushedbyhyperbole · 4 years

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Promises - Chapter One

Blurb: Promises, rules and a love so deep it transcends time and distance. The problem is that Izzy and Bucky are ignorant to each other’s feelings. What lengths will they go to to protect the one thing the both cherish above all else - their friendship? Through tumultuous times, misunderstandings, fuck buddy dramas, other relationships, criminal activity, and a whole bunch of emotional hurt… This is their story.

A/N: Bucky x OFC, fuck buddy AU. There are no Avengers, no powers, just a pair of childhood friends pining for each other but destroying what they have as they go. This WIP is going to be looooong.

Warnings: Gratuitous smut, so much smut, did I mention smut? Mutual pining, emotional hurt, NGL I cried writing some of the next few chapters. Bad language as standard. 18+ only… I can’t stress that enough.

PROMISES MASTERLIST | MAIN MASTERLIST | MOBILE MASTERLIST

Can’t Get Enough

Izzy lay sweating. Her heart pounded and her throat was dry, rasping breaths slowly calming as she came down from her third and final orgasm of their session. She felt more relaxed than she had in six weeks, which was the last time she’d seen him, her close friend and fuck buddy, James Buchannan Barnes.

Bucky stood by the window of his bedroom in all his naked glory, perfectly rounded ass cheeks and cute lower-back dimples sheened in sweat as he leaned on the frame with his cigarette. He never smoked next to her, and usually stepped fully out onto the lounge balcony but mere moments post-coitus and still very much bathed in afterglow he’d lifted the window and let in the most amazingly cool breeze. He hadn’t even pulled the condom off before he lit his smoke.

Rule number four was firmly in effect; no displays of affection, kissing, cuddling, holding hands etc. Bucky had no sooner finished when he rolled off her, letting her legs fall to the mattress, and scooped his smokes and lighter off the night stand. He was trying to cut down but with the speed at which he reached for the comforting cancer sticks she could tell there was something on his mind.

“You got something you need to talk about after?” Izzy said, swinging her shaky legs over the side of his bed.

“I’m good, doll.” He sounded distant, not bothering to look her way.

“Cool.” She nodded, a little sceptical but unwilling to challenge. “Do you want the first shower?”

“You go ahead.”

It was part of their arrangement that if one of them needed to talk about personal things or friend things they didn’t mix it up with the sex. Izzy called it ‘platonic mode’ and Bucky called it ‘conversations from the friend zone’. Izzy smiled at his panache for the dramatic. She ran the water and hopped into his shower/tub combo.

Bucky’s shower was crap. The water pressure was weak and it felt like it took her forever to wash the soap off. She didn’t usually wash her hair at his place but she’d sweated up a storm frantically hunting her last release today and she needed it. His shampoo would have to do as she didn’t keep toiletries here, it was too personal and also a tell-tale sign to any visiting friends or potential partners that a member of the opposite sex regularly used the facilities. Rule seven – keep it secret.

The handle on the door clicked, making Izzy still herself, waiting with bated breath. Listening, she heard the soft padding of bare feet as Bucky entered the bathroom. It wasn’t unusual for him to come in to take a leak while she showered, or to wash up but it was unusual for him to join her.

He slid the shower curtain back slowly, letting his gaze slide up over her soap-slicked body to her face. He offered a cheeky and slightly apologetic smile as he glanced down to his cock, which was fully hard again, standing proud.

Izzy followed his eyes, as was his intention, sighing when she saw him. Bucky had a pretty cock, long enough that she couldn’t get it all down her throat and wide enough that the tips of her fingers only just met when she grasped him. He was a little veiny too, velveteen skin smooth over his rigid and slightly knobbled shaft. His head was pronounced with a deep ridge below and was a deep dusky pink just like his lips.

“Get in here, Barnes.” She said with a laugh. It wasn’t a good idea to allow herself to think that she’d missed him, but she had. He was one of her closest friends after all, how could she not miss him. But that wasn’t what she meant and she knew it.

Bucky climbed in, crowding her against the cold wall where he dropped the blue foil packet of the skinless condom he favoured, onto the shower rack.

“Can’t get enough?” She teased him when his face was awkwardly close to hers. They both knew the rules, no kissing, but there had been times when he’d looked at her like he really wanted to and that did something wonderful deep down in her tummy. This was one of those times.

“Apparently not.” He smirked, sliding his hand up from its resting place on her hip to bury his fingers into her wet hair.

His mouth was on her neck in seconds as he ignored the water splashing directly in his face. He licked and sucked gently at the erogenous zone beneath her ear, sending a fluttering of arousal through her body. Grazing his teeth down her neck he nipped at the skin in the bowl of her clavicle before cupping her breast and delving down to bring her nipple to his lips, and sucking it inside.

“Jesus, you know how much I like it when you do that.” Izzy moaned, still carefully choosing her words. They both avoided the minefield of the other ‘L’ word; if it was never used when they fucked then it could never be misunderstood.

“I do.”

He grinned against her skin, nipple poised between his teeth as he applied more pressure. When he repeatedly flicked the end of his tongue over the pinched nub she swore vilely, legs weakening dangerously fast.

“And I enjoy how easily it turns you into a soaking mess of gorgeousness.” Bucky slid his free hand from his securing hold on her hip, down between her thighs to stroke his fingers across her labia.

Izzy knew she was already wet. Bucky had that effect on her, as soon as his lips were on her skin she practically melted.

“Fucking hell, Bella!” He exclaimed with a groan.

She didn’t know why it surprised him every single time, but it did. He was a fine one to talk with his ridiculous refractory period of… what was that? Seven minutes? Eight minutes?

Pushing a long finger inside, he watched her face as her eyes fluttered shut. Hooking his finger into the soft front wall of her vagina he pulled and rubbed until her hips bucked against him. The second finger opened her eyes and she watched him watching her, a rapt look of adulation on his face that made her want to cry. He was beautiful, rich deep blue-grey eyes that were blown out in a lust-filled gaze, sharp cheekbones, chiselled jaw which was clean shaven, sumptuous lips with a perfect cupid’s bow. Bucky had that James Dean hair style down pat but right now it was an adorably wet mess.

She leaned in, eyes moving between his and his perfect mouth. Jesus, she wanted to kiss him but… rules.

As if sensing it coming he lent his forehead against hers, stopping the motion immediately. He rubbed his thumb over her clit to distract her and bring her back to the pleasure she felt growing from where his fingers were buried between her legs.

Izzy looked down, tracing the tense muscles that ran from his shoulder, all the way down to his wrist and further down to where his hand was working her into a frenzy.

“James!” She gasped as he sped up, pumping her ruthlessly until she clenched down hard and spasmed through a particularly intense but short-lived orgasm. It was enough to make her gush and she couldn’t stop it. “Ahh damn!”

Izzy tried to pull away, embarrassed but Bucky held her against him tightly, keeping her on her feet as her knees gave out momentarily.

“There it is.” Bucky smoothed his cheek against hers. “You won’t ever let me do that in the bed.” He offered an devilish chuckle.

“You know that’s pee right?”

“Sure.” He said, circling both nipples with his thumbs once she could stand again. “It’s still hot though.”

When Izzy reached down to take hold of his cock, he lifted her hand away, resting it on his chest. His black and grey tattoo of World War Two soldiers silhouetted against a cloudy sky with a field of bright red poppies in the foreground lay under her fingers.

“No fair.” She pouted.

“It’s plenty fair.” He pinned her with a look that said he was going to get what he wanted regardless of begging and tantrums. “You called me for sex so it’s only fair that I do my job.”

“Oh… Ahhh!” She gasped when he pinched both nipples and rolled them between thumb and finger. “I’d say… you did… your job… pretty well…. earlier.” She moaned, speaking in broken sentences as he tugged the pleasure out of her with each pinching assault.

“Get the rubber.” He groaned, moaning in tandem with her as if the mere sound of her pleasure was enough to bring him off.

She took an extra few seconds with the condom, taking the opportunity to slide her thumb around his tip and over his straining frenulum. He pulled his hips back and gave her a chastising look. He directed her and she turned as required, leaning back against him and feeling him incredibly hard resting right between her cheeks.

She wasn’t sure when the desperate need to have him inside her again took hold but she found herself reaching behind and trying to guide him into her, tilting her hips to give him access.

“Not yet, sweetheart.” Pet names were something they were supposed to steer clear of. Just like when they fucked she would call him James instead of Bucky and he would call her Bella instead of Izzy, it lent an air of detachment.

She braced herself, legs slightly spread and both hands against the wall. The thrill of anticipation was growing, she knew he was going to fuck her sore and she didn’t care. Water splashed in her face as she waited for his touch but it seemed as if he was just watching her. With a subtle shake of her hips she drew a sigh from him.

“Stop staring and fuck me.”

“Don’t worry darlin’, I won’t disappoint you. I was just checking out all the things I’m not allowed to look at normally.” He slapped and squeezed her butt before sliding his hands up over her hips and ribs to cup her breasts and squeeze. “Your tits are amazing by the way.”

“James.” She sighed as he pulled her to him, hands massaging her breasts while he ground himself against her ass.

She pushed back against him, letting him know she was getting impatient. The tightly coiled spring of pleasure that he’d wound up in her was starting to loosen and she really didn’t want to lose such a glorious feeling.

His hand between her legs made her clench. His fingers only skimmed between her lips briefly to help him guide himself inside, then she felt the slightly cool smoothness of his rubber sheathe cock seeking entrance. Once he was pushing against her opening both hands went to her hips and he pushed himself slowly inside her with a sigh.

The condom snagged against her as he pushed in but it wasn’t bad. Rubber always created more drag than skin and dried everything out faster too. Lucky for her that she was always a little on the wetter side.

Seeming to sense that her thoughts weren’t quite with him, he shoved himself against her, hard. Burying himself deep enough to knock her cervix slightly which made her gasp and clench around him tighter.

“Jesus, fuck, Bella.” He moaned in her ear like a supplication for strength.

His lips grazed her jaw as he picked up the pace, pulling her back against him harder as he fucked her. The satisfying slap of wet skin coming together almost drowned out her gasps and pleas for more. Open mouthed kisses against her cheek and neck as he breathed ragged and uneven, desperately seeking to be deeper, fill her more, feel her completely lose it as she came.

She was close, every muscle clenched as she followed him where he led her. The blinding hot tension just kept building and building until she couldn’t take it anymore. She grabbed his hand and shoved it down to where they were joined.

Bucky knew what she needed and he happily obliged, pinching her clit just above the sensitive bud, and using the hood he stroked his pinching fingers down and back up. It only took the one stroke for her to come undone and she cried out louder than either of them expected.

The wave of her orgasm coursed through her body like a tingling cascade of heat and intensity before settling as a pulsing and spasming pleasure around his cock.

He fucked her through it, grinning as he bit down gently on her shoulder. He slowed but didn’t stop.

The water was getting cold and she reached to turn it off.

“Leave it.” He rumbled, low, trailing his lips along her jaw again, dangerously close to her lips. “Goosebumps are a great look on you.”

He pinched her nipples playfully. They were cold, hard and aching to the point of discomfort but she arched her back, pushing her breasts into his hands, needing more warmth from him, and more friction.

“You want me to carry on?” He asked, knowing she’d say yes. Rule number five – both of them had to get off.

Izzy nodded, pushing back against him as he lazily ground into her. She lifted one foot onto the side of the tub, opening herself up to him and he obliged by angling himself deeper, pushing the tip of his cock right over her g-spot.

“Fuck!” She twitched.

He did it again, and again, and again.

“Oh god, James!”

“Yeah, you want more of that, huh?”

Izzy nodded, her eyes rolling as she arched her back and leant her head back against his shoulder. Bucky felt glorious and soon she was coming for the third time in the shower but the sixth time that day. He held her against him for a moment, caressing her as she shook and spasmed, coming down from the latest high.

Bucky always felt great to her. The way every part of him seemed to fit against every part of her. No lover she’d ever been with had satisfied her the way he did. Of course she had feelings for him, how could she not, despite their rule that stated otherwise. She made that damn rule. It was just unfortunate that he didn’t feel the same, so she quashed the feelings and just got on with it, living in the moment each time they were together.

“You really need to come soon or you’re going to kill me.” She laughed, breathy and light.

“If that’s what you want.” He murmured against her ear, reaching to shut off the now freezing cold water. “Turn around.”

When Izzy saw his face, her stomach twisted. His eyes were so dark, roving over her whole body, from the angry blush on her face to her reddened and painfully erect nipples, and her quivering thighs. He looked almost proud of himself. He knew he’d wrecked her and he was unrepentant.

“Last one, I promise.” He leant in with a grin, to whisper into the wet hair plastered over her ear.

The way Bucky cradled her was so tender, one arm around her waist while the other hooked behind her knee, lifting her leg to give him better access. He slid in without guidance, causing her eyes to flutter shut for the umpteenth time. Their joint sighs felt like home to her and she let herself be swept away in the slow grind of his hips.

Izzy clung to him, shuddering gasps exhaled into the crook of his neck as he oh-so-slowly broke her down until she was nothing but a weak and shaking mess in his arms.

“Hey,” he crooned, voice soft. “Look at me.”

It was more a request than an instruction, and she did, her eyes finding his. Her heart dropped in her chest, a shuddering half-sob escaping her throat. He looked beautiful, face a mixture of concentration and rapture.

“Stay with me.” He moaned lightly, eyes flickering as he almost lost control. “I need you here with me.”

“I’m here.” She sighed as her stomach fluttered and she throbbed around him in a particularly intense pre-orgasm spasm.

He rested his forehead against hers, eyes locked, jaw slack as he thrust slow and deep. Each stroke pushed her closer and before long she was clinging to him on the precipice of oblivion. Her delicate moans had become throaty and his had deepened to match. The rhythm of his thrusts slightly off as he watched her come undone. Her eyes began to close.

“Please Bella, I need you with me.” His hoarse plea sent a shot straight down to where he was buried deep. “I need to see you.”

“Oh goddddd!” She tipped over the edge so smoothly she wasn’t sure exactly what was happening. The orgasm rolled through her as a warm wave of constant intensity, spreading with each contraction of her walls and each of his meticulously slow thrusts.

He grunted, a moan catching in his throat before he let out the breath he’d been holding. Half laughing in disbelief, his eyes never left her face as he drew her through her pleasure with his own.

The twitching of his cock faded but he continued to grind into her all the while she spasmed around him. He dropped her leg when she relaxed and slid his hand up to her face, pressing his lips to her forehead he held her there, both of them shaking. The warmth that spread through her was more than just after glow. It had been so personal, so romantic. The way he’d made her feel, the way he’d locked their eyes together, keeping her with him all the way through.

Suddenly she was angry.

“What the hell was that?!” She snapped, pushing him away and slipping in the tub.

He caught her, of course, frantic eyes searching her face for a clue as to why she was so pissed. His mouth tried to form the word ‘what?’ but his throat wouldn’t let the sound come out.

“What the fuck, Bucky!” She scrambled out of the tub, snatching her arm from his hand as soon as she’d cleared the porcelain.

How dare he! Was he trying to toy with her feelings? Getting so personal, so close. He’d never done that before, it was always just sex, no making love. So what was that then?

Fuck!

Izzy dressed quickly, her skin still damp and her legs weak. She shook all over as she stumbled into her jeans, her wet hair soaking the shoulders of her top. It was already sticking to her skin anyway so what did a little more water matter.

Bucky emerged hurriedly with a towel around his waist. His face was flushed and he wore a pained expression.

“Bella, please.” He begged but when she shot him a furious look he reverted to her preferred name. “Izzy? Talk to me.”

Izzy’s glare would have wilted roses.

“What did I do?” He looked lost, and there was a small piece of her that felt guilty for reacting so strongly but he had to know he’d broke a rule, a fucking big one!

“Rule eight, Buck.” She exasperated. “Rule fucking eight.”

Of all the rules that they had set, rule eight was one of the big ones, no making love and no sleepovers. It was there to make sure that rule three never happened; don’t catch feelings.

Fuck!

Izzy had always had a bit of a problem with her feelings about Bucky, she’d liked him since they were kids living next door to one another, but she’d managed to keep them under wraps because he’d always only been her friend. Now, the feelings burned like the blush on her cheeks and she’d have to bury herself in work to forget about him for a while.

Fuckfuckfuck!

He knew. He fucking knew what he’d done, too. As soon as she’d said it his face fell. He reached out to her but she slapped his hand away. Lost for anything to say he simply swallowed and nodded, a glum expression settled on his normally light visage. It was a face that said he knew he might not see her for a while, until she calmed down.

Izzy left Bucky’s apartment, her frown firmly in place until she reached the elevator where the tears came, filling her eyes enough for her to feel like she was drowning but never spilling over. After six weeks of litigation on a case that had seen her traveling all over the world, she’d come home to Brooklyn and sought Bucky out. She’d missed him and the tension in her had been like steel until he’d closed the door of his apartment and she saw the sexy smirk he wore.

Mother-fuck!

This was her long weekend before going back to work and picking up her regular case load, she’d wanted to blow off some steam and enjoy herself, now she’d be cancelling all her plans that involved seeing Bucky, crying-off citing excuses of work and tiredness. All because he couldn’t resist teasing her with her own feelings.

He’d never been that cruel, and he definitely had to know she’d always liked him, everyone else did for fuck sake. She knew she couldn’t have him though, he’d never so much as waivered when it came to romance with her, even after they became friends with benefits. It was like he was impervious. So why rub it in her face now?

Fuckity-fuckfuckfuck!

Continue to chapter two>>>

#bucky fanfic #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes x ofc #bucky barnes fanfic #friends to lovers #marvel fanfic #promises #my writing #cloudy's writing

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