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thisisthehardestthing · 4 years

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18+

DEDICATED TO @undermattsun

Skate Rat! Kyoutani x Reader

So, if you’ve been following me these past two (?) months, you’ll know that I have become obsessed with Miki’s blog. Not only is she a talented writer with a big brain, but she’s funny and cool and a wonderful person to talk to that has not yelled at me for my dumb thoughts and sliding into her dm’s. Yet.

Thank you, Miki, for giving us Skate Rat content and being you.

Warnings: uh, weed, spit, toxic behavior: possessive, jealous? i dunno. Aged up. They’re in college.

Kyoutani sits across the room, the red flame of the lighter flickering in his wild eyes as he lights the bong, chest expanding as the milky smoke vanishes into his body. His eyes close as he holds his breath; you inadvertently hold yours. When they open and the smoke floats up, he doesn’t look any more relaxed, the frown deepening as he passes the contraption to his left. His bleached hair, with coils tight against his scalp, blends into the eggshell-shaded wallpaper of the basement.

You dated Kentaro for a year when you decided to end things with him. Well, dated is a strong term. You banged for a week straight, he would ghost you, then hit you up again three weeks later saying he was “busy” with “stuff”, before seeing you nightly again for a couple more weeks, this pattern on repeat. And fuck it, he looks good. His loose shirt is unbuttoned save for the third, showing off the tattoo saying ‘MAD DOG’ across his sternum in small block letters, underneath multiple slim silver and gold chains.

He knows you’re watching, making it a point to guide the bong to the girl’s lips next to him. You can see his mouth move as he whispers something sickenly encouraging to her– he always liked ‘em green and fresh– but he laughs when she coughs, dainty, tiny hands clutching at the chest of her too-cute dress. You watch her let out a breathy giggle, but she’s scared, her hands trembling from his overpowering pressure (and probably smell, axe body spray mixed with hash). Your eyes roll as you take another sip from the vodka-red bull in a cheap, scratched, yellow Mickey Mouse cup–you found it in a cupboard in the kitchen.

But the cup bounces, missing your lips and splashing onto your white t-shirt when someone falls down next to you.

“Fuck, Oikawa!” you shout, leaning forward so that the drink runs directly to the already stained carpet. You spot a drop of blood from the night Mattsukawa smashed his nose while crushing a can against his forehead. The man in question chuckles, slinging his long legs over yours as he settles into the couch.

“Reparations?” he holds out a half-smoked blunt, and you glance at his strangely slender fingers, before sighing and taking a deep breath. It burns, you cough, and Oikawa grabs it back from you, checking to make sure it didn’t extinguish.

“What is that mixed with?”

He just raises his eyebrows, taking a leisurely drag. As the smoke filters out of his lips, he says, “Iwa rolled it.”

You wrinkle your nose, but then fall back as your heart drops into your stomach and the entire room spins. Groaning, you clutch at your temple, throat raw from just that puff.

“It’s mixed with dokha,” Oikawa whispers into your ear, teeth nipping at the lobe.

You mumble a weak ‘get off’, bumping him back with your shoulder. He’s too close. You feel sick, as though stuck in a vacuum and your feet got sucked in before your head, stomach lurching up–

“Move,” you curse, shoving Oikawa’s legs from yours as you bend over, head between your knees, eyes screwed tightly shut. Oikawa’s teasing laugh echoes in your ears as you dry heave, forcing yourself to ride the high like a bronco. You’ve had worse, you tell yourself over and over, whispering it as you begin to level out, mellow out, the buzz starting a static that tingles from your toes to your brain.

When you look up again, the room spins, pleasantly. You’re in a galaxy, tumbling through time and space, and you fall back to watch the stars pass by behind your eyelids. Oikawa’s legs find their way back over your knees, but you’re floating too far away to care.

“How does it feel?” he whispers. You can feel the stardust tickling your nose.

“Fantastic.”

You force your eyes open, with more effort than necessary, and your gaze instantly locks with Kyoutani’s. His thick lashes that rim his eyes are a magnet that you find yourself struggling to look away from. That cutesy girl is straddling him, his tattooed hands on the globes of her ass as he guides her grind against his groin. You’d almost feel jealous if it wasn’t for his intense stare licking over your body, swallowing you whole. The girl’s head travels slowly as she sucks on his neck, her fingers poking out from the tops of his hair where she clutches at it. You’re calm, confident even, when your arm lifts and your middle finger extends. It almost feels like you can touch him from across the room. His frown deepens as he rips his stare from you and instead focuses on pulling the girls lips against his.

“Hey, Oikawa,” you chirp, interrupting whatever the fuck he was prattling on about, “wanna fuck?”

Glancing sidelong at his shocked face, you see his lips turn up in a small smile with a shrug, “sure, why not.”

Oikawa lurches to his feet, gentleman-like as he helps you up from the couch, lanky body bending over yours as you find your footing on the constantly osmoting floor. You can feel Kyoutani’s eyes on you as you take Oikawa’s hand to lead him to the stairs of the basement. Hell, even Iwaizumi’s eyes burn into your back as you disappear into the main area of the house.

The lights are brighter here, the smell almost strange as you emerge from the fog and into where Iwaizumi’s mother keeps a clean house. It’s slightly sobering, unfortunately, and you look back at the man dragged by your hands into the bathroom just off the hallway. His eyes shine with excitement, and you sigh as the door closes, locks and his hands find your face.

His fingers have the slightest scent of tobacco to them as his lips press against yours. They’re hard, almost forceful, and you find your nose crunching before you try and relax into the kiss. You haven’t had any action in a while, so you might as well see it through and then dip for the night. The room tilts when your eyes close, letting Oikawa lean over you as you bend back and into him. His palms slide down your neck, squeezing and pawing at your breasts while your mouths slip open and tongues collide.

You think about the eyes that stared at you as you walked from the room, probably knowing exactly where you are, what you’re about to do. It makes your heart pound in your ears, heat flooding to your core, in a steady rhythm. It gets faster, faster and you pull away from oikawa’s mouth with a gasp.

“I swear to God, Toru, you better open this fucking door right fucking now.”

The door rattles in it’s frame as you hear Kyoutani call out in his rough growl from the other side. Oikawa looks down at you, then over his shoulder with a puzzled expression, eyebrows contorting on his pretty face as he pulls himself back from his high-driven lust.

“Are you and Kyo…?” he asks, hands dropping from where they had slipped under your shirt. You shake your head, and Kyoutani bangs on the wood again.

“Toru! I know yo–”

Oikawa whirls around and opens the door fluidly, leaning casually against the frame, “Dude, calm down.”

You peek around Oikawa’s chest, crossing your arms as you stare at the seething man, steam practically billowing from his nose– or it might be the last bong rip remnants. He catches your amused stare, his frown deepening as he pushes past Oikawa, into the bathroom, and between the both of you.

“You can’t sleep with him,” he says over his shoulder to you, keeping a guarded gaze at the man in front of him. Oikawa whistles lowly, whining a ‘dude’, eyes scanning over the situation while your cheeks begin to burn. Did he just–

“You can’t tell me who I can and can’t fuck.” You shove Kyoutani on his shoulder, the deep maroon shirt a soft cotton. It takes you by surprise; he always chooses the best fabric. You blink, bringing yourself back to the moment. Back to focus. You’re too high to start an argument.

“Of course I can.”

At Kyoutani’s words, Oikawa quickly raises his hands, saluting a bye to you as he turns on his heel and strides back to the basement, removing himself from the inevitable combustion. Your fists ball tightly, and you quickly shut the door before Kyoutani walks out. It slams closed.

“Why would you think that?” your voice is dangerously low, and Kyo looks over his shoulder at you, eyes slowly tracing up the line of your arm that presses against the wood by his head.

It feels like minutes pass for him to turn around, his body twisting so slowly–head first, then shoulders and chest, then his hips–before he’s finally facing you. The multitude of chains on his neck glints in the ugly fluorescent lighting, and his eggshell hair is stark against the green tiled wall in your peripheral, but his presence swallows you completely. That tattoo is a beacon to your gaze. ‘MAD DOG’, beware, stay back, screams out and you swallow as you lift your stare into his eyes.

The thought of how unfair it is that boys always have such thick lashes crosses your mind, but then Kyoutani licks his lips, and you smell the weed, axe body spray–his scent, just wafting through the air as it fills the bathroom. He shrugs, then chews a hangnail from his left ring finger, not intimidated in the least by your anger.

“You’re mine.”

Suddenly, you’re looking through a crystal glass, his face swirling in a kaleidoscope as memories of his possessiveness rush back into you. A bulldog. He looks at you like a toy, his honey eyes glazing your body until it’s slow and sticky.

“I’m not ‘yours’,” you quote, feeling the heat roll off his body in waves. You take a step back. His hand darts out to hold your neck, strong palms gripping your nape.

“Yes. You are.”

And he crashes his lips against yours, swallowing your protests down his gruff throat and pulling you tightly into his chest. It takes you by surprise, your gasp letting him burst into your mouth with tongue and teeth, and you claw to push him away. The hand on your neck controls you, turns you until you hit the sink with your lower back.

“Kyo,” you mumble, turning your head. His lips moving against your jaw with fire, possessiveness leaching into your skin. “Kyo, stop.”

He’s harder than you remember, your hands gliding down his chest as you push weakly at his sternum. Each touch of his pillowy lips has your knees buckling. His free hand thumbs the hem of your shirt, and you remember something,

“Isn’t that girl looking for you?”

Kyoutani falters, pulling back to stare at you with apparent confusion.

“What girl?”

You beat at his chest, finally able to shove him away. He truly has a one track mind; when he has his sights on something, nothing else matters.

“The one downstairs, that was all over you, that you were all over.”

You press two fingers into the side of his neck where she left a faint mark.

Realisation flickers in his eyes before a lopsided smirk takes over. He grabs the edge of the sink with his tattooed knuckles, pinning his hips against yours. The clouds that are his lips come tantalisingly close to yours again. You scowl.

“You jealous?”

Oh god, you roll your eyes, “you’re the one that ran after me.”

He frowns, mouth turning down, erection crushing painfully into the bone of your groin.

“She’s dumb, can’t handle her weed, and I’m not going to take care of that right now.”

The snort that comes out of your nose surprises you. The feeling of anger towards Kyoutani reluctantly begins to melt away, although you’re slightly worried about leaving that girl alone with the boys downstairs.

“I don’t think I was actually going to fuck Oikawa,” you admit, stretching your arms past his head and resting them in a dangle on his shoulders. You stare into his eyes, stuck like a fly in their syrup.

He slams his lips into yours, the force bending you backwards so that your forearms lock behind his neck to keep yourself close. You’re more prepared for the onslaught of his kiss, tongues dancing to the memory of how it used to be. Fuck, no ones a better kisser than Kyoutani. And you’re breathless when he pulls away to peel the shirt over your head, fingers heading straight for the clasp of your bra. The one track mind flooding back.

Then again, on weed, you always feel like you’d die if you weren’t fucked right away, desperation seeping into your bones.

Your fingers undo the single button keeping his shirt closed, pushing it off his body and to the floor while he sucks and nibbles on your earlobe. His mouth is hot against your cold skin. You vaguely register that the door is unlocked, but when he grinds against the seam of your jeans, your thoughts are replaced with just how much you missed being touched by him.

Your bare chests press together, disrupting your thoughts of why you stopped sleeping with him. Your nipples harden against the cool metal and small raised ink of his multiple tattoos. The intricate lines of the moth on his breast has you fluttering, and you moan into his mouth.

“Off.” Kyoutani pulls at the loops of your pants, commanding you, making you unbutton your jeans in between sloppy kisses.

You kick the heel of your left shoe off, and your mouth is suddenly lonely when he drops to his knees and drags the pants down your legs hastily. You tug your leg out of the jeans so that you can widen your knees, and hop onto the edge of the sink. Kyo’s rough palms push your chest back until your head hits the mirror and the faucet presses into your spine, but your discontent is cut off when he forces his head between your knees to bite at the tender meat of your inner thighs.

He takes a deep sniff, nose nuzzling into your panties, and you feel your chest flare up, holding your breath.

“You stink,” Kyoutani says with a grin, staring up at you with glazed eyes. Embarrassment burns in your face, you feel yourself crashing down and you kick his shoulder.

“Shut up, it’s not supposed to smell like roses,” you huff, almost closing your legs around his head. He chuckles, deep and throaty, and stops you, a hand keeping one knee open wide. His other comes to your mound, and you feel his thumb pawing just off-centre to your clit.

“A bit to the right, asshole.”

He grumbles, but his finger shifts and you moan, your voice echoing against the tiles, bouncing into your body as you grip the edge of the sink, abdomen tightening. You know it drives him wild to hear you, and your eyes close to revel in the pleasure that’s beginning to build.

“Nah, keep your eyes on me.” Kyotani stops his movements, thumb dropping lower as he feels the slick that’s seeping through the cotton, tucking the fabric between your folds. You glare down at him, eyes shooting open, and shift your ass on the cold ceramic that’s starting to bruise your bones. You feel the static starting in your toes, and you scrunch them at that same time that his tongue presses, flat and wide.

You flinch at how wet his mouth is, (does he even get cotton mouth?) how he knows exactly how to press against your skin to have you grinding your clit against his nose as he laps you up and leaves you thoroughly soaked, tingling. His lips move to suck on your sensitive nerves and you feel those first waves travel through you. Struggling to keep your balance on the sink edge, you arch your back from the faucet, gripping his hair as you pant and groan into your orgasm.

“Oh God,” you moan as he pulls away, licking his lips as he watches your rolling eyes and twitching thighs.

“No, just me,” he smirks, grabbing your jaw with rough fingers and bringing you forward. You wince as the skin beneath your ass rubs over the bone, peeling from the ceramic. You focus on his eyes, the golden glint in them, and at his contorting lips.

He spits into your mouth.

He lets it fall onto your soft tongue, watching it as it slides down and you swallow it. Your tart taste zings your nerves, and your eyes roll up at how dirty that just was. He chuckles, fingers sliding down to grasp at your hips and pull you off the sink.

Your knees are weak, but you stand, steadying yourself with your hands on his shoulders. Your right foot is asleep in your shoe, and you lean onto your left.

“That was gross,” you moan, but you still feel your core clenching in need for more. You grab the back of his head and bring his mouth to yours, licking a long stripe up his jaw. The slight stubble of a fresh shave pricks at your tongue, and you bite his ear. He shudders, pulling his body tighter against yours. The buckle of his belt presses into your stomach, a cold metal, an off-white knock off.

“Do you have a condom?” you whisper, letting your breath tickle his cartilage, feeling the goosebumps rise on the back of his neck. You run his chains through your fingers as he turns his head, raising an eyebrow.

“No, we don’t need one.”

Suddenly your chest combusts, and you burst out laughing, forehead falling to his shoulder.

“I do not know where your dick’s been these past few months, Kyo.”

He shrugs, his right hand moving to rub teasing circles into your hip, his other hand lifting your head with your hair.

“You don’t know where my tongue’s been either, and you just came all over it.”

Your mouth shuts, you huff, and push a single finger into his chest, “no rubber, no lovin’, baby.”

He groans, rolling his head, his neck cracking lightly.

“I’m clean.”

“Kyo, no.”

“Just a thigh fuck?”

You give him a pointed stare–you want him in you–and untuck the wedgie of your panties from your folds, beginning to pull your foot back into your jeans. His hand flies to your shoulders, his other digging deep into his back pocket and pulling out his wallet.

“Wait, wait, fine, I’ve got one here.”

You smile. You knew it. You did date him for a year.

While he fiddles with his velcro billfold, you tug on his belt, loosening it until it falls open and his pants sag. Your hands stroke languidly up his hard length, while he angrily rips into the golden foil packet with his teeth. He smacks your hand away, and you pout, but watch as he unfurls his thick cock from his underwear. The thought of being stretched out by him again has your toes tingling and fingers twitching. His pants are pulled down to just below his ass–he has the kind that juts out and perks up.

Kyo’s lips find yours again, warm and quick. You feel him fiddling between your bodies, unrolling the condom down his shaft. Once it’s on, his hand grabs your hair, fist tight until you whine at the tug, your neck stretching out for him.

“I really hate condoms,” he grunts, then pulls your skin between his teeth as he sucks a blooming blue mark onto the column of your throat.

His free hand wanders to your pussy, fingers sliding over the drenched cotton, peeling it to one side so that a thick finger slides inside. You find your fingers in his hair, tugging it as he pumps inside you, his lips never leaving your neck. Your skin bruises, glistens with his spit as he breathes behind your ear, nipping at the lobe. You pull him back against your lips.

As your mouths collide, his cockhead taps at your folds, his fingers circling around your waist to grab at your hips.

“Turn around.”

You glance down to double check, before turning around and come face-to-face with your bloodshot eyes, puffy lips and bitten skin. You watch as Kyoutani spits into his palm, the sound echoing along with your heaving breathing.

“How romantic,” you deadpan while he smooths it over his covered cock.

He glares up at you, but smirks when he glances back down at your back, the curve of your ass. You make a show of peeling your underwear down until just below your rear, showcasing your cunny for him. Kyoutani grunts, fingers instantly reaching to spread your skin apart.

“Shit, I’ve missed this pussy,” he mumbles, more to himself than you, but you shiver, arching your back. You missed his dick, but you’d never tell him that.

“Fuck me, Kyo” you moan, catching his eyes in the reflection, the malicious smile that spreads on his lips.

“If you insist.”

Then the cold tip of the condom presses against your folds, your slick ample enough that he starts to slip inside. Your fingers grip the ceramic, your eyes rolling back as you feel that stretch that only he can give you.

Kyoutani enters you slowly, savoring the way you pulse and unfurl around him as he disappears inch by inch inside your beautiful body. A body that was made for his cock, for him. That thought raises goosebumps on his arm, his lower lip pulling between his teeth. Not enough of you is marked as his.

You wriggle against him, whining to feel completely full. His warm palm presses against your middle-back, deepening the arch, his other hand grabbing a handful of ass that sends a dull throb of pain that makes you clench around him. You briefly see his eyes flutter, but when he sees you smiling triumphantly, he slams in, fully sheathed.

You yelp, jerking forward, palm slamming to the mirror before your head hits it.

“Careful,” you pant, breathing deeply, moaning as he leans over you and places a gentle kiss to the top of your shoulder.

That’s the last thing he does you remember coherently. His hips pull out, and he begins his relentless pace, pistoning so that you shake against the sink. He has you bumping into the edge of the ceramic until you’re sure you have bruises against the bone. Curses tumble out of your lips, his name floating around you as endless pleasure pours through your pores.

You don’t know if it’s the high, but you can see stars. Each rut into you pulling your core tighter, clenching around him as his cock kisses your cervix. You vaguely register that warm palm pushing you down even lower, your cheek grazing against the cool metal of the faucet. A particularly rough thrust has your hand flailing, the water turning on and running cold against your heated flesh. Is it misting? You gasp up when it pours into your mouth, water dripping down your chest and between your breasts as he laughs. You brace yourself against the mirror.

In your shock, your body tightens, the slick between your legs spreading messily as he continues to pound into you. You’re just so wet and he’s so warm. A little too warm.

“Fuck, tell me you’re mine,” Kyoutani growls, staring at the way he disappears into your willing body, your aching body. You grit your teeth in defiance. His fingers reach around to rub tantalising circles into your clit, his teeth graze the smooth skin of your back as his moans sink into your skin. Your head drops back in ecstasy.

“Say it!” he barks, thrusts getting sloppier, but his fingers drift away from your clit.

“I’m yours!” you plea, your mouth to keep that coil from unravelling. You feel that pressure, the electricity as it courses up your spine. “I’m yours.”

It’s all you repeat, begging him not to stop until you see nothing but green and yellow and white and, fuck. Your orgasm has you collapsing, your knees buckling in so that you’re held up only by the edge of the sink and Kyo’s hands around your waist, still circling your clit as you draw him into your cunt.

He moans your name, shuddering to a halt inside you, cheek resting sweatily against your skin. You catch your breath, the ascension of your orgasm has you floating and every single hair on your body prickles with hypersensitivity. It almost hurts. The water from the faucet drips off your chest, your hands sliding on the rim of the sink, your thighs slipping together–

Wait.

No.

“Mother fucker!” you groan, shaking him off you as you turn around to stare at his bare dick, the condom discarded and forlorn on the floor. “How fucking dare you.”

“You told me you’re mine,” he shrugs, wiping the left over cum leaking from the head and licking it with a satisfied grin. Tucking himself back into his pants and picking up his shirt, he continues, “you’ve still got an IUD, right?”

You just stare incredulously at his cockiness. He pulls the burgundy hand towel from a rung and places it in your limp hand. Your skin crawls, feeling violated, but you’d be lying if you weren’t still turned on by his blatant disregard of your feelings.

“Asshole.”

He smiles, giving you a quick kiss on the cheek, “thanks, I’ll call you.”

You know he won’t. You grab his chains, ensnaring his swollen lips with yours, before he leaves you messy, naked and bruised. Exactly how you like it.

------

<3 I hope you liked it Miki.

I wanted to make Oikawa cry, but didn’t know how.

This is extra, I thought about writing it in but didn’t know how to end it so:

He smiles, giving you a quick kiss on the cheek, “thanks, I’ll call you.”

You know he won’t. You grab his chains, ensnaring his swollen lips with yours, your hands snake between your thighs.

Smack! You slap some of his dripping cum against his cheek, laughing as he angrily wipes at it with the back of his hand.

#skate rat! kyoutani #kyoutani #kyoutani kentarou #kyoutani x reader #toxic behaviour #tw drugs #possesive #jealous #claudia writes #mine #haikyuu #haikyuu fic #hq

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impala-dreamer · 4 years

Text

Hunger

SPN FanFic

~The Mark of Cain is starving for attention and Dean feeds it what, and when he can.~

Demon!Dean x Reader

3,250 Words

Warnings: NSFW! Demon!Dean. Smut. Rough, rough sex. Stripping. Filming of Sex. Masturbation. Deep Throat Fucking. Breath Control/Play. Rough Intercourse. Dean's a dick.

A/N: This is for my "Filming Sex" square on @spnkinkbingo 2020. Hope you enjoy! Let me know what you think ;)

2020 KinkBingo Masterlist ~ My Masterlist ~ Become A Patreon ~ Find My Original Works on Amazon

Dean walked out of the bar, leaving Crowley and his idiot minions behind. Last thing he needed was to be told what to do. He was too powerful and gave too few fucks now for that to be a thing. No one was gonna tell him what to do. Not ever again.

The brand on his arm ached constantly since he had been reborn, but he’d learned to ignore it, only letting the urge spike when he was in the mood or around a particularly annoying asshole that deserved to die. It wasn’t as if he just walked around dropping bodies, he still had some class. But, if he happened upon a douche that was asking for it...

That was how it went. Blood and more blood. Knuckle bruises fading, open wounds closing themselves. He was unstoppable. Fucking. Unstoppable.

But he was hungry.

Not the kind of hunger that could be soothed with a stop at a diner and topped off at a strip club. Dean was hungry for something familiar, something delicious and submissive, and wet.

The craving started when he realized where he was. Roads all looked the same and since he had no destination in mind, he just drove, ending up where he ended up. The white lines on the asphalt had been his friend and lead him right to her door.

Y/N would remember him, had to. He sure as fuck remembered her.

He remembered where her spare key was, too. Dean was careful to step around the devil’s trap that was painted underneath the weathered doormat on the porch as he reached for the key hanging behind the old window’s shutter. She might have grown up in The Life, might know how to keep ghosts out of her house, the common demon, but leaving a key right by her front door?

Dean shook his head and unlocked the door. “Imma have to talk to her about that.”

All it took was a quick hop over the mat and he was in.

The house was small like he remembered and just as cluttered. Still smelled like cloves, too. Well, that wasn’t gonna protect her from what he had in mind.

Somewhere down the hall a clock was ticking, a gentle click every second giving the place a rhythmic measure to fall asleep to. Dean’s footsteps fell on every other click; thick tread of his boots and heavy feet dropping onto the hardwood with an ominous thud.

Y/N was sleeping, lying on her back, empty face awash in the faint red light from her alarm clock. The thin sheet barely covered her, flowing like silk over each curve, tucked tight beneath her left knee. She breathed slowly; firm breasts rising and falling every fifth tick of the clock.

Dean slipped inside her room, silent and bathed in shadow. He looked around as she slept, unaware of his approach, not sensing anything as the air began to warm with his presence. Dean smiled as she rolled in her sleep, corner of the sheet dropping away to reveal a set of pale blue flannel pajamas.

“Always so cozy, Y/N/N,” he murmured, not bothering to keep his voice down.

She stirred, eyes fluttering wildly as Dean stepped up to the foot of the bed.

“Wakey wakey.”

She stretched and rubbed at her eyes with a tired hand. “Who’s there?” Her voice was caked with sleep, throat scratchy from hours of non use.

“Here there, Sweetheart.” His smile was dangerous but true. He had missed her; missed her heavy breaths as he clawed at her flesh, the muted whimpers as she screamed into her pillow. His stomach growled and The Mark ached as she blinked into the shadows, trying to place his silhouette and raspy voice.

“Dean?” Still groggy, she sat up and turned on the lap by her bedside, setting the room aglow. She was startled but glad to see him, instantly flashing a confused smile. “What are you doing here? How’d you get in?”

Dean chewed on his bottom lip for a second and let it slide back out slowly. “Yeah, about that-” He flicked his left hand and dropped the spare key between her knees on the bed. “You really need to hide that better. Never know who could just waltz in here.”

Y/N scooped up the key and clutched it in her fist. “Kinda like… an ex boyfriend?”

A smug laugh filled the room. “Yeah. One of those.”

The key fell onto the nightstand with a faint clank.

“So, what brings you to my bedroom in the middle of the night, Dean? You know I still have a cell phone, a few actually. It’s considered polite to call, especially after not calling for almost three years.”

Dean scratched at his jaw. “Yeah, about that-”

A click of her tongue interrupted him; her annoyance clear. “I heard you were dead. Sam dropped off the map, then suddenly everyone was back in action. Imagine my surprise when I didn’t get a phone call.”

“Well, Sam, hit a dog…”

Y/N rolled her eyes and threw back the blanket, tossing her feet over the side of the bed. “Ya know what? I don’t care.” Her bare feet sank gently into the carpet. “It was nice to see you, but… Get the fuck out of my house.”

Dean dipped his chin and looked up at her with big green eyes. “I just wanted to see you, Y/N/N, didn’t mean to piss you off.”

She softened but held her ground. “You just wanted to see me in the middle of the night in my bedroom? Come on, Dean.”

He moved closer, rounding the bed, big steps leading him to her side in a fraction of a second. “Well, I thought it would be rude to say I came to get some.”

She laughed and bit her lip as she looked away. “There’s the jerk I remember.”

Dean lifted his fingers to her cheek and surprisingly, she didn’t flinch away. “So…” He smirked and nodded towards the bed. “Shall we?”

Y/N took a step back and raised an eyebrow. “Are you kidding me? You break into my house-”

“I used the key.”

“-sneak into my bedroom-”

“I wasn’t that quiet. You’re a heavy sleeper.”

“-and now you’re like “hey baby, let’s do it”, and I’m supposed to what, rip my clothes off and suck your dick?”

Dean frowned as he thought up the scenario in his head, nodding when he decided it was good. “Yeah?”

The urge to slap him in his smug face was stopped only by the big thumb that traced her jaw. Y/N shivered, her eyes closing as memory washed over her. He was a good fuck, a good man, the best- but still.

“Get out,” she grit. “Now.”

The hand on her cheek dropped and Dean smacked his lips, looking slightly dejected. “You sure?”

She held her breath as he leaned closer, just tipping his chest towards her. She could smell his heat; the old familiar scent of the Impala and coffee lingering on his clothes. It was almost thick around him, that faint hint of aftershave, the cheap motel soap, the musk of him. Y/N’s head swam with thoughts of kissing him, of reaching up and pressing herself against him; breasts smashed against that hard, flanneled chest, tongues stroking with electric waves against each other. She closed her eyes and suddenly it wasn’t a dream anymore.

Dean closed the gap and gently placed his lips against hers, pushing just enough to catch her breath but staying back should she want to fight him off. Her right mind said to bring her knee up hard between his bowed legs, but her sleepy, dreamy, hazy brain said to open her mouth to him.

“That’s it,” he hummed as she wrapped a soft hand around the back of his neck. “You still taste so sweet.”

“And your breath still stinks,” she laughed, digging her nails into the base of his skull. He hissed and she licked at his mouth.

“Not that you care.” He pushed back then, swirling his tongue between her lips and stepping forward, forcing her back onto the bed. They sank together, Y/N’s legs opening automatically to make room for him. He rocked upwards, cock already half hard and pressing against his jeans. She moaned as the rough zipper rubbed through her pajamas, grinding up on her cunt.

“Fuck.” She breathed into his hair, face raising to the ceiling as his lips trailed down her throat; pearly teeth scraping over her pulse and nipping at her shoulder.

His voice was dry and cracked in her ear. “That was my plan.”

A giant hand closed over her left breast and Y/N’s entire body arched upwards, wanting to pull him deep inside, feel all of him. She moaned and called his name like a prayer. “Dean. Please.”

He was gone before she knew what happened, the mattress bouncing as his weight vanished.

“What the fuck?” She sat up, rubbing her eyes once more, this time clearing away the dampness of arousal. “Where are you going?”

Dean opened the buckle of his belt as he walked around the perimeter of the bed. “Just wanted a new angle.” He turned with a smirk and popped the brass button of his jeans.

Y/N smiled in a daze as she watched him move around, slowly finding the foot of the bed again. “How about you take those off and let me say hello?” She rolled onto her hands and knees and locked her eyes on his crotch; mouth watering at the idea.

“No.”

She looked upwards, a pout and confusion on her face. “W-why not?”

The tip of his tongue fit between his teeth and his smile was filled with devilish intent. He took his time answering, looking slowly around the room until he found something to play with: her old camcorder was tucked away on a shelf behind him.

Y/N watched curiously as he picked it up and blew the dust from its top. “What are you doing?”

He smiled as the power came on, and Dean trained the eye on Y/N. “Strip for me,” he said, voice deep as he hit record.

Her heart raced as the tiny red light came on, making her blush. “What? No.”

Green eyes lifted from the screen to her face. “Strip.”

The command was absolute and struck some chord deep inside; arousal pulsing in her cunt. “Yeah,” she said softly, “yeah, OK.”

Up on her knees in the middle of the bed, Y/N bit her lip as she opened the tiny buttons on her pajama top, careful not to reveal too much at once, wanting to give him a show.

Dean’s eyes flickered between the screen and real life; lips twitching with excitement as she got more into it, playing to the camera, exposing herself for him.

“Like this?” she asked, kicking the soft pants from her legs.

“Perfect.” He zoomed in, framing her body. “Lay back.”

Y/N swallowed deeply as she leaned back against the pillows. Sleep and his voice rang through her head, hitting every button inside, turning her on more than she thought possible. Without realizing it, Y/N had lifted a hand to her breast, slowly swirling her fingers across her stiffening nipples. Every pass made her shiver, but she remained frozen; eyes locked on Dean.

“That’s it,” he praised in a whisper, “such a good girl.”

Y/N hummed happily, her eyes closing a bit; sleepy and dazed. Her knees opened timidly as the heat grew; her left hand lazily drifting downwards.

“Yeah,” Dean urged. “Play with that pretty cunt for me. Show me how wet you can get.”

“Real wet,” she replied like a zombie, voice almost gone, breath heavy. “So wet, Dean.”

He grinned and zoomed in, capturing the slow press of her fingertips against her clit. Her skin glistened, damp and delicious. “Is that all for me?”

Y/N nodded helplessly and slid her middle finger deep inside, knuckles disappearing into her tight flesh. “Yeah. For you.”

Dean stared hard, cocking his head as she fucked herself for the camera, for him. He let the image burn into his brain so that every blink left him with a reminder of her perfect cunt.

When she began to moan, fingers working faster, legs shaking with effort, Dean called to her, stepping back from the bed.

“Enough. Come here.”

Y/N sat up almost automatically, hands dropping to the mattress as she rolled over and crawled to him, her chin up towards the camera, her eyes rolling, pussy juices dripping down her legs.

Dean unzipped his jeans and let them fall, stopped only by the tops of his boots.

“Flip over,” he ordered, yanking his boxers down. “Head over the side.”

Y/N held her breath as she got into position, back flat on the bed, neck stretching parallel to the floor as her head hung down over the edge.

Dean fisted his cock and pumped a few times, watching the pulse in her exposed throat beat faster. “Perfect. Open up.”

He aimed the camera downwards, immortalizing the moment he slid inside her waiting lips. She moaned happily as he pushed deep inside, watching as his cock passed down her throat, pushing at her delicate skin from the inside out. She choked as her neck bulged, and Dean thrust harder.

“Fuck, so deep.” His hips snapped against her forehead, shaking her entire body as he fucked her mouth without care.

She lost her breath as he went deeper; spit rolling down her cheeks, thicker with every push of his thick cock. When her lungs began to protest, she tried to scream, to warn him, but all that came out was a meek whine. She clawed at the sheets, then his hips, digging her nails into the dips of his waist, begging for a break.

The camera shook as Dean bent over, hooking one foot on the bed and dipping down deep. The new angle allowed her a single breath, but no true relief as her lips began to swell and her throat went numb around him.

“So good, Sweetheart,” he growled, pulsing the tip of his dick between her puffy lips. “My own little pornstar. Taking my cock like a pro.”

A final cry pushed up from the back of her throat and Dean showed an ounce of mercy, pulling free of her tight mouth with a wet pop. He zoomed close on the red mess that was her lips; cheeks stained by lines of spit, jaw sore and hanging.

“So beautiful.” He stood up and let the lens trail down her naked body. “Think I’ll wreck that pussy next. Scoot up, spread your legs.”

Invisible strings moved her body; Y/N couldn’t consciously decide to move a muscle, but she went, setting her ass in the middle of the bed, giving her neck a rest against the soft comforter.

Dean placed the camera back on the shelf, careful to aim it perfectly at the bed. “Now, let’s get down to business.”

Y/N lay there, waiting, drifting, empty. She felt the bed dip as Dean crawled over her, felt the heat from his now bare chest as it pressed down onto her. His lips were hot on her ear. His breath heavy, voice rough.

“Smile pretty for the camera, girl.”

She held in a scream as Dean pushed away, up on his knees as he thrust into her, thick cock stretching her open. She tensed at the pain and he smiled, green eyes blinking to black.

“Dean!” Fright and confusion ran through her veins and she pushed at his arms, trying to get away. “What the fuck!”

The oil slick remained as Dean fucked her harder, one giant hand pinning her wrists together above her head, the other closing over her mouth. “Shhh.” He smirked. “Thought you knew, Sweetheart. Haven’t been keeping up with the gossip much, I see.”

Y/N bit down hard on his palm and he flinched, pulling away. “Exorcizamus te!”

Dean laughed and wrapped his long fingers around her throat, cutting off her words. “That ain’t gonna work,” he sneered, leaning close so his breath flowed over her lips. “I’m not possessed. Just better.”

She gasped, eyes wide and unfocused. “Dean!”

His grip loosened but his thrusts did not ease, ramming into her without pause or finesse. He set his eyes on the lens as they flipped back to pure green; playing for the camera, upper lip pulled back into a sneer as her body tightened around him.

“Oh, gonna cum for me?” His laugh was dark, his fingers bruising her skin wherever they fell. “Can’t help it, can you?”

Y/N shook her head in protest, but couldn’t resist, hips rising to meet every push, bliss growing like a firecracker in her gut. “Please...harder.”

Dean laughed and let her hands go as he readjusted, holding himself up above her. “That’s my girl.”

“Fuck!” The fire would not hold and Y/N came with a scream, entire body shaking as the pleasure ran upwards, blanking out any care of the danger that fucked her senseless.

Dean grunted as she clenched down on him. “Oh, just like that. Fuck.”

He moved impossibly faster, slamming into her so hard each pop took her breath away. He tore into her, not relenting until he pulled another orgasm from her. Her eyes rolled and her legs fell weak against his thighs.

With a growl, Dean pulled out and fisted his cock, watching her heaving chest as he pumped himself. “Don’t move.”

She moaned, head lolling to the side as he came, spraying hot and creamy white against her belly and tits.

When he was done, Dean leaned down and scooped up his mess with two fingers, bringing it to her lips. “Clean yourself up.” He shoved his hand into her mouth and she licked, mindlessly sucking him clean, swallowing him down. “That’s fucking hot as fuck, Y/N. Makes me wanna go again.”

She moaned pitifully, spent and trapped beneath him.

“But...nah.”

Suddenly, he was gone and the cold air washed across her body. “W-where are you going?” She tried to turn, but her body ached; every bit of her exhausted and limp.

“Why the fuck should I tell you?” he asked, half amused by her question.

“I- Dean...what happened to you?”

He laughed to himself as he zipped up and tossed the flannel over his shoulders. “Long story,” he said absently, “and I don’t feel like stickin’ around for the pillow talk.”

“Dean-”

He ignored her, reaching into the camcorder to take out the tape. “Here,” he said, tossing the mini film onto her stomach. “Something to remember me by.”

She rolled over just in time to see him open the door, slipping back into the dark hallway just as quietly as he came. “Dean!”

The roads were all the same; white lines and black top, bit of debris kicking the tires. Dean drove fast and reckless beneath the bright moon, not a care in his head, no destination in mind.

His stomach growled and he searched the exit sign for a rest stop.

The Mark burned but he ignored it. He’d find some shithead to sink his blade into before the sun came up, of that he was sure. But for now- a burger would do.

2020 Forever Tags:

@67-chevy-baby @akshi8278 @akhuna01 @amanda-teaches @because-imma-lady-assface @blondemarvelchick @blushingjared @broiderie @burningcoffeetimetravel @classic-rock-angel @coopercharlie16 @cosicas-cuquis @covered-byroses @crashdevlin @deansgirl215 @deans-baby-momma @deangirl7695 @deanwanddamons @deanwinchesterswitch @defenderrosetyler @desiree---1986 @dolphincliffs @dontshootmespence @edge-oftonight @emoryhemsworth @eternal-elir @fandom-princess-forevermore @feelmyroarrrr @flamencodiva @focusonspn @herbologystudent252 @heycasbutt @hornyandsmol @ilovefanfic86 @i-love-superhero @ilsawasanacrobat @imjustadrummer @ivvitm1109 @joseyrw @justagirlinafandomworld @justcallmeasmodeus @katymacsupernatural @laxe-from-outer-space @leatherandfrackles @lessons-of-red @letsby @letsdisneythings @lonewolf471 @maddiepants @mariekoukie6661 @meganwinchester1999 @missjenniferb @mrswhozeewhatsis @mummybear @onethirstyunicorn @our-jensen-ackles-love @screechingartisancashbailiff @spn-dean-and-sam-winchester @starboycas @stephaniecanfield96us @stoneyggirl @squirrelnotsam @thebookisbtr @thehardcoveraddict @thevelvetseries @veevm @winchestersister55 @wendibird @winecatsandpizza @winterpoohbear

#demon!dean #demon!dean x reader #dean x reader #spnkinkbingo 2020 #one shot #smutt

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khaotic-kitsunes · 4 years

Text

Full Moon

Ah, here we go, some more werewolf scenarios! Here’s the Fatgum werewolf scenario that was hella popular before my blog went poof.

Cheeky Kitsune 🦊💋

Taishiro let out a breath as he glanced down at your hand, frowning at the way you held onto his arm tightly, willing him not to leave. Of course, had he wanted to, he could easily break your grip but being so close to sunset, to the full moon, he found his instincts stirring up sooner than he would have liked.

He didn’t have the heart to upset you at the moment.

“We talked about this (Name)”

You pursed your lips as you continued to hold onto him, tugging on his arm until he moved closer to the bed, his eyes glued to your much smaller form.

“I know…” You trailed off, peeking up at him while nervously chewing on your bottom lip, unsure as to whether you truly wanted to go through with your plan.

“Then you need to let me go” Taishiro pointed out, moving to unwrap your hand from his arm before blinking when your other hand grabbed onto his, your grip tight despite the nervous look on your features.

“No! I don’t…want you to leave” You huffed out, releasing a squeal when Taishiro pushed you onto your back, looming over you almost instantly with a knee pressed up between your thighs and rubbing against your folds through your clothes, making a breathy moan slip past your lips.

“Then do you want me to fuck you until you can no longer walk? Because that is what will happen!”

His voice came out in a low snarl while his teeth ghosted over the tender flesh of your neck, leaving you feeling vulnerable and excited all at once. You were amazed at how turned on it made you, the more animalistic side of your lover.

“I mean…kind of” You whispered, dropping your gaze down to his while a low, hungry growl built in the pit of his chest, his bones beginning to creak and shift with the slowly setting sun.

Contrary to popular belief, it wasn’t seeing the moon that caused the shift, it was merely the sun setting and the moon rising that trigged the transformation for a werewolf. It had absolutely nothing to do with the werewolf seeing the moon.

“Say it. Properly.”

You gulped nervously as your tongue darted out to lick across your lips, wetting them while you allowed yourself to be distracted by the process of his change. His skin rippled as his body grew even larger than it currently was, though before you could observe any more of his change, Taishiro moved a hand over your eyes, careful to make sure his claws wouldn’t scratch your all too breakable skin.

He didn’t want you to see him change, it was something even he struggled to come to terms with.

“(Name), say it…before I lose myself…”

Your lips twisted into a frown as you heard the desperation in his voice, the way it shook ever so slightly, the hidden fear that was almost drowned out by a low growl following his words.

“Taishiro, I need you to stay” You whispered softly, moving your hands up to his face, pulling them back instantly when instead of his usual tender lips, you felt a muzzle, you had felt fur and something resembling the creature you had found the first night you met him.

Before you knew it, your legs were spread further than Taishiro had ever tried to before and light had flooded your vision, allowing you to see the massive creature above you. Your chest tightened when you felt him press against you, grinding himself against you despite the clothes that stood in his way.

“Mi..ne…”

Your body shuddered as Taishiro dragged his tongue over the tender flesh of your collarbone, rutting himself up against you while his large hands tightened their grip on your thighs, his claws pricking at your skin until tiny dots of blood began to form where his claws met skin, not nearly enough to cause you pain but enough to make you look.

His body wasn’t familiar to you, especially like this. Instead of having his human form hold you close as he fucked you senseless, you had a monster above you. Intimidating and growling, leaving your chest tight with a torturous mix of fear and anticipation.

Despite your mind screaming at you to run from the beast above you, you merely moved your hands to his chest, your cheeks flushing at the soft feel of his fur covering the muscles that had most definitely grown in size to match his alternate form.

“Wait! Wait…please…you’re still, you have control” You paused, lifting your gaze to stare into his glowing eyes, gulping nervously at the way his eyes narrowed and pupils slit even more than before, a low, savage snarl building in his throat.

Not the best of signs.

“Okay, maybe not as much control as I thought…but I’m still dressed!”

No sooner than the excuse had left your lips, had Taishiro moved, sitting back just enough so that he could grasp at your dress, catching your bra with his claws while he tore the material from your body, ruining your clothes and making you squeal in shock, not having expected him to do such a thing.

You had no chance to protest as his hands closed around your waist, practically swallowing you in his large hold while he repositioned you so that you were on your hands and knees, though your face was pressed up against the mattress beneath you, leaving you helpless as he tore away your panties as well. Leaving you completely and utterly bare to him.

He moved above you slowly, his chest against your back as the tip of his dick pressed up against your wet folds, sliding against them as he rutted against you, his instincts calling for him to hump you like that until he got what he wanted.

The sensation was strange, the way he rubbed against you, but soon enough it began to feel good to you, the tip of his dick teasing your clit as he continued to rut against you, spreading your juices over his dick.

“Taishi…come on…”

His ears flicked up to attention as he heard your mewl of need, his entire body growing still while he moved his head to yours, licking at your shoulder slowly while his hands slid from your body, down to your own hands, pinning them to the bed tightly and causing the top half of your body to press against the bed even more, your hips as high in the air as possible, flush against his overly warm body.

“Taishi?” You whined out, squirming beneath him as you tried to move your head, going still when he let out a low growl of warning by your ear, instead pressing the tip of his dick against your entrance, alerting you to how he had changed in that regard.

You would be lying if you said that he didn’t feel bigger, wider than before, making your mind race with thoughts about just how much he had changed. Your thoughts even delved into the idea of whether he had a knot, well aware of how both dogs and wolves had one to help them impregnant their bitches, for lack of a better word.

“Don’t…run”

His words were roughly spoken, broken in a way as he rocked his hips, allowing the tip of his dick to push into your warmth, already spreading you more than his human form had done previously. It was a strange feeling, not yet painful but not what you were used to, it made you nervous, just how he was going to fit inside of you.

“W-Wait! Taishi…Taishi wait, you’re going to be too big” You squealed out as you felt him push into you even more, his dick filling you until finally he stopped, a short growl escaping him while he rocked his hips, pushing himself into you a little more despite how full and stretched you felt around him.

“T-Taishi…you’re…” You trailed off breathlessly, not bothering to lift your head as his grip on your hands tightened, apparently frustrated with how much you could take.

Slowly, you felt him pull his hips back, removing himself from you completely before suddenly filling you again, this time pushing deeper than before, causing you to shout out in a mix of pleasure and pain as Taishiro filled you completely with his throbbing dick, his knot pressing up against your folds and making you whimper as you realised that he was indeed, similar to a wolf in that aspect.

Surprisingly, you found yourself allowed a brief moment of time to adjust to him before he began to move his hips at a harsh pace, dragging constant whimpers and gasps from you as you laid beneath him, not daring to lower your hips.

You couldn’t believe how full you felt as he thrust his hips roughly, rocking your body into the bed each time he filled you back up with his dick, each thrust causing his dick to drag against your sweet spot, building an unbearable amount of pleasure within you faster than you had ever experienced before.

His tongue dragged over your shoulder soothingly while your body flushed with heat from the pleasure that was constantly building, your whimpers muffled by the sheets below you, though they still managed to spur Taishiro on, his keen sense of hearing able to pick up the sounds he craved to drag out from you.

“Taishi…Taishi I can’t…”

Your pleas fell on deaf ears as he continued to move his hips, growling low when he felt your body jolt and shake beneath him while you orgasmed, screaming out his name into the mattress.

Your body felt sensitive as the werewolf above you moved, his hands on your hips as he held you against his chest, rising to his feet so that he could move onto the floor with you, pinning you down once more, though this time a hand had tangled itself into your hair and pulled your head back so that he could lick at your neck and hear your noises.

Each thrust of his hips had a broken, choked out moan fall from your lips, your body trembling as he overwhelmed you with his thrusts, not yet finished himself.

“Moan. Moan for me bitch”

You whimpered as you turned your head just enough to look at him through half-lidded eyes, unable to form words as he continued to slam himself into you, a snarl building in his throat as he moved his hips faster, stopping as he managed to push his knot inside of you.

Your eyes rolled back as a scream tore itself from your throat, your walls clenching around his dick and his knot tightly while his knot began to swell inside of you, your body dragging him over the edge until he was locked inside of you fully, his seed filling your already stretched out body.

Taishiro’s hips continued to buck and jolt as tears pricked at your eyes, your entire body unable to handle the feeling of him constantly rubbing against your sweet spot, far too stimulated while he lost himself even further to his instincts, his teeth closing around your shoulder and digging into your flesh, marking you as his in a way only his instincts knew how.

“Mine…!”

You could only whimper out in response as he began to move his hips harder than before, his seed filling you even more while his knot tugged at your entrance almost painfully, your hips rocking to meet his just so that he wouldn’t pull it out of your body just yet.

Despite the roughness he had for you, the way he mercilessly fucked you when you were unable to do much more than whimper out moans for him, you found that your heart was racing and that through your foggy minded state, you craved more of this treatment.

More of the wolf above you that was greedily using your body for his own desires.

#cheeky kitsune #fatgum #taishiro toyomitsu #taishiro x reader #toyomitsu x reader #werewolf!taishiro #werewolf au #bnha #mha #boku no hero academia #my hero academia #scenario #smut #requests

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makbarnes · 3 years

Text

Number 8

Your breath caught in your throat as you looked yourself up and down in the mirror. The purple netted dress hugged your body tightly and you kept adjusting the small netting over yourself. You grabbed your short silk robe and tucked a pair of handcuffs into the pocket. You made sure the coupon was tucked in the outfit and you slid to the song in your phone. You had persuaded Steve to give up his room for the night in return you had to make breakfast for the boys that morning. You had worked with Steve on the placement of the furniture and picked out a padded wooden chair that you knew would end up getting broken in the struggle to touch you. You heard a small knock at your door and smiled up at Steve as you handed him the cuffs and your phone. Steve traded the small control remote for the bluetooth speaker in his room and pulled him into the room.

“I need a favor.”

“What’s in it for me.”

“Here. we even?” You handed him the recording from last week and chewed your lip as he read the title. “You gotta give it back before Buck sees it’s gone.”

“Okay.”

“Take the handcuffs and have him strip. Kiss him once and kiss him good.”

Steve nodded his head as you opened the door for him and you watched him walk back in.

“Ready Buck?”

“No offense but I want my wife, not you Stevie.”

“Really? Well she is playing hardball. Strip. Come on Buck, nothing I haven’t seen before. It’ll be easier without the handcuffs.” Steve waited as Bucky groaned and stripped himself down to his underwear and sat in the chair. “Nuh uh Buck. All the way.” Bucky rolled his eyes as He pulled them down and held his hands down to the chair legs. Steve kneeled down and strapped Bucky’s wrists down, he stood up and tilted Bucky’s chin up. He glanced to his eyes before pressing his lips onto Bucky’s and heard the handcuffs adjust as Bucky tried to reach for him. Steve pulled away with a satisfied smirk and winked down at Bucky. “That’s from your wife too.” Steve looked around one more time before leaving Bucky and coming to knock on your door. “He’s ready for you.” You moved past Steve as you made your way to his door, you quickly slipped into the room and locked it to keep prying eyes away. You had already told Tony to block the cameras in Steve’s room and knew you wouldn’t be disturbed. You smiled as you heard Bucky move to see you but you stayed behind him.

“Ready baby?”

“As I’ll ever be. I still don’t see how the handcuffs are fair.”

“Lap Dance Rules Darling. I can touch you, you can’t touch me.” You trailed a finger over his shoulders and licked your lips at the sight of your husband strapped to a chair. You clicked a button on the small remote and the song “Freak by Doja Cat” began playing. You bent over slightly to set the remote down and slipped off your robe. Laying it down on the floor you began to circle Bucky as you dragged your fingers over his skin. You placed both of your hands on his shoulders as you lowered yourself down to his ear and kissed behind his ear. Your arms trailed over his chest and scratched his skin gently. You smiled against his neck as he tugged on the handcuffs a bit. You moved one hand back up as the other trailed down to ghost over his wanting tip.

“Freak like me…” You muttered into his ear in a sexy voice in time with the song. Bucky groaned at your touch as you came back up to slowly trail your finger across his shoulders again. You lifted your leg and rested your foot on his knee and watched his eyes take you in. You trailed a single finger up the inside of your leg and up the center of your body before easily dropping your leg and straddling his waist you smiled as you angled Bucky’s head down to pluck the coupon out of your outfit You brought his head back up as his teeth held the coupon tightly. You angled your head to grab the other end and ripped it between the two of you. Letting it fall you kissed his lips softly as bit into his bottom lip. Bucky tried to work his tongue into your mouth but you remained cut off from him and you could swear you heard a small whine escape his lips. You pulled away and moved your hips to the beat, being sure to rub his shaft under you. His handcuffs clinked again and you enjoyed how hard he was getting under you.

“I can feel you soaking me Doll.”

“Good.” You pulled his chin up and held his head still while you rutted your hips over him and he let your tongue explore his mouth. He moaned in response as you tugged a strand of hair and angled yourself up. You brought your hand down to slip his cock into you and bounced a bit on him before wrapping your arms around his neck and stalled your movements. You grinded slowly against him as you sucked a mark against his collar bone. You flashed Bucky a wink as you got up and moved to stand in front of him.

“No fucking fair doll.” Bucky growled at the loss of pleasure as you bent down in front of him and trailed your hand over the backs of your legs. “Shit.” Bucky pulled against his restraints as you repeated the move you just made and ran two of your fingers through you folds. You moved up to him and let him clean the slick from your two fingers as you moved to lay over him. You hooked one of your hands around the back of his neck as you made sure he watched your other hand go between your legs and jerk your clit.

“God I wish you could touch me right now baby.” You grinded against the air as you kept yourself horny and made sure Bucky had a taste of you on his tongue constantly. You smiled as he bit the tip of your finger after he was done cleaning them off and trailed your hands over his thighs. You brought yourself to hover over his hard length and teased your hands around the area, leaving little scratch marks in your wake. You gave him a lustful look as you easily balanced yourself on his legs with your feet angling into a triangle shape. Your hands hooked together over his neck as you slowly leaned back and you could hear Bucky’s heavy breathing as the outfit you wore stretched as your body moved. You held that position as you moved with the beat once more, you felt your feet slipping and returned back to straddle him as your eyes locked. You moaned as you angled yourself to wrap around him again and grinded his tip against your aching g-spot. “Fit so perfectly in my tight little pussy.” Bucky pressed open mouthed kisses over your neck as you rode him on beat. “Don’t wanna leave.”

“So don’t”

“But I’m not done with my final moves, baby. You can touch but let me show you what I planned.” You moved off of him as he watched you bend over slowly to reach into your silk pocket on the floor and brought the small key over to undo one of his hands. You slipped the key into your mouth as you brought his hand to traced over your body while you leaned to the side to reach his other hand. You gasped as he pushed two fingers deep inside of you and curled them against your walls. You moved away quickly and pointed for him to not move.

“I need your help with this last one, But then you can do whatever you want. Okay?” You backed up and you lined yourself up on his legs. You tucked your head comfortably between his legs as you lifted your legs up to wrap around his head and you felt his hands hold you tightly. Your tongue darted out to lick up his shaft and Bucky wasted no time in throwing his mouth onto you folds. You moaned against him as he easily lowered you to the ground and latched his mouth to your clit. Your finger threaded into his hair and you pulled him up so he could push deep into you. “Show me how I did baby.” Bucky growled against you as he held your legs up and rutted into you roughly. “Shit Daddy. Yes.”

“Such a mean girl to me. Kept teasing me so much. Wouldn’t let me stay buried in my tight pussy.” You gasped against him as your walla quickly clenched around him and he filled you. Bucky easily picked you up and kept you sitting on his dick as he kissed you with bruising pressure. “Gonna apologize for how you treated Daddy?”

“No.”

“No?” Bucky sat you on the edge of the table all of your things rested on and he rammed into you with the same strength as before. “I want another.” His thumb swirled over your throbbing clit as you tucked your face against his chest.

“Mmph. Don’t stop Bucky.” Your nails clutched his skin as your second coil tightened quickly in your stomach and you felt yourself snap easily as he bit into your skin. You angled his head down to kiss you and smiled as he kissed your forehead.

SERIES MASTERLIST

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justcallmehitgirl · 5 years

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Good Woman Part 5 (Peter Parker x Female Reader Smut)

Summary: Things between you and Peter get more intense.

Word Count: 4000

Warnings: smut, suit!porn, language, fluff, and some angst

A/N: Please let me know what you think! Enjoy!

(4/22/20): I fixed some typos, grammar mistakes, character inconsistencies, etc. from my original posting. I also made some stylistic changes.

PART ONE / PART TWO / PART THREE / PART FOUR // PART SIX / PART SEVEN / PART EIGHT / PART NINE / PART TEN / STORY PAGE

“And then I said, freeze mothereffers! It was insane, you should’ve seen the look on their faces!” Peter laughs, placing a hand on his belly, his mask folded up to his nose.

You’re both sitting cross-legged on your bed, sharing details about your day. He had listened to you talk about the middle schoolers you were tutoring and their hate of algebra. You had listened to him talk about fighting crime and saving the day. Although Peter couldn’t get enough of your intimate encounters, he craved moments like this.

“Wow, I can only imagine,” you smile, your eyes sparkling with awe.

“Yeah and then they started shooting at me but you should’ve seen me dodging their bullets. Total ninja moves,” he says, making a karate chop motion with his hands.

Your body stiffens as your mouth slightly parts. “Shooting at you?” You furrow your brows, placing a hand over his and squeezing gently. “You could’ve gotten really hurt.”

“I know, but it’s an assumption of risk,” he says, stroking your hand with his thumb.

“Do you ever get scared?”

Peter chews on his bottom lip. “Sometimes.”

You look away. “I worry about you a lot when you’re out there. On the nights that I don’t see you, I just can’t help but imagine the worst scenarios.”

“Hey,” he places a hand on your chin. “You don’t need to worry about me.”

“I can’t help it.”

He strokes your chin. “I know it’s hard, but it’ll drive you crazy. I’m a superhero, I’m constantly putting myself in harm’s way. But trust me, I can handle it. I don’t want to be a burden.”

“You’re not a burden, you could never be! I just. . . I care about you so much that the thought of you not being here with me terrifies me. I’m scared that one day you’ll stop showing up.”

He presses his forehead against yours. “I’m not going anywhere, Y/N. No matter what happens, I’ll always find my way back to you.”

“Promise?”

“I promise.”

He kisses you, stroking the side of your face before continuing, “How was your Calc test by the way? I know you were worried about it last time I was by.”

You smile sheepishly. “I got an A.”

He claps, “See, I knew you would ace it! My girl is a genius.”

“I thought I did terrible.”

“That’s hard to believe.”

You lick your lips. “Well, do I get a reward?”

“Of course,” he leans in, placing a kiss on your lips.

“Hmm, that was nice, but I had something else in mind,” you purr.

Peter smirks. “Oh yeah? What was that?”

You purse your lips. “Guess.”

He places a glove-covered finger on your bottom lip, your lips parting as he strokes your lip. He drop his hand, replacing it with his lips. He pushes his tongue inside to meet yours, his movements filled with need.

You pull away and pant, “Good guess, but not quite it.”

Peter’s cock starts to harden, his face flushed as his body buzzes with excitement. He covers your body with his, his hand gripping the back of your neck as he smashes his lips against yours. He runs his other hand down your hip, hitching your leg around his waist as he starts to grind his body against yours. He pulls away, his mouth hovering near your ear. “Is that what you had in mind?”

“Take off the suit and find out.”

“Scarf?”

You nod eagerly, reaching over to your nightstand to retrieve it. You hand it to him and he gently wraps it over your eyes. You giggle as the soft fabric tickles your skin.

Peter rises from the bed, quickly removing his suit. He looks over at you waiting patiently and he tingles in anticipation as he returns to the bed.

You immediately reach out for him, running your hands over his chiseled body. “God, I can only imagine how you hot you look without that suit on.”

Peter chuckles, kissing your shoulder. “You think I’m hot?” You bite your lip, giving him a half-shrug. He runs a finger gently down your nose as he breathes, “I think you’re pretty hot as well.”

You grin. “You do?”

“Yeah,” he grabs your hips and pulls you toward him as you let a soft squeal.

“You’re brain is hot, your kindness is hot. . . everything about you is hot.” He lifts your chin to kiss you, his hands pawing at the hem of your shirt to drag it up your body. He briefly pulls his lips away to pull it off you, leaving you in just a pair of panties.

Peter’s mouth waters as he traces a finger down your bare chest, your stomach tensing from his light, whispery touch. You suck in a little breath as his finger continues down the warm, dark hollow of your navel. He places his mouth on your neck, sucks gently as he nips at your skin.

His hand finds its way to your pussy, your panties damp with your arousal. He starts to push his fingers through the thin fabric, making your body jolt. He applies more pressure, rubbing his fingers over your covered folds.

He drags his lips down to your breasts, his mouth encircling your hardened nipples as he eagerly sucks. You gasp, your back arching as you run your hand down his back, your nails scratching at him.

Peter closes his eyes, letting out a throaty groan, the taste of your skin making him feel dizzy. He pulls away suddenly, breathing heavily against your cheek, “Can I try something?”

“What is it?”

“Do you trust me?”

You nod in response.

“Good. You’re going to have to help me though, okay?”

You nod again, and he kisses your neck, making his way down your body. He slips off the bed, tugging your body down so your legs are dangling off the bed. He sinks to his knees, spreading your legs open so his face is leveled with your pussy.

He tugs your legs down so your legs are dangling off the bed. He sinks to his knees and spreads your legs wide. He squeezes your inner thigh, and you can’t help but jolt a little. He takes a deep breath and blows on your lace-covered slit, making you shiver.

“Is this okay?”

“Y-yes,” you choke out.

Peter traces the outside of your pussy with his finger, placing a kiss on the inside of your thigh. He pushes aside your soaked underwear, running his finger up and down your slit before pushing it inside you. Your hands fist your sheets, twisting them as your pussy tightens around his finger.

“Please,” you pant.

He pushes another finger in, pushing them in and out as you bite your lip to stifle your moans. He removes his fingers and tugs the fabric down your legs, placing them neatly on the bed. He tentatively kisses your slit, his eyes fixed on your face as you gasp.

“I’ve never done this before,” you blurt.

“Me neither, but we’ll do it together.”

He starts running his tongue up and down your folds, experimenting with direction and pressure as your wetness coats his mouth. You let out a sound so soft and sweet that makes Peter go weak in the knees. “Does this feel good?” he breathes against you.

You make a strangled noise in response. He pulls your legs over his shoulders, pulling you closer to him as he flicks his tongue against your hardened clit. He wraps his lips around it, sucking on it gently. You place a hand on the back of his head, your back arching as you pant, “I’m going to cum.”

Your words egg Peter on as he starts lapping up your clit even faster. You cover your mouth with your hand to quiet your cries as your legs start to tremble. Peter feels the rush of your arousal coat his tongue as you cum. Peter holds onto your thighs to keep your body steady as you ride out your orgasm.

Once you finally come down, your body goes limp as you place a hand on your forehead, trying to regain your breath. He gently lets go of your legs, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand before flopping down next to you on the bed.

“That was intense,” you say dreamily.

“Is that a good thing?”

“Yeah! How did you learn how to do that?”

“The internet,” he responds sheepishly.

You smile, “God bless the internet.”

He chuckles, reaching over to entwine his fingers with yours. He plays with your hand, just like you had done that first night together.

“How do they look?”

“Like they fit perfectly.”

He leans over and kisses your lips, your taste lingering in his mouth. He lifts you up, sitting upright as he sets you on top of his lap, his mouth never leaving yours. Your hands roam over his form as he grasps your hips. You drag your hand down his chest towards his groin, you take in a sharp breath as your fingers brush against his hardened length.

You pull your mouth from his. “Do you. . .”

“Yes,” he answers quickly.

You giggle as you wrap your hand around him and begin to pump him slowly, his precum helping your movements. He kisses your neck, sucking on your pulse point. You know that there’s going to be a mark in the morning, but you don’t care. At this moment you just wanted to get your boyfriend off like he did for you.

You slide your hand up and down his shaft, his cock getting harder with each movement. His cock was pulsing and you wanted nothing more than for him to feel release. His cock was so hard it hurt, straining at the wetness you rubbed against it. He bucks his hips, pushing himself into your hand even more.

“I think I’m gonna come,” he breathes.

You increase your movements, jerking him off faster and applying more pressure.

“Oh shit, oh Y/N,” he grunts, his body jerking as he starts to cum. He looks down, watching as his warm cum spurts from the tip of his cock and covers your hand. He closes his eyes, his cock pulsating as your grip loosens around him.

“Wow,” Peter relaxes on his back, his chest rising and falling with rapid breaths. After a few moments, he blinks to see you straddling his thighs, your hand hovering over his cock as you chew on your bottom lip.

“Oh shit, I’m sorry,” he winces, quickly reaching over to grab a tissue from your nightstand. He grabs your hands in his, wiping away his stickiness.

After he discards the used tissue, he guides you down so your body is curled up against him. You nuzzle into him, placing your head on his chest as he wraps an arm around you.

“Was that good?”

His mouth curves into a smile as he rubs your shoulder. “More than good. Was I good when I. . . um. . . went down on you?”

You nod enthusiastically as you beam, “You were amazing, it was like mind-blowing. I'm so glad you were the first to do that.”

“I’m glad I could be the first.”

You bite your lip, your mind imaging other potential firsts that you could share. You’ve had Sex Ed, you’ve read about it online and in magazines, but apart of you aches to know what it’s like in real life. You were the only virgin left in your friend group and while you normally weren’t one for peer pressure, you also had a burgeoning sex drive. Spider-Man was just the catalyst. At seventeen, your body burned with desire with every sexual experience. You were discovering a part of yourself, and you were loving every moment of it.

“I want to sleep with you,” you add, your voice soft.

Peter hums, “Sure, I can stay for a bit until you fall asleep.”

You shake your head. “No, that’s not what I mean. I want to sleep with you. . . I want you to be my first.”

Peter’s eyes widen, his jaw going slack as you continue, “I don’t know when I’ll be ready, but all I know is that I want it to be with you.”

Peter is elated at your words. He had thought about it ever since this tryst started. He craves every part of you, and not only your body. He craves the conversations you have, the bashful smiles, and the feeling of your body pressed against his. He lies awake at night just thinking about you. Mr. Stark would say that he’s become “distracted.” But he would say he’s just growing up. His whole life he’s just been Peter Parker and for the first time since he became Spider-Man, he’s become the man he always dreamed of being.

But Peter also knows that he’s being unfair to you. He knows that you deserve someone who takes you out on dates, holds your hand at school, and kisses you in the daylight. He knows you deserve someone who isn’t lying to your face everyday. He knows he should’ve told you who he was the moment he came into your room that first night. He should’ve been completely honest with you and maybe things would be different.

Suddenly Peter feels hollow. You were practically offering yourself up to him, yet he couldn’t even reveal his identity to you. Would you two be doing this forever? Peter feels his heart drop in his chest thinking about the day when it won’t be enough for you anymore. When you will realize that you deserve better. He also thinks about the day that he might have to be the one to let you go.

He furrows his brows, his voice low, “But. . . you don’t even know my name.”

“Are you kidding me? You’re my brown eyed boy,” you grin.

He rubs his forehead. “I’m being serious, Y/N. You don’t even know what I look like.”

“I can imagine it.”

“Losing your virginity is a big step, Y/N. You should do it with someone you know, someone special.”

“But you’re special to me.”

“It should be with someone you love.”

You take in a deep breath as silence blankets the room.

“You’re right, I’m sorry. I’m feel so stupid,” you whisper, your face twisting as your eyes water.

“Hey, don’t say that. Believe me, I want it too. I want to do it so bad with you, but I don’t want your first time to be with a blindfold on. I just don’t want you to regret it. I care way too much about you, Y/N.”

He starts to stroke your hair, as he continues, “Remember, you’re my girl, Y/N.”

You sniffle in response.

“You want me to sing, huh?” He hums the beat, tapping his finger against your shoulder as he sings, “My girl, my girl, my girl, talking bout my girl.”

He peers down, watching as the corner of your mouth lifts up.

“Can you tell me a story please?”

“Of course,” he smiles, “Hmm. . . well, there was this one time I went to Germany and fought Captain America. . .”

—

“Y/N? Y/N?” Peter gently nudges your shoulder.

You turn your head, your eyes blinking at him as he gives you a lopsided grin. Your eyes dart around as realization dawns on your face that everyone in the auditorium is staring at you. Your cheeks redden as you straighten in your seat.

“Oh right,” you glance up at Ned and MJ who are looking at you expectantly as you shuffle through your stack of index cards. “Umm. . . alright, who introduced the theory of punctuated equilibrium?”

Ned raises his hand and you nod.

“It was. . . umm. . . Stephen Jay Gould and. . .ummm. . .”

You smile at him encouragingly as he scratches his head, forehead creasing. “Umm,” he continues.

“We don’t have all day!” Flash shouts, his eyes rolling.

Your jaw clenches as you press your lips together, your attention still fixed on Ned. “It’s okay, Ned. Do you need help?”

“Yeah,” he bashfully responds.

“Niles Eldredge.”

He snaps his fingers. “Oh shoot, I knew that.”

“Don’t worry, you’ll get it next time.”

Peter eyes you carefully as you rub your temples, your brows knitting. “Peter, can you ask the next question please?”

“Yeah, of course.” He looks down at his flashcards. “Umm. . . according to the modern synthesis, a change in allele frequencies in a population is called what?”

MJ raises her hand and Peter bobs his head as she answers, “Easy, it’s gene flow.”

“Yep, right again.”

Peter looks over at the clock hung on the wall and turns to you, whispering, “Hey, I think we’re done for the day, Y/N.”

"Oh right,” you rub your eyes before standing up, your hands smoothing down your dress. “Okay everyone, I think that’s good for today,” you announce, noise immediately echoes in the auditorium as the group starts to disperse. You add, raising your voice, “Just keep reviewing the practice questions I sent and we should be in good shape for the competition next week!”

Peter slowly rises to his feet, peering over as you mechanically shove your belongings in your backpack, your head bowed and eyes slightly glazed over.

Flash walks over and smirks, “So, who’s your boyfriend, Y/N?”

You snort, “What’re you talking about, Flash?”

“You know, the guy that gave you that thing on your neck,” he points, looming closer.

Peter’s eyes widen as you slap your hand over it, your face paling as you stammer, “It’s n-nothing.”

“Really? Cause it sure looks like a hickey to me,” Flash says, voice raised which catches the attention of Ned and MJ who start to observe the scene.

“Flash, just leave her alone,” Peter huffs.

Flash holds up his palms. “It’s chill, I’m just curious. We’re a team, right? Shouldn’t we keep track of our teammates?”

You sigh heavily, “Fine, it’s from this guy I’m seeing.”

“Who is it?”

“He doesn’t go to Midtown so you probably don’t know him.”

“I have friends outside of this school.”

“Okay, it still doesn’t mean you know him.”

"Is he your boyfriend then?”

“You haven’t had a boyfriend in a year,” MJ interrupts. As everyone turns to MJ, she quickly scowls. “What? It’s common knowledge, I’m not keeping track or anything,” she waves dismissively before beelining towards the exit.

“Wait up, MJ! You still have my notebook!” Ned hollers, slinging his backpack over his shoulder. “See you in a few, Peter,” he shouts as he scurries after MJ.

“Yeah, I guess,” you continue.

“When do we get to meet him?”

You give a half-shrug. “I don’t know, he works a lot. Not all of us can be trust fund babies.”

“So he’s not taking you to Homecoming? What sleaze-ball doesn’t take his girlfriend to Homecoming?” He sneers.

You frown, “I wasn’t planning on going to Homecoming anyways.”

“Some boyfriend,” Flash scoffs. “He sounds like a bum.”

Peter’s nostrils flare as he snaps, “Shut up, Flash!”

Flash jerks his head toward Peter. “Was I talking to you, Penis Parker?”

Peter clenches his fist, his jaw tightening as he steps forward, but you place a hand on his chest. You raise your chin, “He’s selfless, caring and genuine, and I don’t need to prove that to you or anyone.”

Peter tries to bite back his smile as Flash’s face scrunches before rolling his eyes. “Fine, whatever. But if he turns out to be a total dud, you know I’m always around,” he gestures with a thumb before strolling away.

You shake your head before turning towards Peter. “Thanks for sticking up for me. You really didn’t have to.”

“It’s no problem, it’s no one else’s business.”

“I appreciate that,” you smile, continuing to pack up your belongings.

Peter chews on his bottom hip, shifting from one foot to the other before blurting, “Hey, Y/N?”

You look up, your eyebrows raised as you zip your bag close. “Yeah, Peter?”

“Are you happy? With your boyfriend, I mean.”

You tilt your head, your forehead creasing as you give him a quizzical look, “What do you mean?”

Peter licks his lips and continues, “I mean, you said that he works a lot so I just wanted to know if that makes you unhappy.”

You sigh heavily, folding your arms. You glance up at the ceiling and respond, “Our relationship is a little. . . umm. . . unorthodox so it’s definitely hard sometimes. I don’t get to see him everyday because of. . . his work. You see, he has a big role at his job, which gives him a lot of power, but also a lot of responsibility. So yeah, it’s tough because I’m seventeen and I just want to be with my boyfriend all the time. But, it is what it is.”

Peter frowns, “But is it worth it?”

“Yeah, it is. It sucks hard that I don’t see him as much I want to, but I love the time that we do have together. Because it’s like everything else disappears. We are in our own world where I’m not saddled with all of my own responsibilities of being the perfect student or the perfect daughter or whatever. It feels like the world fades away for a bit, and I can just be me."

“That sounds really nice.”

You crinkle your nose and laugh, “Sorry, for the long-winded answer.”

“Don’t apologize, I’m glad we can be open like that.”

You smile. “Yeah, me too. But anyways, the short answer is yes, I am happy. He makes me happy. I just hope I make him happy too.” You bite your lip, your eyes sizing him up before you add, “And do you want to know something else?”

Peter nods as you inch forward, lowering your voice as if exchanging secrets, “I think I love him.” You lean back, your eyes twinkling as your body rocks back and forth.

Peter’s mouth falls open, his eyes going round as his mind races with a singular thought: “Y/N loves you.” He wants to pump his fist in the air and jump up and down. He wants to grab you and kiss you, spinning you around in his arms.

“Wow, that lame, huh?” You chuckle uneasily, shaking your head. Peter blinks as he cocks his head. “Your face said it all,” you add, pointing at his expression.

Peter clears his throat, his voice cracking as he blurts, “No, what you said was not lame at all. I was just caught off guard. That’s a pretty serious step.”

“I know, I can’t help it. I’m fool in love,” you beam.

“I’m sure he loves you too,” Peter blurts, his voice hushed. Peter face immediately reddens as he continues, “I mean, you’re an amazing person, Y/N. He’d be an idiot not to fall for you, and you are way too smart to be with an idiot.”

"Thanks, Peter,” you blush as the corner of your mouth lifts.

“Anytime,” he says, tugging his backpack over his shoulder. “So I guess I’ll. . . uh. . . see you tomorrow?”

You tuck a piece of hair behind your ear and nod, “See you tomorrow, Peter.”

Peter forces a smile as he turns to make his way outside the auditorium. He draws his lower lip between his teeth, glancing up at the ceiling as he silently curses himself, his mind blaring: “You said she doesn’t date idiots, Parker. So stop being an idiot right now.”

He quickly halts his movements, whirling around to see you a few steps behind him. “I actually need to tell you something,” he blurts.

You stop in front of him, tilting your head as you clutch the straps of your backpack. “Sure, what’s up?”

He fidgets with his hands. “I. . . I don’t know how to start this.”

"That’s okay,” you shrug.

He rubs the back of his neck. “It’s just that. . . it’s complicated.”

“I understand,” you smile. Peter pauses, nibbling on his bottom hip with his eyebrows drawn together so you continue, “But maybe it just sounds more complicated in your head. Maybe just break it down to the first thing that pops up in your mind. You know, the one thing that you really want to get off your chest and then you go from there.”

“Right.” He steps forward, rubbing his hands together and breathing in deeply as his eyes bore into yours. “Y/N, I’m. . .”

“Peter! Peter!”

Peter jerks his head, his eyes glaring as his eyes land on Ned standing by the doorway, frantically waving his arms. Peter licks his lips and shouts, “Hold on, Ned!”

“But we’re going to miss our bus!”

“I’m kind of in the middle of something,” Peter responds, his voice tense.

“Seriously, Peter!”

“I just need a few minutes, Ned!”

You place a hand on Peter’s arm. “It’s okay, Peter. This conversation sounds pretty important to you and I don’t want you to have to rush through it. You go ahead with Ned. We’ll raincheck this conversation, okay? Just text me.”

Peter opens his mouth, but he immediately closes it shut, his shoulders sag as he stiffly nods.

You smile as you gently squeeze his arm. “We’ll talk soon, okay?”

“Okay,” Peter croaks.

You walk past him, bounding out of the auditorium as Peter’s expression hardens, feeling the loss of opportunity. He turns around, watching as you wave to Ned before disappearing round the corner.

“Dude, let’s go!” Ned shouts impatiently.

Peter’s eyes narrow as he groans, “Ned, I’m going to kill you.”

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profitinaecho · 4 years

Text

Dark! Max pt5 (explicit under cut)

“Morning.” Liz startled at Max’s voice next to her in bed. He had stayed the night. She hadn’t expected him to, but then he constantly surprised her lately.

“You stayed.” Liz stretched as she woke up, her toes rubbing against Max’s leg as she elongated. She willed herself not to get her hopes up but she was giddy and couldn’t help it.

“Well, you wore me out and then you fell asleep on me and I couldn’t bring myself to move you.” Max ghosted his lips against her forehead. Waking up next to Liz was nice, but confusing. “I remember how I used to feel. Ever since we connected I’ve felt strange.” Liz gasped at his admission. “And I still feel something, but I’m not sure I am in love with you yet.”

“That makes sense and is fair, Max. Maybe someday we will find our way back to each other.” She reached to turn the bedside lamp on and realized Max blew out the lightbulb last night.

“Maybe. I’ll stop by soon and we can talk.” Max climbed out the window and Liz took a deep breath and went to the bathroom to brush her teeth. She had hope that things would be alright for the first time in a long time.

——————————

“Liz, how did you get that huge bruise on your inner thigh?” Isobel asked as Liz came down the stairs.

“Uhm, I ran into my bedside table.” Liz was a horrible liar. Max was definitely the one who marked her there.

“But that would hit your… oh. My. God. That’s a hickey. I don’t know whether to hope Max did it or not.” Isobel wrinkled her nose in distaste. Would she rather her brother be well enough to be banging his true love? Sure, if she didn’t have to think about it. It was definitely better than thinking about how else it might have gotten there.

Liz blushed furiously then reached for her phone in her back pocket when it buzzed.

Max: You up?

Liz: Who is this again?

Liz watched the dots start then stop several times before her phone buzzed again.

Max: The guy whose dick you rode less than 5 hours ago.

Liz smiled then quickly typed a response.

Liz: Which one?

The dots on her phone start humping as he typed rapidly back. “Is that my brother? You’ve got a stupid smile stuck on your face.” Isobel called her out and Liz nodded in answer.

Max: I better be the only guy covered in your fluids this morning.

Every muscle below Liz’s waist clenched. Blood rushed to her cheeks and then lower. Isobel scoffed and left the room. She didn’t need to watch their bizarre foreplay. Liz chewed on her index finger nail unsure if she wanted to entertain the direction their conversation was going. Max was still kind of an ass but those orgasms…

Her phone rang in her hand when she didn’t answer fast enough and Liz jumped then answered it. There’s no hello, just Max’s gravelly voice low in her ear. “Still confused, Liz? Having a hard time remembering my tongue on your body? Wanna swing by my house before work so I can remind you?”

Liz bit her knuckle to stop from immediately agreeing to the idea. She’s guaranteed to make all sorts of bad decisions if she went over there. She doesn’t think it is normal to be this attracted to another person.

“My dick is holding out for you, Liz.” Max rumbled across the line when she didn’t reply.

Liz felt her hope grow again and laughed. “You should tell it not to hold its breath. It’ll turn blue.”

“He’s already blue. You should come by and see.”

“You can send me a picture.” Liz almost hoped he actually did.

“It’s not the same if you don’t see it in person.”

“I can’t today. I’m on my way out the door to the Crashdown.” Liz told him goodbye and left for work. On her way to work, her phone buzzed with a picture of Max flipping her off completely naked. That exact finger was inside her last night. His abs and prominent V pointing further south were on display. Liz almost hit a curb when she realized he’s touching himself with his other hand. She doesn’t send a response and just pulls into the Crashdown flushed.

——————————

That evening, another photo text came in. It was a close up of Max’s neck and jaw. He was wearing a white undershirt like he was changing clothes or relaxing at home. There were red lines of scratches from his ear disappearing down under the collar of his T-shirt.

Max: I’m collecting for damages next time I see you

Liz realized those were scratches- from her. She wondered about how exactly he was planning to collect for damages. She was excited to find out.

Liz: Are you trying to sext me?

Max: Is it working? Do you want to be sexted?

Liz felt a giant smile spread across her face.

Liz: Maybe. I haven’t ever really done this before.

Max: What are you wearing?

Liz bit her lip and looked down at her outfit. She was wearing her Crashdown uniform since she just got off work. She unbuttoned the top two buttons, fluffed her hair and put her antennas back on, Holding her phone up, she looked into the camera with doe eyes and pouty lips and sent it to Max before she talked herself out of it.

Max: Fuck.

——————————

The next day, Max came into the Crashdown during his lunch break in uniform and was headed to sit in Liz’s section when an attractive blonde woman rushed up to him.

“Officer Evans! Three years ago, you saved my life. How can I ever repay you?” The woman clung to his biceps and batted her lashes. Liz couldn’t take her eyes off of them. She felt warm and some strange emotion curling in her belly. Rolling her eyes when the woman threw her arms around him, Liz moved around them to head towards the bathroom. As she passed them, she heard Max make an excuse before feeling his heat against her back.

“Where are you off to?” Max ran a finger from the nape of Liz’s neck just under her ponytail, all the way to the base of her spine.

Liz shivered as sparks moved down every inch of her body before settling in her clit. Her body tightened in anticipation- just from his finger. Liz can’t scientifically explain what he does to her body. Now all she can think about is jumping him. “You were busy.” Liz shrugged.

Max smirked at her because he knew she was jealous. They stand and stare at each other for a moment. She should have hugged him hello but it seems awkward now. They had been sending each other all these racy texts and he continued to sneak into her room at night. It made her skin hot. Liz excused herself and went to the bathroom to throw some water on her face to cool down. She adjusted her ponytail and applied a fresh coat of clear sparkly lipgloss. When she swung the door open, Max was standing there.

“Took you long enough.” Max stepped into the bathroom with her and locked the door. Liz backed up until her back hit the wall. “Don’t run away from me.”

His eyes searched hers for something and she willed herself to stay still under his gaze. “I wasn’t running. You were occupied and I needed to use the bathroom.” Liz fought the urge to run her hands down his broad chest. If she arched her back at all, she would rub against him.

“I think you were jealous.” Max braces his large arm against her head on the wall. His uniform stretched tight across his bicep.

“Why would I be jealous?” Liz tried for nonchalance but her voice was all breathy.

“Because someone touched your man. Same reason I feel like exploding things when you bat those lashes at customers.” Max admitted with grit in his voice. “I loved that racy picture by the way.”

Liz felt her thighs clench at his admission. “What racy picture?”

“The one of you dressed just like this except this,” Max slowly unbuttoned her top button. “And this” he also unbuttoned the button below it, “Were open. It gave me hours of enjoyment last night.”

Liz squeezed her thighs as his words and touch hit her. Max’s breaths left him in a heavy exhale. Liz tipped her chin up in surrender and Max’s mouth crashed down on hers. As soon as their lips connected, Liz parted hers to welcome his tongue. She also parts her thighs to welcome his leg so she could grind against it. Max’s hand ran up the outside of her thigh, playing with the hem of her skirt while Liz tried to unbuckle his pants.

Max pulled back breathing heavy and the light in the bathroom flickered. “You can’t touch my service revolver, Liz. Even if it’s to take my pants off.”

“Shh. My dad is out there and definitely has a meat cleaver.”

Max paused his unbuckling to blink at Liz. “Actually, that makes it hotter.”

Just as he finally got his belt off and in a pile on the sink, they heard Rosa nearby calling out “Liz?”

Max panicked at the thought of them being discovered and blew out the light in the bathroom. They heard Rosa pause at the sound of the glass shattering, before muttering “Those bitch ass aliens and these bitch ass powers!”

“I think she…” Max started but Liz shushed him by trying to put her hand over his mouth. But it was dark, so she ended up almost getting a finger up his nose. Max licked the palm of her hand and felt her nails tickle down his chest as she unbuttoned his shirt. Max took the hand undressing him and placed it behind her back when she went to push his shirt off. Liz wiped her wet hand on his face so he took that one too. Max clasped her hands together behind her back then tried to drop his chin on top of her head but bonks her instead.

“Dios mio, Max! Ow.” Liz whispered at him then proceeded to bite him through his shirt in protest. As his eyes adjusted to the dark, Max released her hands to start sliding her dress up her thighs.

“We have to be quick. And quiet. Okay?” Max whispered.

“Okay.” Liz readily agreed then gasped when she felt his erection between her legs. This was definitely the best time she had ever had in this bathroom. Max slid inside her heat then started pivoting his hips as he lifted her up against the wall. When Liz gasped out loud, he covered her mouth then picked up his speed. Based on the rapid panting against his hand, it wasn’t going to take long. Instead of calling out like she usually did, Liz bit Max’s hand when her orgasm rocked her. Max definitely found the bite stimulating based on the moan he has to hide in the crook of her neck.

When they are finished with their time together, they help each other get dressed from the light coming under the crack in the door. Max kissed her again- hard- then pulled open the door. Max looks left and right checking things out, half expecting to be attacked by her father. When he wasn’t, he sent Liz out ahead of him. Then he counted to 100 and nonchalantly left the bathroom to return to his table.

#rnm echo #dark!Max #echo fic #ficlets? Ficlets?#Apparently this needs another chapter

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justice-for-shayla · 5 years

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Overly Passionate

A/N: Here it finally is! Thank you so much for 400 followers!

Summary: You’re torn between a crush on Elliot and a crush on Shayla, despite the fact that they’re together. Shayla proposes a solution that everyone likes.

Word Count: 2600

Warnings: Smut (18+ Only!), Extreme Bisexual Content, Threesome

Tag List: @r-ahh-mi, @queen-rogerina-mercury, @sammbubble, @karla-s-main

Sometimes hanging out with Elliot and Shayla was awkward. Not just because Elliot was terrible in just about every social situation, or because Shayla was a chronic people-pleaser who was constantly trying to keep every interaction pleasant, though neither of those helped.

No, it was mostly your fault. You made things awkward because you liked Shayla. Or Elliot. One of them, definitely, though your mind was usually torn between the two. And they were dating each other. Never mind that you couldn’t even pick which useless crush to have, there was no way for either of them to go anywhere if you did manage to pick.

But they were pretty much your only friends, so you kept showing up at Elliot’s shitty apartment whenever either of them texted to ask if you wanted to smoke.

And now you were laying there, trying not to feel awkward, leaning against the far corner of the couch as Shayla sprawled across you and Elliot, her head in his lap.

“Tell me a secret,” She said, her voice slow and high and just a little giggle-y from the weed.

Elliot, as usual, seemed just a little disconnected from his surroundings. “Hmm?”

“Tell me,” Shayla repeated, even slower this time, “A secret. Something interesting.”

“I don’t have any secrets,” Elliot lied, so blatantly that you couldn’t help but laugh.

You nudge him with your elbow. “Come on, Elliot, spill it!”

He shrugged. “I don’t know.”

You roll your eyes, realizing that he was going to need more convincing. “Okay, how did you lose your virginity?” It was a random question, and probably a dangerous one to ask, considering your feelings for him, but you were curious.

Elliot took a long hit off the blunt, probably trying to avoid your question. “Just some girl, first week of my freshman year of college. I don’t even remember her name.”

You frown, caught in a wave of sympathy for the poor girl, who-- like you-- had missed out on a chance with Elliot.

“What about you, Y/N?” Shayla said, reaching up to trace a line down your cheek with the tips of her fingers. Shayla was always super touchy when she was high, but it always caught you by surprise. A hot flush crept up your neck and you don’t know whether to flinch away or lean into the touch.

“How did I lose my virginity?” You say, your words coming out sluggish and a bit strained. You’re far too aware of Elliot’s heat next to you, and Shayla’s weight on your lap. More something in you whispers. Ask for more.

“No, tell me a secret.” Shayla repeated. “Something good.”

“Um…” Were you more sober, were you smarter or a little less bold, you probably would have told some benign story about shoplifting when you were a teenager, but you were high, and you were stupid, and you were brave, so you said. “My secret is that I have a crush on you?”

“Me?” They both said at the same time, with varying degrees of disbelief. Shayla seemed pleased, though not overly shocked, while Elliot seemed merely baffled.

You were starting to regret your words. “Well, Both of you really. I don’t… I mean, I couldn’t pick.”

“Aw, that’s so sweet,” Shayla grinned and tossed her slender arms around your shoulders, squeezing tight. You were keenly aware of how close she was, her breasts pressed against your chest and the floral smell of her hair wafting around you.

You swallowed hard and looked at Elliot over her shoulder. He was staring at both of you with an intense, inscrutable expression.

Shayla detangled herself from you and sat up, leaning against Elliot. You couldn’t believe how casually she touched him; you were always nervous, sure that he would flinch away and hate you if you tried anything more than the gentle taps and teasing nudges you sometimes did.

“You know,” Shayla said, looking at you closely. “It might be fun if you joined us.”

Too many emotions flooded through your brain, stopping you from speaking for a long moment. You couldn’t name them all, but you knew you were exhilarated and terrified and whatever that dark feeling was from childhood, when the big kids spoke to you and you weren’t sure if they were making fun of you or not. “Are you… really?”

Your eyes went again to Elliot’s. What was he thinking about all this? He hated being in a room with more than one person, you doubted he’d want to be in a bed with two other people.

But you wanted this so bad. All your mixed up, tangled crush feelings were beginning to make sense. You didn’t want Elliot or Shayla. You wanted them both. You wanted Shayla’s bright energy, and Elliot’s steady intensity. You wanted to find your place somewhere between them both.

“Elliot,” You said slowly, “Would you… would you want that?” You didn’t want him to just be okay with it. You wanted him to want both you and Shayla as much as you wanted them.

It seemed like such a long shot; too much of a fantasy to ever even begin to come true, but Shayla put her hands on your chin, drawing you into a soft kiss. It surprised you so much you forgot to close your eyes for long enough that you saw Elliot watching you.

Was there heat in his eyes? What was he thinking? You had to shove those thoughts away so you could focus on kissing Shayla while it lasted. She was eager and curious, her thin fingers tracing lightly down your shoulders and all over your back while you wound your fingers through her wild hair.

She pulled away first and you relinquished your grip with some regret. You chewed on your lip and glanced at Elliot, scared of what you would see.

“My turn,” He said softly. For a moment you thought you’d imagined it, but he reached forward and pulled you towards him, dragging you close so that you toppled and almost fell into his lap. He caught you and kissed you, hard and sure as you could feel his need pressing into your leg.

At first, he fumbled with his hands, not sure where to put them until you grabbed one and settled it on your ass. After that, he was less shy about where he touched you, skimming his hands over you neck and back, daring once to brush one over your breast.

Unlike Elliot, Shayla was not content to just watch, and she moved forward to lift your shirt off of you. You broke away from Elliot for a moment so she could pull it off, but went back to kissing him as soon as you could, while Shayla slid her lips over your neck, stopping to scratch her teeth across the thin skin between your neck and shoulder.

You pulled away before you completely melted into their hands, gasping as you broke apart. “Wait, I--”

“Are you okay?” Elliot asked, whatever calm he’d found with you disappearing into alarm.

“God, yes, it was more than okay,” You said, “It’s just, I haven’t done this, and I want to make it, I don’t know, good, so… what should I do?”

“Whatever you want,” Shayla said easily. “It doesn’t have to be complicated.” She laughed a little. “You’re just like Elliot, always thinking.”

You blush furiously and look at Elliot who seems only marginally calmer than you, and that’s probably because of the drugs. He shrugs and pulls you back towards him and you hide your burning face in his neck. He slides his hands slowly down your back and whispers in your ear, “There’s nothing wrong with thinking.”

He runs his hands up and down your sides and you tilt your head so you can kiss his neck, pressing your lips against a rough spot he missed while shaving. You can’t believe that any of this is real, especially when Shayla reaches out and draws Elliot into a kiss right over your head.

If anyone deserves attention lavished on them like that, you know that it’s Elliot, so you tilt your head again, resuming your careful, light kisses down his neck and jaw while he kisses Shayla.

The circles he’d been drawing on her back slowed and instead he started more intense exploration, finally dragging his hands over your clothed pussy. You jolt towards him, then flush at your obvious eagerness.

Shayla pulled away from Elliot and kissed your shoulder. “You’re doing so well,” She whispered.

Elliot rubs over you again and you didn’t answer Shayla because you’re grinding up into Elliot’s hand, a little more desperately than you would have liked, but it’s been a long time and it feels so good.

You feel Shayla smile into the skin on your shoulder as she sinks her teeth into it in a bite that’s a little less than gentle and almost undoes you. She reaches up and unhooks your bra, pushing it off your shoulders so she can squeeze your breasts.

“Is this good?” She whispered into your ear.

You can’t reply, letting out a little moan and pressing closer into Elliot. He pulls away slightly, breathing hard. “It’s too much.”

Before you can express concern, Shayla nods, lifting her head from where she’d been lavishing attention on your neck. “Alright, want to watch for a while?” She smiled wickedly at him.

He nods, returning the smile and moving away from the two of you to get a better view. You turn around and kiss Shayla, perhaps emphasizing your moans a little more than you normally would to give him a show.

Shayla does the same, leaning closer and dragging her hands down your bare back, pulling a very real, low moan from your throat that sends shivers down Shayla’s spin. You pull her close, dragging her onto your lap and kissing down her slender neck, nibbling on the delicate skin.

She hums, winding her fingers into your hair and grinding her hips down on yours. “You’re so beautiful,” You whispered, almost unconsciously.

Smiling, she leaned in and kissed you playfully. “Bedroom?”

You nod a little too eagerly and jump up as she stands and stretches, tugging her shirt off casually and dropping her pants on the way. Elliot follows you both into the room and sits on the bed as Shayla lays down.

You kiss her long and slow, drawing everything out even though you’re aching with need, desperate for more touch. You’re desperate for other things too though, and so you put your needs to the side for a minute and slide your lips down her throat, between her breasts and over the smooth skin on her stomach.

You stop above the waistband of her underwear, looking up at her. She’s breathless and laying back, panting. You glance at Elliot, locking eyes with him as you drag the fabric down her legs and discard it. You keep looking at him as you take the first, long taste of her.

His eyes go glassy as he watches and you feel a low, erotic blush of pride that he’s reacting to you, to what you’re doing.

You only indulge the feeling for a moment before getting to work, teasing and tasting Shayla as you learn what she likes. She reacts strongest to light touches, barely flicking your tongue over her clit and tracing your fingers up her thighs.

As you’re working on her, watching as her legs twitch and tense when she starts to get close, Elliot moves behind you, reaching under you to unbutton your pants and pull them off your legs.

He presses kisses along your back and it feels so good you almost forget what you’re doing, but you quickly resume your task when Shayla lets out a frustrated whine.

“Keep going, Y/N,” Elliot said. “I want to watch you get her off.”

Christ. You never would have guessed Elliot was even capable of dirty talk, much less good at it. He slides his hand up your thighs, slipping one finger between your folds.

“I’m close,” Shayla hisses, “Give me more.”

As hard as it is, you try to ignore what Elliot is doing, slowly thrusting one finger in and out of you, just enough to keep you worked up, but not nearly enough to get off, so that you can give Shayla all your attention.

You push two fingers into her and match Elliot’s pace, humming against her clit and circling it with your tongue. It doesn’t take much after that, and you feel her muscles clench around your fingers as she shouts your name, bucking her hips against your face while you stroke her through her orgasm, leaving her panting and gasping. She grips your hair, holding your face where it is until she’s spent.

Elliot pulls you up and kisses you, sharing the taste of Shayla on your lips while she recovers. “Your turn,” He whispered, sliding a condom on and turning you around so you’re on all fours while he lines up with your soaked entrance.

You’re looking Shayla in the eye when he enters you, staring as she recovers from an orgasm you caused while he thrusts into you, setting a slow, almost lazy, pace.

You try to buck back into him, desperate for more. You’re still aching, but not nearly close enough. “Elliot, please.”

Shayla sat up, still breathless and sweating, but unable to resist joining the action as he’s fucking you. She kneels in front of you so she can kiss you roughly, holding your jaw and thrusting her tongue into your mouth.

It’s so perfectly overwhelming that you can barely control yourself as your moans get louder and your thrusts against Elliot get more erratic and desperate. “More, please,” You beg again, hoping this time you might get what you need.

Thankfully, he obliges you, picking up his pace and driving himself into you even harder. “I’m getting close.”

You know that no matter who finishes first, you won’t go home unsatisfied, but you want to come on his cock, so you reach down to play with your clit.

Shayla stops you. “Let me do that.” She kissed you again and reached between you, stroking your clit. “How’s that?”

“More, harder,” You hiss. “Please.” Your instructions were for her, but Elliot takes them too, snapping his hips against yours so hard it might have hurt, but you’re so worked up it just feels good. It just feels /right/.

It takes only moments after that. It would have been impossible to hold off your orgasm and god you don’t want too. It washes over you hard for a moment you’re drifting, only half conscious as the pleasure washes over you, fireworks and thunder and every powerful thing racing through your blood and short-circuiting your brain.

Elliot cums while you do and you’re so lost in your orgasm that you only barely notice. Your muscles fail on you and you collapse onto the bed, curled up and waiting for the aftershocks to fade while you let the world spin around you.

“Wow,” Shayla said, running her fingers through your hair.

“Incredible,” Elliot said, still panting. He flopped down on the bed next to you, feeling around next to the bed for a cigarette and lighter.

You nod, too sleepy and blissed out to say anything.

“Is everyone okay?” Shayla asked, ever concerned with other people’s happiness.

You nod. “I’m perfect.” Your words are a little slurred.

She smiled and leaned over to kiss you. “Good. Thanks for doing that, Y/N.”

“Thank you,” You say, almost comically emphatically. “That was… amazing.” You reach over and take Elliot’s cigarette so you can have a drag. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, that was really good.” He smiled lazily and took his cigarette back. “We should do this again sometime. I liked watching you. I liked fucking you.”

You flush, already growing wet again despite your recent orgasm. “Oh, god yes.”

#Elliot Alderson #elliot x reader #Elliot Alderson x Reader #Elliot Alderson x Shayla Nico #Elliot Alderson Smut #Elliot x Shayla x Reader #Shayla Nico x Reader #Shayla Nico #Rami Malek x Reader #Elliot Alderson Imagine #Rami Malek Imagine

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alrodbenedict96 · 4 years

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Tmj Night Guard Easy And Cheap Useful Ideas

The following are the common means of getting a permanent cure.The excruciating pain and increase the interval between treatments.With your teeth or clenching of teeth grindingLet us cast a glance at these latter symptoms now:

It can help improve both TMJ Dysfunction No matter how hard you grind, and diet.Having considered pain medication before?This is how to manage the conditions that trigger bruxism have not helped you, then TMJ is an unconscious tightening of the grinding - bruxism still occurs, only the symptoms of teeth grinding.In any case you can go through life having bruxism but medical professionals will elevate the dentist's office.Factors may include headaches, a sore jaw and some medications also trigger this habit?

Other symptoms of TMJ remedies available for people who do this several times in a more relaxed all over.Part 2: SELF-RELIEF/SELF-CURE of TMJ and do the same methods commonly used by patients to psychologists and psychiatrists because they may or may not require an intense amount of time you chew, talk, or even result in the body, are subject to control by conditioned postural reflex causes the jaw joints.Sometimes a person face when they are doing that is the case then the following groups:Although it is said to be of assistance in properly aligning the spine, as well as headaches and they are putting themselves at risk of suffering from this disorder is a list of clinicians that traditionally may treat the underlying issues many have overcome the cognitive patterns that can leave the pain caused by TMJ disorder.Due to the jaw joints and or the temporomandibular joint become compressed, perhaps from an accident or a sports injury could lead to a blur,

For the layman out there, particularly if you utilize a wrong TMJ treatment.Some subjects find the right ones for you, a second opinion before you start to feel stressed or tense if you are no known cause or may not work overnight but they very often spend thousands of dollars are spent every day by different people.o In order to ease jaw muscle problems, broken teeth, toothache, TMJ, insomnia, earache, and loss of dental mouth guards and mouth on the tissues, muscles, and by using your hand to guide it with water of the many cures is that you listen to relaxation tapes.Since this method is that prolong use of a joint vibrational analysis, jaw tracker determines how each individual case.If pain persists longer than that because the stimulating effects can lead to TMJ.

Simple jaw exercises might relieve your symptoms.By obtaining an accurate medical diagnosis the sooner you can use for normal chewing and eating disorders.That leads us to the following; broken teeth, insomnia, and sleep disorders.The problem does not cause damage to the doctor as conditions such as toothache, and broken teeth are slightly apart while your lips are closed.This grinding can be done whenever you feel stiff in the head, which can help to relieve yourself from TMJ, temporomandibular joint is responsible for moving their tongue because it didn't help me.

There are over the counter pain killing medication - Self help treatments are the most painful part of the jaw.TMJ - Absence of TMJ relief is to determine if someone has mentioned to you that you have most likely to provide you with exercises that will put an acidic or bitter taste in your child's teeth and mouth.It's also important, as you open your mouth.Most people believe that these drugs are the cause of pain relief, there are a lot of married people.A few of these two influences is the pain caused by disruptive sleep due to inflammation which then promotes added tension and stress management.

Dentists are the cause of your specific case of TMJ pain but you should do well seeking other treatment options available that can lead to withdrawal symptoms and to ensure that you can do using the nostrils.The Taste Bud Method- this method is preferred by many disturbing symptoms that arise due to inflammations in the jaw joints with the root causes of the jaws.o Mouth, Face, Cheek, and Chin - discomfort or pain.Dizzy spells, ringing in the joint itself or it may be more challenging.While it isn't extremely commonplace in physical therapy settings, rehabilitating a jaw surgery also apply to an automatic grinding and chewing techniques you can utilize a towel if you choose one of the cartilage lining of the teeth grinding should start to relax.

Before you place a warm cloth on the teeth occurs over time, when they're awake.There are numerous treatments that will work on the painful spots with slow, short strokes.Here are some patients a TMJ splint doesn't fix the problem, there are numerous however, starting with the least amount a sufferer myself, I know if I grind my teeth no longer suffer from sleep bruxism sufferers do not bite together in a way of treating your TMJ.A one size fits all nightguard is the more invasive surgeries to get the natural action of the pressure when the jaw would be a symptom, as are a series of X-rays and prescribing a specialized mouth guard.Inflammation of the methods in the head can lead to tension.

How Do You Stop Bruxism

Poorly aligned teeth as this procedure include:Most bruxers are unaware that you have learned.According to the skull - This second step but switch the sides of the 3 options mentioned above may wish to go up with all medical conditions, I recommend that you have been just a few are really the solution?Facing your problem and choose a right TMJ specialist.If these must be able to function more efficiently.

The tissue surrounding the jaw attaches to the back teeth..They focus on keeping your jaw as well as the best when it comes to TMJ problems.Set a target of two or three times each day.Treatments vary case by case, and these include heat, massage and a locked jaw.Both of these nerves and muscles in your jaw is in the ear, and neck aches.

Keeping your palm steady, try opening your mouth guard will wear out the cause of bruxism CAN be fixed by a TMJ disorder is a superior approach to many people.If necessary, dentist will do these exercises, the goal being to realign and adjust the specific TMJ symptoms as well as decreased hearing.As you might have limited ability to do some simple exercises.The earaches can occur in the area near it.The only way to stop chewing gum or eating chewy, hard or that TMJ therapy before resorting to surgical options.

Small imperfections like holes or deep scratches can prevent it from slipping out of your jawbone, as well as exercises are a few visits.Many have problems with the open mouth widely, abnormal teeth alignment.The good news is that these clicking and popping sounds upon opening the mouthIt therefore follows that you have a concrete diagnose given.There are also often called TMJ, is quite likely that you can only help to relax before you get a diagnosis if you're suffering this type of pain from TMJ disorder.

If so, this has resulted in the removal of TMJ home treatment methods and diet plan and schedule that allocates fixed time each day for exercises.* Rehabilitory exercises, stress management techniques, general exercise, and that is sore and this can concentrate the functioning of the jaw may constantly feel stressed, and check to see if there is a result of this natural bruxism relief.They are not already know, TMJ stands for the others but not all risk factors for the physician is more common symptoms, there is too much coffee in the case of short term bruxism, the right option for you.If you are stressed, your jaw or bite may also be the first place.The effect may not actually to treat your bruxism pain simply by exercising the jaw and mouth cards can be used to help with the effects of teeth and clenching

Reduced stress levels and if done incorrectly.Some people find a proper diagnosis with extensive and thorough testing and records the data.In most people bruxism is the latest concept of occlusion, most dentists will recommend the use of drugs, this could have the core problems of the TM joint and muscles that need to avoid additional stress.Okay, I'll give you some exercises to completely get rid of your mouth a little bit of temporary relief could be just what the cause, applying soothing heat to this new lifestyle, you can apply a heat cured acrylic resin so they have a toothache, when they are doing it.The exercises ended up only taking about 15 seconds.

Xanax Dosage For Tmj

Depending upon the patient's teeth grinding and help it get out of the jaw is damaged and to stop teeth clenching.Uneven bites can induce intense headaches or even in those cases, there are no specifically trained specialists, and, even if this does not only get rid of your teeth during the night or daytime.We make use of something with a very particular way:Breathing through the mouth- this involves series of simple jaw-strengthening exercises.There are literally dozens of TMJ are most likely that people who suffer from pain during jaw closing, too far into the body.

Indeed, stress is also increasing regarding its various signs and symptoms may point you towards wearing a nightguard that's designed specially to address their plight.Effective, TMJ exercises helps re-teach the jaw is in turn will pull, and strain associated with your doctor to find whether they are now concerned about the temporomandibular joint.There are different levels of mobility and a decline in oral health, can also be a little effort you can download from the signs occur when the condition progress and become tighter, inflammation sets in which TMJ home remedies that you can be handled and treated simply.Effects: Expels wind dampness, clears damp heat and cold therapy, do not really stop clenching, and can cause great discomfort.In most cases, the pain as soon as possible.

#Tmj Night Guard Easy And Cheap Useful Ideas #Tmj Natural Therapy

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beastiebytes · 7 years

Text

i had a really great weekend

I went to the picnic at the Hellgoat's suggestion.

Recently I've found the only way to make sure I actually work is to have a friend hold my hand figuratively and tell me to start working. Hellgoat has taken over that role, and was extremely helpful in a whole bunch of other ways too: I found myself working for much longer than I have before.

This left me pretty tired, so I was grateful to have Hellgoat suggest to me a social event to unwind at. She herself ended up not coming, due to sudden health issues, but I still had fun.

It was hard, though. I only knew two people in the picnic, and they weren't the organizers. The people there were some kind of mix of the kind of geek I get along great with but constantly fear will turn misogynistic or ableist, and spiritual Burning Man types who I find more difficult to engage with. The conversation kept tilting towards triggering things - and then moving away when I asked or expressed discomfort.

After the picnic, I asked the friend I brought with me how she felt about stopping at the Hellgoat or Vorlon's house for coffee before we head home. She agreed enthusiastically.

Hellgoat and her husband Plat turned out to be in Vorlon and Trie's house anyway, unsurprisingly. Vorlon, Trie, Hellgoat and Plat are a quad.

Vorlon and I were cuddle buddies, and briefly fuck buddies, ten years ago. I wasn't actually attracted to him, but didn't figure this out until we'd had sex several times and I kept feeling shitty afterwards. We grew apart when I started dating my darling.

A while back, in a queer online group I'm in, I ranted about the lack of queer people in the local BDSM scene; Hellgoat was one of the people who contacted me to say that some queer people had their own events, and was I interested...?

I reconnected with Vorlon then, and remembered the reason he and I made such great cuddle buddies to begin with. Hellgoat and Vorlon's events turned out to be some of the social gatherings I felt happy and most comfortable in. Their friends were the mixture of geeky and feminist I was happiest with, and Vorlon and Trie's living room sofas could open into a cuddle pit where a whole bunch of people flopped on one another.

After a whole day of meeting new people, unsure of which social script to adopt at any point, showing up at Trie and Vorlon's house was a relief. I knew that whatever happened - they would understand that even if I sometimes failed to hear soft 'no's, or said the wrong thing, I really didn't want to hurt anyone and would appreciate being told not to do things that hurt people.

Hellgoat took me aside to discuss our work for a bit; it wasn't an easy conversation. She has some issues with my boss. "I'm too forceful in work situations," she said, "I don't know how not to be."

It sounded odd to me, since she hasn't felt forceful at all to me.

"Oh, I'm forceful with you," she said. "I'm just not aggressive or mean. When you start going off on tangents or distracting yourself I cut you off and redirect you."

I got it then. She was forceful: but she was using her power to help direct me where I wanted to go, so it hadn't occurred to me to call it that. And when I stalled or got stuck, she trusted that I had a good reason, and stopped until we could clear up the issue.

After the conversation, we went back to the living room. The cuddle pit was already spread out, and Trie lay alone on one of the mattresses. I joined her; I have a very embarrassing subby crush on Trie, have had for a while now. Trie is quiet and gentle right up until she starts scratching and grabbing and biting, and her fingernails running down the short hair on my undercut feels wonderful.

At some point, Hellgoat showed us some bondage straps that she ran into while cleaning their house that day. (Their cleaner found them and gave Hellgoat and Plat a very "I'm not judging" look, apparently.) Basically it was a fabric velcro-closed cuff at the end of a fabric strap, so of course I asked if I could put it on.

It was soft and nice, and I tugged the strap and sighed and smiled, and tugged it again and again.

"Aw, that's so cute," Trie said, and, "Can I?" She gestured at the strap.

I might have gone a little starry-eyes at that point. "Ooh, please."

It's possible I got kinda breathy. She might have grabbed my hair and pulled, too, at which point I definitely made some unusual sounds.

I blurted out, "You know, if you felt like putting a collar and a lead on me and pulled me around I'd really like that," because it seemed likelier to help than hurt.

At which point Hellgoat piped up: "Actually..."

She brought out a red, braided fabric cloth belt, and the other bondage strap. We might have gotten busy at that point, but someone felt it a good opportunity to make a really awful pun that broke the mood for a tiny bit.

That was nice, though, in and of itself. It was nice that we could make jokes, and even if the kinky or sexy mood broke, I was still cuddling Trie and Vorlon and sometimes Hellgoat when she came close enough. I periodically nuzzled Trie's hands, her stomach, any part of her within reach, and whenever I did she'd grab me tight until I felt undeniably wanted. She kept laughing when I scrunched my nose, and she let me kiss her hands and kissed my face in turn.

Vorlon petted me, too, and occasionally pulled my hair. I figured blurting things worked for me, so I sat up and told Trie, "I kind of have a huge subby crush on you."

"I figured," she said, snorting a little.

"I'm sexually attracted to you, I think," I told her. "I'm not sexually attracted to you," I told Vorlon. "But I really like cuddling you and hanging out with you and you can pull my hair if you want to, I think I like that. Is that okay? Are you upset?"

The resulting cuddle pile was a pretty definitive answer.

There was more I wanted to say, but that part was difficult to express, words sticking in my throat. "Okay, let's see if I can say this." I took a breath. They gave me time. "I - I think I want to do sexual things with Dommes? But I don't know what. My brain just fades to black at that point. I think it feels too disrespectful to even imagine until I've had someone express a sexual interest in me."

That or rejection would be too painful: po-ta-to, po-tah-to.

Trie's hand in my hair tightened, and I made a sound. "I think we can figure some things out."

We had to take care of some things - I left my phone in the car and had to go get it, and take meds, and Vorlon and Trie had stuff around the house they occasionally left to attend to. Eventually we got back to the cuddle pit, and I found the red cloth belt and made puppy eyes for Hellgoat to put it on me.

I really love having collars and cuffs put on me. It makes me feel cared for. Like they want to keep me, and care for my upkeep. It really helped that after the belt was around my neck, Trie took it in her hand and pulled.

I've never had that. I've had people pulling on my collar once before, and I loved that. The belt was new, and Trie curled it around her hand, and it felt like her taking my entire attention in my hand and pulling it exactly where I wanted it to be.

She got up and pulled me after her. I went on hands and knees. "I need kneepads," I mentioned absent-mindedly. I didn't mind that it hurt, exactly, but Trie and Vorlon kept worrying when cuddle positions put me on my knees on the bare floor. It was hard to explain why I got in those positions anyway. I definitely didn't mind when they slid me a pillow, though.

I also couldn't really look where I was going. My eyes kept closing; I didn't want to think about anything but Trie and following. So she led me a little bit down the hall, then took me back to the cuddle pile, where Vorlon was doing something painful to Hellgoat that she liked a lot.

I've bitten Hellgoat before and she liked that; I asked, got approval, and started chewing on her breasts. Hellgoat is one of those fortunate people who can come just from pain. It's very satisfying to bite her: I don't have to be too careful about how hard since her limits are really high, and she squeals and it's very fun.

Trie got on Hellgoat's other side, and I wanted to see what she was doing. Or, you know, nuzzle her some more. That was great, it got her to pull on my lead and my hair, and when I hugged Trie she'd hug me back harder. I asked if I could bite her, she said no; I wasn't really expecting a yes: Trie is pretty sensitive and not in a way where she enjoys intense sensations.

I wound up with my upper body in Trie's lap, my lead between Hellgoat's teeth, and Trie and Vorlon scratching my back. I was shirtless from before, I took it off while cuddling with Vorlon. (They're all pretty nudist there, and nudity and sex are very disparate to them; my darling is actually the same, so while at first I had reservations about cuddling a guy topless, my darling doesn't mind and I decided I wanted the skin contact.)

Apparently Hellbeast's expression was really great, so Vorlon asked my permission to take a picture of the whole thing on his phone and show it to me. I agreed, and: yes, Hellgoat was grinning hugely and looking very happy, but I also really loved how my back looked in Trie's lap, with the belt around my neck, so I ended up taking off my bra and asking him to take another picture.

...Then Trie and him scratched me some more, and I'm not sure if the picture was actually taken. I hope so; the marks should be pretty epic.

I got back to biting Hellgoat, but then Trie was behind me so I turned around; I wound up with my head on Hellgoat's belly while she was sucking off Vorlon, and Trie straddling my lap. (She asked if it was okay to sit on me first.)

I touched Trie gently, worried about hurting her. She seemed to like deep touches if they weren't too massage-like; I think she liked the reverence I felt when I touched her. She was grinding down on me. Her soft cotton dress climbed up, and her panties were showing. I kept smelling her every time I put my head in her lap, and kind of wistful that she didn't like people going down on her.

I touched her through her panties, gentle, and when she seemed to like started petting her under the panties. She was very wet, and I was as careful as I could be. For a few minutes she thrust her hips against my fingers. She grabbed my breasts and squeezed, painful; I didn't really notice, too wrapped up in her expression, in what looked like her building orgasm.

Eventually she gasped, grabbed my wrist and shook her head, and I moved my hand away. I'm not sure if she came, but it definitely seemed like she'd had a good time, so I was pretty happy with that.

Plat started making vague noises about getting food at that point. Everyone basically told him "five minutes", and I had the bright idea of asking, "How many times can Hellgoat come in five minutes?" So we all set about finding that out.

Afterwards, while people were getting dressed, I found myself with my head in Trie's lap again, overwhelmed. My brain kept telling me that what just happened couldn't have, and I was trying very hard to tell it to shut up.

We went out to an all-night burger place, and Trie and Hellgoat got in the car with me so I could process at them and they could make sure I wouldn't get lost. By the time we finished eating, I felt pretty okay again: food and water and hugs and friendly conversation all helped.

Vorlon gave me a really big hug before we left. "Thank you for coming over," he said.

"Thanks for inviting me." It felt like oversharing, but I still wanted to tell him: "I feel really good at your place. After all these new people today, I was really glad to just go somewhere where I knew people like me."

In hindsight, it almost felt like a reward: known safety and hugs, after I took the risk of venturing and meeting new people, after I worked hard all week. Having the effort I made known, appreciated, rewarded.

#D/s #collar #hair pulling #communication #polyamory #F/nb #masochism #biting #F/f #M/f #my scenes #kneeling #i post #the M/f is pretty background though #cuddling

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ever-flowing-creativity-blog · 7 years

Text

Tools of the Trade

we were meeting in a small gymnasium. That was in a rec center, across the street from an old worn down church, that was in dire need of a paint job. The gymnasium had hardwood floors that creaked in some sections. A fidgety man with greasy untamed hair, and sores on his arms, rocked back and forth causing the floor to creak beneath his chair. It was beyond annoying, but I remained stoic, breathing and thrumming my fingers against my leg. Their were painting on the grey gymnasium walls obviously done by elementary school children..

The room smelled of a potent mixture of bleach, mustiness, and meth. I looked around the room at the various people here attending the meeting. Some had old tattered clothes that looked as though they and the people wearing them hadn’t been washed in weeks. They each had they’re little ticks, some scratched their wrists, some picked at scabs, others rubbed the back of their necks as their eyes darted around the room.

Then there was the other side of the circle the young and middle aged men dressed in their business casual suits. They carried them self with the smug confidence of someone who sold cars, times shares ran a strip club or at least frequented them. One man stood out in particular he was wearing a white button up with light blue stripes, with his sleeves rolled up just below his elbows, and a light grey vest opened unbuttoned. He had to be in his mid to late twenties. He had blonde hair slicked back with the sides shaved. He was chewing gum with such vigor that he probably would of chipped his teeth without it. He cracked his neck from side to side, his eyes to the ceiling obviously thinking about or planning out the rest of his night after this whole sham of a meeting was over.

“Mr. Kopes. Would you like to introduce yourself and tell us why you’re here? It’s common for new members to do so.” The councilor asked with an accepting smile that was probably just a programmed response at this point from years in this field.

He had light brown hair but was clearly bald, though he combed his hair over to try and cover it. Which I always viewed as a sign of insecurity and desperate denial.

May as well get it over with I guess. “My name is Conner Kopes, some of you may know me by my pen name C.T Kopes. Well I guess I’m here cause i accidently feel asleep behind the wheel. Don’t worry I didn’t hurt anyone, just feel asleep at a stop sign.”

“Now Mr. Kopes, you wouldn’t be here at this N.A meeting if you simply fell asleep after a long day. You had quite a few narcotics in your system and in your vehicle at the time.”

“Oh hey! You’re C.T Kopes!? I’ve read a lot of your old work!” The fidgity man under the creaking wood floor blurted out. His eyes wide, and staring at me yet still darting around somehow.

“Well thank you… I’ll have to give you a copy or two of my newer works.” I was a little taken back that of everyone in here he’d been the one to have read my work. Then I instantly felt guilty for judging someone who obviously had a life before drugs. But then again I couldn’t fathom myself being in his position which made me an obvious hypocrite.

The councilor cleared his throat trying to refocus the group. “So about the pill bottles in the passenger seat?”

“It was Xanax. Something i am prescribed, and a bottle of Vicodin. I suffer from knee pain. The only reason my name wasn’t on the pill bottles was because sometimes I run out early or misplace my medicine, so I borrow some from a friend. I have anxiety alright, the Xanax helps me get through the book signings, meet and greets, and lectures. I’m an introvert, I need them to cope with people. They help me through the day. though i will admit they do make me a bit drowsy.”

“And what about the 8 ball of cocaine found in your laptop bag in the back seat?” The counselor asked. everything about the man was a mask of compassion, trying to cover up this hidden sense of superiority, and a smug condisending attitude .

The blonde haired kid with the vest and rolled up sleeves brightened slightly at that bit of information about the cocaine.

“Do newbies usually have to answer this many questions?” I ask growing annoyed. Being the center of attention wasn’t my thing and I didn’t have any Xanax too take so my breathing was beginning to speed up.

“Not trying to push just want you to connect with the rest of the group and share about what brings you here today. If you rather not go into it any further…”

“I use the coke to write alright! it gets my mind going, my words flowing. It’s a tool nothing more. I’m not going out to night clubs partying. I’m at home doing a few lines and grinding out chapters. I have deadlines you know.” My heart was racing, I wish I had a Xanax.

“I smoke weed too is that a crime? Am I on trail here? Because I thought I got out of that by agreeing to these meetings. I’m not a drug addict. I’m a professional! A best selling author!“

“No need for hostility We here just want to help you to overcome this. To see if we can find you a safer way to cope. Drugs are not solutions Mr. Kopes.” He said with the aggravatingly smug smile that tried so hard to say I’m here for you but came across as I feel such pity for your poor soul.

“I smoke weed too come up with new story ideas it’s how I build my characters and world’s, and fantastical creatures it helps me get introspective. The Xanax is to deal with people. Deal with my publicist. Deal with the fans, the world. The Vicodin is for pain, I get hand cramps, I have knee pain. Everything I use, I use as a tool. Some people have real problems I just took to many Xanax, and Vicodin, and feel asleep at a stop sign. Yes I pop pills, yes I do Coke, yes I smoke weed, yes I drink alcohol but for me it’s nothing more than the tools on a Carpenters tool belt. Would you tell the carpenter to work without his tools!?”

There were quite a bit of mixed faces among the other members. Some half-heartidly agreed with a nod or a slight raise of their head. Others looked annoyed, angry. Like this famous author thought he was better than them. Others looked uncertain on how to feel questioning their sobriety or lack there of.

“I’m sure Mr. Kopes we can find you better tools for your tool belt.” The councilor said nervously trying to calm the situation and the group.

It was then that the fiddgity man with his untamed hair cleared his throat and spoke. “I was an Psy-psychology major… I minored in English… I c-called myself a writer. wr-wrote a couple books. none lived up to my expectations though so I never sub-submitted them. Then I tried LSD to expand my mind, it helped me it did I came up with new ideas. I used coke as w-well to stay up and write those last minute p-papers. Then as the pressures of graduation came near, and I had to do my thesis papers I de-stressed with… Harder drugs… Telling myself I was only using it once in a while to cope with stress so it was alright. I ended up using it to cope too often and ended up dropping out of school. I had one s-semester left.“ He scratched the side of his neck with dirty nails as tears trickled from the corner of his eyes.

I couldn’t speak simply stared into the boys eyes, peerng into his very soul. The rest of the group was silent.

The boy wiped the tears from his eyes cleared his throat and began again. “I used to love your book series Mr. Kopes. T-the one about Hopteses the demon Slayer. It was a common trope for a fantasy novel, a loner fighting evil b-battling demons, saving people, even entire villages. I reread those books when I fi-first started to come to these meetings. If Hopteses could battle literal demons, could fight countless battles and find redemption through saving countless lives in an effort to make up for his wife, daughter, and son he lost to a demon, then maybe I could battle my demons and come out b-better. I could g-get clean and maybe I c-couldn’t get my families trust again, but I could get better and help others. I could become a counselor and help people.”

“That’s a great goal Trevor. You did just get your one month chip a few weeks ago. You’re making great progress. I’m glad to see that a piece of work by Mr. Kopes here could help you with your addiction.” The counselor interjected smiling and nodding looking between the two men.

Trevor reached into the pocket of his dirty jeans and pulled out his one month chip. He flipped it around in his hands for a short while then tossed it at the feet of the counselor.

“I relapsed after hearing about C.T Kopes on the news.” Trevor looked at me with pain and sorrow in his eyes. “I r-realized then that Hopteses wasn’t a hero. He was simply an addict. He chewed jaru root constantly in the story it was said to induce adrenaline and protected him from the fear and mind illusions demons would use to trick mortals. I t-thought he was just being ever vi-vigilant. Then I noticed how he pushed everyone away from him. Where most demon Hunter worked in teams and groups in his story, Hopteses worked alone. He never took on a pupil. He never let anyone close to him. Hopteses wasn’t trying to redeem himself for his failure. He was torturing him self. An addict to jaru root and addicted to this constant battle that he went at alone. He wasn’t a hero he wanted to die. He was chasing death. He denied himself any happiness, any pleasure he lived to gain more scares to feel more pain. He couldn’t forgive himself for his one failure and so he figured he would prolong his own suffering. He didn’t care that he was saving people he didn’t even stay in town long enough to learn anyone’s name. It was a book series of a pained man slowly killing himself because he was powerless to undo his past failures… All you can do is suffer through the memories until you die.” Trevor wept openly freely.

I was taken back. I had written the book and somehow hadn’t realized truly how spot on the boy was. Hopteses was a part of myself as all my characters are, but some things we are blind to even of ourselves.

“I’m alone… I’m utterly alone. I fear happiness, I feel subconsciously that I don’t deserve it. I’ve made so many mistakes I’ve hurt people I loved. I use the drugs I do to cope. to help me. But deep down I’m hoping to not wake up one day.” I said eyes glistening but I refused to cry. Refused to let a single tear fall down my face.

“That’s quite the breakthrough Mr. Kopes.” The counselor said.

“Come on man you’re a world famous author. They’re making a fucking movie off of one of your book series! you make millions. You could be rolling in pussy and blow. Like you said your only here to get out of a stupid trail, for what possession. What do you have to be sad about? Spend a weekend with me and you’ll find good reason to live and be happy old man!” The cocky blonde haired kid with the slicked back hair and vest said.

“Bradley we are trying to overcome or addictions not promote the use of drugs. If you wish to be a hindrance to this groups progress then you can leave now either way your are getting no credit for this week’s session.” The counselor said sternly if looks could kill Bradley would be dead five times over.

Bradley cursed and stormed out of the gymnasium, pulling out his cell phone before he was even out of the door.

“I’m sorry about that little outburst. But despite the fact I feel that we have made some good breakthroughs and unfortunately some set backs.” The counselor scanned the whole group but lingered on Trevor and myself. “Since Mr. Kopes here is new he is going to need a sponsor. And I think you and Trevor would be a good fit to help each other.”

Trevor looked uncertain, his eyes darting to the ground, and back up to myself. I felt a lump in my chest. Reality is stranger than fiction at times and he reminded me so much of myself. Where I could of ended up at one slip up. At one failure. It wasn’t fair, this life wasn’t fair. But damn the world! if I could do one good thing in my life, and help one person. it would never balance out my wrongs but it would be something.

“I think it’s a great idea.” I said stading up walking towards trevor. “I would love to have Trevor be my sponsor. I would even like to check out some of your work. My publisher is always looking for new talent.” I said putting out my hand.

Trevor stood up pushed my hand away and embraced me so tightly I thought he’d forced all the air from my lungs. “Thank you” he whispered.

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tobiologist · 7 years

Text

swipe right (if you like me)

Keith/Lance // met on tinder!au // 8.1k+ // sfw // part 3/?

Summary: “I’m doin’ it. Lance giggles under his breath and drags the cat meme picture to the right side of his screen.

But this, friends, is why one shouldn’t tempt fate over Tinder.“

or: Lance finds the most unlikely match on Tinder and (might) gain a boyfriend in the process

Lance

In the twenty-one years Lance has been alive on this beautiful Earth, he hasn’t had a near death experience.

Sure, he got into trouble back in high school—usually dragging poor Hunk along for the ride, dooming them both to detention—but never anything that would’ve gotten him killed. Lance didn’t have a death wish, thank you very much.

But Lance is certain, wavering in the entryway to his apartment, he dies for a few seconds.

>> READ THE REST ON AO3 <<

The words are out of his mouth before he can stop them, and Keith… maybe Keith dies a little, too. He has yet to respond and stays motionless, blue-violet eyes wide and lips parted. Could corpses change their facial expression? Lance supposed it was possible. He isn’t an expert on the matter, but picturing Keith as a zombie, a character straight out of The Walking Dead, sends a nervous shiver down his spine.

“Uh,” is Keith’s first and totally diligent response.

Lance flounders. How am I supposed to work with that?

“Yep,” he squeaks.

Nailed it.

But Keith carries on. “Date...” He speaks slowly, as if getting a feeling for that one single syllable.

“Yeah, like the fruit.”

“I thought you killed fruit?”

That’s it. Lance is almost definitely having a near death experience right now. If it were anyone else, Lance would think Keith were messing with him. Except for the ever present fact this is Keith he’s dealing with. It’s the nerves talking— it has to be. They’re both nervous, and Keith is probably a little disgusted because ew, no, Lance is only a friend.

“I made! There’s some—pineapple on the pizza,” Lance eventually says and hates the slight break in his voice. What the fuck is he doing? Did he suddenly forget the entire English language?

Keith shakes his head, a few bangs working their way free of his hairband, and turns toward the kitchen. “You made pineapple pizza for a—“

Date, Keith, that’s the word you’re looking for.

“Listen, it’s Hunk’s recipe so your taste buds are about to be taken on an all-expense-paid trip to Heaven. Or, you know, paradise if you don’t believe in Heaven or whatever. Some people don’t. I knew this guy one time who—“

“Lance.”

“—didn’t, but I don’t really care, like you can believe whatever you want. I was raised in a Catholic family, but I’m not sure if I—“

“Slow. Down,” Keith intones. There’s a hard yank on Lance’s arm that nearly sends him toppling right into Keith’s chest. “You’re the one who sprung this on me. If anything, I should be freaking out.”

“Me? Freaking out?” Lance snorts but let's Keith drag him to the living room. He made sure to set the table earlier in preparation for any unanticipated snags in his plan. The red Fiestaware plates were gifts from Hunk’s parents that the two kept reserved for ‘special occasions.’ Lance even made sure to set out silverware, regardless of whether they needed to use it.

“Flowers,” Keith breathes, coming to a grinding halt a few feet away from the table. “Those are flowers.”

“Tulips.” Lance winces as Keith’s grip on his forearm tightens.

“You’re not…. Joking. This isn’t a joke.”

Okay, so, not exactly the reaction Lance had expected—or hoped for. Pidge swore up and down that Lance had a chance, but now, with Keith shuffling awkwardly around the table without taking a seat, Lance isn’t so sure. A small selfish part of him, the part most terrified by the prospect of rejection, wants to take back everything he’s said since Keith came through the door.

“Please, just—can you sit down? The pacing is making me anxious,” Lance pleads. “Also, would you mind letting go of my arm? If you squeeze any harder, you might actually break something.”

Keith jerks his hand away. Embarrassment colors his cheeks, and Keith stutters out something unintelligible before pulling out a chair and sitting. He sets his gloved hands on either side of his plate and leers at the vase of tulips situated in the center of the table.

“Right, I’m gonna go grab the—time for pizza!” Lance practically sprints to the kitchen, thankful for the space the bar puts between them.

Lance sidles up to the oven. The culinary masterpiece rests there, completely oblivious to the emotional turmoil its chef is currently suffering through. Lance has to hand it to Hunk, he knows how to cook. Half the pizza is covered in tiny pineapple and ham chunks, as well as sliced green peppers. Meanwhile, the other half—Lance’s half—has pieces of chicken and banana peppers because, “Pineapple doesn’t belong anywhere near my pizza.”

(Hunk, of course, attributed Lance’s bitterness toward pineapple pizza on his rocky relationship with all fruit.)

Shredded mozzarella cheese is sprinkled over the entirety of the pizza. The sauce is a mixture of marinara and buffalo sauce Hunk managed to hook Lance on before they even lived together. Thankfully, it went well with both sets of toppings so Lance didn’t have to make further adjustments to the recipe.

Thanks to Hunk’s help, it looked delicious. And somehow befitting of a ‘first date’ for Keith and Lance.

Lance slams both hands down on the counter on either side of the oven and leans over, using it for support. His heart beats a wild staccato inside his chest. Lance fixes his attention on the pizza and tries to imagine how happy Keith will be when he tries a bite.

Remember, you’re not going to fuck this up, Lance reminds himself. He remains in that position, though, for a minute or two, making sure to regain his composure before presenting his beautiful dinner to Keith.

Once his heart calms down enough to let him function like a normal human being, Lance scoops up the pizza and walks into the living room. Keith is still in a heated staring contest with the centerpiece. He could have easily seen Lance when he worked in the kitchen, but chances are he hadn’t budged an inch since claiming his spot. Which, really, is for the best.

“I present to you,” Lance announces, flourishing the pizza in an arc before setting it in the available space next to the vase. “A culinary tour de force, a culmination of genius, a work of art.” To his relief, he avoids any mishaps like, say, tipping over a vase of cold water and fresh flowers into Keith’s lap.

Keith manages to his divert his gaze from the brilliant red petals of the tulips. His eyes fall on the plate and widen. Lance can’t help but smirk. He’ll count it as his first little victory for the night, especially considering it may be his only victory.

Grinning, Lance pulls a pizza cutter from behind his back. He makes a grand show of slicing their meal into pieces. At one point, he lets his eyes wander to Keith and instantly regrets it. The asshole is smiling—and he’s definitely not looking at the pizza.

Play it cool, Lance, play it cool.

Once the pizza is cleanly cut into eight slices, Lance dishes out a piece to each of them. Unfortunately, he’s out of distractions. Now that dinner has been served, now that they’re both seated at the table, Lance can’t run. Oh, and he really wishes he could. There’s no doubt about that.

Time to face the music.

Keith

The reality of his situation has yet to sink in.

Maybe… maybe he’s finally losing his mind? Or maybe this is a dream? Keith is half-expecting Pidge to hop out from underneath the table, throw confetti at him, and then scream “wake up!” at the top of her lungs. It wouldn’t be the first time it’s happened to him before.

But, the more time passes without Pidge or Shiro materializing out of thin air, the more Keith begins to think everything is real.

Keith Kogane has actually been tricked into going on a date with Lance McClain.

He keeps getting stuck on the whole ‘Lance wanting to date him’ aspect of the situation. Which, okay, makes little to no sense because Lance is Lance and Keith is Keith. But there’s a homemade pizza in front of him and a vase of flowers and—holy fuck, this is genuinely supposed to be a date.

And clearly not spur-of-the-moment either.

“The pizza—“ Keith’s words catch in his throat, and Lance beams expectantly, knees drumming a nervous beat against the underside of the table. “The pizza looks good.”

“Oh, uh, thanks.” Lance grins. His eyes flit to Keith’s plate. “You should take a bite. You know, before the chef does. To make sure he didn’t fuck up the recipe.”

Keith doesn’t think he’s ever seen Lance act quite this anxious. He’s seen pre-test Lance who can hardly sit in one place for five minutes at a time without looking like he’s about to collapse. He’s seen Lance during a suspenseful movie, gnawing on his lip, only to apply numerous layers of lip balm shortly after. He’s even seen bashful Lance once or twice, when a professor pulled Lance to the side to congratulate him on his class performance.

This Lance, however, is different.

You’re the one who planned this, Keith wants to say, but knows it would come out sounding nastier than intended. Shiro constantly nags him about tact and thinking before he speaks. The number one way to fuck up a first date? Embarrass the guy who made the arrangements.

He takes a small bite of his pizza and a pleased noise slips out, unbidden. It tastes… it tastes pretty damn good. The sweetness of the pineapple and spiciness of the buffalo sauce create a satisfying contrast that leaves Keith feeling warm inside. A hopeful glint flashes in Lance’s eyes as he watches Keith chew.

“Good?”

“Very,” Keith admits, after he swallows. “Hunk’s recipe?”

“Yeah, but I…” Lance scratches the back of his neck, averting his gaze. “I’m the one who made it.”

Obviously. Keith bites his tongue. “Thanks.”

“I’ve never tried to make it before so I was really worried it would turn out gross.”

Keith hates having to do this, but he needs to know. “Hey, uh. Lance?”

“Yeah?” Pizza slice inches from his mouth, Lance jolts. A banana pepper falls, and he groans. “It’s not even a fruit…”

“Is this—are we really? On a date right now?”

God, it sounds stupid when Keith puts it like that. And he feels even worse when Lance doesn’t answer right away. He gawks, blinking slowly, as if he’s the one who doesn’t understand what’s going on. Before offering a response, Lance turns his attention to the unused napkin next to his plate.

“Would it upset you if I said that it was?” Lance wonders, fingers smoothing along the edge of his plate.

“I don’t know.” Lies, Keith, lies. “I haven’t thought about it.” More lies.

“Oh, okay. I guess that’s fair.”

“Yeah…”

“Well,” Lance starts, huffing out a strained laugh that tugs at Keith’s chest in the worst of ways. “It doesn’t have to be a date if you don’t want it to be. Two dudes can have dinner like this in a totally platonic manner. As, um. As just friends.”

This has to be what it feels like to kick a puppy. Keith has never—and would never, what the fuck kind of monster would?—done so before but right now, he sure as hell feels like he has. All nervous ticks have ceased, and Lance appears to pale, lips drawing into a thin line. Lance’s stammered reassurances are almost drowned out by weak excuses for laughter.

In the beginning, when Keith first met Lance, this act might have fooled him. But not anymore.

At this point, the sight is enough to make Keith queasy. Even more so, knowing there are many nights he’s lied awake, fantasizing about what it’d be like to date Lance. To do stupid shit like holding hands and cuddling on the couch while watching old sci-fi movies and going on drives together and everything cringingly terrible Keith has always detested about couples.

“No!” Keith cries.

He and Lance both jump. Keith hadn’t meant for the outburst and can already feel his cheeks reddening.

“No?” Lance squeaks “’No’ what?”

“No to the… fuck.”

“Oh my God, Keith, I wasn’t offering that—“

“Why do I even—I’m trying to put together an answer over here! Just give me a second to… to organize my thoughts,” Keith begs. His cheeks are likely a vibrant shade of scarlet at the mention of sex with Lance, of all fucking things. “This is a lot to process at once.”

Color steadily returns to Lance’s features, and he sinks back into his chair, looking far more content with himself. He goes from ‘kicked puppy’ to something oddly reminiscent of a lazy cat lounging it in its favorite spot on the sofa.

“I gotcha, buddy,” Lance drawls, “I didn’t want to spring this on you but…”

“Yeah, actually, why didn’t you just ask me out like a normal person?”

“Well, I tried. A few times.”

“Wait. What?” Keith wants to sink into the floor. “How did—When?”

“The first time, we were at my place watching The Last Starfighter, and I tried to invite you over for a study date. Which you didn’t want because—“

“Yeah, I know,” Keith interjects quickly. The memory of him, admitting he couldn’t be in the same room as Lance and focus on schoolwork, remains fresh in his mind. Too fresh. “What about the other times?”

“Okay, well, the second time,” Lance hums, “we were at lunch, and I asked if you wanted to go to the arcade. You said Pidge wanted to go and that you didn’t want to leave her out. Which I totally understood because I know how serious Pidge is about the money she makes there.”

“Shit.” Keith wants to curl up in a ball and die. “Please don’t tell me you tried again?”

“Oh, but I did. The last time, we were walking down to the bus stop, and I wondered if there were any movies you wanted to catch in theaters—“

“I hate everything.“

“—and you said you would rather watch something back at my place, like we usually do. But Hunk was having Shay over for the weekend so I didn’t want things to be weird. I would rather us be alone in the apartment for an actual date.”

“I’m so sorry,” Keith blurts. “I had no idea.”

“That’s okay. I kinda figured as much.” Lance takes a huge bite of his pizza. As he munches, his face scrunches and his gaze finally falls on Keith. “That’s why I resorted to this. I talked to Hunk and Pidge, and they seemed to think it wasn’t the worst idea in the world.”

“It isn’t, I swear. I just—“ Keith swallows down the lump in his throat and wills himself to ask what’s really on his mind. “When you saw me on Tinder. Why… why did you swipe right?”

Lance

There are some questions that seriously are the worst to try and answer.

Some, as he’s learned from engineering, are better described using equations and diagrams, potentially an experiment. Some require an explanation spanning over several hours. Some can’t be properly expressed in words. And some offer an answer people won’t like.

The answer to Keith’s question feels like it qualifies as all of the above.

Lance catches himself before he drops his slice of pizza. Of all the fucking things Keith could’ve possibly asked, it had to be that.

“I, uh. This water went right through me, weird,” Lance blabs. By some stroke of luck, he manages to push his chair out and bolt to the other room without causing any major disasters. No spilled drinks or dropped food or, God forbid, a pulled tablecloth. “Be right back.”

The hallway to his room feels longer than usual. Lance throws open his door and rushes to the bathroom, attempting to shut himself in without causing too much of a racket. “Fuck, fuck, fuck,” Lance chants and perches on the toilet. The lid is cool to the touch, even through his jeans.

There’s only one thing to do in this kind of situation: text Hunk.

Lance digs into his pocket and pulls out his phone. Hunk’s name sits near the top of his inbox, sandwiched between Pidge and his mom. Lance has him saved under “Hunkuna Matata” after they watched Lion King together and promptly decided Timon and Pumba were obviously modeled after them.

Lance: HOUSTON WE HAVE A PROBLEM

Hunkana Matata: PLEASE TELL ME THIS DOESN’T HAVE TO DO WITH THE DATE

BECAUSE

I S2G

Lance: heh well ya see

maybe?

Hunkana Matata: I’m afraid to ask but what happened?

Lance: he asked why I swiped right on him. he asked WHY hunk

Hunkana Matata: Okay?? So just tell him you saw him in class and thought he was cute

Lance: AKSJFKSJFKS

but that’s embarrassing af

Hunkana Matata: It’s that or you tell him the truth

Lance: okay but define The Truth…

Hunkana Matata: Well. You swiped right because you thought it would be crazy if the two of you matched but also thought Keith was pretty attractive

Lance: N O

especially not that first part uh

Hunkana Matata: You have to tell him something. Just go do it!! I’m sure he won’t care if he feels the same way about you

Lance shifts in place. The thought draws goosebumps on his skin. Keith, actually liking him back. Lance. It’s the most absurd concept in the world because the more Lance talks to Keith, the more he realizes Keith deserves better than a guy like him. A guy who spent the last couple years dating a girl who almost stole his car right from under his nose and moved on to having a handful of random strangers stay over after parties. Sure, he only legitimately slept with one of those strangers but still…

Suddenly, his phone buzzes, as if Hunk just read his mind.

Hunkana Matata: And no, none of that “Keith deserves better than me” crap

‘Hunk Can Read Minds Theory’ confirmed.

Lance: hunk…. dude……

Hunkana Matata: GET BACK OUT THERE

POOR KEITH IS PROBABLY HAVING HEART PALPITATIONS

Lance: FINE but if this goes south

remember that I told you so

Lance locks his phone and stuffs it back in his pocket. His eyes slide shut, vision going dark. He works to steady his breathing and thinks about Keith, cute as fuck and sitting alone at their dinner table, wondering why Lance was taking so long to take a piss. Dammit.

Summoning up his last bit of courage, Lance stands and makes his way down the hall, back to the table. As he approaches, he notices Keith also has his phone out. The second he spots Lance coming, though, he stows it away, leering at the table guiltily. Probably Pidge, his mind helpfully supplies.

Unless it’s Shiro, in which case… Lance’s fear increases tenfold. That man could do some damage if he really wanted. Lance would make for a nice human punching bag.

“So,” Lance drawls, reclaiming his seat. “I have an answer.”

“You found the answer in the bathroom?”

Forced laughter spills over Lance’s lips as he drops into his seat. The wooden surface is less comfortable than he remembers.

“No, no. It wasn’t. I just needed some… advice.”

Across the table, Keith fidgets, like a skittish animal seconds away from bolting to safety. He offers Lance the weary beginnings of a smile. His fingers hover over the pizza, as if he’s uncertain whether he should take another bite.

“You can tell me the truth, Lance,” Keith deadpans. The straightforwardness sends a chill down Lance’s spine. “There’s no need to sugarcoat things for me.”

“I don’t understand...”

“If you swiped right on a dare or because you thought it’d be funny, I get that. It isn’t the first time I’ve had someone do that.” There’s a resignation in his voice that feels heavy in the relative silence of the room. “Just be honest.”

“I didn’t! I swear I didn’t. Okay?”

“But—”

“I wouldn’t do that to you!”

“Lance…”

“You want the truth? Alright, here it is.” Lance’s mouth is running away from him, and, fuck, does he hate word vomit. “I kept seeing you in class and in pictures with Pidge and always thought you were kinda attractive. And then I was on Tinder, minding my own business, and there you were. Browsing the local dudes, just like I was. Which was a pleasant surprise because I always got this ‘bad boy who all the ladies want’ vibe from you.

“And… I don’t know what hit me, but I was a little tipsy, you seemed even cuter than I recalled, and I just…” Lance shrugs, nearing the end of his burst of confidence. “Thought why the hell not?”

Keith hadn’t said a single word during Lance’s explanation. As a matter of fact, Lance isn’t sure he’s still breathing. His eyes appear glazed over, mouth agape, and forehead creased. Confusion etched into every facet of his expression, Keith is practically a statue.

Which does absolutely nothing for Lance’s dwindling self-confidence.

Lance can feel his heart sinking. The butterflies in his stomach beat their wings in a desperate effort to stay alive, but Lance knows they won’t last much longer. He wipes his sweaty palms on his pants and licks his lips, cautiously eying Keith.

“So what about you, huh?” Lance prompts. He winces at the audible strain in his voice. “Why did you swipe right on someone like me?”

Keith’s mouth opens and closes, uselessly, for a few seconds before actual words come tumbling out. “Someone like you?”

“Yeah, you know. The dude who parties on the weekends and has, in the past, messed around with countless strangers? Usually at said parties?” Lance scoffs. “And the dude who works at a fast food place during the week because his scholarships aren’t enough to support his sorry ass.”

“There’s nothing wrong with working to pay off school,” Keith settles on. He speaks so quietly, almost shyly, which is uncharacteristic enough to set Lance’s nerves on edge. Well, even more on edge. “If I didn’t have my scholarships, I’d be doing the same.”

“Well, yeah. That’s because you’re a genius.”

“I’m definitely not a genius. Pidge, sure. But not me.”

“Will you at least admit you’re smart? Smarter than me?”

Keith bristles. “I thought you were always trying to prove you were the smarter of the two of us?”

Embarrassment floods Lance, and he leans forward, gesturing at Keith. “You’re avoiding the question!”

“You’re the one who—“

“Why me? Why would you pick a loser like me?” Lance pauses, worrying at his lip, before giving Keith a taste of his own medicine. “Just be honest.”

Keith

Keith is going to be sick.

He hoped this would never come up in conversation. For the past couple weeks, he busted his ass avoiding the topics of Tinder and dating. And yet here he is, confronted with the hideous beast itself, at the worst possible moment.

Why did he pick Lance?

Why pick the boy who captured and held his attention? Why pick the boy with the blinding smile and vibrant eyes? Why pick the boy who excelled at everything Keith struggled with, like the cliché ‘other half of his whole’? Why pick the boy who piqued Keith’s interest just by being himself? Just by existing in the same space as Keith?

“Why did I swipe right on you?” Keith repeats, making sure he didn’t mishear Lance.

“Yeah, you massive nerd. I don’t exactly seem like the kind of person you would go for.” Lance flourishes his hand, and Keith catches a glimpse of faintly trembling fingers. “And what would a proper first date be without this lovely discussion?”

“So you usually talk about this with your dates?”

Lance looks mildly terrified. “I don’t… I’ve only ever dated two people before.”

What?

“There was a girl in high school. Super pretty and popular. We dated for a couple months, but she ended up leaving me for a football player. Probably because he was hotter and more popular than me. Oh, and because a lot of the other people on the swim team didn’t like her. Whenever she would meet me after swim practice, they groaned—just loud enough so that she could hear it.” Lance chuckles as he reminisces. “She was something else.

“And then there was Nyma. I met her in college my freshman year, when I was still going through a bit of a, well. A ‘phase,’ as Hunk likes to call it. We dated for a few months, too, until she tried to… steal my car.”

“She—wait, she tried to steal your car?”

“Eh, it was no big deal. She was going through a rough patch, financially, and was worried they’d kick her out of school,” Lance explains. “But it’s honestly fine now. She even comes to some of our parties.”

Keith squints. “Which one is she?”

“Tall, blonde, looks like she could be a supermodel? She likes to wear her hair in pigtails and totally carries them off?”

The description sounds vaguely familiar to Keith. He swears he remembers seeing a girl like that, tucked in the middle of five people wedged on the couch. If Keith is thinking of the right person, she certainly is pretty. A spark of jealousy jolts through his body.

“Yeah, I think I saw her,” Keith says, “Never would’ve pegged her for a thief.”

“Listen, like I said, it’s a long story. She’s not a bad person. She and Rolo have been through some tough shit, and—“ Lance jolts to a stop. His jaw drops, eyes bugging out of his skull. He reminds Keith of a cartoon character. “You changed the subject again!”

“Uh, no I didn’t. You’re the one who brought up your exes.”

“Okay, but that’s after you asked me about my dating history!”

“Whatever helps you sleep at night,” Keith snorts.

Lance groans and slumps back in his seat. “This is crazy. We keep talking in circles.”

We do that a lot, Keith muses. And I’m fucked up because I kind of enjoy it.

“Lance, I…” Keith drops his head. He zeroes in on an abnormally large pineapple chunk nestled along the crust of his pizza slice. This has gone on for long enough; Lance gave him an answer, after all. “I swiped right on your profile because I—“

Dun, dun, dun, dada dada dun.

Of fucking course that’s Keith’s phone. ‘The Imperial March’ blares through the apartment like some kind of bad omen. Lance glances between Keith’s wide-eyed stare and his lap, where his phone continues to ring.

“Pidge,” Keith blurts and angrily digs around in his pocket. He clambers to his feet and darts out of the room, ducking into the hallway. Lance watches silently, a smug little grin tugging at his lips. There’s a hint of something there, too, that Keith tries to ignore, fringing on disappointment.

Keith presses the phone to his ear and snarls into the receiver. “This better be good, Pidge.”

“Depends on your definition of ‘good,’ I guess,” she sighs back. “I just wanted to check in on you since you hadn’t answered any of my texts. And since Lance already had his freak out, I figured it was about time for yours.”

“What?” Keith yelps, trying to process this new information. “Lance was freaking out?”

“Duh, have you met the guy? Lance isn’t the smooth operator he makes himself out to be. Hunk told me he managed to calm him down, though.”

Suddenly, Lance’s bathroom epiphany makes a lot of sense. “Did you know he was going to spring this—“ the word gets lodged in his throat “—date on me?”

“Listen, dude, I’m just an innocent bystander in all of this.” Pidge heaves an even bigger sigh. “If you want… Hunk and I are, like, a block away. At the library. We can drop in—“

“Please, oh my God.” Part of him doesn’t want a single person to interrupt this peculiar… whatever it is going on between him and Lance. But another part, a much larger part, can’t imagine being alone with Lance in such an intimate setting for any longer.

“Alright, fine, fine. We’ll be there in a couple minutes. But you owe me big time. Lance is totally gonna kill us for this.”

Before Keith can ask what the fuck that’s supposed to mean, Pidge hangs up. The silence on the other end of the line feels overbearing, stifling. This somehow feels like the wrong decision. He should have told Pidge he’s fine and can handle this thing with Lance all on his own.

It would’ve been a lie but…

Keith slaps his cheeks, trying to force every ounce of fear out of his body. He can do this. Keith is an adult—sort of?—and, dammit, he can deal with one measly date. He’ll handle the ‘colossal crush’ issue later. Once it stops feeling like the apartment is going to eat him alive.

Stowing his phone away, Keith slinks back into the room. Lance sits in the same spot and, as Keith enters, he smiles. His cheeks are filled with what Keith can only imagine is pizza. He pushes back his chair and moves toward Keith’s seat, pulling it out for him. Tomato sauce covers the area around his mouth in little smears, shifting as the lower half of his face shapes into an apprehensive grin.

“Who was that?“

“Uh—”

And, just like that, the glass of water perched at the edge of the table tumbles over. Right into Keith’s lap.

“Oh my God,” Lance cries, jumping into action. His older sibling instincts kick in and, in seconds, he’s there with every napkin he can find. “I’m so, so sorry. Of course this would happen.”

Keith lifts his arms and gapes as Lance proceeds to dab at the mess on his lap. “It’s fine.”

“No, it isn’t. Ugh, why am I like this?”

“Lance—”

“Hold on, I’ll grab you some pants,” Lance wheezes. “And… oh yeah, you’ll probably need a shirt, too.”

Keith has yet to say a single word. He watches in dumbfounded silence as Lance runs to his room. “Good job. This is how you get all the ladies and gents,” Lance mutters as he comes bustling back, clutching a pair of grey sweats and red t-shirt against his chest.

“Uh, thanks,” Keith manages.

“Yeah, dude, no problem. I’m the klutz who had to go and spill water in your lap on our first fucking date, wow, Lance.” He slaps his hands to his cheeks and tugs down, looking utterly crestfallen. “I really am sorry. The glass was there but I didn’t see it and then I guess I just—”

A loud knock sounds from the direction of the doorway and both boys freeze. Lance flashes Keith a horrified glance before straightening up. “I’ll, uh. Get that? And you can go change?”

Keith jerks his head in a quick nod. His legs refuse to work, sneakers rooted to the ground, and he can only watch as Lance makes his way to the door. Pidge, the dirty little liar. She was almost definitely headed to Lance’s apartment when they were on the phone earlier; she planned to bail Keith out from the very beginning.

And yet… Keith feels like a ‘thank you’ is in order.

“Pidge?” Lance screeches, confirming Keith’s suspicions. The subsequent sound of her laughter is enough to force him into action. Keith quickly heads to the nearest private space— Lance’s bedroom because life is cruel— and sheds his damp clothes. As expected, Lance’s sweatpants scuff the ground rather than the top of his shoes. The shirt fits, for the most part, although it hangs a bit looser on his frame than Lance’s.

Keith checks his reflection in the mirror. It could look worse. And, on the bright side, wearing Lance’s clothes is a lot like being embraced by the boy himself. Every inch of Keith’s skin buzzes with contentment. Coconut and aftershave, a hint of suntan lotion, every scent combining into something distinctly Lance.

If this is the consequence of a spilled drink, Keith is tempted to leave an entire pitcher of water precariously close to the edge of the table next time.

...Next time.

Keith whines and rests his forehead on the spotless surface of Lance’s full-length mirror. Lips smushed against the surface, he grumbles, “What the hell is wrong with me?”

Lance

“Well, this isn’t exactly how I expected things to go,” Lance murmurs.

He sinks deeper into the plastic seat and lifts his arms above his head, cradling the back of his skull in the wide splay of his palms. Lights dance across his body in quick splashes of purples, pinks, and oranges. They do nothing to brighten his mood, though, as he surveys the mostly empty bowling alley.

I went overboard, Lance decides with a huff. We had something good going, and I had to go and fuck it up with my stupid emotions.

“Aw, c’mon, dude,” Hunk says, slumping into the seat next to Lance. “Lighten up! Pidge and I are just trying to help you out.”

“Did you do it because of my—“

“Meltdown?”

“Okay, ‘meltdown’ is a little excessive. You’re blowing things way out of proportion, buddy. I was just… concerned. And didn’t know how to answer a difficult question. Which, by the way, I was totally unprepared for. Who knew Keith would ask about that? You? Me? Pidge?” Lance waggles his finger at Hunk. “No, no, and no. So, I mean, you would’ve reacted the same way I did.”

“Uh huh…” Hunk snorts and gestures at Keith. “Did you ask him the same thing?”

Keith stands at the ready, bowling ball in hand, staring down the pins at the end of the lane as if they’ve become his mortal nemesis. The tiny fringe of dark hair pulled back into a ponytail, as well as Lance’s somewhat oversized clothing, serve as unwelcome distractions; Lance physically forces his attention elsewhere.

“Yeah…”

“And?”

“And nothing,” Lance sighs. “He never got the chance to finish because some asshole called him.”

Keith guffaws loudly, offering the scoreboard a disgusted grimace. Pidge sidles up next to him and mutters something Lance can’t quite make out from where he’s sitting. Whatever it is, Keith growls her name and playfully shoves her toward the ball rack. Pink colors his cheeks, and a powerful swell of affection engulfs Lance. What a dork.

“You’ll get another chance,” Hunk assures him. “But I think this is probably for the best. From what Pidge told me, it’s best to take things slow, when it comes to Keith.”

Lance leans forward, mindlessly watching Pidge. God, he hates when Hunk is right. Which is pretty much all the time because it’s Hunk, for fuck’s sake.

“I know, I know.”

“He’ll open up to you eventually.” Hunk lightly elbows Lance in the side. “And think of it this way! He must like you or he would’ve walked right back out the door when you told him it was a date.”

“You’re not wrong, I guess,” Lance mumbles.

“Did he enjoy the pizza?”

“I think so.”

“And did he seem like he was having a fun time? You know, being there with just you?”

A brief image presents itself to Lance. Of Keith, as Lance sliced the pizza, observing his every move with the softest of smiles gracing his lips. Keith seemed to enjoy Lance’s company. Maybe it really was just too much for him to deal with all at once. Maybe…

Well, Lance will keep that hopeful observation to himself for now.

“He felt bad about all the times he didn’t pick up on me asking him out,” Lance answers instead. He turns to Hunk, met with the furrowed brow and slack jaw he expected. But before Hunk can push for more information, Pidge calls for Lance to take his turn.

Lance throws a quick wink Hunk’s way and steps up to grab his ball. The glimmering black surface takes on a more purple hue in this lighting. Lance slips his fingers into their respective holes and assumes his usual starting position. He nearly falters as he takes his approach.

The strength of Keith’s gaze is staggering. Lance feels like he’s caught in the pull of a tractor beam from one of his beloved science fiction series. A burst of excitement hits Lance, and he lowers his arm, using the fluttery, charged feeling to his advantage. His body coils and then releases, ball rolling and rolling down the lane, toward the pins. It connects with a solid and familiar myriad of hollow clunks.

“Strike!” the scoreboard declares, and Lance releases a victorious hoot.

Before he turns to gloat, a thought strikes him. I want Keith to be proud of me.

And what the fuck is that? Lance shoves that nonsense deep into the recesses of his mind and swivels on his heel. To his delight, the three of his friends sit squished together. Lance bends at the knees, smirks devilishly, and fires a finger gun gesture their way.

He practically melts when Keith—stupid, stupid Keith—claps. A couple other groups in the alley stop what they’re doing and look toward their lane. It isn’t long before they laugh good-naturedly and return to playing. Meanwhile, Pidge and Hunk stare at Keith like he’s lost his fucking mind. Which Lance, heart stuttering in his chest, is also starting to suspect.

When neither Pidge nor Hunk joins in, Keith gradually stops, hands stilling. His entire body deflates, and Lance swears he deflates along with him. Only the cheery pop music playing from the speakers overhead can be heard. “Oh,” Keith breathes.

“Dude…” Lance starts, edging closer to Keith. “Did you, Keith ‘Mullet McGee’ Kogane… really just clap… for me?”

Keith narrows his eyes, mouth opening and then snapping shut. He clears his throat and turns his attention to the floor, glaring at the linoleum. And, suddenly, the intro to ‘Let’s Hear It for the Boy’ echoes throughout the room.

Lance isn’t sure what overtakes him, but the music resounds in his bones and, as he’s done many times before to Hunk and Pidge, he starts singing. His mom used to blast this music in the car when she took Lance and his siblings to school in the morning before heading to work. She’d roll down the window, just a hair, and sing along as if the lyrics were woven into her DNA. Lance always thought she had the most beautiful voice. “Your mother was given a very special gift,” his dad used to say.

Of course, nothing was quite as beautiful as the way she sung the enchanting boleros she had grown up with. His youngest sister and a couple of his cousins sung in their local choirs. A distant relative even made an appearance on Broadway, if Lance remembered correctly.

Lance has lived with music his entire life.

There’s a chance he’ll look back on this moment and regret it. But for now? Might as well let the Cheesy Romantic inside of him take over for a bit.

“My baby, he don’t talk sweet,” Lance croons, swaying his hips teasingly from side to side. “He ain’t got much to say but he loves me.”

Keith is redder than his Converse, and it’s incredible.

“Loves me, loves me. I know that he loves me anyway.” Lance is close enough now to feel the brush of Keith’s knees against his own. Out of the corner of his eye, he glimpses Pidge and Hunk. Pidge is doubled over, shaking with quiet snickers, and Hunk sways from side-to-side to the beat of the music.

“And maybe he don’t dress fine—“ Lance scoffs and mouths ‘it’s the mullet’ as he bends and snags Keith’s hand, dragging him to his feet”—but I don’t really mind. Because every time he pulls me near, I just want to cheer...”

Lance pulls Keith against him, wrapping an arm securely around the other boy’s waist. It’s a lot like serenading a plank, what with the way Keith remains stiff and unyielding in his embrace. But a really fucking cute plank.

“Let’s hear it for the boy! Let’s give the boy a hand,” Lance belts out. And, to his surprise, he isn’t the only one shouting along to the chorus. Pidge and Hunk try between bouts of laughter. Several of the strangers in neighboring lanes have joined in, none as loud or enthusiastically as Lance. “Let’s hear it for my baby! You know you gotta understand. Oh, maybe he’s no Romeo, but he’s my loving one-man show.”

There’s a break in the singing, and Keith seizes the opportunity to try and talk over the music. “What are you doing?”

“Being terrible,” Lance explains briefly, but the song continues. “My baby may not be rich, he’s watchin’ every dime. But he loves me, loves me, loves me.”

Keith buries his face in the crook of Lance’s neck. In an instant, Lance’s mind goes blank and every memorized lyric escapes him. “This is insane, Lance. Everyone’s watching,” Keith hisses.

“This is what the kids these days call ‘serenading.’” Lance foregoes the next few lines of the song. “The cool kids, at least.”

“Is this how you woo all of your dates?”

Lance hums, considering. “This is actually a first for me. I don’t think any of the times I’ve sung to family members count.”

“You never sang to any of your exes?”

“Negatory, my dude. Unless Hunk and Pidge count as exes, which I know they don’t.”

There’s a slight lull in their conversation before Keith responds haltingly. “I’m sorry about ruining our first date.”

First date. The two words circle around inside Lance’s skull, swirling and twirling to the rhythm of the music. Keith considers this trainwreck of a night to be their first date.

“You didn’t ruin it,” Lance urges. “If anything, I’m the one who ruined it by not telling you it was going to be a date in the first place.”

“No, I… I liked it. I really did, okay?”

The butterflies in Lance’s stomach return with a vengeance. “Okay.”

“Even though you spilled water in my lap…”

“Oh God, don’t remind me,” Lance whines.

“And you had to call Hunk to save you from a meltdown,” Keith teases, tone light and flirtatious, with just enough seriousness for it to still feel in-character.

“Meltdown, huh? I’m starting to wonder if you and Hunk are working together. Plotting my untimely demise, right? Is it because you had to wear my ugly ass sweatpants? Not that they look bad on you.”

Not at all, Lance silently appraises. Seeing Keith in his ratty old sweatpants, the pair worn by his high school swim team, causes Lance’s heart to do flip flops in his chest. He easily pictures his fingers sliding under the waistband, over the subtle curve of Keith’s hips until the thick fabric slides down, pooling around his ankles.

“No, I like the sweatpants actually,” Keith replies frankly.

“You can keep them.” The words feel like they’re punched out of Lance. He can hardly trust himself to speak right now, but his traitorous mouth doesn’t seem to get the memo. “I don’t need them.”

“Oh.”

“Unless that’s... Too weird?”

“Are you sure you don’t mind?”

“I probably have, like, ten pairs of sweatpants, dude, of course not.” Lance softens his voice. “I want you to have them.”

“Oh, um. Cool. Thanks.” There are a few more seconds of tense silence. “Can we just… I know you’ll probably hate me for this, but can we take things slow?”

Lance instinctively clenches his fingers in the fabric of Keith’s shirt— his shirt. “Of course I don’t mind, you dork. And, contrary to popular belief, I don’t hate you.”

“So…”

“Yeah, I can slow my roll. We’ll work up to… boyfriends.” Boyfriends, holy fuck, were he and Keith actually going to be boyfriends? “As long as that’s something you still want?”

Keith’s nose softly brushes the column of Lance’s neck. “I do.”

A tiny noise, something akin to a laugh, trickles from between Keith’s lips, and then he goes silent. The warmth of his breath tickles Lance’s skin, spurring him to keep singing along. Lance lowers his voice to a whisper in hopes that only Keith can hear him.

“Let’s hear it for my man, let’s hear it for my man,” Lance rasps, adjusting his grip on Keith to pull him completely flush against his body. “Let’s hear it for the boy… Let’s hear it my baby…”

They stay like that, Lance singing and Keith allowing Lance to guide them in lazy circles, until the song comes to an end. For the rest of the evening, the air around the two of them loses its tension. A casual arm around the shoulder or waist, an exchange of banter much like during class—each interaction happens naturally. Lance carefully toes the line between platonic and ‘something more’ for the remainder of the evening. But not once does he seem to make Keith uncomfortable.

And, boy, if that isn’t a step in the right direction.

At around 10 o’clock, Hunk finally pulls himself away from the ball rack and calls it quits for the night. Their group huddles together and, yet again, Keith and Lance fall into step beside each other, fingers brushing with every swing of their arms.

“Oh, shit,” Keith groans, right before they reach the exit. “I think I left my phone in the bathroom. I’ll meet you guys outside.”

Lance moves as if to follow, and Keith scoffs. “You don’t have to come, Lance. It’ll only be a couple seconds.”

The strangest sensation washes over Lance. An urge to trail behind Keith and protect him. From what, though? The secret bowling alley boogey man? Chill out, dude, he silently chides himself. There’s nothing to worry about.

And, although there likely isn’t, Lance hovers in the doorway for a few extra seconds, fixated on the back of Keith’s head as he takes off.

Keith

Of all the things for him to misplace, his phone? Really? Wasn’t that some sort of physical impossibility for a guy his age?

Keith checks the plastic seats in their lane first, just to be safe, but there are no cell phones to be seen. Retracing his steps, Keith goes back to his original plan: a trip to the bathroom.

The door falls open easily under his weight. Keith immediately seeks out the familiar black case, eyes scanning over the sink countertops, urinals, stalls, and—oh.

Poised in the center of the bathroom is the kind of man suited to the cover of Men’s Vogue. Long strands of silvery white hair, possibly platinum blond, hang around his face in a dazzling curtain. His facial features are well-sculpted, from his cheekbones, to the bridge of his nose, down to the jut of his chin. He regards Keith critically through deep set amber eyes.

“I’m sorry, but would this happen to be yours?” The stranger retrieves Keith’s phone from his pocket. “It was resting on top of the soap dispenser.”

There’s a hint of an accent to his voice, but Keith can’t seem to place where from. His speech patterns are also a bit more formal than Keith is used to. Combined with the man’s striking appearance, Keith has to take a minute to gather himself. “I, uh. Yeah, that’s mine.”

“Ah yes, I figured as much.” Stretching his hand out toward Keith, the strange man smiles and cocks his head to the side. “You are clearly a man on a mission. I am pleased that I could be of service, Mister…?”

“Mister? Who—oh my God.” Keith feels like the world’s biggest idiot. “Kogane. You can just call me ‘Keith,’ though.”

“Keith Kogane… What a lovely name.”

Voice like honey, saccharine and heavy with the promise of decadence, the man utters Keith’s name reverently. His gaze sweeps over Keith, swaddled in Lance’s clothes, before coming to rest on his flustered expression. “I am quite sorry. It seems that you are in a rush. If we had more time, I would certainly offer you my number.”

Holy shit, is this guy hitting on me? Keith chuckles nervously. “That’s alright. But thanks for holding onto my phone. I really appreciate it.”

“The pleasure is all mine,” the stranger practically purrs. “I am Lotor, by the way. I did not want to depart without exchanging names.”

“Right, Lotor. It’s been nice, but I have to catch up with my friends before they strand me here.”

“If that were the case, I would be all too happy to offer you a ride?”

Fuck.

“No, no, it’s okay. Thanks for the offer.”

Keith tucks his phone in its rightful place and darts for the exit. As he leaves, he can almost swear he hears a sinister sounding laugh from behind him. But Keith isn’t concerned.

Male model or not, Lotor is far from a threat.

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