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sorikkung · 2 years

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what goes on in neverland. ⇝ ch. 1: rivalry, a bitter past, and a whole lot to prove

word count: 17.4k

pairings: transmasc!reader x eric, reader x chan, reader x felix, eric x felix, wooyoung x mingi, minho x changbin, chan x felix (see masterlist for full series pairings)

genre: fluff, smut and lots of assorted shenanigans. hijinks, if you will

au: battle of the bands!au but make it gay and horny

warnings: (another) m/m/afab threesome, switch!reader, switch!felix, (physical and mental) power struggle, improvised handcuffs, mild exhibitionism, brief choking, unprotected sex, cumplay, anal (m recieving)

a/n: this only took way too long uh whoops?? apologies LOL anyway dont mind the sudden switch of past tense to present tense, the rest of the series will be present tense from now on, only the prologue is past tense cause its the prologue. hope that isnt too confusing LOL

please reblog and leave feedback if you enjoyed, it's what keeps us writers going :')

tags: @mingirn, @absentcaryatid, @honeybyunnies (apologies if you didn't wanna be tagged just lmk and i'll take you off the taglist!)

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"You've got to be kidding me."

Day one at the Battle of the Bands is usually just a taste of what’s to come. It’s exciting, still – you get to sus out your competition, discover new bands and new music, get lit in the crowd if your rivals are good enough, and get to know who you’ll be seeing more of that year. It’s an appetizer, and boy are you hungry – you have always had a competitive streak that thrived in settings like this. Now all you need to ignite that spark is a worthy competitor.

All the bands so far have been either pretty shit or decently good, but none good enough to make you feel threatened. Maybe your ego is too big - or maybe you guys are just that good. You gave up trying to be humble a long time ago. The only band you considered a worthy competitor was Day6, but as it turned out, they had already found a label in the past year, so they didn't even enter. Piece of cake, then.

You had a good look at the setlist of artists performing today, so you made sure to be at the front of the crowd when your drummers’ ex and friends, Stray Kids, would be up next, but when they’re finally in front of you, you’re totally floored.

They don't even have instruments.

Who the fuck enters a Battle of the Bands without instruments?

There’s no wonder there’s so much controversy regarding their entry - surely it has to be a joke. Surely Eric's ex-boyfriend and his mates are not about to go on stage and sing a cover over an MR like this was some shitty singing show, that would be straight up insulting. They don’t even have mic stands, just small headpiece microphones you’d only really see when Wooyoung was danci-

Oh.

No fucking way.

Wooyoung is one of the many reasons why the runaways are so unique – not playing any instruments, he originally just tagged along to band practices to watch Mingi, support his friends, and vibe along to the music. He had been dancing in a crew with Eric, Mingi and a separate group of dancer friends for a good few years, majored in dance in college, and eventually, started busting out the moves during band practice. He is damn good at it, too, so the band ended up inviting him to join them for real, discovering the beautiful singing voice only Mingi and San had ever heard before.

None of the other bands in the state had a designated dancer – having a band member shred the dance floor up on stage was your band’s unique thing, his eye-catching moves grabbing the attention of many, and you’ll be damned if you’d let Eric’s ex-boyfriend’s shoddy excuse for a band steal Wooyoung’s special concept.

The eight of them get into position, dressed to kill in all black with stunning makeup and accessories that put the rest of the contestants to shame, and wait. The apprehensive murmurs of the crowd are cut off by a bone-chillingly deep voice as the song starts, and then they all begin to move.

Your jaw hit the floor faster than you’d have liked to admit. They are perfectly in sync, creative moves and formations far beyond anything Wooyoung could do with his limited room in front of the band’s instruments – you’d had a few special stages where you took over the drums and San took over the bass to let Mingi and Eric join Wooyoung for a fun dance stage, but it was nothing like this.

Their moves are powerful, brandishing curved blades and incorporating them into their dance, their rap is explosive, vocals steady, and all of a sudden one of them does a flip and another pulls out a flaming sword- wait, a flamethrower?!

“Seo Changbin?!”

You turn to Wooyoung at the exclamation, the only one who seems more surprised at his own sudden revelation than the literal fire onstage. “You know that guy?!”

“He was one of my best friends in high school! …I also sucked his dick once.” Wooyoung’s eyes are glued to the stage, where the so-called Changbin wrapped up his skilful rap that could put yours to shame – you could barely find other rappers among local bands, let alone any that could stand up to you or Mingi or Sunwoo; who isthis guy? – then tosses the sword aside to resume dancing, his bandmate doing yet another flip out of nowhere, driving the crowd even more absolutely ballistic than they already were.

It’s electrifying in all the best and worst ways, and before you know it the song comes to a close. The first thing you do as soon as they finished is turn to look incredulously at Eric.

“You never told us Stray Kids was a fucking dance group!?”

Eric’s eyes are just as wide as everyone else’s, looking back between you and the stage where his ex and seven other boys were quickly exiting. “I don’t talk to Felix that often man; I didn’t have a clue! How the hell was this allowed for the Battle of the Bands?And where did they get enough money for a fucking sword with a flamethrower?!”

“Surely the judges won’t let that pass. Surely,” Sunwoo mutters in disbelief, shaking his head. “They’re always super elitist about entrants anyway. The only thing that could keep them in the game would be an overwhelming fan presence, and, well… shit. They might just have that going for them.”

Your head is still reeling from the intensity of their song, the fire, the stunts, the shock, and how unbelievably attractive each member is – like seriously, being sexy is meant to be your bands thing, not theirs – and then the sudden realisation that why you’re so mad is that you feel very threatened by how good these Stray Kids dudes are. Maybe winning last year’s battle has made me more arrogant than I’d thought, but I think I’d be less angry if these guys were just genuinely a better band than us like Day6 were and not… whatever the fuck this is.

“The judges don’t have anything on Stray Kids,” Mingi speaks up, showing everyone his phone screen. “Apparently JYP themselves got Stray Kids to join the competition cause they’re keen on signing them. This year’s gotta be rigged, there’s no way they would’ve made it in otherwise.”

“Well, if JYP wants to sign them, of course they’re going to win! This is bullshit, they’re set up from the start,” you scowl, clenching your fists.

Someone taps you on the shoulder. You damn near swing at them when you turn around.

It’s none other than the leader at the centre of the controversy, Bang Chan according to the participant list but Chris Bang according to Eric. He isn’t that tall, but he’s built, wide shoulders and toned arms, a chiselled jaw and an intense glare boring right into you.

“Oi. This isn’t rigged, you don’t even have a source for that rumour. Don’t try and get us kicked out just because you’re realising a second win won’t be so easy.”

Being mean definitely isn’t this man’s strong suit, you can tell that much straight away. Despite the confidence he held himself with especially onstage, his eyes waver, and he keeps fidgeting with his fingers; he isn’t clearly used to confrontation, but he must’ve felt the need to defend his honour and put on a brave face. You can respect the bravado. Not that you’ll ever admit it.

You scoff in his face.

“Say that to my face again without pissing yourself.”

“Excuse me?”

“You’re excused.”

Whirling around on your heel to leave, the leader catches your wrist, tugging you back to meet your gaze head-on this time, as if his nervousness is now fading or he’s simply too pissed off to care anymore. “Just because this is a competition doesn’t mean you have to be a dick. I just don’t appreciate you talking about my band like that.”

“Your band or your K-pop group?” you jeer, not quite sure why you’re egging him on. He’s right – the only proof Mingi had on his phone screen was a random person on Twitter. Maybe you’re just pissed that your new competition is so good and completely revolutionising the whole gig, or maybe you just like the storm that crosses his eyes every time you provoke him.

Maybe it’s a mix of both.

“Oh wow, cause we’re Korean. Real original, real xenophobic. Got anything better?”

Like a moth to a flame, he seemed to finally rise to meet your challenge, and you can’t help but find yourself excited for a possible spar of wits. Arguing with people probably is not something you should enjoy so much, but putting your competition in their place has always been a favourite pastime. One of the least chaotic pastimes at that.

“Have you even seen my band– that wasn’t a jab at your race, it was a jab at your dance performance instead of actual instruments at, you know… a Battle of the Bands? Go back to Produce 101 or something rather than try take over our scene.”

It’s tame and you know it, but ending things so quickly would be too easy. It was getting a little too chummy around here.

“So, you think this is your scene, huh? Own the whole state’s indie scene just because you won the battle of the bands last year?” His words drip with disbelief, and you can almost see his brief internal struggle on whether it’s worth it to keep arguing or not. But something about you is magnetic; they always take the bait. “There’s a reason it’s held yearly – sorry if our style is a little too fresh for you guys.”

Too fresh? You almost can’t believe your ears. “What, are you calling us boring?”

“I mean, I didn’t see the renegades with any flamethrower swords…”

There’s a playful edge to his words, almost as if a part of him is starting to enjoy the back-n-forth; he’s stupidly hot when he’s cocky. It reminds you of Wooyoung and Sunwoo and how their shit-eating grins get you weak in the knees, although intuition tells you he’s not usually this smug. No, he really thinks he has you pinned.

“Ah yes, the pinnacle of musical talent and ability – flamethrower swords.”

“Oh, that’s right, musical talent and ability, like stripping?”

You plaster on a saccharine grin that’s more demeaning than it is fake, trailing a finger along his jaw. “Aww, you even watched our performances! Like what you saw?”

Gottem.

It was a bit of a gamble, flirting with him without knowing which way he swings, but queer people tend to flock together and even if he wasn’t, it’s usually a sure-fire method of pissing someone off even more in a situation like this. Either way you’re riling them up and that’s exactly the goal – the goal you succeed in damn near every time.

The hitch in his beath doesn’t go unnoticed, as much as he tries to seem unphased. Score.“I don’t feel the need to drag my competitors’ performances to feel better about myself, so yes, I did enjoy the show. Though even you admitted Day6 would’ve won if it wasn’t for that, so why is flamethrower swords crossing the line?”

He keeps on thinking there’s a point in arguing with you, it seems, even though all he’s doing is telling you precisely what you want to hear. “I’m going to focus on the fact that you implied you enjoyed watching us strip. If you wanna see more of that, pretty boy, head to Club Prism on Friday night. I’ll show you just how much musical talent and ability stripping can be.”

“Are you… are you taking a jab at us or flirting with me?”

He seems genuinely confused at that, and the look on him is positively adorable. If you didn’t already want to ruin him, you sure do now. Simply smirking at him, you reach up to ruffle his hair and lean in real close, just for a fleeting moment.

“What do you think, hotshot?”

His eyes widen as he stumbles over his response, gaze dropping to your lips, but you pull back all too soon and twist away from him in a way too dramatic to not be practiced, flicking your hand out in a half-assed wave.

“See you then, Bang.”

You turn around to walk face-first into Sunwoo’s chest.

“There you are! We’re up after the next guys, what’re you doing?” Sunwoo’s eyes flicker between you and Chris – Chan? You didn’t quite get the memo on which he used more – who was still mildly bewildered and slightly upset. “What, busy pissing off the competition?”

The leader takes a triumphant step forward at that, “Yeah, actually- “

“Without me?”

The sheer dread that falls across his face at the realisation that trying to get a one-up on you with your bandmate will only backfire, is enough to crack you both up, enjoying the way he bites the inside of his cheek in frustration. Sunwoo seems to find it just as attractive as you do, shamelessly eyeing him up from top to bottom.

“Do you like men, Chan? Maybe we can keep the dancing to the bedroom.”

“Do all the renegades feel the need to aggravate their competitors?”

“Yes.”

Each of your bandmates seem to appear from behind each other, all perking up at the interaction like cats smelling fish nearby – not a single one of them could resist chiming in at the question, exchanging glances and snickers with each other.

“Well, not all of us,” Kevin insists, before promptly thinking better of it and adding, “Not all the time, anyway. But you got to admit, treating a battle of the bands like Just Dance is kiiind of… weird, to put it lightly.”

Eric snorts. “Or to put it bluntly, kind of dumb. How’d you even make it in?”

Chan furrows his brows at all the attention on him, glancing over his shoulder to look for the comfort of his band, who were all bunched up on the other side of the room, inching over to see what the fuss was about. He glances back to Eric. “Eric, right? I remember you.”

“Chris. And I remember the eyes you used to give my boyfriend.”

The words pierce through him like a blade, but before he can retort, said ex-boyfriend is behind him with a hand on his shoulder. “Chris? Is everything alright? Hey Eric. It’s uh… been a while.”

Felix looks very different to the last time you’d seen him – a lot more ink, a lot more piercings. It isn’t very surprising, considering he was doing a tattoo apprenticeship last you’d heard of him, and would likely explain why the rest of Stray Kids had all sorts of cool and professional looking tattoos, but it’s more intimidating than you’d like to admit. The homemade dinner-table designs on your skin pale in comparison, and you find yourself with the rare urge to cover up. With a glance at Kevin, you can tell he’s feeling similarly self conscious too.

“Guess this is what kept you so busy huh? Found yourself a better dance crew.” He doesn’t hide the bitterness in his words, folding his arms and staring him down.

Felix shrivels under his gaze, tightening his grip on his leader’s shoulder. “You know that’s not it, but alright. It’s not like you didn’t find yourself your people too, what’s the issue? Do we really have to fight over this?”

You don’t want to admit how you’ve just been staring at his mouth while he spoke; a silver sliver of metal catches your eye. A tongue piercing. The piercing Eric went so crazy over he egged you on to get one. No doubt he would be staring too.

“No, we don’t.” Eric tears his eyes away and promptly turns around, grabbing Sunwoo by the wrist to pull along after him, the rest of the band slowly trailing behind while giving awkward looks over their shoulders at your competitors.

Shrugging, you meet Chris’s eye for a moment just as you left, winking at him. “Nine o’clock. Bring the band if you want.”

San has to grab you by a belt-loop and tug you away, muttering something about being even worse of a flirt than him.

“I thought you and Felix broke up on relatively good terms,” Kevin presses carefully while transporting each part of Eric’s drum kit to the stage. “Are you all good?”

“I’m fine,” Eric huffs, plopping down the hefty kick drum down and cracking his knuckles. “We did. I just… when he said he was too busy for our dance crew anymore, I didn’t think it was because he’d gone and formed one without me. But it’s– it’s whatever. Forget about that, we’re about to put on one hell of a show, right?”

“Right!” You cut in enthusiastically, clasping your hands together. “Let’s knock their socks clean off. They got nothing on us! Where’s Wooyoung and Mingi?”

Everyone starts looking around for where the couple went, a series of eye-rolls crossing each of your faces when you realise they’re missing. Right before the show, of course, because their horny asses can never find a convenient time to sneak away to make out – and that’s coming from you.

“We’re here, we’re here!” Wooyoung bursts out from behind the curtains, Mingi in tow, both with their hair looking dishevelled and lip tint on their collars. “Ay, ay, I know what it looks like, but it was actually Changbin’s fault this time – you know that guy who I said was my best friend in high school? Well, he’s dating this Minho dude now and- “

“Wooyoung got mad that he doesn’t wanna suck his dick anymore and got all up on me to show off what they were missing out on,” Mingi deadpans, chuckling as Wooyoung tries to shove him for exposing him. “We’re still on time, right?”

“Barely – your bass is over there, get moving!” You laugh in disbelief, “You two are incorrigible.”

Set-up goes otherwise without a hitch, and finally, all eyes are on you.

It’s these moments you lived for, the moments you feel every fibre of your being come alive at the clacking of Eric’s drumsticks counting you in, every sense heightened for the musical onslaught that comes next.

You know you don’t have all the props and the stunts that Stray Kids do, you don’t have the pyrotechnics either. But what you do have is enough stage presence to fill a stadium and command a crowd, so you go on to do what you do best: perform. Everyone brings out all the stops – Mingi growling into the mic, Eric doing tricks with his drumsticks, you and Sunwoo cockily flipping your handheld microphones in sync, San slides onto his knees in his fit of passion to bring his face way too close to the audience, Wooyoung does a death-drop in time with the beat drop and at some point Kevin starts using his foot to play the keys.

It’s electrifying, it’s addicting; the soul-grasping moment of being seen, being in the spotlight, being known and being beheld. The thundering of your heartbeat quickly becomes one with the heavy beat of the drums and bass, and for a moment, hands on the mic and eyes on the people in front of you; real, individual people, with their own lives and stories that are tuning in to hear yours, to embrace it or otherwise, you remember what it really means to feel alive.

The energy is so palpable you could almost grasp it, climb it, ride it like a wave; the thought of attempting to crowd-surf crosses your mind until Wooyoung clearly has a better idea, strutting over to one of the metal poles that makes up the side of the stage.

He isn’t about to- oh, but he is. He tests its weight, then pulls himself up onto it like it’s a night at the Prism, swinging himself around it and showing off the fanciest tricks he can do on a static pole, soaking up all the screams and attention the crowd gives him.

You quickly look at Sunwoo, then down at the mic in your hands, and he seems to get the message, giving you an encouraging nod. High off the rush of the stage, you grin wildly, tossing the microphone halfway across the stage. The former soccer player stops playing guitar briefly to catch it in one hand like the absolute madman he is, shoving it half into his pocket, and you make a mad dash to join Wooyoung on the pole.

He extends his arms to you, holding to the pole with his legs. When you jump up with a surge of strength to meet him, the whole crowd gasps, erupting into a cacophony of cheers when he successfully catches you, pulling you onto the pole with him. The last line of the song is yours, and you notice your bandmates all looking at you to see if they need to take over for you without your mic; instead, you roughly grab Wooyoung by the choker around his neck and pull him close enough to use his headset mic, finishing the song with a bang.

The lights fade to black, and you can’t help but think that you’ve never had a louder crowd before – but a more intrusive thought comes with it. Was it louder than Stray Kids’?

“Sooo… we all agree we should get y’alls a stripper pole next time, right?” Mingi suggests casually, not-so-subtly eyeing up you and his boyfriend while he passed each of you a bottle of water in the lobby. “They ate that shit up.”

“You look like you want to eat us up,” you snort, bopping him on the head with the plastic water bottle. “But you have a point. The crowd seems to love flashy stuff like that, I think we and Stray Kids are the only bands that’ve really got reaction from everyone… we needa lean into it, especially since we don’t have the budget that the abandoned children do.”

Eric chokes on his drink at the abandoned children comment, Kevin snickering and smacking his back. You just know coming up with all sorts of mocking nicknames for them will soon become commonplace; such is the band’s sense of humour.

“Won’t we get disqualified if we put on a full-on strip show?” Eric reasons, “That’s what the Prism is for, you guys. Which San told me you invited Chris to.”

You shrug. He isn’t necessarily supposed to like it, it’s your own decision. “Yeah, I invited all of them there. Until after that entire ordeal, you seemed like you didn’t care about them, so is it really a problem if I wanna show off in front of them a little?”

“I never said it was,” he huffs, rolling his eyes at you. “No, I want to go with you.”

“What?”

“Teach me how to do pole.”

You blink, look at Wooyoung, blink again, then turn back to Eric. “You want to do pole dancing? Like, at the club? With us?”

“I think three people on a pole is a bit difficult, especially for a beginner,” Wooyoung chips in. He looks doubtful, and while you try not to underestimate someone as viciously determined as Eric when he sets his mind on something, you can’t help but mirror his expression.

“I know you’re an incredible dancer, Eric, but pole is nothing like that. If it was, I’d be able to join your dance crew by now.”

Thoroughly amused at the thought, he shrugs. “There’s always room for one more with us. You’re not half bad anyway, you could probably do one of our easier choreographies–“

“You also have only four days. You just won’t have the time to get anywhere near our level before Friday – dude, do you even know how hard it is to do the kind of shit we do?” Wooyoung guffaws, almost as if the very notion of it’s possibility was insulting his very livelihood. “We still need to work on our next round!”

Eric gnaws on the inside of his cheek in thought, mulling it over for a moment before you all notice the look on his face that means he’d just gotten a great idea and he isn’t about to take no for an answer. That in itself is just about as attractive as it is positively infuriating. “What if I called in sick to work this week?”

“Eric, if you keep skipping work and selling their shoes, you’re gonna be fired, friend’s dad or not–“

“Truuuust me. Jeff could never fire me, he likes me more than his own son! Look, just teach me as much as you can in the four days and if I’m good enough I can tag along with one of you two for a song or two. Please? I’ll pay it back.”

You narrow your eyes at him. He knows full well how dangerous those words are – the last time he’d promised to do anything in return for something, Sunwoo didn’t let him come for days,and he should know that you’re just as bad as Sunwoo is – if not worse.

“Damn Eric, I didn’t know you enjoyed being blueballed that much,” Sunwoo laughs, ribbing him in the side. “You really gonna try that with ____ and Wooyoung? Have you no respect for your dick?”

The stupid grin is already plastered on your face before you could help it, and at a glance, you see Wooyoung has the same – only for entirely different reasons, for sure.

“You gonna be my service sub for four days then, to make it even?” Wooyoung challenges, and Eric’s eyes widen. Wooyoung isn’t usually the controlling and dominant type – he much prefers to be a brat straight from hell (the only thing straight about him,) but he certainly has his moments where he dishes out just as much as he can take.

Suppose Eric is just the lucky winner this time.

He takes a deep breath through his nose, then rises up to the challenge. “You better be a really good teacher.”

“You doubt me?”

Eric then turns to you, just the slightest bit unnerved at the intensity of your stare following Wooyoung’s request. “Spit it out, what do you want?”

“You’re doing all the cleaning in the apartment for a week.”

“Motherfucker!” Eric half-laughs, half-roars. “I’m the one who does all the cleaning in the apartment anyway! You guys are such slobs.”

“Hey!” Kevin pipes up, making a face. “Don’t lump me in with those two gremlins. I do the dishes every time I use them.”

You can’t help but laugh at the outrage; the fact that Eric is less keen on doing chores than being at Wooyoung’s every beck and call, knowing full well how cruel he can be, has you rolling. Something about Eric and even Kevin getting so heated is incredibly amusing, but also kind of endearing. Maybe it’s the cute little nose scrunch they do, or maybe it’s just fun to rile them up – or both, probably both. Still, you hold your ground, not joking in the slightest despite the humour you (and Sunwoo, so it seems, by his muted snickering beside you) take in it.

“If you already do all the cleaning, then it’s no different to do all my chores for a week, no? Those are my conditions. If you want to stick it to your ex and his buddies this bad, you’d do it. Besides, to learn pole in four days, it’s gonna take you a lot more dedication than it does to do my chores… but if you can’t handle that then–“

Ah, the magic words.

“I can handle it! Just you wait, I’ll work that pole just as good as you do by Friday.”

San just laughed, patting him on the shoulder. “Oh, Eric. You should know better than to make deals with the devils.”

“Do it again.”

Maybe you wanted to put your beloved roommate through hell. But as it turns out, he makes a frustratingly fast learner – he already had incredibly upper body strength from all his time in the gym, and great coordination and control over his body after all his time he spent with his dance crew. You couldn’t figure out why that bothered you so much, why a part of you almost wanted to watch him fail and struggle. Is it the sadist in you? No, it couldn’t be that – that was only fun when it was sexy or deserved and Eric being bad at pole dancing would be neither.

It’s only when you see him perfect a move that took you weeks of practice on his second day of trying pole dancing that it clicks; and maybe you knew it the whole time but refused to admit it.

Insecurity.

Such a familiar face – she’d been popping up a lot recently, ever since Stray Kids got involved with the contest. Ever since you saw them perform and flip everything upside down, ever since you saw the leader’s stupidly handsome face and decided to make an enemy of him, and now, seeing Eric pick up so easily what took you months of practice to get to that point – yeah, it’s insecurity alright. That ugly demon that always shows her twisted face just as you think you’ve gotten rid of her.

“What– I literally did exactly what you did, the exact same way!” Eric protests, dropping off the pole. “What’s with you? Even Wooyoung wasn’t this critical, and he was bossing me around just for the fun of it.”

You sigh deeply through your nose, reminding yourself not to get too agitated. After all, this is your demon to battle with, not his. It isn’t fair on him, especially now that you’ve identified the grimy feeling, you know that’s probably the very same demon pushing him to do this in the first place.

It isn’t that hard to put two and two together; Stray Kids made him feel just as insecure as you – no, even more so, since he has to battle his lingering feelings over his ex and his friends along with whatever professional or artistic insecurities you’re going through, too.

Maybe you’ve been too hard on him.

“Sorry,” you breathe out, “I’m just… tense. I really don’t like to admit how worked up the homeless kids got me, but I suspect you’re just as bad if you’re determined to learn pole dancing in four days just to impress them.”

It was a little blunt, but such is your style, and the band are more than used to it by now; it’s rarely hostile. Just honest. And usually only because you pay enough attention to them and know them well enough to pick up on those things – it’s a love language in it’s own way. Not a conventional one by any means, but you trust them to speak up if you cross a line.

Eric doesn’t even deny it, he only deflates. “I suppose I haven’t been very subtle about that. Yeah, it’s just… why’d you invite them to the Prism? What’s the goal, here?”

You stare him down, unable to be bothered with his roundabout way of talking about his feelings. It’s not that Eric’s ever been a particularly closed off person; he’s quicker to talk about his feelings than most, usually, but he’s been trying to convince himself he’s been over Felix for more than a year now.

Spoiler alert: he isn’t.

“You tell me, Eric. Why are you trying to do this? What are you hoping to accomplish by performing with us?”

Realising this is going to be a heavier kind of conversation and he wouldn’t be back on the pole until you talk it through, he plops down next to you with a sigh.

“What do you think? I want them to look at me. I want Felix to look at me and see what he’s missing, I guess. I want Chris to look at me like he did before, like I’m everything he wanted to be. I want them all to see that I’m doing just as well as they are after all this time. I want them to feel threatened by me, in a way – god, that sounds so weird but I mean like–“

“You want them to feel the way they make you feel,” you interrupt gently, placing a hand on his shoulder.

His silence speaks volumes. He gently takes your hand and dropping it to his lap, playing with your fingers idly. It’s a good enough of a distraction from the intensity of your gaze, the way you always manage to see right through him.

“Yeah,” he chokes out quietly. “Fuck, I just – I still like him. I said I was over him but–“

“I know.”

He huffs softly, a small, dry smile on his lips. There’s no humour in it. “Of course you know. Nothing gets past you, does it?”

“Of course not. I care about you too much to miss anything important like that.”

He softens at the reminder; it’s love, in the end. Confronting, but often necessary. He clears his throat, figuring he needs to lay it bare. “Right. Well. Felix… he was my first real love, I think. And it’s stupid, because we didn’t even break up on bad terms – we’re still friends! I think. But it just, it stings, you know? He just started drifting. Getting busier. And when I asked him to make more time for me, he said he didn’t have the time to give me the love and attention I deserved.”

“I knew things were a little different back then, but finding out he left our dance crew to make another dance crew with the friends he did have time for, I guess, and they’re all stupid talented and clearly doing pretty well off to afford all those outfits and props and on top of all that they enter the competition he knows we enter every year without telling me. I just… I’m pretty convinced now that I loved him more than he ever loved me.”

How ungrateful, you think, rubbing circles onto his palm with your thumb, He was lucky to have a guy like Eric. I can’t imagine how anyone can meet such a wonderful person and take them for granted like that. We’ll show him. And make him pay.

You grasp both Eric’s hands in yours once he finishes speaking, bringing them to your lips and brushing small kisses to his knuckles. Another intimate gesture you try not to think too hard about – it just feels right in the moment.

“That sounds awful. It’s a lot of repressed feelings all coming rushing back full force with added bitterness, huh?”

He nods slowly, head hung low and eyes resting on your entwined hands.

“Do you want to get over him? Or are you hoping you’ll impress them and maybe you can rekindle something with him? Do you want to make him – and Chris, by the sounds of it – do you want to make them… jealous?”

“Suppose I’m more of a jealous person than I like to admit.”

You casually ignore the way that makes your heart drop in your chest just a little bit. You can dwell on what that’s meant to mean later. That’s something that’s become habit over the years, but it’s been serving you pretty well so far.

“So you do? I mean, I should probably be encouraging healthier ways of working through all those emotions, but I won’t lie… I want them to look at us too. I want to get them all worked up, I want to stick in their mind the same way they’re stuck on ours.”

It’s Eric’s turn to give you the look, and you almost forgot how good he is at seeing through you the same way.

“You want to mess with them too, don’t you?”

Maybe you deserved that one.

“I’ll keep my hands off Felix, if that makes you feel any better about it.”

Eric laughs at your smarmy grin, squeezing your hand and giving you a tiny smirk. “No, no. Quite the contrary, actually – I want you to mess with him specifically. With me. I wanna gang up on him a little, cause… I feel like if you’re there, I won’t slip up and accidentally tell him about my feelings. We can stay mysterious and sexy and have him eating out of the palm of our hand.”

It wouldn’t be the first time you and any of your bandmates went out with the intention to pick out a plaything to share for the night, but you know it’s going to be different if the said plaything is Felix. It definitely won’t help Eric get over him, but based on the way he dodged the question, you figure that isn’t exactly his agenda anymore. If he just wants to make Felix jealous, hot and bothered, show him that he too is still talented, sexy, and with a band of equally as talented and sexy friends, you could do that.

The fact that you’d enjoy it just as much as him is honestly just a bonus.

“Eric?”

“Yeah?”

You pause to blink at him. “I think you might need therapy.”

He shrugs. “Yeah, probably. So like, does that mean you’re in, or…?”

You chuckle incredulously, bumping him in the shoulder.

“You bitch. Of course I’m in, let’s get that man on his knees.”

You really should’ve known better than to doubt a Capricorn with their mind set on something, especially one who you’ve known as long as Eric.

Unsurprisingly, he was covered in bruises by Friday night, but whether that was from the brutality of the pole that non-pole dancers don’t often realise comes with the craft, or from Wooyoung having his way with him all week, no one could really know. Either way, he fit right in with the less conventional performers of the Prism, even more fitting how he would be performing with Scar.

Despite being thoroughly messed up and worked tirelessly, his eyes were alight with excitement as soon as you brought him into the familiar dim lighting of the club, and he looked more awake than ever. Perhaps this would give him the closure he needed. More likely it’d fan the flames, but who’s to tell, really? You’d be there for him either way.

Once fully in costume, you peek out of the dressing rooms to scan the crowd for your guests – they never did say they were coming, but Eric insisted they wouldn’t be able to resist, especially Felix, and especially when you made it some sort of challenge. They don’t tend to start shit, he’d said, but if provoked, they’d never be able to resist, and you can’t help wondering if that’s exactly why Eric got along with them so well.

You aren’t one to talk, though. The reason you’re here is because you’re just as bad.

“Are they here?” Eric peeks his head around the corner after you, giggling at the cartoonish-ness of it all. “They better- ah, look! There’s Changbin and Jisung and… I don’t know the other guys names yet, but I’d assume Felix and Chris would be with them.”

“Is that them behind Changbin?”

“It is! Perfect, it’s showtime. Let’s go!”

Ever the excited puppy, he ushers you back towards the dressing rooms to finish touching up your hair and makeup. With time ticking before your performance still, Eric is restless, bouncing his leg and constantly checking himself in the mirror, only catching himself when he notices the endeared yet amused face you give him.

“What? This is a whole new type of stage than I’m used to, it’s exciting.”

“I know,” you hum, “It’s cute. But you could do to calm your nerves a little.”

“What exactly are you suggesting? We should probably save our energy for the performance and the… private show afterward,” he reminds you slowly, but it’s hardly stern as much as it is teasing.

You shrug. “I never said you should expend any energy – where is your mind going, you horndog?”

“Oh please, that’s rich coming from you–“

You climb into his lap to silence him, and his hands already find their usual place at the back of your neck just as quickly, almost magnetic. “I can tell you’re thinking too hard. So stop thinking and just kiss me.”

Eric doesn’t need to be told twice; finding solace in your touch has been second nature to him for years, and he finds himself quickly melting into the familiar softness of your lips. He doesn’t seem to care for the fact that you are making out in a rather public area for all the club’s performers, the other couple of people in the room too absorbed in putting together their own intricate outfits and far too used to you and Wooyoung’s antics, but Eric not knowing that and kissing you breathless anyway set off sparks beneath your skin.

It does seem to work to calm him down though, kissing him slowly to the sultry bass reverberating throughout the building, his hands smoothing over your body and tracing patterns over the clothed skin clearly to calm himself more than you. By the time the current song finishes, and you finally peel yourself off him, he’s staring at you with a dazed grin on his face – you’ll never tire of that sight.

“Come on, time to show the stray cats who’s boss.”

The routine you and Wooyoung came up with for Eric isn’t nearly as difficult as your usual choreographies, more so just a compilation of moves that look a lot harder than they actually are and a lot of floorwork, but flashy is exactly what you were going for with this. Flashy and sexy – San said he’d shout dinner for whoever could get any of your victims – sorry, guests – to cream their pants, and you and Eric took that personally.

Apparently, that was one of Felix and Eric’s favourite pastimes.

The choreography consisted of a pole and a chair, and with any luck, your target for tonight would be a willing volunteer.

You start off with yourself in the chair and Eric behind you, movements like he is controlling your body like a puppet; Eric wanted to show an image of control tonight, and you let him, making direct eye contact with the freckled face in the crowd when Eric’s hand snaked around your neck and your legs spread apart.

Felix, surprisingly, doesn’t flinch, watching your every move with rapt attention, like he couldn’t take his eyes away if he tried. It’s a direct contrast to Chris, who keeps flitting his gaze around nervously and trying to figure out what to do with his hands. He clearly hasn’t been to a strip club before, and the sight only spurs you on more.

You recognise Changbin, and guess that the guy next to him must be Jisung, absolutely losing their minds at the front of the stage, cheering and holding out cash to you. You happily saunter up to the shorter man, making sure to let your touch linger on his hand just a second too long when taking the bill and slipping it into your waistband and popping a couple more buttons off your shirt.

Eric goes as far as to lean over and grab Jisung’s tip in his teeth, winking and ghosting his fingertips over the man’s jaw; something you wouldn’t usually recommend, but you suppose this situation is different considering he knew the people already. Still, taking your chance to put him in his place, you improvise, grabbing his hips and pulling him back into you, pressed up against his back.

He gasps, turning his head over his shoulder to look at you with a surprised grin. This wasn’t part of the routine, but he nor the crowd seem to mind when you start peeling his outer shirt off with your teeth, leaving him in a skin-tight white tank top.

You cheekily bite his shoulder before strutting back over to the pole, beckoning him to follow with a crook of your finger. He does, and you continue with your routine, spinning around the pole with him and exchanging as many heated glances and sensual touches as possible where you could. He works up a sweat really quickly, but Eric covered in a thin sheen of it is a sight to see, and he’s positively glowing by the time it gets to the good part.

Scanning the crowd, you look for Felix, but he’s too far from the stage for what you planned, leaning over to the tallest one and saying something you can’t decipher. The song only has so many beats and you can’t waste time and risk ruining the routine waiting for him to wander closer, so you look at what you have to work with. Closer to the stage is, in fact, the man you invited yourself; so once again, you improvise.

Teasingly sliding your shirt off fully, you make your way to the front of the stage and throw it around the back of his neck like a rope, tugging him up to the stage with a flirty wink. He visibly short-circuits, looking at you with wide, stunned eyes, but when he spots Eric over your shoulder gesturing him toward the seat, he steels himself and climbs up onto the stage with you.

Perfect. Letting go of your shirt, you leave it hanging around his shoulders before dragging him to and shoving him onto the chair, where Eric quickly cages him to. He swallows thickly, but meets Eric’s smirk, clearly catching onto the competitive tension. It’s amusing how quickly he regains control of his nerves when challenged; either he works well under pressure, or it’s merely a façade. Either way, his hands stay firmly by his sides while Eric rolls his hips in his lap, until you come up behind him, sliding your hands down his arms to grab his wrists and place them on the shiny leather atop Eric’s muscular thighs. He tenses for a second, but doesn’t pull away when you slide his hands up toward the dancer’s hips.

Eric is predictable. Right as he has Chris exactly where he wants him, he casts a glance over his shoulder to smirk at Felix in the crowd, who simply raises his eyebrows back with a controlled look of amusement. That seems to do it for him enough, slipping out of Chris’s lap to make his way back over to the pole for the solo part of his routine while you take his place over the chair.

The audience loves him; holding himself up on the pole with just his strong legs (and the help of his leather pants) he removes his hands completely, grabbing his top and ripping it down the middle in one quick movement to the beat of the song, revealing his chiselled torso covered in hickeys. He’s good at this, making you think it’d be worth convincing him to work here instead of the roller-rink he constantly fucks over, but you have more important things at hand.

Your lap dance is even more elaborate, and it doesn’t take long to visibly see how worked up you’ve got him; his pants were awfully tight, and you shamelessly stare as you grind down in front of it, licking your lips.

It’s then when you notice Chris really starting to crack, running a hand through his hair in a self-soothing motion and biting his lip. There’s nothing quite like flustering your competition – despite it not being the original plan – or the original victim, this is a pretty decent way for the dance to go. He can’t seem to look away from your hands as they glide over his muscular arms, then move to your pants, undoing the button then bringing his hands to your waistband and make him slide them down your legs.

When the lighting goes white for a moment, you finally realise the deep shade of red he’s taken, from his face to his ears to his neck, and you can’t resist; you lean in next to his ear and ask, “You enjoying yourself, Bang?”

He chuckles just loud enough for you to hear, and it sounds nervous in nature, but his next words are pointedly not. “I think you could do better.”

You know better than to freeze mid-dance, but it catches you by surprise, and it’s written all over your face, bringing back that insufferable smirk on his. You don’t have the breath to respond, too focused on the rest of your routine, and before you know it, it’s over, ending with you and Eric in your boxers and jockstrap respectively on either side of the chair, a knee resting on the man’s lap and an arm around the back.

As the cheers fill the emptiness the music left behind, Chris reaches into his pocket and pulls out cash for the both of you, looking you straight in the eyes as he tucks them into your waistband with the gentlest of touches, then politely nods and leaves the stage.

“Why do I feel like we just lost?” Eric mutters, chucking his over-shirt back on backstage, only bothering to do up a single, lower-hanging button. “We put on the show of a lifetime, but he looked even more smug than we did by the end of it!”

“I teased him,” you explain, shimmying your pants back on, “I asked if he was enjoying himself, and he said I could do better – the fucking audacity. I was so stunned it showed, and he was sooo proud of himself, I guess.”

Eric rolls his eyes at that. “I never expected this cocky streak in him – he was always so overly friendly and polite when I knew him, but I suppose I never tried that hard to provoke him. Or when I did, I think he felt too guilty over liking a taken man. Do you think he’s slept with him now? Is that why he’s so smug?”

“No point wondering,” you hum with a shrug, “Come on, let’s go find tonight’s plaything. Unless you’re too tired?”

“For this? Never.”

You order shots for the two of you, downing them quickly before heading to the dance floor and letting loose, dancing languidly and getting all up in each other’s personal space. Both of you keep an eye out for Felix in between the bumping and grinding, and you manage to spot him at the bar just as Eric’s hands pull your ass to his crotch as you sway to the music.

Eric notices him not long after, grabbing your chin and turning it to him, then to his own face, capturing your lips over your shoulder. You love the way he kisses you when someone’s watching, even more now when he has something to prove. It’s not just that he doesn’t care that other people are around, but he in fact enjoys knowing that they can see him claim you. That they can see him bite your lower lip and slip his tongue into your mouth and dig his hands into your hips.

You crack your eyes open slightly mid-kiss to glance toward where you saw Felix earlier, only finding him already staring right back at you; he quickly averts eye contact and stares into his drink, but you simply smile as Eric’s kisses dip lower to trail down your neck. He gives Felix the flirty side-eye then, and while you don’t see it, you see Felix unable to resist looking back.

His eyes linger this time, like he realises you don’t mind being watched, and you don’t miss the way his tongue darts out to wet his lips and he gulps. Got him.

You pretend to pout as Eric pulls away from you, but his eyes are locked on his ex, chuckling under his breath as he laces his hand with yours and pulls you over with him to the bar. Each of you take a seat on opposite sides of Felix with matching cocky looks.

“My, my, freckles. Someone sure does enjoy watching.”

“So, you came after all. What did you think?” Eric pried, leaning an elbow on the bar. “The performance, I mean, not the extra show. Your boyfriend sure seemed to enjoy himself.”

Felix scoffs at that, taking a sip from his drink. “Eric, I can smell your jealousy from a mile away. Chris isn’t my boyfriend. You and ____ are very talented and good-looking, and you did good.”

That was a good sign if any to cut in, you think – after all, that’s exactly what you’re here for. Damage control. Or maybe damage prevention.

“Aww, don’t be so dull, Felix. You wouldn’t be here if you weren’t at least a little interested in what we could do.” Flipping it right back on them usually works quite smoothly, you find, and Felix is no different.

He takes another very deliberate sip of his drink. “Well, I was definitely curious,” he admits, “But I didn’t expect you to be here too, Eric. You never told me you became a stripper.”

“You never told me your new band was a dance crew,” Eric replies simply, but he quickly catches your eye and must have realised how bitter he sounded. “Guess that just means we need to talk more often. You should meet the other guys; I think you’d get along with them great – this one especially.”

He nods at you, and you realise what he’s doing right away; by pushing Felix towards you, he doesn’t sound as bitter or jealous anymore. It works, as the briefest look of confusion crosses Felix’s delicate features as he turns to take a better look at you, blinking innocently.

“Yeah? ____, right? We met a few times.”

“You say that like it was that long ago,” you laugh lightly, “Yeah, at a few parties. Your moves have gotten a lot better, though. But I guess the dance floor at a party is a bit different to a big stage, huh?”

Finally seeming to loosen up a little, he nods. “Very different. That was just me fucking around and having fun.” He offers you a small smile, and it’s almost blindingly bright.

You smile back, a mischievous glint in your eye. “Oh? I do like fucking around and having fun.”

Felix chokes on his drink for a second but clears his throat and laughs it off. “Wow, you’re bold, aren’t you? Guess you and Sunwoo broke up then…?”

“I never dated Sunwoo,” you clarify – it’s not the first time you’ve had to, and definitely won’t be the last. “He’s just good with his mouth.”

Eric decides then to pipe up cheekily, “But ____ is even better. Don’t tell Sunwoo I said that, though.”

Felix’s eyes widen, glancing between the two of you in mild disbelief. “Are you… trying to set me up with them or something? It’s okay Eric, I’ve already moved on.”

It’s an attempt to be reassuring, but you don’t doubt that it struck Eric right through the heart like a knife. He does better to hide it this time, shrugging indifferently. “Nah, ____ doesn’t really date, anyway. Honestly, I just want to see him have his way with you – he’s really hot when he’s in the zone. You wouldn’t have lasted a minute in that chair.”

You giggle at that. “Guess it was a good thing Chris was closer to the stage, huh?”

That seems to spark a fire behind his dark eyes, giving him a disbelieving look.

“Oi now, I’m not that easy,” Felix drawls, swirling his drink around before downing the rest of it. “I can handle a lap dance.”

“Do you want one, then?” You prompt, leaning toward him enough for your shoulders to brush. “Don’t worry, on the house. Think of it as a friendly offering toward the competition.”

That seems to sober him up, raising an eyebrow at you. “You weren’t that friendly to Chris on Monday, though. He said you had quite the attitude.”

Eric snorts. “You love a bit of attitude, Lix.”

“That doesn’t mean I like it when someone insults my band, Eric,” Felix flashes back coolly, and you realise you probably struck a nerve by mentioning the competition. “You sure are cocky just because you won last year.”

“It’s not just because we won last year,” you start, idly picking at your nails to appear even more unbothered. You’re not sure if it’s working or not. “It’s because we’re just that good without needing to resort to party tricks – there’s a difference.”

“Party tricks,” Felix guffaws, tonguing the inside of his cheek, and you think you like that look on him. It only makes you want to rile him up even more. “If you’re this heated over pyrotechnics and tricks, just get Eric to do a flip or two and I’ll even ask Chris to let yous borrow our knives and flaming swords. Dunno how you’d make that work with instruments, but y’know, you guys are creative. You could like, think outside the box. It could be cool!”

Cute. He knows you’re being condescending towards him, but even then he still insists on offering you a kind gesture and a compliment as if it were a peace offering. If only I were that sweet, you think with amusement. Unfortunately for him, you don’t have any generosity to offer the man who cast your best friend to the side so casually.

“Yeah- no,” Eric rejects bluntly. “We’re not taking your leftovers. We can beat you even without a sugar daddy or sponsor to glam up our stages.”

“You do make good use of what you got,” Felix compliments earnestly, taking it in stride. He didn’t appear interested in fighting, despite how defensive his body language seemed. Honestly, his attempts at pacifism are almost admirable — you know how insufferable you two can sound, and most people lose their cool far quicker. “That impromptu pole dancing part was pretty impressive.”

Almost.

“Wow, you’re gonna just sit there and take that?” You speak your mind without thinking, drumming the tabletop with your nails. “Either you really do have a sugar daddy, or you need to grow a backbone.”

Felix sighs deeply, poking his tongue inside his cheek again in visible frustration. That in itself feels like a victory, so you don’t stop the smug look it brings to your features. “I don’t want to– do you guys want me to fight you, or something?”

“Yes!” You and Eric reply at the same time, which you can’t say you were expecting – this is definitely not where you had planned the night to go, but Eric is clearly on the same page as you are. “You’re hot when you’re mad.”

“And you’ve become a real sleaze since we last met, then.” Felix wrinkled his nose. “All that just to get your dick wet?”

“There it is, he has a backbone after all!” You cheer, clapping your hands with a cackle. “But no, if he just wanted to get his dick wet, I could do a much better job of that than you could, pretty boy. All that was just to see the look on your cute little face.”

Felix narrows his eyes at you, clearly trying to think of an appropriate response before it hits him – you can practically see the lightbulb go off as he leans in with a lazy grin.

“So you think I’m pretty cute?”

“Yeah.” You don’t back down, unflinching. If he thinks he can embarrass you by pointing out your attraction to him you never even bothered to conceal, he would be dead wrong. “Cute enough to toy with, I suppose. But I prefer guys with a bit more bite to them than that.”

“What do you want me to say? That I got plenty more bite if you ask nicely? That I know I can fuck you better than he can?” His shoulders are tense, arms on the table almost as if he is ready to push himself up and leave the table at a moments notice. “That you’re not bad to look at when you shut your mouth and aren’t pointlessly belittling anyone creative enough to make you feel insecure?”

Oh, he’s done it now. It was probably deserved after you deliberately trying to provoke him, but you hadn’t expected him to hit the nail right on the head – but no, it’s not just a matter of creativity. They were still stupid for treating a battle of the bands as a dance concert, at least, that’s what you keep telling yourself.

Eric laughs hard enough to give you a second to recover from the sting, clutching at his bruised abs that still peeked through the loosely hanging fabric of his shirt. “Oh, oh wow, haha- it was cute at first, but you really think you can do me better in bed than them? Oh my god, pfft, that’s hilarious. I’d invite you to prove it if I had any faith in that being true.”

“Bet?” Felix sure is heated now, and you’re discovering just how much you like seeing such usually polite characters get all riled up. It’s a very particular, twisted sense of satisfaction, but satisfaction nonetheless. He abruptly grabs a fistful of Eric’s hair and tightly pulls his head close; you notice Eric’s internal struggle as he barely manages to hold back a moan, but his breathless smile tells you he’s exactly where he wants to be. “I still remember exactly what makes you tick. What was my record, one and a half minutes?”

“Forget that,” Eric snickers, “You wouldn’t last one and a half minutes with ____ in your lap, and you think you can compare?”

No pressure or anything, you chide silently, but you don’t deny the ego boost it gives you, filling you with confidence.

“Nah, you’re full of shit,” Felix chuckles, low in his chest. “I’ve made you come so hard your got it on your chin, you’re not that good of an actor. You can’t pretend like I was bad in bed for some sort of high ground, cause you know it’s not true.”

Eric doesn’t budge, keeping the smug grin that you might as well have taught him firmly on his face. “I never said you were bad in bed, baby, I’m just saying that they’re better.”

He lets go of Eric’s hair, turning around to scoff at you. “He’s bluffing.”

“Possibly.” Honestly, at this point you can’t tell either, but you know that while he may exaggerate, he probably isn’t straight-up lying. “You’d just have to find out, wouldn’t you?”

He turns on the barstool to face you fully, giving you a decisive look up and down. “Alright then. And if I do last a minute and a half, will you finally keep my band’s name out of your mouth?”

Eric gleefully slides out of his seat, grabbing both of your wrists and dragging you towards the VIP rooms.

“Don’t worry, you won’t.”

You have no idea what Eric is planning; if it’s just you working your usual magic, maybe it’s possible to make him come in his pants in a minute and a half, but Eric’s unshakable confidence has you thinking that surely he must have something else up his sleeve. (If not, you suppose you’ll just take the compliment, but that wouldn’t bode well if you didn’t succeed.)

As soon as it’s just you three in a room with just a pole, plush loveseats and fancy, dim lighting, Eric takes his shirt off. He wastes no time.

“____, the timer.”

“You’re really serious about this, huh,” Felix wonders aloud, and you pause to smirk at that as you open the right app on your phone.

“You sound surprised, freckles. Does that mean you just came here for a not serious, good time? We can do that too.” You wink at him, and if you squint through the glow of the indigo wall lights, you think you see colour creep across his cheeks.

He holds your gaze for just a moment, almost as if to say I’m not afraid of you, but he looks away too quickly after for that to be true; at the wall rather than Eric’s naked torso. Grabbing his chin in your hand, you yank his head to make him look at your bandmate. “Hey. Look at him.”

“Oh no, don’t look at me,” Eric deflects in obnoxiously feigned shyness, “Look at him.” He promptly shoves you into Felix’s chest, but he catches you on instinct, albeit stumbling back into the nearest seat. You recover faster than he does, wanting to maintain your aura of control, pushing him down onto the leather and climbing into his lap.

“You didn’t answer my question, freckles,” you remind him, partially to buy time but also just to egg him on a little, tapping his nose. “Admit it, you’re not just here to prove a point. You want me.”

He clearly wants to make a sassy retort, but instead what comes out of his mouth is, “And if I do?” He gulps, you smile. He probably only just realised how eager he sounded. You appreciate the honesty, whether it’s from his inability to lie well or his confidence in himself. “It’s not like that’s saying much. You’re the one sitting in my lap right now.”

“And your hands are already on my ass.”

His hands are off in a split-second, eyes widening at the horror that he may have just crossed a boundary, keeping them hovering up next to him. “I-I’m so sorry, I–“

“Uh oh, the security won’t like that one,” Eric hums, only furthering the visible alarm written all over the other man’s face.

“Hey, I didn’t– it was habit, I really wasn’t trying to– I’m sorr–“

“I’m the security.”

It’s a cheesy line, but Felix was clearly not expecting him to abruptly grab his wrists and pin them above his head with a burst of strength, then nod at his discarded shirt that had fallen into your lap at the movement, so he’s a little too preoccupied to care. You know Eric well enough by now to catch on quickly, tightly tying Eric’s shirt around Felix’s wrists in a motion too quick to not be practiced. He tests the makeshift restraints, clearly not expect the flimsy fabric to hold him, but it doesn’t budge – and when that in itself dawns on him, the face he makes is priceless.

“That okay?” You make sure to ask; Eric probably knows Felix well enough to know what he’s working with here, but you need to hear him say it. No, you won’t force him to do anything he doesn’t want to prove a point – victory is far sweeter when it’s given to you freely.

He nods. “M’fine. Give me your worst.”

“Oh sweetheart,” you purr, “You wouldn’t be able to handle me on my best behaviour.”

You finally start to put the pieces together when Felix swallows thickly at that; it’s the confidence. Felix is easily flustered, even more easily intimidated, and Eric building you up to be this sort of irresistible sex god is really getting to the boy’s head.

“You’re so cute,” you continue, your face only inches away from his, sparkly eyes catching the purple illumination of the room wide and fixed on you. Yours flit down to his perfectly shaped lips and the metal ring that hugs the lower one. Under all the ink, steel, and fierce eyes, he looks so soft. It’s different from the intimidating look he has at a distance, but seeing him in such a light gets you even more eager to get your hands on him. “Makes me want to break you.”

Being physically on top of him, you can feel the shivers that go down his back.

He inhales shakily but tries his damn best to appear calm on the outside, maintain his unbothered facade – not that it’s fooling anybody. He nods at your phone on the seat next to him. “Start the timer.”

“Worried you won’t last already?” Eric presses, picking up the phone slowly.

“They’re in my lap already. Start it.”

Oh, you like the firmness in his voice.

You cast one last questioning look at Eric over your shoulder for guidance – this is his ex-boyfriend, after all, but Eric just sits himself on the low table in front of you and crosses his legs. “Give him the Mingi treatment from last week.”

Now, that you can do.

He taps the button, and you waste no time in crashing your lips to Felix’s; you can taste the familiar flavour of one of the Prism’s fruity cocktails on him, only making him that much more intoxicating. You’re buzzing, and you don’t know if that’s the shots talking, the remnants of adrenalin from performing, or just the kick you get out of riling up pretty boys like this – whatever it is, it makes you pull him for more, as close as you can get. Closer, chest to chest, crotch to crotch, hands sliding down his arms to his shoulders but snapping them back to his arms when he tries to relax them and drop them around you. He makes the tiniest noise at the show of force, but it’s not hard to pull more sounds out of him, biting at his lower lip and lewdly sucking on his tongue.

He’s so responsive, you quickly realise, and he was bluffing his cute little ass off the whole time – no wonder Eric was so confident. With another roll of your hips onto his barely concealed boner, he shudders again, and when you finally break the kiss to watch his face as you do the same thing with your hips a second time, his eyelids flutter shut.

They shoot open again when you release his hands to go for his pants, undoing his fly and shimmying them part-way down his hips, then quickly and completely removing yours, sitting yourself back down on his bulge with only his boxers separating you. It would be easier without it, but you feel cocky tonight under his awestruck gaze, and want to cash in San’s offer of a free dinner. So, you rub your bare pussy along the outline of his dick and leave a damp spot on the fabric that is rewarded with a deep groan.

A large part of pleasure is mental. Give him the Mingi treatment from last week, he said. What a fun way of telling me he has a praise kink and a penchant for dirty talk. If he’s anything like Mingi, words go straight to his head, as well as any sounds, so with that in mind, you made a point of putting on a show the whole while you kissed and grinded on him.

The fleeting thought crosses your mind that you hope his praise kink both ways – his low, gravelly voice would definitely do something for you saying all sorts of prettily filthy things. Luckily for you, though, your own voice was just as good at being sultry, as made evident with your bandmates, and the years on testosterone just made it even deeper and raspy.

“Mm, Felix,” you moan directly into his ear, grinding down harder on him and finally releasing his wrists to feel up his lightly toned body. “You’re so fucking sexy. Your face, those lips… of course you had to be a damn good kisser too, hmm? You good at using those lips elsewhere? I bet you could have me coming all over your pretty little face in no time. Fuck, I wanna sit on your pretty face so bad, baby.”

You expect him to tease you for it, but instead he bucks his hips up to meet yours, holding you tightly against him with his arms despite his bound wrists like he can’t afford to let you go. “Do it,” he murmurs, “God, I bet you’d taste amazing.”

You were right. That was way too sexy coming from his mouth, and the warmth it sends flooding south is dangerous, so you capture his lips with yours once more. His keenness to reciprocate tells you he’s just as enthusiastic about kissing as you are; the softness of his lips is a delicious contrast to the roughness of his jeans that aren’t tugged down far enough that scrape at your skin with every grind. He kisses you deeply, like he’s trying to taste all your secrets on your tongue, like he could lick all the spite and bitterness off your lips.

“Can confirm,” Eric pitches in from behind you, content with watching, and based on the sounds of it, stroking himself through his pants or boxers. You’re no stranger to an audience, rather enjoying the way you can almost physically feel the heat of his eyes on you, but you’re more surprised at how used to it Felix seems too. Suppose he got along so well with Eric for a reason. “They taste like heaven. And the way they twitch and tremble…”

The embarrassing part is how little you have to play it up; you moan into his mouth for him again, speeding up the motion of your hips and gasping at the dull pressure of him against your clit. He seems to notice, tonguing at the inside of his cheek again and bringing his lips to your ear.

“I can’t tell which one of us is enjoying this more,” he purrs, irresistibly velvety and spurring you on to grind on him faster. Time is ticking, and you would not be able to handle the humiliation of losing this stupid bet Eric put you on the spot for. That’d give them way too much ammunition over you and your band. “God… you’re soaked.”

“And you’re nice and hard for me, aren’t you?”

“Y-Yeah, fuck, I am.”

You shudder; christ his voice is doing things to you, and he knows. There’s a raggedy edge to his words that implies he’s not going unaffected either, you just need to push just a bit farther, just a bit—

Dragging your nails across his scalp, you grab a fistful of his hair and yank it back, ripping a beautiful whimper from him and exposing the length of his throat for you to bite down on. You bite hard, right above where his neck meets his shoulder, and he tenses all the way up with a loud groan, arms squeezing you tight as his cock twitches beneath you and spills into his boxers.

The timer goes off not a second too soon. The cockiness that surges up in you is rivalled only by the sheer relief of managing to accomplish your mission; that was somehow both the longest and shortest minute and a half of your life. You soothe the bite mark with slow drags of your tongue, savouring in the way Felix pants, struggling to catch his breath, and shivers at you blowing lightly on the spot you just bit.

“There’s- There’s no way that was a minute and a half,” Felix breathes out, slumping back against the seat. “The song that was playing just finished.”

Eric gleefully waves around the finished timer on his phone, clearly saying one minute and thirty seconds on it. “Go Fuck Yourself by Two Feet is only a two-minute song, Lix.” Fitting, too. “You lost fair and square.”

“But… But I… there’s no way…”

You remove yourself from his arms, leaving them tied and sitting almost shamefully in his lap, over the wet bulge on his boxers stained with your wetness and his cum. “How cute. Freckles doesn’t even last two minutes. Enjoyed the show, Eric?”

The man behind you looks even more smug then than he did when he managed to get Sunwoo to break and sub for him, which is a statement on its own considering how he never lets your other roommate forget it. “Boy, did I. You’re so sexy when you’re in the zone like that, baby.”

“Aww, babe! You- woah—!”

Your words fail you as you suddenly get shoved sideways onto the couch, Felix sliding down and nudging your legs apart with his elbows, and, still bound, holding your hips down and diving in to drag his pierced tongue against your pussy.

“You want a show, Eric? I’ll give you a show,” Felix growls before burying his face between your legs, taking your clit into his mouth and sending jolts of pleasure through your body. The sensation of his soft tongue and the hard steel has you grabbing at his hair again, trying not to give him the satisfaction of even bigger reactions, but it’s hard when he eats pussy like a god. Seriously, where did he learn how to—

“Fuuuck,” you groan, pushing your hips into his mouth more, “You know— I was just saying that to egg you on more— ah-ha, but if you love my pussy that much—”

He twists his head to bite sharply at your inner thigh, letting out a low grunt while you gasp. “You were right, though. I can have you coming all over my face in no time.”

“He tastes good, doesn’t he?” Eric teases, and you send him a look of betrayal for encouraging this – not that you were doing much to discourage it yourself. You don’t let him pull back for any more witty retorts, not when his mouth feels this fucking good. Instead, Felix just lets out a moan of approval, eyes falling shut as he gets messy with it. It’s almost embarrassing how much you’re enjoying this, the evidence of it coating his lips and chin, but know better than to let him know that. You came here determined to make a mess of him, and you’ll be damned if he leaves smugger than you.

Or Chris. The reminder of how your plan to frazzle him somehow backfired stings, and the hot flash of humiliation has you suddenly frustrated with how you’re letting Felix unravel you like this. Felix is the one with his wrists tied, so why do you feel like you’re the one at his mercy?

More importantly, why does being at the mercy of the enemy turn you on so much?

This was not how tonight was meant to go. That’s the last coherent thought you manage to have before Felix manages to rip your orgasm out of you, powerful and intense, with nothing but his lips and tongue. Your head flies back, your grip on his hair tightens, and so does the grip your legs have on his head, but he doesn’t relent the whole while, drawing moan after moan from you until the wave crashes and you let him go.

The proud, almost taunting grin he has on his glistening face as he pulls back and sits up has you so incredibly heated – heated with frustration, heated with desire for more. “So,” he hums simply, licking his lips, “How’d I do on time, mm?”

Eric stares at the two of you wide eyed, then looks at his phone. “As of just now, that would’ve been… two minutes.”

“Ha,” you scoff at him weakly, knowing full well it wasn’t anything to scoff at. “That’s still better than you, minute-and-a-halfer.”

That doesn’t seem to take away from his smugness at all, shrugging casually. “Okay then, two-minutes. You gonna keep my band outta your mouth now, or what?”

“Pff.” You shuffle yourself to sit upright again, crossing your arms at him. “That was if you managed to last a minute and a half, which you didn’t. Nice try, halfer.”

He scrunches his nose at that. “I think I preferred ‘freckles.’”

“Too bad,” Eric cuts in, finally getting up and joining you on the loveseat, pushing Felix back and grabbing at his jeans. “I think it’s my turn now.”

For a moment you think Felix will protest – this isn’t part of the bet, and he never agreed for anything more than that, but he doesn’t.

“Missed me that much?” Felix teases, lifting his hips to let him slide his jeans down his legs and kick them off with his shoes somewhere. If the way he completely lit up at Eric joining in didn’t already give away how much he probably missed him too, his eagerness to touch him definitely did. “C’mon, take off the shirt-cuffs.”

Eric snickers at shirt-cuffs, but when he grabs them, he only brings them back above Felix’s head. “Hmm… I don’t think I will, Felix. I know you enjoy them enough. I bet you’d love the ropework I get up to with the band sometimes.”

Felix’s brows raised, pliantly keeping his wrists above his head. “Ropework… and- the band? Are you all fucking each other?”

“Why wouldn’t we? We’re all queer and we’re all sexy,” you deadpan, Eric chuckling as he rids himself of his own pants and slides off the sticky fabric of Felix’s boxers. “Why, you don’t have any fun with your band? Are they all they straight or just boring?”

“Just monogamous, more like,” Felix mumbles, not looking at you in favour of being enthralled with Eric manhandling him into the position he wants and spitting on his hole.

You roll your eyes. “So, boring. Got it.”

Whatever response he had to that was quickly cut off with a sharp inhale as Eric slipped a finger past his rim, slowly pushing in knuckle by knuckle. “You didn’t happen to bring lube, did you?”

“No, but I can help,” you offer deviously, opening your legs for him and gathering your own wetness on your fingers. “Fuck me first? After all, halfer did insist he could fuck me better than you could. I’d like to see him try.”

“Ooh– “

Felix scoffs at that, scrambling back up and caging Eric between you as he leans over him to slip his finger in you. “I made you come with just my mouth in two minutes, sweetheart. What makes you think you can last longer around my cock?”

“That was a fluke,” you insist – it’s got to be. It’s got to be, because if this man could consistently make you come within minutes just by eating you out, you wouldn’t know what to do with yourself. “What makes you think you’d last any longer than a minute and a half? And that was just from some grinding and kissing…”

“That was a fluke,” he parrots back while Eric struggles to keep fingering him from the awkward angle, but he’s determined. Felix smirks at you over his shoulder and it’s somehow both incredibly hot but also almost cute, the way it pulls at his features, the combination making your head spin. He’s calling your bluff – at least, he thinks it’s a bluff, but you aren’t entirely sure. He pulls his now-sticky fingers away replace Eric’s with his own, gently shoving him off with his free hand. “Go ahead. I’ll enjoy the show.”

“If you insist,” Eric chuckles, shifting around on the seats, finally taking off his jockstrap and letting his hard cock spring free. He presses into you slowly, then all at once with little resistance from you. “Mmh, you’re so fucking wet.”

You tense as he brings his hand down on the outer side of your thigh, hissing at the sting. “You know it, baby. Now fuck me like you mean it, I’m ready.”

He doesn’t need to be told twice, hiking your leg up over his shoulder enough to lift your hips off the cushion beneath you and putting those dancer hips of his to work. The angle draws embarrassingly loud cries from your throat before you can do anything to stop it, but he’s quick to grab the wrist of the hand you attempt to slap over your mouth.

“Nuh-uh-uh baby, I want to hear you – and I’m sure our audience would love it too,” Eric croons, grinning almost sadistically. It’s not like you’re embarrassed at him hearing you – he’s heard you babble and cry and moan and scream on multiple occasions, but something about Felix watching has you wanting to keep it together, wanting to stay the untouchable and powerful character you hold yourself to around him. Of course, Eric wouldn’t make that easy; he loves making you break your resolve far too much for that.

The realisation then hits you that you want – no, you need Eric to win this stupid little competition between you, and that isn’t going to happen by holding back. On the contrary, you need to show Felix how much you love Eric’s cock and how his would never compare, so you swallow your pride just to, ironically, be more prideful in the end.

“Fuck– there!” There’s no playing up necessary at all. Eric knows your body at the back of his hand, the same hand that snakes up toward your neck and lightly wraps around it, barely touching you, just a tease of more to come. You cover his hand with yours and press down, but he simply retracts his hand and uses it to drag his nails along your abdomen as he fucks you, the blunt pressure leaving tingly red lines behind. “Eric–“

“That’s right baby, say my name,” he pants. You do, you do it over and over, each time his hand trails closer up your body. This time, when you put your hand over his, he doesn’t pull back, wrapping around your neck and pressing down exactly where he needs to; very quickly, the lack of air has your body tingling and senses hazy.

You already know what he’s going to do next, the excitement furthering every physical sensation around you. After a few more toe-curling thrusts he lets go of your neck entirely, immediately bringing his thumb to your clit. The air rushing back to your head only makes the touch that much more electric, your head flying back with a broken gasp and cry of his name.

“Oh fuck, he’s clenching around me so tight right now,” Eric grunts through gritted teeth, looking down at where he can see his cock disappearing into you. He’s entranced at the sight, while your eyes follow the hypnotic swing of the chain around his neck with each thrust. “Fuuuck, this pussy is heaven. Keep doing that baby, and I’ll fill you up till you’re dripping, watch Felix fuck it out of you, shit!”

Your body responds to his words before you can string together a coherent sentence, that familiar tightness building in your core under the onslaught of his practiced ministrations. A deep moan rings through the air from where Felix watches, leisurely pushing his fingers in and out of himself on the table next to you, and you’ll be damned if you ever admit it but that noise and the sight in front of you is ultimately what sends you plummeting over the edge.

“I’m– fuck, I’m gonna– Eric– I’m–!”

“Good boy,” he groans, not letting up the pace as you clench and writhe around him. “Just like that, come all over my cock, that’s it baby…”

It’s dizzying, he’s dizzying, everything’s dizzying but you love it. You love the intensity that washes over you and the intensity of every frenzied touch after that from the sheer sensitivity. He pumps you full of him with a groan of your name and a shudder, finally stilling, then pulling out slowly, watching his cum drip from you before gathering it on his tip and shoving it back inside.

He casts a breathless grin at his ex-lover, panting still. “There. Your turn.”

“You,” you pant heavily, trying to catch your breath while pointing a wobbly finger at the freckled boy, “Condom.”

He’s transfixed on the sight between your legs, Adam’s apple bobbing in his throat. “I’m clean. Do you want to see my results–“

“Fine,” you quickly relent mid-scramble to grab his phone, saving him the trouble. His eagerness is endearing; he doesn’t seem to try to hide it, or if he does, he does a pretty terrible job at it. “Wanna get Eric’s cum all over you for real, huh?”

He huffs, swapping places with Eric again (who mercifully unties him, finally,) now fully hard once more. “Only if you lick it all off me.”

You don’t need to look at Eric to know how that’d make his dick twitch; you’re not much better off, just better at playing it cool. “Last that long, halfer, then we’ll talk.”

“Sure, two-minutes,” he jests back, shoving his dick all the way into you without waiting for a response. Expecting it, you manage to bite back any noise threatening to leave you, but he’s bigger than Eric – not as big as Mingi, but enough to fill you up so fucking good.

“Is that how long you expect to go for? Suppose that’s longer than a minute thirty, but you’re setting the bar real low–“

He cuts you off by shoving two fingers past your lips and slamming his hips forward with a growl. “Shut up.”

Thinking about the sweet, conflict-averse boy from the bar earlier being so forceful with you now goes straight to your metaphorical dick. He’s determined to prove you wrong about him, show you he’s not someone that can be so easily messed with – but he doesn’t seem to realise that he’s falling exactly where you want him to. When he’s this hot when he’s mad, you only want to mess with him even more.

Just so long as you don’t give him enough power to mess with you back.

What he doesn’t expect is for you to bite down on his fingers, making him retract them quickly with a yelp. “No. Make me,” you taunt, knowing full well that’s usually more of an invitation than a taunt, but considering he just tried exactly that, it’s a tough act to follow. You can practically see the gears turning in his mind – shoving his dick in your mouth is probably tempting, but against the point of fucking you better than Eric, and clearly his fingers weren’t about to work again.

For a moment you think you have him pinned, but then he grabs his cum-covered boxers from behind him and shoves them in your mouth.

“Mmph–!” Before you can remove them, he grabs both your wrists and pins them over your head, holding them there by leaning his body weight on it. The restraint is one thing, but it’s the way that this position brings your faces so close that has you eyes-wide and reeling.

“Hm,” he hums, searching for something in your eyes you can’t tell if he finds or not, his dick still buried inside you but not yet moving. “You have pretty eyes when they’re not being so condescending, you know.”

His expression is unreadable for a moment; is it wonder in his eyes, curiosity, or something else? You can’t put your finger on it so you just glare back at him, attempting and failing to spit out the wet fabric.

“Ah, there you are.”

Ah, there you are. As if in that moment you disappeared, replaced with someone else; someone kinder, perhaps? Someone more desirable? There you are, the demeaning, prideful whore staring back at him, defined by the malice in your eyes and the sex appeal of your actions. Yes, that’s exactly who you are – the obnoxiously attractive bastard that would give this man the fuck of his life as if your own depended on it just to prove a point. The point being, you’re better than him, tattoos and piercings and all, better than him and the way he treated Eric and better than him and all his buddies–

When did you get so in over your head?

He finally starts to fuck you, hard and fast but still fluid in a way that only a dancer can be, and you buck your hips to meet him each time, legs locked tightly around him. The improvised gag turns out more useful than you thought, helping to muffle the moans that slip from your lips as you try to grit your teeth and take whatever he has to give, but he’s so addictingly intense. You thought his intensity was just in his style and his stare – that same stare that fuels the flames beneath your skin now boring into you, unravelling you in the close proximity – once you saw the softness beneath it, but there’s more. With every layer you peel back, you’re drawn in even more, and right now you want to see more of the beast in him.

You flex your arms and rip yourself free from his grip, but his small yet calloused hands grab at your wrists again before you can remove the fabric on your face, forcefully manoeuvring them back above you. The protruding veins on his arms speak to the effort he’s exerting for his show of strength, so you try again. He’s ready this time, holding you down firmly while continuing the ruthless pace of his hips that has yours uncontrollably quivering and biting back whimpers.

“Nice try,” he grunts, smirking down at you with no more softness, no more cute edge to his features, to the point where it amazes you that you’re looking at the same man who came in his pants not all that long ago. God, you like it, you like how good he fucks you, you like the fact that you’re losing and he’s getting a kick out of it, how he’s so damn smug and it’s so damn attractive you’re mad all over again.

“A-Ah– F–“ You are not about to give him the satisfaction of moaning his name. “F-Fuck you!” You hiss through gritted teeth. The line between anger and lust is quick to blur; it sends a rush through you that you could get high off, but you don’t need that right now – it’d be humiliating for both you and Eric if you came already and actually lose, but Felix shifts the angle of his hips just right and you can feel your high coming even without any clitoral stimulation.

“I’m working on that, gorgeous.”

Fuck, he’s good. Too good.

With another surge of strength, using all your upper body strength this time, you push yourself up enough to make him stop, trying to pin you down again, but you’re stronger than you look. You manage you end up in a sitting position, the wet boxers falling to the floor in the struggle, leaving you free to grin wildly at him before shoving him back to climb on top.

“Fuck,” he groans, and you pause to look down at where he’s looking – he had slipped out of you during your tussle, and now that you hover over him, Eric’s cum leaks out and drips onto Felix’s cock, each drip making him twitch. He speaks your thoughts before you do. “That’s hot.” He looks back up at you now that you’ve paused, “How am I meant to fuck you good if you want to fuck me that badly?”

“Can’t fuck me from the bottom?” You tease, grabbing his dick and dragging the tip along your folds, letting the cum drip everywhere and making Felix’s breath hitch. It’ll be a pain for the cleaning staff, though not unusual – with the face he makes and the way he’s almost entranced by it, you don’t have it in you to care. “I think you’ve done enough, freckles. It’s not much of a competition.”

“You’re bluffing,” Felix declares boldly, staring you down. The defiance burns outwardly from him now, refusing to bend any more for you; now it’s merely a game of who breaks first. “You were clenching around me like you wanted to milk me dry and trying so damn hard not to scream.”

He’s right. You don’t like that. You don’t like the fact that any longer with him in control, you might’ve just unravelled for him, and he might’ve won… whatever this is. So, you do what you do best, and you keep bluffing.

“You wish, hotshot.” You sink down on him all at once, and he throws his head back with a loud moan that has you relieved at the effect it has on him – you still have control, you remind yourself. Good. Broken and writhing, that’s how you want him. You lift yourself back up. “Eric, why don’t we show this kitten his place, mm?”

Felix’s eyes widen exponentially – both at the inclusion of his ex and at the new pet name – as Eric gets up and moves behind you, pushing his cock back into you a few times before pulling it back out and pressing it to Felix’s ass. “Thanks for prepping yourself for me already, baby. You missed my cock this bad?”

He finally seems lost for words, glancing almost frantically between you, like he’s finally putting together the pieces of the puzzle but the whole board keeps rotating. “You… You really are different now, Eric.”

“Can’t handle it, sweetheart?”

You know Eric usually opts to stick to baby, sometimes even babyboy, but you can’t help but think he’s picking your go-to pet name to try and gain some of your confidence through it somehow. It’s working; Felix does the stupidly hot tongue thing again while he mulls it over for a second, then stares him down decidedly. “Try me.”

Eric pushes into him carefully, first fucking just the tip into him before pressing in more. Felix’s eyes squeeze shut, his face contorting beautifully at the stretch, and after a few long moments, Eric’s chest is pressed to your back as he sits fully sheathed inside the man.

“F-Fuck, Eric, hold on,” he whines, and the jump in pitch has you biting your lip in excitement. Oh, how you want to ruin him. Experimentally, you roll your hips down onto him; he gasps, and you pause, but he doesn’t protest, so you do it again to draw that same sweet noise from his lips. And again. And again.

His hands fly to grip at your hips as you set a rhythm, riding him as he crumbles beneath you, finally caving into the warm drag of your heat around him and the fullness of Eric’s cock. “Mm, that’s better,” you moan, lifting yourself up more to slam on him harder, and the strangled groan it pulls from him only has you tightening around him.

“Move, you can move,” he exhales, and barely finished before Eric is already moving again, fucking him languidly then quickly picking up speed. “O-Oh, oh fuck, ____– fuck, Eric, please, please–“

“What are you pleading for, babyboy?” You coo at him, leaning down to stroke his hair out of his face in what you hoped looked like a condescending sweetness, but might have actually looked more like affection. Hell, with how pretty he looks like this, it might’ve been affection – but you can’t think about that. “More?” You prompt, continuing to bounce on his cock all the while, “Need to come?”

He nods fervently, at least, as much as he can with his whole body shaking like a leaf. “M-Make me come, please, fuck, please.”

“That’s what we like to hear,” Eric huffs cockily, fucking him faster and leaning on you to reach forward and pinch at his nipples. “Don’t we?”

“Mmh- Mhm,” you manage to moan out, your own legs starting to tremble with the effort to keep yourself upright and moving while the high from before creeps up on you again against your will. You just need to hold on a little longer, spur him on a little more, and one of the others could take care of you once you get home. “Fuck yes, that’s a good boy.”

Felix’s moans become high pitched whimpers, and it’s such a contrast to his usual deep voice that you wish you were recording it to save for later. It’s really unfair, the effect his voice has on you, but clearly you and Eric have a stronger effect on him to render him such a whiny wreck. “M-M’close–!”

Leaning down next to his ear, you scrape your teeth along the shell. “Come for us.”

You don’t expect it to work so well, but right on cue, his body tenses up and he cries out – you lift yourself off him just in time, his cum splattering against the outside of your pussy, then all over his own defined abs. You climb off him only to jerk him through it while Eric continues to fuck him until he’s cringing from overstimulation and Eric is following behind, filling him up with another throaty groan.

The three of you sit there, sticky and out of breath, staring at each other; there are tears in Felix’s eyes from how he came, sweat drips from Eric’s chin from all the exertion tonight, and you can only just feel your legs. It’s a long minute of silence before Eric laughs, breathless and obnoxious and oh-so-attractive, finally pulling out and watching his cum drip out of Felix too.

“And you’re still cute, Lix.”

He really is cute, covered in his own cum and Eric’s, hair thoroughly fucked from how much you pulled at it, lips kissed and bitten swollen, complete with your dark-ass bite mark you left on his neck.

He looks like a dream come to life.

You get up, wiping the cum on your core and bringing it to your lips, making sure to lock eyes with him as you lick your fingers clean. “It was fun playing with you, freckles. Here’s to some healthy competition.”

Competition. That seems to spark something in him, lifting his head up. “Who really fucked you better?”

“You’re seriously asking that?” You scoff at him incredulously, scrounging around for your underwear to start getting dressed again. “Look at you. I think you know the answer.”

“Be honest.” He holds out his pinkie finger towards you – a pinkie promise. You haven’t made one of those in a long, long time, such a thing seeming childish after a certain point, but he looks at you like he knows pinkie promises are fucking sacred. Maybe you’re childish for thinking so too, but you’ve never broken a pinkie promise before, and it makes you wary to reach out back.

“And if I still say it wasn’t you?”

He shrugs, head tiredly falling back on the seat, but his pinkie stays up. “Then I’ll just have to take your word for it and believe you.”

Why would he do that? He puzzles you, truly – he knows you and your band are all wolves, yet there’s an underlying earnestness to the way he treats you still. If he can see past your bluff already, why would he ever take your word for it? You know it, he knows it, you know he knows it. But for some reason, he expects honesty from you.

You wrap your pinkie around his, then stick your thumbs together.

“It wasn’t a fair contest anyway. Eric knows me and my body way more than you do.”

Felix laughs in defeat, pulling his hand back and dropping his arm over his face. “You guys fucking suck.”

“Oh, we sure do. It’s even better when I have my vibrating tongue stud in,” you tease, to which he wordlessly flips you off. “Aw, you too sweetheart.”

He stays lying there while you and Eric shimmy your clothes back on and prepare to leave – you can tell the others to stay out of this room for the rest of the night on your way out. You almost feel bad leaving Felix behind there, all fucked out and ruined and covered in sweat and cum – you’re usually better at aftercare than this, but the idea wasn’t to be soft with him tonight. It only takes your brain reminding you of how quick he was to discard Eric along with your interactions with his leader for you to no longer feel such pity for him, and once fully dressed, marched right out of the room with Eric in tow.

Technically, you still have never broken a pinkie promise.

You didn’t lie at all.

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may-fanfic · 3 years

Text

Safe With Me

summary: you’re married to mob!natasha and while she’s in a meeting you make yourself busy at the bar until things take a turn and Natasha has to come to your aid

word count: 1,055

warnings: choking, mentions of guns and mob activity ig

masterlist

a/n: the thought of mob!nat is so hot to me idk why 😳

((feel free to send in any request you may have))

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your eyes lit up as you watched the jazz band play on stage, a smile taking over your lips, watching in glee. as much as you didn't want to come to this bar so late at night, Natasha had some business to take care of and you knew the woman refused to leave you home so late so you tagged along to make your wife happy. now you were more than glad because you were sipping at your white wine, watching closely to the way the men played.

your fingers circled your wine glass, nodding your head to the music to show your appreciation. for a moment, your life felt normal, it reminded you of your life before Natasha. you missed your simple life dearly because admittedly, being married to Natasha brought a lot of unnecessary drama to your life. you loved her though and you wouldn't give her up for anything. despite the fights and arguments, you always found your way back into Natasha's arms.

"hey doll." a soft hand brushed against your shoulder causing you to flinch lightly but then it registered that no one's voice could ever be as smooth as hers.

"hi," you whispered back, leaning into the hand that caressed at the nape of your neck before she inched closer and pressed a kiss to your earlobe. she knew you were tired, she hated having you out so late but business called and she had to answer. even if she was in bed with you when her men called, it was her job as the leader. "this might run on later than we thought, dear." she husked out into your ear causing the smile that was tugged at your lips to tremble.

you knew what Natasha had done but you never asked for the specifics, you didn't want your outlook on her to change. you turned your head to look up at the woman, her hand coming up to caress softly at your cheek. "give me another hour, baby then we can go home and enjoy our night." you knew another hour could well on drag to two and you dreaded the thought of having to be there for a second longer.

"Okay." you pouted causing the woman to lean down to brush a kiss to your forehead and then another to your lips. you figured as long as the band stayed on stage, you could make it another hour but when Natasha left, you felt lonelier than ever.

---- after you drank yourself into oblivion, you decided it'd be a good time to go to the bathroom to freshen yourself up so Natasha couldn't comment on how sloppy you had gotten. before you could make it to the bathroom, you stumbled into a tall, well-built man. you hardly noticed bumping into him because you were so far gone. you looked up at him, his eyes burning a hole in your head.

you only now realized that you knocked all his drinks into his expensive attire before you could even apologize the man had you back into a corner. his eyes more fierce than before as you grew speechless. "I'm-" you tried but then you stumbled over your words and your cheeks burned up. you couldn't even continue if you found the courage to speak because his rough hand quickly gripped your neck as he held you firmly against the wall.

you felt like the man was slightly overreacting, all you had done was spilled a little bit of alcohol on him and now he was choking you tightly. "do you not know who I am, bitch?" he barked out as he reared his face closer to yours. your eyes pooled with tears as you stared him dead in the face, struggling against his hand lightly. you could still hear the faint music in the background but everything else was a blur until her soft voice flooded your ears.

"do you know who I am?" her voice boomed, roughly pushing her gun into the man's back. he swallowed hard as his hand released your throat turning around to see her scary gaze along with the men who stood behind her. you let out a muffled sob as your hands moved to your neck, swallowing thickly at the scene. you felt like a child in trouble when her hard gaze snapped over at you. "she's mine." she used her free hand to point over at you, he knew he messed up and there was only one way this would end for him.

she didn't give the man a second to plead his case as she uttered out to her trained men to get ruin of him and they all moved in sync gripping the guy up and tugging him away before he was out of your line of sight. your neck ached and it was only when you were certain that you were alone did you let yourself completely break down. your body shook from the sobs, Natasha was quick to make her way over to you, her hard demeanor breaking in a second. you were her soft spot, she'd only do those things for you and you knew it.

it made you feel special when you first met her, she only ever allowed herself to be the real her in front of you and you were more than grateful that she showed you herself without the front of being a stone-cold killer.

"aw, my poor baby," she whispered in a hushed tone, her hands coming up to cup your cheeks as she brushed away your tears.

"you're okay," she smiled weakly noticing the purple bruise that formed around your neck. she should've just let you stay home, it was far too late for you to be looking after yourself in a bar full of drunk, harsh men.

"what's gonna happen to the man?" you asked softly as you nuzzled your face into her chest. the frown on Natasha's lips deepened as she nudged you back a little to hook her fingers under your chin, staring you in the eyes when she tilted your head back.

"you're so considerate." she forced a smile, leaning down to press a gentle kiss to your lips. "don't worry about him." you hated that she wouldn't give you a straight answer but you knew better than to press her on the issue.

"let's get you home, pretty girl."

#natasha romonova #natasha romanoff #natalie rushman #natasha romanoff x reader #natasha x you #natasha x y/n #natasha #natasha marvel #black widow #black widow x reader #black widow x you #black widow x y/n #black widow x female reader #marvel #avengers #the avengers #mob natasha

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mashep23 · 3 years

Text

Traffic Jam Session

Pairing: Natasha Romanoff x Female!Reader

Word Count: +1.5K

Warnings: Nat being ridiculously confident and flirtatious? I think that deserves a warning. This is just pure self-indulgent fluff.

Summary: Stuck in a traffic jam, another commuter requests that you turn your music up

Inspired by this meet-cute prompt:

We are caught in an extreme traffic jam and have been sitting next to each other, parked, for the last five minutes. Your radio is playing my absolute favorite song so I ask you to turn it up. We spend the rest of the slow traffic aggressively singing along to the music at each other.

Prompt list found here

A/N: I tweaked the prompt just a little, hope it's still enjoyable. This was so much fun to write!

Thank you to @river-soul for her incredible beta skills and endless patience 😭❤️ and @whisperlullaby for workshopping with me 💗

Disclaimer: gif not mine

It's a decently warm day, sunny and clear, and the azure blue sky is dotted sparsely with clouds. A breeze blows through the car windows, playing with the feathers on your dreamcatcher hanging from the rearview mirror while you're stuck in traffic. You had been creeping along for the better part of 20 minutes, but you've been at a standstill now for almost five.

Typically one to drive home in silence to decompress, today the stillness and lack of road noise makes you want to turn on some music instead. Since nothing playing on the local stations feels right, you sync your car Bluetooth with your phone and scroll through your music streaming apps. A playlist you made simply entitled "Happy" seems to fit your mood and the gorgeous weather so you press Shuffle All and settle back in your seat.

The soothing, light-hearted Put Your Records On filters through the speakers and you can't help the smile that curves your lips as you close your eyes. Propping your arm on the window, head on your hand, you bask in the sun's warmth. You periodically crack open an eye to check on the car in front of you but there's no change. Everyone on the road has parked and resigned themselves to the long wait.

Your playlist contains a wide variety of genres, cherry-picked songs that unfailingly lift your mood. They're radio hits, usually well-known songs, and easy to sing along with. You happily bop your way through your playlist, getting a little more energetic, singing along to each song.

Walking on Sunshine just finishes and the next song is cueing when you hear a sweet voice ask lowly, "Do you mind turning it up a little?" You grin and twist the volume knob so I'm Gonna Be (500 miles) plays louder before looking to the eavesdropper that's enjoying your tunes.

Holy shit. How did you not notice the car next to you? There is no way they were there the whole time. They're all beautiful. Two men, two women - blondie is driving, two brunettes are in the back seat, and a redhead is in the passenger seat. She was the one that spoke and she grins gratefully, leaning closer, head tilted out the window. You turn it up a little more as she starts singing along.

You grin widely and start singing with her. Her companions in the car laugh and join in good naturedly, cheering as the two of you belt the call-and-answer part of the song.

When the song ends, you're both breathlessly laughing, smiles wide. You turn your stereo volume down even as the next song starts to play and stretch out for a high five. She gives your hand a satisfying slap as she laughs joyfully.

"That was so fun! Thank you so much, I love that song."

"I do too! You're a great partner! And the back-ups were awesome!" You playfully finger-gun point at the driver and backseat passengers. They cheerfully laugh and thank you. You don't remember the last time you smiled this hard.

"I'm glad you didn't mind - I could barely hear it. I had Steve try to get closer but that didn't really help much, so I just decided to ask you." She gives you a sheepish but pleased smile and you return it.

"Oh no I don't mind! I haven't had this much fun in ages!" You can't seem to stop smiling but maybe it's okay because she's smiling at you, too.

"I'm Nat," she says suddenly, and you don't hesitate to tell her your name. She repeats it quietly, still smiling softly at you.

There's a stretch of silence, you're both just looking at each other and one of her friends clear their throat, causing you both to blink. You think maybe you should be embarrassed but she doesn't appear fazed in the slightest.

"In the spirit of introductions, hello beautiful. I'm Sam." The male brunette sitting behind Nat says smoothly after his light cough. "This is Wanda, up there is Steve." He gestures to the woman beside him and to the driver, respectively.

Your gaze never leaves Nat. You can't tear your eyes from her even as Sam speaks, catching the quick tightness around the edges of her mouth before it relaxes again as you smile and respond to her rather than Sam.

"It's nice to meet you," you say sincerely to Nat. Her answering pleased expression as she returns the sentiment warms you. A pleasant tightness fills your chest as her lips quirk at something Sam mutters under his breath. The woman next to him, Wanda, laughs quietly.

"So, you know, we're gonna be here for a while. Let's see what else you got to listen to." Nat grins expectantly at you with a raised brow and you mirror her expression as you turn the knob.

You're pretty sure you've found your soulmate when her eyes spark in delight and she belts along effortlessly to Sweet Caroline, arms spreading dramatically as she almost nails the driver, Steve, in his face with the back of her hand. Sam and Wanda cackle as he shoves her arm away in mock affront and she sticks her tongue out at him.

You can't help but laugh at their antics, watching her perform, directing her friends' involvement ("bah, bah, bahh") before she turns to you ("so good, so good, so good!"). This is quickly becoming one of the best times you've ever had.

The song continues, both of you sharing the lead, absolutely ridiculous and uncaring of the scene you're making. If anyone in the surrounding cars felt disgruntled at the impromptu concert, you'd never know it. The girl in the car next to you has your undivided attention.

You're not sure how long it's been, how many songs you've played and sang along to, but after a while, traffic slowly creeps to life. Steve taps Nat on the arm during a lull between songs and you lower the volume as she turns to him. He gestures at the line of cars ahead, the ones directly in front still unmoving but in the distance you see brake lights releasing, vehicles rolling forward.

She turns back to you, chewing the inside of her lip as she looks at you thoughtfully. She seems to make a decision and reaches her hand out to you.

"Here, let me see your phone real quick." She makes a single gimme motion, fingers flicking closed then open as you hand the device over. Your lips spread into a wide smile at the triumphant look that crosses her face.

She beams at you before dropping her gaze to the phone, fingers moving quickly across the screen. You hear an unfamiliar notification tone and she pulls a phone from her lap, holding it up to show you.

"I text myself from your phone. Now we have each other's numbers. I wanna be able to call you later." She's unabashedly smug as she hands your phone back and you wonder if your face shows just how pleased you are.

You look down at the message thread she left open for you, the unsaved number displayed at the top.

"Traffic Jam Hottie 😍"

The single line of text and emoji sent from your phone to the number makes you bite your lip and shyly cover your smile with your fingertips. You look at her with raised eyebrows and she correctly interprets your unasked question and shrugs.

"That's your contact name. I'll probably never change it, not even after we get married."

It's sly and nonchalant, how she slips that in there, smooth as you please. Your jaw drops and her friends all seem to choke on air but her gaze, locked on you, is unwavering. The flirtatious expression on her face is simultaneously sincere and mischievous as she watches for your reaction.

Butterflies erupt in your stomach, your chest feels tight and pleasantly warm. Your smile stretches so wide your cheeks hurt as she winks and you're so giddy, you don't care how eager you look in this moment.

You quickly save her contact information and smirk, wiggling your phone at her.

"I'd hope not. I think having matching contact info is pretty cute and kinda romantic. A fun story for the wedding toasts." You grin cheekily.

Her expression shifts, full of mischief, a quirk of her eyebrow that makes your breath hitch and sets your heart racing as her friends whoop with glee at your banter. Her lips spread in a sly smile and you can't help but return it. You're positive you've never smiled this much in your life.

Too soon, the gridlock lets up and you both start moving with traffic. The cars in front of you begin to roll, the lane speeds varying enough to cause you to separate. She's still grinning at you as they get further ahead. You can faintly hear their teasing and you catch a glimpse of her profile, smiling and laughing, before she's no longer visible.

They take an exit as you continue on and you barely have a moment to mourn that they're out of view before your phone vibrates in your lap. Picking it up, you grin madly at the screen, the contact "Traffic Jam Hottie 😍" scrolling across the top.

Accepting the call, you hear it connect through you car speakers, her friends still audible in the background. Your heart stutters when she purrs her greeting.

"Hey hottie."

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Tagging some of my amazing discord family: @buckyownsmylife @sweetkingdomstarlight-blog

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hyetiny · 3 years

Text

c// fem!reader, superhero reader, villain yeosang, lowkey enemies to fwb, top yeo, bottom reader, bodily scars + showing them to each other, mentions of violence, clubbing, drinking, dry humping, oral (f receiving), knifeplay, pain kink, choking, degradation, dirty talk, protected sex, yeo monster cock

please read the tags carefully, this may not be for everyone!

this is the longest thing i've ever written omfg. also i’m really proud of this, please don’t let it flop :’D

kang yeosang was the root of everything wrong in your life, you had decided.

he was like the annoying fly that wouldn’t stop buzzing around your ear on a hot summer’s day. no matter how many times you were certain that you had vanquished the city of the blight that was yeosang, the supervillain managed to come back unnoticed.

at this point, you were convincing yourself it was impossible to cease him from causing trouble. on shitty nights like this, you went down to the discreet nightclub, hidden away in a dark alleyway. whether you needed a good drink or a good fuck, the club was always there to provide.

“the usual?” the familiar bartender yunho asks, taking in your frustrated expression and slumped shoulders that he sees far too often.

“yep, a slouchy susan.” you roll your eyes at the corny names yunho would come up with, your mind wandering to the silly names he must have had for the other patrons. it was always comforting to have a chat with the friendly bartender after a hard day - plus, you couldn’t deny he was absolute eye candy.

“top it off, please.” you shift your glass back to him after downing it.

“put it on my tab, yuyu”. a familiar, deep voice comes from next to you.

you turn to see yet another unbelievably attractive man. he has blonde hair that grows just past his neck, his natural black roots starting to show through. from where you’re sitting on your rickety stool, you pick up on the hint of cologne that lingers on him. you’ve never seen him before, yet something about him seems eerily familiar, like you’ve seen him in a dream.

you shake off the feeling, instead deciding to chat him up.

“yuyu?” you giggle at his affectionate nickname for the barkeep.

“we go way back, it’s what his mother would call him when she’d drop him off to school. i guess it stuck”. the man smiles at you, visibly taking in your features and not breaking eye contact with you.

you’re taken aback by him, your heart thumping unusually fast for some reason.

“stop embarrassing me, yeo-”

the man clears his throat loudly. you must have missed something, because yunho immediately goes quiet and wordlessly hands your drinks - your “slouchy susan” and a whiskey for the man.

“so if he’s yuyu, what are you?” you ask him.

“you can call me ryusang.” he says.

“y/n”.

the two of you lapse into easy conversation. you giggle at his lame jokes, and he does the same. you find common interests, funny anecdotes, blissfully letting the stresses of the day slip away with each word of the attractive ryusang.

soon enough, the dance floor grows crowded and the music gets louder.

“dance with me?” ryusang stands up, offering a hand. you take it gratefully, letting him drag you to the dance floor. it’s a mess of sweaty bodies, but you don’t care as you become part of it with ryusang. his hands find your hips, and you’re both falling into an easy rhythm, completely in sync with the trap music blasting from the speakers.

as expected, the space between you gradually gets smaller and smaller, until it’s practically non-existent. you’re shamelessly grinding against each other, joining the litany of couples who are completely up against each other. you pretend not to pay any mind to his noticeably growing bulge, instead deciding to tease him a bit by intentionally grinding up harder against him. this night was going right where you wanted it to.

“my place is near here.” he whispers right into your ear, making you shiver underneath him.

“then we’d better get out of here quickly, hm?” you say in response.

since you had both been drinking, you decide to take a cab to his place. the sexual tension is rife in the air. you deliberately, teasingly lay a hand on his thigh, oh so close to his crotch, his face glowing red as it clearly riles him up.

when you get up the flight of stairs up to his apartment, and he fumbles with the key for what feels like minutes, you’re all over each other. the first kiss you share is nothing but messy - all teeth and tongue, nothing but complete lust for one another. he’s gently guiding you towards his room, until your legs hit his mattress. you break the kiss, only for him to gently lay you down, straddle you, and get right back to sloppily kissing you.

he undoes the buttons of your blouse without breaking the kiss, impressively with one hand. he breaks the kiss once again to take in the sight of your newly exposed skin. his eyes engulf the expanse of scars on your skin, some older and some looking to be very much recent.

“who did this to you?” he whispers in what seems to be a mixture of awe and anger. hesitantly, he runs a finger across a thin line that spans from your lower belly to your ribcage.

“you did, yeosang.” you say, deadpan.

he pauses, his heart dropping to his stomach. “excuse me?”

“did you think you were fooling me? seriously, why didn’t you pick a less obvious fake name?” you giggle. despite the vulnerable position you’re in, you clearly hold the upper hand, indulging in his shocked expression. you hadn't missed the bartender's obvious slip up of yeosang's name, and could never forget that deep voice of his that would always taunt you.

“you’re always screwing me over y/n. i didn’t think we’d end up like this”. he says as a smooth recovery.

you roll your eyes. “remember when you gave me this?” you tap at the scar. he shakes his head.

“two years ago. you were trying to get rid of all power in the city. i almost stopped you, so you pegged a knife right here.”

“if i was trying to kill you, the knife would’ve stuck.” he says defensively. “you got away with a scratch, only because i wanted that.”

“well, thanks for not trying to kill me, kang yeosang. i’m flattered.” you say sarcastically.

“well, you gave me something worse.” he strips himself of his shirt. to no surprise, his skin is similar to yours. a canvas for an array of marks and scars, most of which you recognize to be your own work.

you point to an especially long one on his collarbone. “that one was definitely me.”

“yeah, and it hurt like a bitch.” he says snarkily.

“well, now we’re both half naked.”

“nice catch.”

“well for convenience’s sake, we may as well get back to-”

his lips are on yours again, effectively shutting you up. you don’t protest - besides, it’s hard to when his tongue is in your mouth.

what you don’t expect is the cold press of something against your throat, which then trails down to your collarbones. it isn’t pleasant, but not uncomfortable either. it’s sharp against your skin, and your curiosity gets the best of you.

yeosang begins to press open mouthed kisses against your skin, alongside what you now see is a familiar knife in his hand. you begin to feel more vulnerable underneath him, knowing he had complete power over you. yet somehow, you don’t feel afraid of the man who has your life in his hands.

he undoes your jeans, letting out a low whistle at the damp spot forming against your panties. the flat side of the blade presses against your clothed core, earning a whine for him.

"fucking touch me already". you say through gritted teeth, despising that your mortal enemy has you so needy for him.

"am i not already touching you?" he says with a shit eating smirk. fuck him, you think. but that was exactly what you wanted to do.

to your surprise, you hear the sound of fabric ripping, and a sudden cold against your core, as though-

"i liked those." you say frustratedly, finding yeosang pulling away the ripped remnants of your panties away from your core.

"you look far better without them." is all he says before licking an experimental stripe up your already wet hole, earning a breathy moan from you. you don't have it in you to be mouthy when his tongue continues to tease your labia, eventually meeting your clit in what is the most heavenly thing you've ever felt. all thoughts of how much you hate the man currently eating you out are out the window as the pad of his finger presses against your clit, his tongue messily lapping at your hole as if he was just licking for his pleasure rather than yours.

your hips subconsciously grind up in tandem with his tongue, earning small moans from him as well.

"so fucking wet. do you usually get this wet this quickly, or are you just that much of a slut for me?" he chuckles.

it takes every ounce of self control not to flick him on the forehead. the degrading name catches you off guard, yet somehow it makes your hole clench needily. besides, you want what's hidden under the confines of his black jeans far too much to be mean to him right now.

"just... just fill me up, yeosang."

"i like you like this." he says with a cocky smile. it gives you butterflies, even though you know it means nothing more than just a spur of the moment thought. "beg for me a little more, and i'll think about it."

oh, the urge to punch him in the face.

"fuck you."

"that's the plan."

you sigh in frustration. "kang yeosang, my mortal enemy, fill me up with your monster fucking cock until i can't think straight." you say sarcastically.

surprisingly, it's enough for him. it seems you weren't wrong when you said "monster cock" his cock far thicker and longer than any cock you had taken recently. or in general, for that matter.

he must notice the way you gape at it, giggling to himself.

"cond-" you start, but he cuts you off by leaning over to his bedside drawer.

he shuffles around before he finds what he's looking for, sliding on the first condom he finds and coating himself in lube for good measure.

"ready? are you okay?" he asks, lining himself up against your entrance.

you want to roll your eyes, but you know he's just looking out for you. you give him a nod, and it's all it takes for him to push, breaching your wet hole and filling you up perfectly. you can't stop the high whine that leaves your lips. it's embarrassing, but yeosang seems to enjoy it, groaning into your ear.

"you're so fucking tight. expected you to be all stretched out like the whore you are." he whispers into your ear, embarrassingly only making you clench more around him.

you barely need to adjust, needing nothing more than for him to ruin you. his hips set a steady pace, grinding oh so perfectly against you. the tip of his cock perfectly reaches that sweet spot inside you, earning a louder moan for him. you'd be embarrassed with what his neighbours must be hearing, but it's the last thing on your mind when you have such a perfect cock stretching you out.

"fuck, my perfect slut. so nice and tight around my cock, huh? it's like this pussy was made to take my cock." he growls, his thrusts only getting harder and sloppier the closer he gets to his high.

"o-only for you." you cry out, gasping as he fills you up impossibly deep, over and over again. the coil building up in your stomach only gets tighter when his fingers find your clit.

the breaking point is when his lips meet your collarbone, leaving more kisses and tiny bites here and there. the sensations all over are too much for you. you cry out when your orgasm hits you harder than ever before, leaving you breathless. your orgasm triggers his as well, indicated by the long, pleasured groan he lets out.

you can't do anything but catch your breath as he pulls out, taking off the condom, tying it up and throwing it away in the bin next to his bed.

"who knew that all it took was a good fuck to get you weak for me?" yeosang breaks the silence.

"shut up." you say weakly, still too breathless to properly argue back.

"maybe i will, if you make me."

needless to say, he keeps you up for a few more hours until you both fall asleep, the first rays of the sunrise peeking through the blinds of his window.

the next morning, you wake up groggy and exhausted, the drinks and activities from last night finally catching up to your body. to your disappointment, yeosang isn't there next to you, the other side of the bed empty.

of course, the asshole didn't have the decency to wait for you to wake up. reaching out for your phone, you find to your surprise that there's a sticky note on it.

“last night was fun, we should do it again. i've gone out to wreak havoc, so i know our paths will cross again soon anyway.” - your mortal enemy, kang yeosang <3

#ateez smut #yeosang smut #kang yeosang smut #ateez reactions

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wolferine · 3 years

Text

Unforgivable - Part 3

Natasha Romanoff x Reader

Summary: When the reader loses their temper, it causes them to commit an act they can never take back...

Warnings: Violence, blood, language

Word count: 2413

Part 2

Tags: @yeetus-thyself @phoenixofash @lilclownx @yeeterthekeeper @alessiapn @diaryoflife @user19422004 @zoldszemulany56

You sit alone on a park bench, wearing a heavy black backpack filled with Hammer’s latest invention. He’s here too, more than a mile away, watching you from the shadows. Your task is to do all the talking and distracting; Hammer wants to take the kill shot. You don’t really care, as long as Tony Stark dies for what he did to Natasha.

At midnight exactly, Tony walks up to you, wearing a hoodie, jeans, and his signature sunglasses. However, you know from experience that Jarvis is inside the sunglasses, providing him with information about you and his surroundings.

“It’s a little late to be wearing sunglasses, isn’t it, Stark?” you say, standing up. Hammer lined your backpack with lead so Jarvis can’t see into it, but you’re still nervous.

“You know I have astigmatism,” he says.

“I don’t really care,” you respond. “Take them off.”

He doesn’t need a second warning.

“So, what’s up with you, Y/N?” Tony pockets the sunglasses. “Where have you been lurking all this time?” He stops about ten feet in front of you.

“Just…working through some things,” you reply.

“For six months?” Tony scoffs. “We waited for you to come back.”

“You know I couldn’t do that.” Your jaw clenches. “But for you, Stark? I’d make an exception any day of the week.”

“What’s up with all the theatrics tonight, huh? Would’ve been a lot simpler to have this chat at the Tower,” Tony says.

“I’m not an Avenger anymore.”

“Says who?”

“Says me,” you snap, trying not to let your impatience show. You’re waiting for Hammer’s signal, but he seems to want to take his time. Your eyes drift to the glowing blue arc reactor in the center of Tony’s chest and you put your right hand in your pocket casually.

“Just spit it out, Y/N. Why am I here?”

“You’re here to die, Stark.”

“Well, have at it.” He opens his arms tauntingly and you tense, ready to tackle him to the ground and beat his head inside out.

“You killed Natasha,” you snarl, and his expression changes. But you don’t have time to process it, because suddenly, the watch on your wrist vibrates.

Hammer’s signal.

You take your hand out of your pocket, now holding onto a tiny sensor disk, which you throw at Tony’s chest. It latches onto his arc reactor and powers it down instantly, preventing him from activating his Iron Man suit.

Then you dive to the ground, because Hammer starts blasting away with his rifle.

Tony catches a few bullets in his chest and legs, unable to react to both threats at the same time. He falls onto his back, blood pooling around his body as he gasps for air. You activate Hammer’s suit, which tears out of your backpack, covering your torso and limbs in a thin layer of metal armor.

You climb to your feet, your helmet snapping over your head, and charge towards Tony. But something—or someone—completely blindsides you, sending you skidding in the direction of the carousel.

It looks like a variation of Iron Man, although the suit is smaller and more feminine. The colors are black and red, evoking a pang of familiarity in your chest. You stand again, an eight-inch blade shooting out of your right wrist, and you beckon the Iron Woman (?) to come at you.

She does, but when you swing your blade at her, she blocks it and punches you so hard in the chest you fly back into the carousel and knock a horse completely off its pole. You’re pretty sure you cracked a rib as your breathing sends a stabbing pain up your side. You hang onto a bench to get up, and suddenly the carousel comes to life, lights flashing and music crackling through the speakers.

You’re transported back to the day you were last here with Natasha, when you asked her to be your girlfriend.

Both of your horses are out of sync. When she goes up, you go down, and neither of you can stop laughing. You’re pretty sure you’re the oldest adults on the carousel without kids, but you don’t care.

The way her hair effortlessly blows in the wind and the way her eyes crinkle when she laughs lights up your heart, and you still can’t believe she chose you over everyone else in the world. You’ve never been so in love with another human being before, and you don’t think there will ever be another like her.

When the rides end, you take her hand and lead her to an empty patch of grass in the shade of a tree.

“Natasha, will you go out with me?” you ask, your voice trembling. She nods and brushes her fingers over your cheek. “I promise to keep you safe and love you every day for the rest of my life—”

“Calm down, it’s not a marriage proposal.” Natasha laughs as you sweep her off her feet. “Not yet, anyway.”

“Just preparing.” You kiss her and feel her smile against your lips. You’ve never been happier.

You’re so stuck in your head you don’t even notice the Iron Woman coming after you until she punches you in the face. You stagger back, stunned, as she punches you several more times. The face of your helmet snaps off and you feel your nose bleeding. You slash out with your blade wildly, forcing the Iron Woman to back off.

“Y/N,” the Iron Woman says, and you don’t even care how she knows your name, “You need to stop.”

“Get out of my way.” When you leap towards her, she lifts her foot and kicks you in the chest. You somersault backwards, head over heels, as she retreats. The rotating platform of the carousel does nothing to help your balance and the lights and noise distract your focus. You crouch behind a stationary horse, searching for her amongst the painted animals.

You break the blade off your wrist, poised to throw like a javelin. When the Iron Woman pops out from behind a black horse, you bring your arm back to throw the blade, but she fires from her gun before you can. The bullet bounces off a pole and buries itself in your left cheek.

The pain is like a branding iron as you scream and fall to your knees, the blade slipping out of your fingers. Blood pours out of your mouth, the taste of metal coating your tongue as you gingerly reach in to swipe the burning chunk of lead over your teeth. You finally spit the bullet out, but the pain persists.

The Iron Woman holsters her gun and approaches you, thinking you’re too distracted to notice. But you do, another blade flicking out of your left wrist and you ram it into her thigh as hard as you can. The blade crunches through the plates of her armor, but she elicits no reaction to being stabbed.

“Y/N,” the Iron Woman repeats.

“Just die already!” you scream, withdrawing the blade and trying to stab her again.

The Iron Woman’s helmet slides back and you freeze when you see her face.

It’s Natasha.

Immediately, your anger melts into confusion and happiness.

“H-How…How is this possible?” you stammer, more blood spilling from your lips. “T-They…They told me you died.”

“No.” Natasha shakes her head, kneeling to your level. “But you never came back for me.”

“Because I hurt you—” Hammer had said she was dead, and that Tony—no—you—had killed her.

“I forgive you, Y/N. For all of it.”

“I don’t deserve your forgiveness.” You stumble back, tears and blood mixing on your face.

“Please come back to me, Y/N,” Natasha begs, as your head spins from the turn of events. “I still love you.”

Suddenly, it’s like all of Hammer’s training reverses. Tony was never the one responsible for harming Natasha—you were. And now Tony’s bleeding to death, which was again, your fault. You won’t let this rest on your conscience. You’ve done enough damage and now it’s time to redeem yourself, as little as you can.

“This is all Justin Hammer’s doing,” you say, letting Natasha pull you to your feet. “He’s had me kidnapped for the past six months. He thought I would be able to help him kill Tony, but he’s not going to be successful anymore. Because you weren’t part of the plan.”

Natasha smiles and you feel your heart melt. Whether or not she’ll take you back, you owe this to her.

“He’s about a mile out, west from here. He has no guards—arrogant bastard—it’s just him and his rifle. You go get him and I’ll get Tony,” you say. Natasha nods and flies off. For a moment, you’re filled with jealousy over her suit. How come Tony never made you one?

You make your way off the carousel and find Tony still on the ground. You check his pulse. It’s weak, but there.

“Tony, I’m so sorry,” you say, as a spray of bullet rips through the ground. You grab his arms and pull him to take cover under a bench.

“Y/N?” he mumbles.

“Yeah. I’m sorry. This is all my fault.”

“No…” Tony says, grabbing your hand. “I’m sorry, Y/N. I was a complete asshole to you that day—”

“No, I’m the one who tried to shoot you, for God’s sake—” You rip his shirt into ribbons to wad up against the wounds in his chest and legs. “You’re gonna be okay,” you promise. “It’s Justin Hammer who’s behind all of this.”

“I recognized his work from your suit,” Tony gasps. “It looks like shit.”

“You can tell him that yourself.” You find yourself smiling despite the circumstances. “He wanted my help to end his ultimate rival. He manipulated me into thinking that Natasha was dead and that you were the reason for it—” You pause. “Thank you for taking care of her.”

“It was the least I could do for you.”

“I know she probably won’t want me anyway after all this, but it was good to see her again.”

“She only wants you. It was always you or no one.”

You throw yourself onto Tony when the bullets start again and you feel them bounce off your back and legs. Fortunately, when Hammer made your suit bulletproof, he probably didn’t think it would have to bulletproof against his bullets.

Suddenly, the gunshots stop and the silence is deafening.

When you finally look up, you see Natasha flying over, holding Hammer by the collar.

You don’t even mind when your face splits into a painful smile. “That’s my girl.”

***********************************************************************

Two weeks after Hammer is arrested, Natasha convinces you to come by the Avengers Tower. It’s a strange feeling as you walk in for the first time in over six months. When you left, you’d never thought you’d be back, but here you are. Your only belongings are a single duffel bag with some clothes stuffed inside.

You ride the elevator up to the Avengers’ quarters. You’re a little more wary of the SHIELD agents that pass you, wondering if anyone will double-cross you again, but you remain courteous. You punch in your code to see if it still works and it does, the doors opening.

“Look who’s finally come home.” Tony’s there to greet you and he hugs you tightly.

“How are you feeling?” you ask, still guilty you almost got him killed.

“Good, no thanks to you.”

“Sorry again.”

He waves you off.

“Where’s—” you start, but then you see her. She comes around the corner in a wheelchair. Your heart drops to your feet.

“Things have been a little different since you left,” she says. So that’s why she had no reaction when you had stabbed her at the carousel. She has no feeling left in her legs after your bullet pierced her spine.

“Natasha, I’m…I didn’t know. Shit, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t be here.” You turn around, but she rolls into your legs and grabs your hand.

“Please stay,” she says. “Like I told you before, I’m not mad.”

“But you have every right to be.”

“Can we talk?”

You nod numbly and let her lead you back to where your shared bedroom with her was. Nothing inside has changed. In fact, your clothes are still hanging in the closet like you’d never left. You sit on your side of the bed.

“What do you want me to say, Y/N?” Natasha asks.

You shrug. “Call me an asshole for what I did. Tell me you’d never want me back.”

“Okay. You’re an asshole for shooting me and leaving me,” Natasha says without hesitation, and you flinch. But somehow, you find solace in hearing her say the words you’ve played over and over in your head for months. “And yeah, after the whole thing happened, I didn’t think I could ever take you back. But I couldn’t stop thinking about you and told myself if I ever saw you again, I wanted you to know that I forgive you.”

“But I don’t know if I could forgive myself,” you whisper.

“Well, I forgive you, and I think if I can do that, you can, too.” It hurts her to see how much you’ve changed in the past six months. Your face and body are thin from malnourishment and Hammer’s torture. Your eyes are dull and permanently swollen from basically crying every day for six months. Some of your fingers are crooked from not healing correctly and you have scars running up your arms.

She reaches out and touches the puckered mark on your cheek from the bullet. “Besides, we’re kind of even now.”

“Hardly.” You chuckle.

“We can start slow,” Natasha says, putting her hands on your shoulders. “Because I’m not sure what still works down there, anyway.”

You smile, and her heart warms at the sight.

“Can I lie with you?” she asks and you nod, scooping her up and carrying her to the bed. You put her down gently and lie next to her. She pulls you close until your foreheads touch and you close your eyes as you breathe in her familiar scent. “Why did you pick the carousel as the meeting place?” she asks.

“I…I don’t know,” you mumble. “For some weird reason, I thought I’d see you again, at least in my memory. But then I did in real life, too.”

“I’m so glad you came back,” Natasha hums, brushing her lips against yours.

“I’m so glad I did, too.”

----------------------------------------------------------------------------

AN: The end! :) Fun facts:

-Part 1 was inspired by the scene in X-Men: First Class where Magneto accidentally deflects a bullet into Charles’s spine (which resulted in Charles’s paralysis). -Part 2’s Iron Black Widow suit was inspired by a concept art photo I saw that was cut from Avengers: Endgame. Here’s the link to that post. -Part 3’s carousel scene was inspired by the season 1 finale of Netflix’s Punisher.

Join my taglist for future stories here! Thanks for reading, and until next time...

#natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff #black widow #natasha romanoff fanfic #black widow x reader #black widow fanfiction #marvel imagine

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daydreaming-in-letters · 3 years

Text

Assumptions

10/01/2021

Pairing: Manuel Neuer x fem!reader (3rd person)

Word Count: 6,018

Warnings: rpf, mentions of age gap (not between reader and Manu and nothing illegal) and strong opinions on that, banter, jealousy, infuriation, fluff and cuteness

Summary: The reader finally catches her long time crush Manuel Neuer alone on her uncle's birthday. Things are quickly starting to get heated—sadly it's not the kind of heated she would have liked it to be.

A/N: Most of you probably don't know Manuel Neuer. He is the goalkeeper and captain of Bayern Munich as well as the German National Football Team and every once in a while I find my thoughts drifting towards that adorable and amazingly talented manchild. This story has been sitting in my drafts for far too long and I wasn't sure whether I felt comfortable with publishing it in case it ever got finished. But I found that there is an intolerable lack of Manuel Neuer x reader fics on here, so here it is. I tagged everyone from my general tag list, but I understand if this is not what you signed up for. So sorry in advance and please feel free to ignore this story at your leisure.

Picture found on Pinterest

If you like my story, you are very welcome to like, comment or reblog. Please don’t copy, repost or share my work on other platforms.

It was only a few minutes to midnight and still the dance floor was as filled as ever, an enchanting mixture of young and old people alike. The bass rolled deep in his stomach, making him even queasier than he already was, and the lights, flickering across the mass of moving bodies in sync to the rhythm of the music, didn’t help either.

Suddenly a figure broke through the outer wall of bodies and made her way over to his table. A small smile crawled over her lips, a little shy but genuine, yet he didn’t feel like returning it. He had hoped that she would change her mind upon the disgruntled look on his face, but much to his dismay, she did nothing of the sort and sat down right next to him, just as a waitress passed the table with a tray of colourful shots. The woman next to him stopped her, before she turned to him.

“Care for a drink?”

Did he care for a drink? He yearned for one.

“No, thanks. I’m not really fond of drinking.”

“Shame,” she shrugged, her smile growing a bit wider when she took two shots from the tray anyway. For a second he thought she might actually force him to drink with her, but then she placed down the two glasses in front of herself. Raising her first glass to him, she gulped it down in one swig, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand afterwards.

“Do you care for a dance then?” She nodded over to the dance floor, her eyes and body inviting him to take the offer.

He found that he somehow couldn’t hold her gaze when he answered, “I’m afraid I’m also not very fond of dancing.”

Her forearms resting on the table, she leaned closer, obviously not taking the hint that he just wanted to be left in peace and quiet.

“Then what are you fond of?”

“I think you know pretty well what I’m fond of.” To his own surprise he sounded even harsher than he had attempted to, but the last thing he needed right now was an eager fan trying to engage him in a conversation.

“I do,” she retorted undeterred, “but that’s not what I wanted to know. See, you might not have noticed through all your sulking, but I was actually interested in you as a person, not as a footballer.”

He huffed, although he wasn’t sure she had heard him above the music.

“And you might have noticed that I am not interested in talking about private stuff to complete strangers.”

Sure, he was being massively impolite, but at least he hoped that this would do the trick now. But instead of finally leaving him alone, she shot him an amused look.

“Ooooh, grumpy, aren’t we?”

Now it was him who leaned in closer, making sure she could hear him properly. “Look, it’s nothing personal, okay? I just...it wasn’t such a great evening for me.”

Unintentionally his eyes wandered over to the dance floor for a split second, where a very young, very blonde girl was dancing happily among his teammates and their wives and girlfriends. Cursing himself, he looked over to the woman by his side carefully, hoping she hadn’t noticed. But of course she had, her eyes still fixed on the girl.

“Ah, I see.” She turned to him and the glint in her eyes made his stomach turn. “Puberty is a bitch, eh?”

“Excuse me?” he spat, equal parts bewildered and stunned.

“You heard me alright.”

Who did she think she was? Impertinent woman.

“I don’t think that’s any of your business.” The volume of his voice must have slipped his control a little, as he noticed a group of elderly men standing nearby turn into his direction. Still the woman’s smile never left her face, appeasing the men who turned away again.

“Really? After all I have to sit here with a pissed thirty something man who refuses to acknowledge he let his hormones get the best of him.”

“Whoa! Okay, first of all, it was you who decided to come and sit at this table and second, again, none of your goddamn business.”

Her answer was a simple grin, still not fazed by his anger in the slightest. It almost felt as if she was enjoying to get him riled up.

“You’re right.”

“And?”

“What do you mean ‘and’?”

He rolled his eyes heavily. Why couldn’t she just leave?

“You know, that phrase usually goes with an apology. Like ‘You’re right. Sorry I assumed you’re having a mid-life crisis and bang a chick that is 15 years your junior to boost your fragile ego.’”

“Do you?”

Inhaling deeply, he tried to calm himself a little. After all, he couldn’t afford to yell at her again, not that he didn’t want to, but causing even more unwanted attention was not in his plans for tonight.

“I didn't say that.”

“Well actually,” she looked at him triumphantly, “you kind of did. I never said you were having a midlife crisis or that you need her to boost your ego. Those were your words. And seeing that my assumptions caused a reaction like that, I’m afraid I can’t really say I’m sorry either.”

All right, that was it. Enough was enough.

“Look, I think I have an assumption for you too, lady. I’m starting to assume that you only came over here to rile me up further. And guess what, mission completed. So why don’t you do us both a favour and head off to pester someone else now?”

She was quiet for a moment and for the first time, the cheeky smile left her beautiful, burgundy lips. He had expected her to be a bit shaken at least, maybe even as pissed as himself, and yet the next words were spoken with such dignity that he couldn’t help but admire her a little for it.

“Oh, I would love to say you’re right again, but I’m afraid I can’t this time. And since we seem to have warmed up to each other quite a bit by now, I feel it’s okay to be completely honest with you.” She paused a second, simply for the effect, he guessed and her warm eyes never left his. “I came to sit with you because you looked miserable. Still do, by the way. And I thought you might need an actual grown up to talk to. But it seems I was wrong. You’re just a pouty manchild, like the rest of them.”

She waved her arm, pointing over at the dancing crowd of his friends and their spouses. His eyes followed her gesture and when he laid eyes on the heart of the matter, a hot flush of rage began to swirl through his veins, making his hands clench into fists. Fully set on giving her a piece of his mind, not caring who might hear him at this point, he turned to her again. But the familiar figure that had somehow entered the picture without his notice made him stop in his tracks.

“Here you are, sweetie.” The man cooed, laying his large hand on her shoulder in a protective gesture. “I almost got the feeling you were hiding from me since I made you promise to dance with me tonight.”

She twisted her slender neck to look up at his gentle face, her attention making him smile sweetly at her.

“You know I’d never do that to you, Uncle Hans, especially not on your birthday. I just thought your no. 1 goalkeeper here was in need of some mature company, but clearly he is perfectly happy with the way things are.”

Bewilderment flickered behind the coach’s gaze as he looked between his niece and one of his best players and Manuel was sure that this might not be the last time they would speak about this matter.

“So then, may I have that dance now, sweetheart?”

“With pleasure.” Manuel watched almost transfixed as she gracefully took her uncle’s hand and stood up. It was only now that he noticed how perfectly her dress showed off her voluptuous curves. He was almost certain that she would leave without another word when once again she proved him wrong. Turning on her heels, she grabbed the remaining shot and gulped it down in one large swig before she looked down at him, almost as regal as a queen.

“Have a pleasant evening, Mister Neuer. I’m sorry I can’t say I enjoyed our conversation more. Oh, and just in case you should ever feel in need to talk to a grown up, don’t call.”

⚽️⚽️⚽️⚽️⚽️⚽️⚽️⚽️⚽️⚽️⚽️⚽️⚽️⚽️⚽️⚽️⚽️⚽️⚽️⚽️⚽️

She could still feel his piercing look on her back as Hansi led her through the crowd and away from him. They had just begun to dance when the song changed and a much slower tune echoed through the large room. With a smug grin, her uncle pulled her closer, bringing his hand to the small of her back. Cheek to cheek he swayed her to the beat and she could feel that her mind was almost beginning to slow down, when he decided to pick up a conversation.

“Will you tell me what that was all about?”

She bit her lip like a little girl that was about to be scolded. “Do I have to?”

He chuckled deeply, the vibration rumbling against her chest and she could easily imagine the self-satisfied grin on his face.

“I’m certainly not going to force you. It’s just, you know, I always thought you kind of liked him.”

Instantly, she could feel her face heat up. How could he possibly know that?

“True. Liked, as in past tense. And besides, it’s not that I actually know him, personally, I mean. You could perhaps say I admire his talent, at most. And he also may be kind of easy on the eyes.”

She had become more and more quiet while she spoke, merely mumbling the last sentence. But he had heard her nonetheless, her silliness making his lips twitch in amusement.

“Hm. I clearly remember your aunt begging me to invite him over for a barbecue party last summer, telling me that you wouldn’t shut up about his quiet reserve, his amazing performance on the field and his stunning smile. Sadly he didn’t have time.”

She gulped audibly, tensing up a little in his arms, which made him enjoy their little talk even more. “So, what changed your mind?”

“He did,” she said a little too quickly, before she sighed so heavily that her uncle almost regretted bringing this topic up after all. “It’s just, I don’t understand his choice in women. I mean, he could choose literally anyone, so why her? I mean, she clearly doesn’t make him happy.”

“And how do you know that? You have spoken to him for what? Like five minutes?” He turned them around, making her face the gloomy goalie once more, before he went on. “I might be wrong, sweetheart, but I think you’re just jealous.”

Over his shoulder her gaze met Manuel’s for a split second before his eyes shot to his right, where the blonde teenager stepped into the picture, blocking him from view. She sat down on his lap, her arms dragging around his neck possessively, as her lips met his in a feverish kiss. Averting her gaze immediately, her eyes darkened and her heart clenched heavily in her chest.

“If by jealous you mean disenchanted, you’re right.”

Her bitter words made him loosen his grip on her so that he could see her face, and the hurt in her eyes pained him more than he cared for.

“I know you probably won’t believe me, but he really is a good person.”

She scoffed while her incredulous eyes landed on her uncle’s soft, blue orbs. “Well, he certainly hid that pretty well.”

He gave her a tight lipped smile. “I think he’s just lost his way a little at the moment.”

“So you think I’m right then?”

The excited sparkle in her eyes made him regret his honest words a little.

“I didn’t say that.” He protested strongly. In the end it was not for him to judge his players’ private lives. “After all he is a grown man and he can decide for himself.” He could see her face fall again and so he was quick to add, “Nevertheless, I don’t think you’re completely wrong either.”

He was very pleased to see that his words had caused a small smile to crawl back to her pretty lips. He almost felt like a proud father and when she finally leaned back in a bit closer, her forgiving gesture almost made him a bit bold.

“So, uhm, one more question, sweetheart. In the unlikely event that he should after all need a grown woman to talk to, can I give him your number?”

“Certainly not,” she insisted with a steady voice, but when she looked at him, the adorable grin on her face left no doubt that this was the biggest lie she had ever told.

⚽️⚽️⚽️⚽️⚽️⚽️⚽️⚽️⚽️⚽️⚽️⚽️⚽️⚽️⚽️⚽️⚽️⚽️⚽️⚽️⚽️

Manuel was furious as he watched her leave towards the dance floor with the coach. How could she dare call him out like that and then leave without giving him the chance to set her straight? His eyes fixed on her, he watched as Flick pulled her closer, his eyes following her uncle’s hand to the small of her back. Being the gentleman he was, his hand had found the only spot on her back that was actually covered by the dark red fabric of her dress. And for a second he imagined what it might actually feel like to let his hand wander upwards until it covered her bare skin. Or maybe he could let it slip down a few inches, until his fingers would grasp the soft flesh of her behind. He had just been able to fully picture the exact feeling of her body pressed up to his when he could feel the man who actually held her in his arms catch his indecent look on his niece’s back. Immediately he sat up straight, averting his gaze, completely missing the amused smile on the other man’s face, and when he turned back to face him, he almost lost it when he found her sparkling eyes instead.

He was still trying to figure out what had happened, when he heard a familiar voice calling him.

“Hey, babe.” The high pitched noise made him flinch and instinctively his eyes shot to his right, just in time to pull his arms away before she slumped down onto his lap clumsily. She laid it on thickly as her arms wrapped around his neck.

“I missed you on the dance floor, honey bun. Why don’t you come dance with me?”

And before he even had the chance to answer, her lips crashed down on his mouth almost painfully, her tongue forcing his lips to open. The stench of alcohol filled his mouth and he pushed her drunken form off of him determinedly. Before she even had the chance to protest, he lifted her up and placed her in his chair.

“I don’t think dancing is a good idea in your condition.” She glared at him, but then she seemed to have forgotten what for and her lips turned up into a sheepish smile.

“Whatever you say, babe.”

“Look, why don’t you just stay here and I get you a nice, big glass of water to sober you up a little?”

She began to nod, but then her eyes lost focus und she stared past him at god knows what.

“All right, I’ll be back in a sec. Don’t go anywhere.”

Quickly he made his way over to the counter and ordered a whole bottle of water, when he felt the slap of a hand on his left shoulder.

“Wow, you look even more frustrated than after our knock out at the World Cup in 2018. What happened?”

“Don’t ask.” He sighed as he turned around to face his friend. Manuel hoped that he would accept his wish, but when he saw the apologetic look on Thomas’ face, he instantly knew that he wouldn’t drop the topic.

“Too late. I just did.”

With a dramatic roll of his eyes, the next words were spoken more to himself than to his teammate.

“Great, just what I need. Another pain in my ass.”

“Another? Who was the first then?” Obviously Thomas had taken no offence and sounded a bit too cheerful for Manuel’s liking.

“She.”

He looked over at the dance floor, where the impertinent woman was just sending her uncle the most beautiful, cheeky grin he had ever seen.

“Who? Y/N?” his friend asked incredulously.

Y/N. So that was her name.

“You know that annoying woman?”

“I do, although I can’t really say she’s annoying. Met her at the coach’s home once. She seemed rather sweet and intelligent to me.”

“She certainly hid that pretty well,” Manuel growled under his breath, earning him a surprised frown from Thomas.

“Are you gonna stand here and stare daggers at her or are you gonna tell me what she did to make you throw a fit?”

“She approached me out of nowhere to tell me that I’m dating a teenager to compensate my inability to commit to a partner on eye level.”

Thomas let his words sink in for a while.

“That doesn’t really sound like her. I mean, what reason would she have to come at you like that? She doesn’t even know you.”

Manuel sighed, thinking about the way she had somehow coaxed the statements from him instead of making them herself.

“Well, she might have phrased it differently,” he admitted meekly. That seemed to spark Thomas’ interest even further and he could feel his expectant look on him, pressing him to finally tell the whole truth.

“Actually she didn’t say it like that. She only made an allusion and made me somehow say those things myself.”

“Mhm. And exactly what allusion did she make?”

Manuel rolled his eyes again, his ego still fighting to repeat her words out loud.

”She said puberty was a bitch, clearly hinting at the fact that she thought my girlfriend was too young for me.”

He hadn’t even finished his sentence when Thomas’ roaring laughter filled the air.

“Now that does sound more like her.”

He needed a bit to contain himself when he suddenly looked up at Manuel with an unusually serious expression on his face.

“And I have to admit, Manu, she kind of has a fair point there.”

“What?”

Manuel could not believe his ears.

“Come on, man. It’s what everyone thinks. She just said it out loud.”

“Fuck you.”

But instead of rising to his expletive, Thomas just looked at him sympathetically. Pushing himself off of the counter, he pat his shoulder in an attempt to encourage him a little, ready to leave him to his self-denial.

But then he stopped. “You know, I personally didn’t have a problem with it. You’re an adult, you can make your own choices. As long as you’re happy, right? But the truth is, Manu, I don’t think you are. Not anymore.”

⚽️⚽️⚽️⚽️⚽️⚽️⚽️⚽️⚽️⚽️⚽️⚽️⚽️⚽️⚽️⚽️⚽️⚽️⚽️⚽️⚽️

“See, I told you he wouldn’t be here. No need for all the panic beforehand.”

She narrowed her eyes at her cousin, shooting her a dirty look.

“Yeah, and I hope it’ll stay that way. Oh, and for the record: I wasn’t panicking at all, it was just you and your sister’s sudden eagerness to lure me here that got me suspicious and nervous in the first place.”

“We didn’t lure you here,” her other cousin piped up a little offendedly. “We simply wanted to spend some time with you. Come on, it’s been what, like 4 months now? Since you moved to Munich three years ago, we hardly get to see you anymore.”

“You and our father,” her sister added quickly. “So it seemed the best option to kill two birds with one stone and bring you along. After all it’s called a family day, right?”

Y/N sighed, not fully convinced, but finally ready to let the topic go.

“Right. Let’s just hope for your sakes that there will be no surprises today that might prove your guilt after all.”

“How are my girls doing?” she heard a familiar voice from behind her back, turning towards her favourite uncle with a beaming smile. What she didn’t see, however, was the brief look that was exchanged between her cousins as soon as she had turned her back, proving exactly what she had suspected all along.

“We’re good, dad. Actually, we’re more than good, we’re excellent,” the older cousin chirped.

“Great.” He paused a moment, but it was clear that he had more to say. Rocking back and forth on his feet, he looked from one woman to the other. “So,” he began carefully, before a huge Cheshire grin spread across his face. “I hope you all reserved a dance for me tonight.”

“Oh, no, daddy, not again.”

“Please, don’t make us do this.”

“There will be dancing here? If you had told me that beforehand, I certainly wouldn’t have come.”

“Of course there will be dancing. I thought that was obvious.” He had to try very hard to look a little slighted, while he actually drew a horrendous amount of amusement from their antics. “Remember, girls, we have a tradition to uphold. Whenever there is some dancing at a party, you have to reserve at least one dance for me. That’s the rule.”

And with that he turned and left them on their own again.

“Ugh, why does he always have to do that to us?” her younger cousin whined.

“Oh stop it, silly. You’re the one who likes it the most and everyone knows.”

⚽️⚽️⚽️⚽️⚽️⚽️⚽️⚽️⚽️⚽️⚽️⚽️⚽️⚽️⚽️⚽️⚽️⚽️⚽️⚽️⚽️

She had been the first to pay tribute to the family tradition and after a very exhausting Discofox dance session, luckily one of her cousins had taken over from her. Kicking off her heels, she welcomed the feel of the cool grass underneath the soles of her feet. Walking over to one of the empty tables, she slumped down heavily into one of the comfortable looking chairs. With a contented smile she let herself fall back against the backrest, closing her eyes and breathing in the mild air of the warm summer night.

“Care for a drink?”

His voice made her jump, sitting up straight immediately, eyes shooting wide open. And there he was, two shot glasses in his large hands and grinning down at her, obviously very satisfied with the slight scare he had just given her. He looked amazing, the smug bastard, in his casual jeans and white shirt, two buttons undone, topped with a sporty black jacket. She highly doubted that she had ever seen a finer man in her entire life. Luckily that didn’t make her lose her sharp tongue.

“And here I am thinking that you weren’t fond of alcohol. What happened?”

He smiled sheepishly, only one corner of his mouth tugged up, when he handed her her drink. He took his time, grabbing a chair and positioning it opposite hers, then sitting down carefully, not wanting to spill the shot all over his chest. She had already come to think that he was trying to avoid her question after all, when he locked eyes with her and finally began to speak.

“Hm. It’s been a while since I last saw you. A lot of things happened, you know. Maybe it was finally time for me to grow up.”

“Hear, hear.” With a mischievous smile she raised her glass. “To your coming of age, then.”

He rolled his eyes playfully. “If you insist.”

His magnificent blue eyes never left hers while they chinked glasses, and a second later she could feel the more than welcome liquid moisturising her suddenly very dry mouth.

With a thud, their glasses landed on the table, both of them chuckling like giddy children when their eyes found each other again and then, for a moment, there was nothing but silence. The world seemed to have zoned out, leaving behind nothing but his aquamarine orbs and the wild smile on his face.

Just gradually, the world seemed to set back in again. There was the monotonous clitter of the crickets, overlaid by the muffled sound of the music that was carried over by a soft breeze, and loudest of all she could hear the beating of her own heart against her chest.

“What else has changed now that you are a proper adult?” she heard herself ask, not having the faintest idea where those words came from and how the hell she managed to deliver them so smoothly when her whole body seemed to have gotten out of control.

He took a quick look over his shoulder, his thumb pointing in the same direction.

“If you mean the dancing, I’m still not very fond of that.” Her face must have fallen a little because he was quick to add, “Except...”

“Except what?”

His eyes landed back on hers and she almost choked on her hitching breath.

“Except I think I could make an exception for the right partner.”

From the corner of her eye she registered a movement between their bodies, but she was hesitant to let her view stray from his captivating appearance. At last it was something in his eyes that looked at her expectantly which finally made her snap out of her trance.

Looking down at his hand sheepishly, it took her a while to fathom that he was actually asking her to dance with him.

Slowly her eyes wandered up to his again, asking a silent question, which he answered with an almost imperceptible rise of his eyebrows. And before she knew what she was doing, she laid her hand in his and let him pull her to her feet.

He had just turned towards the source of the music, when she suddenly held him back.

“No, wait.”

With a puzzled look he did what she asked of him and let her twist him back around.

“Why don’t we just stay here? The music is loud enough anyway.”

A gentle smile curved his lips. “Sure, if that’s what you want.”

She nodded softly, her teeth biting down on her lip in excitement.

And before she knew what was happening, she found herself secured against his chest by his firm grip. It felt like being pressed up to a hot furnace which she would usually have appreciated any other time, but on a sweltry night like this and in a place she had wanted to be in for so long, it was pure torture. And as if this wasn’t bad enough already, his strong fingers pressed down on her lower back, threatening to scorch her even through the fabric of her blouse as he pulled her an impossible inch further into him. He was so close now that she could sense the heat radiating off his cheek as well, bringing along a whiff of his enticing scent and she couldn’t help but close her eyes as she inhaled deeply and her head began to spin. It was odd, but her mind was completely blank by now, blank except for one thought and her lips spread into a blissful smile as she repeated it in her head again and again, relishing in the feeling that if either of them moved just the tiniest bit, their cheeks would inevitably touch.

Slowly they moved and despite the unhurried shift of their bodies her heart was beating so violently that she thought it pondered jumping out of her chest to meet his. There was no chance he wouldn’t be able to tell from the way he held her, and when he finally drew away a tad to look at her, she fully expected him to call her out for it.

But he didn’t. Instead his sinfully soft lips curled into a reassuring smile before he spoke.

“You were right.”

“I beg your pardon?”

A cute chuckle escaped his mouth, leaving the corners of his eyes crinkled in the most beautiful display of amusement.

“About what you said at your uncle’s birthday party.”

“Oh.” She had said a lot that evening, words that she had come to regret later and remembering them now set her cheeks on fire. “About what exactly?”

“About everything,” he admitted without hesitation, yet he couldn’t hide the spark of misery that flitted across his sea blue orbs. “Didn’t take me very long after that night to finally see things clearly.”

“I’m sorry to hear that.” It was true. Although she knew that she probably sounded like a madwoman after everything she had confronted him with back then, at least the frown on his forehead seemed to confirm that. “I truly am. I really would have liked to see you happy.” Even if it was with that girl.

She was glad she had managed to keep that last bit to herself. She had no idea why she had said that she was sorry in the first place, but judging by the wild smile on his face it must have been the right words after all.

“Well, I certainly am happier now than I was that night.” He shrugged. “So, thank you, I guess.”

She huffed. “For what? Making absolutely inappropriate remarks on your relationship? I shouldn’t have done that. I know that now. So it should be me who is sorry here, don’t you think?”

She could feel his fingertips press into the soft flesh of her back.

“Don’t be. I guess you were exactly what I needed.” It took him a second before he realised what he had just said. “I mean it. It was exactly what I needed.”

His eyes snapped to the left and she was thankful that he couldn’t see the grin that decorated her lips as she watched the treacherous colour creep into his cheeks, spreading all the way to his ears. For a while he didn’t say another word, probably still trying feverishly to figure out a way to take back his slip of the tongue. And when he finally spoke, she wished he hadn’t.

“There is one thing though that I have gone over and over in my mind. But no matter how long I think about it, it just won’t make sense.”

She already knew that she wouldn’t like where this conversation was heading now, but she found herself asking nonetheless.

“And what is that?”

His head turned without a warning as his eyes searched her gaze and for the blink of an eye his lips came so close that she couldn’t say if they had actually brushed along hers or if her needy heart had just imagined their brief touch. He didn’t answer her question right away, his breath blending with her own in the narrow space between their faces and suddenly she wasn’t so sure anymore if she had really only dreamed up their fleeting foretaste of a kiss.

“Why did you do it?” Panic rose in her chest. She hadn’t done anything. After all it had been him who had turned his head. But as he went on, she realised that he wasn’t referring to that at all and the suffocating distress eased away bit by bit. “I mean, we didn’t even know each other when you decided to come at me like that.”

Now it was her who had to avert her gaze.

“I think I don’t really want to answer that question.”

“Why not?” His voice was so soft and gentle, making it even harder to answer him.

“Because the truth might be kind of ugly.”

“But the outcome wasn’t, so I think I’ll take that risk.”

Her feet stopped their mechanical movements as a violent shiver ran down her spine. So this would be it then. It would be over before it had really begun. Pity. But at least she would have the memory of these few minutes, of his genuine smile and the way he had held her tight against his chest. With a deep sigh she bid their daydream of a dance goodbye.

“I could tell you now that it was for some noble reason, but at the bottom of it all I think it was nothing more than jealousy that drew me to your table that night. I had been unable to ignore you all evening — ignore her. The way she behaved like a spoiled brat, drinking and losing control, not caring in the least that she not only made a fool out of herself but of you as well. God, I hated her in that moment, for having everything I ever wanted and riding roughshod over it. And when I saw you sitting there, looking so utterly crestfallen, somehow I couldn’t help it.”

An undefinable silence settled between them and the only sound that remained was the beat of the music wafting over from the party that went on behind his back. The faint whisper of the melody seemed to push itself up between them and tear them further apart, exactly as she had expected. And just like the bass, her heartbeat slowed until it died away completely.

It was over and everything she wanted to do was let go of his hand so she could do him the favour of leaving, but to her astonishment he refused to set her free. And rather then releasing her from his grip, he squeezed her hand, briefly and just once, but it was enough for her to find the courage and face him. But instead of finding a frown or a scornful pair of eyes, his blinding smile made her forget to breathe for a moment.

“I had hoped you might say that.” And with that he pulled her into his arms again and continued swaying her to the music as if she had not just revealed her repulsive self to him. Her brain still a step behind, she couldn’t do anything but stare up at him stupidly.

“What? Why?”

“Isn’t that obvious?” And when she shook her head like a petrified imbecile, an amused chuckle rumbled through his chest. “Because even though your behaviour was extremely infuriating, I have to admit that I like you. And asking you out on a date will be so much easier now that I know you like me too.”

With a violent jolt, the useless muscle inside her chest started to beat again, its heavy pounding filling her ears with white noise as the world around her started to spin. Unable to stop the motion, she felt herself leaning in, her nails digging into the undoubtedly expensive fabric of his jacket as she desperately tried to gain control over her unruly body.

“So, will you go out with me?”

It seemed like an eternity until she finally mustered the strength for a mechanical nod. Neither had she noticed in her struggle that he had stopped dancing, nor that the priceless look on her face had made his eyes and heart go soft for her.

“Great. That’s settled then. When are you free?”

It was only when he took a step back, taking his warmth with him as his hand slipped out of hers, that she snapped out of her trance.

“Now.”

“Now? Like right now?”

More like now as in before she could screw everything up again.

“Yes, why not? I know you have a busy schedule, so finding a date when we are both free might be tough. And above that, it is a beautiful summer evening.”

Had all those words really fallen from her mouth right now? Embarrassed about her lack of composure, her hand flew up to her mouth, making him smile again.

“I guess you have a fair point there.” And just like that, his hand was there again, fingers entwining slowly with hers like they had never been meant for anyone else. “All right then, let’s get out of here.”

***

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thegirlwhorunswithwinchesters · 3 years

Text

Nothing Like You

Summary: Sam’s usually not the pining kind. He’s put his feelings for you aside some time ago. A chance encounter brings everything back, but this time things are different and Sam is done pretending.

Created for: @princessmisery666 ‘s Daily Mix Challenge

Prompt: ‘Nothing Like This’ by Blonde and Craig David

Pairing: Sam x Reader

Warnings: Sam is smitten, bad humor on my part

Word count: 1.5K

A/N: Stacey, you absolutely wonderful darling of an angel, thank you for being you. As promised, here’s my entry for your challenge. Hope you like it <3

Beta: @slytherkins (So are you, btw. Wonderful. Amazing. A gift.)

|| JJ’s Masterlist || Tip me <3

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Sam hadn’t seen you since that hunt in Mississippi. The one where he almost kissed you. Dean had ripped him a new one when they were back in Baby, on their way home to the bunker. He had seen the look in Sam’s eyes whenever they were focused on you and Dean knew his little brother well enough to recognize what it had meant. It was the first time in a while they had met a new pair of hunters they worked well with. Seeing as they always had a new fight ahead of them, it would be nice to be able to continue calling the couple their allies. However, as Dean had told Sam that night in the car, staying on good terms with their new acquaintances wouldn’t be an option anymore if the guy caught Sam drooling over his girlfriend.

It hadn’t been like Sam at all to fall for someone so fast and so hard. Out of him and his brother, he was usually better at keeping things professional whenever needed. And with you already being in a relationship, this had definitely been the case. Yet, there was something about you, something about the way you made him feel, that had convinced him the two of you were meant to be more than just friends. But that was then, and despite his silent hoping, you hadn’t crossed paths since.

Until he found himself back in Mississippi and back in your presence. Sam wasn’t quite sure what it was about the southern state and running into you, but he wasn’t complaining.

A haunting at a mansion had brought you both to the same city. You’d both shown up to the crime scene where the victim was lying in a pool of her own blood - not exactly the kind of setting in which Sam had hoped he would see you again.

The victim left behind a distraught husband and two children, who had all said they’d noticed some cold spots but hadn’t seen anything strange. The family’s staff hadn’t been able to help you out either. Though, they did mention something that was of interest to the two faux FBI-agents: one of the staff members had unexpectedly quit earlier that day.

After having asked around a bit, they found out the best way to get a hold of their possible witness was to visit him at the nightclub he frequented on the weekends.

“We should probably make sure we blend in a little more before we head into a place like that,” you had suggested while heading back to your respective cars.

“I’d do anything you say,” Sam had kept to himself while he watched you drive off to your motel.

Another thing he hadn’t mentioned was the lack of backup you had shown up with. For just a second, he had allowed himself to think maybe you weren’t with Rowan anymore. But he knew there were plenty of reasons why the other hunter hadn’t joined you on this simple hunt. After all, Dean hadn’t come with Sam on this one either, simply because he had been called elsewhere. The same could just as easily have been true for your boyfriend.

Inside the club, it was even louder than Sam had expected when the two of you entered. Music was blasting from every direction and people were talking loudly while moving along on the dancefloor to the beat. Sam had changed out of his fed suit and into some worn out jeans and a gray shirt. He hadn’t exactly been sure what you had meant by ‘blending in’ to a place like this, since this kind of scene had never been his thing.

Luckily, you hadn’t gone all out, either. Unluckily, you didn’t have to do much to drive Sam crazy. Your pantsuit had been traded in for a playful light blue dress that hung loosely around your frame, reaching just above your knees. Your hair was down for a change, only a few strands being pinned up and secured at the back of your head. With your line of work, you always had your hair tied where it couldn’t get in the way. Sam had never seen your locks catch in the wind like they’d done outside before they entered the nightclub. He’d been unaware he had been staring until you put a hand on his shoulder and asked him if he was ready to head inside.

How he’d made it inside and onto the dancefloor with you, he couldn’t quite remember. But somehow he had ended up in front of you, surrounded by a bunch of people moving in ways that might’ve even made Dean blush.

“Sam,” you called over the music. “Sam, hey!” Your hand was waving in front of his face and eventually he managed to focus his eyes back on yours. “You’re all stiff!” you said, laughing.

Sam’s eyes grew wide with panic and his head shot down so fast it should’ve given him whiplash. His face burned red as he looked down at his crotch but nothing seemed to be going on down there. In front of him, your laughing became louder.

Your hand reached for his chin to push his head back up and make him look at you. “I meant your dancing,” you said, clearly trying to suppress another fit of laughter. “Loosen up a bit, we’re trying to look like we’re supposed to be here, remember?”

Sam’s cheeks burned an even brighter red as he felt your hand fall from his face and move to his arm, sliding all the way down until you could wrap your hand around his. You grabbed his other hand as well, and when Sam realized you were trying to pull his body into motion, he did his best to attempt something that might have been viewed by some people as dancing. If those people were squinting, from a couple miles away, and it was completely dark.

You laughed again and Sam almost wanted to just keep embarrassing himself so he could keep hearing that wonderful sound. No doubt people around you were watching him struggle, too. But all he could focus on was you, that was all that mattered to him in that moment.

Undoubtedly realizing your attempts weren’t doing much so far, you changed tactics by placing your hands on his waist and moving closer to him. You beckoned him to lean in and Sam dipped his head so he could hear you better.

“Try to relax,” you instructed him with that sweet voice of yours. “Just follow my lead.”

With that, your body started moving and Sam wouldn’t have been able to resist moving along with you if he had wanted to. Which he definitely, one hundred percent, did not.

Your bodies moved in sync, perfectly fitting against each other as the music blasted on in the background. Everything around you faded away until it was just him and you. Sam let you guide him effortlessly and tried to loosen up like you told him.

He couldn’t keep his eyes off you. You made him feel a certain way, a way he hadn’t experienced before. It was killing him not to act on it. The way you were moving against him wasn’t helping much, either.

“Where’d you learn to move like…” Sam’s voice trailed off as he looked at you, his eyes darkening, “...this.”

You grinned at him, causing his heart to be flung right out of his chest. “We all have our ways to blow off steam,” you explained, moving your lips closer to his ear so you wouldn’t have to speak as loud. “I used to go out like this a lot when I first started hunting.”

“With your boyfriend?”

“Ex-boyfriend.” You barely missed a beat.

The simple word could have just been plain information, a life-update to a friend who hadn’t caught up yet. But there was this look in your eyes that told Sam you meant something different by telling him.

After all this wondering, and thinking ‘what if’, Sam wasn’t sure if he should act so fast. Then he saw you raise an eyebrow, and your bottom lip was sucked between your teeth as you looked straight into his eyes.

All the doubt that had forced him to hold back was thrown out the window in a single motion. He finally let go and his large hands grabbed your ass to pull you even closer against him. Your hands moved to his neck and in an instant, your lips were on his. He kissed you hungrily, music drowning out even further into the background. All Sam could hear was the pounding in his ears and the sweet sounds you made when his teeth tugged at your bottom lip.

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siancore · 3 years

Photo

SamBucky x Female Reader Smut

A/N: 18+ Heed the content warnings. You are responsible for the content you consume, act accordingly. Enjoy!

Rating: Explicit

Summary: Reader is working an undercover case with Barnes and Wilson at a nightclub. When the mission turns out to be a waste of time, Sam and Bucky find a way to ensure the whole evening isn’t wasted.

Words: 1,676

Content: Bisexual Threesome MMF; MM Anal Sex; Vaginal Sex; MMF Oral Sex; Masturbation; D/s Undertones; Unprotected Sex; Dirty Talk.

The music is too loud, and the lights are too bright. You haven’t been inside a club for so long since taking up this line of work. Haven’t had time to. The only reason you are here presently is because of the mission. Now, as the beat thrums through your chest, you can’t tell if your quickening heart rate is because of the persistent drumming or because your body is pressed flush against Sam Wilson’s.

The undercover mission is a bust. The intel was wrong. Wilson had said, “Fuck it. Might as well hang about and have some fun.”

So, without much protest from yourself or Barnes, the three of you stay at the club to get drunk and sweaty out on the dancefloor.

Barnes went to get more drinks, you suppose. You don’t even care about the drinks anymore as Sam cups your ass and pushes his hips forward.

Fuck. You can feel how hard he is. This is entirely unprofessional and most likely a terribly reckless idea, but when he pulls you closer and his stiff cock presses against your mound, you could not care less.

Soon, Barnes returns emptyhanded. If he had drinks, he has chosen to put them down as he comes up behind you. You feel his firm chest at your back as his strong arm, the Vibranium one, snakes up around your body, in between Sam’s, and rests on your breast. You don’t stop him. Too overwhelmed with having both of them envelope you. Their heady scent and searing heat causing you to feel more intoxicated than the drinks ever could.

Wilson gets a devilish look in his eyes as he stares past you at Barnes. Soon, they bring their mouths together in a messy, heated kiss as the three of you continue to move to the overpowering music. You clutch Wilson’s lapel as he sucks on Barnes’ lips and tongue. You feel Bucky’s dick set hard against your ass. He grinds into you as he devours Sam’s eager mouth. When they break apart, still pressed against you, you feel your arousal soak your panties. Then, to bring you to the brink of melting, Bucky presses a biting kiss to your shoulder as Sam captures your lips with his own.

The ride back to the safehouse is a blur. You sit at Wilson’s left, while he is in the middle of the backseat, licking into your mouth while he rubs Barnes’ erection through his pants. You place a slightly tentative hand to Sam’s thigh. It’s thick and firm, just like you knew it would be; he moans into your mouth as you bring your hand to his stiffness while Barnes watches you both.

Everything about Sam Wilson is gorgeous, his cock is no exception. You sit back on the bed in the safehouse and watch as Barnes kisses Wilson’s neck from behind while stroking his impressive length. Bucky’s pale hand moves over Sam’s dark skin and draws delicious moans from him.

Barnes looks at you with his steely eyes and says, “He’s pretty, ain’t he?”

“Yes,” you reply, enraptured by the sight of them together.

“So are you,” Barnes says, before kissing Sam’s shoulder and adding, “Go ahead, sweetheart; touch yourself.”

You need no further encouragement as you hike up the hem of your dress and slip your hand into your sodden underwear.

Your pussy is throbbing. Your fingers are drenched. You run them over your aching little clit as you watch Bucky stroke Sam’s big, hard dick. They’re both watching you.

“Let us see,” Sam manages; his voice an octave deeper with lust, vibrating through your core.

You do as you’re told and part your legs, almost shyly until Barnes offers encouragement.

“Yeah, honey,” he all but whispers. “You’re real pretty. Why don’t you take those damn panties off and show us how pretty you can be?”

You feel your face flush warm at his words, even though the rest of your skin feels like it’s alight.

You pull your panties aside, exposing your glistening folds. You dip your finger between your swollen lips and let out a little whimper. It’s all too much, having the pair of them, naked and sweating, touching one another as you touch yourself. Sam is biting his lip and Bucky’s biting Sam’s neck; you slip a finger inside.

“Looks nice,” says Barnes as he continues to strum Wilson. “Does it feel nice?”

“Yeah,” you breathe as you slip another finger inside your aching, dripping pussy.

“Wet?”

“Mmmm.”

“Good,” Barnes says, as he pushes Wilson forward until the younger man is kneeling on the bed. “Now, get those panties all the way off and let Sammy have a taste.”

Wilson has a smart mouth. Everyone says so. But he also knows how to use it. He laps his expert tongue over your pussy, humming as he goes. He uses his thumb to add pressure to your sensitive nub while sucking and kissing every inch of your engorged sex. One of your hands grips the covers of the bed, the other holds his head in place.

“Oh, fuck,” you whimper as he adds a finger and moves it in a come-hither motion, rubbing at your spot.

You hear Barnes let out a small, approving laugh, before he knees behind Sam, spreads his ass cheeks, and runs his tongue over Sam’s puckered little hole. The sound of Bucky giving two swift smacks to Sam’s ass is almost drowned out by the sound of your own voice moaning shamelessly as Wilson sucks your clit just right and you cum in his mouth.

You don’t have time to relish in your release because almost immediately, Sam shifts and is straddling your waist just as Barnes grabs your ankles and pulls you down the bed, closer to him and his impossibly long, thick cock.

Wilson positions himself so that he is kneeling close to your face. He pushes his dick down nearer to your salivating mouth, and you instinctively slip your tongue out. You roll it over the head of his dick, tasting the precum that is oozing from his smooth tip. He rubs it over your lips before pushing it inside. You take him into your warmth. All of him in his thick, veiny glory. You place your hands to his thighs and hollow out your cheeks while applying more pressure with your tongue and lips. You then relax your gullet, breathe through your nose, and let Sam Wilson face-fuck you.

Wilson isn’t the only one of the pair who gets his dick wet, either. Soon, you feel Barnes lift your lower half up off the bed, rub his tip over your gushing slit, and then inch his big, red cock inside of you.

“Fuck,” he says, as he begins to thrust and speaks directly to Wilson, “Baby. You got her snatch all nice and wet for me.”

And then, to you, “Pretty Girl, you feel so good. Keep suckin’ my Sammy’s dick and I’ll fuck you good and proper.”

Your throat is almost wrecked by the time Barnes taps Wilson on the shoulder and they each take their dicks out from both pairs of your swollen, well-fucked lips. Sam shifts once more and then you have a moment of respite as the two men share a messy kiss. Soon, Wilson is sinking to his knees and taking Bucky’s dick into his mouth. Curses fall from Bucky’s lips as Sam works over his shaft with his hand and mouth. You feel your pussy throbbing again just from watching them.

“Baby,” Bucky breathes, as his eyes roll shut. “Fuck, you’re gonna have to stop that or I’ll blow my load right now.”

Wilson stops what he is doing before licking a strip up the underside of Barnes’ cock. He stares up at Bucky and asks, “What d’you want, Big Guy?”

They both turn their eyes to you as Barnes licks his lips and says, “I wanna fuck your tight little ass while you fuck her sweet little cunt.”

Barnes holds your legs apart and fucks Wilson’s hole from behind as Wilson impales you. Bucky thrusts into Sam, and Sam thrusts into you. Their grunts almost drown out your moans. You’ve seen the pair of them in action in the field; they move like a unit, always aware of what the other is doing; always in sync. Now is no different, as Sam’s rigid length fills you up and Bucky’s fills him.

When Barnes leans forward, so does Wilson, and you can feel both of their weight between your thighs. Sam kisses your mouth while Bucky kisses between his shoulder blades as you all chase your release.

Sam holds you in place with one hand, and uses the other to thumb your clit as he thrusts in and out, over and over again. You can see he is almost ready to come. The pressure of fucking and being fucked at the same time would be enough for anyone, but it looks so good on Wilson as his mouth falls open and his breathing quickens, matching your own.

You feel the heat pool in your stomach as he draws you closer to the apex of your pleasure. Bucky thrusts into Sam harder and harder, and he fucks into you with more fervor. Soon, your walls are clenching and you are creaming all over Sam’s gorgeous cock just before pulls out and cums over your stomach. Barnes wastes no time in lifting Wilson with his Vibranium arm and fucking up into him until he cums inside of Sam with a low, almost animalistic grunt. He holds Sam in place as the younger man’s cum keeps spurting out in thick ribbons of white that land on your trembling thighs.

After a long shower, you step out of the bathroom to find Wilson lying on the bed with his head in a sleeping Barnes’ lap and a device in his hand.

“Hey,” he says to you, wearing his bright, playful smile. “You wanna write up the mission report, or should I?”

Tags: @buckybarnesplumwhore @ladymazzy @littlekidsteve @not-on-this-day @1in5lichens

#sambucky #sambucky x reader #sam wilson x reader #bucky barnes x reader

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out-of-jams · 3 years

Text

Accidental | knj

All works here are purely fiction. Everything I write is my intellectual property and therefore belongs to me. ©out-of-jams. Do not copy or repost without permission. That is illegal and you are stealing no matter if you give credit or not.

→ Meet-Cute Drabble Collection!

God it was so cliché. Honestly, he would’ve laughed if he weren’t so caught up in how the sunlight hit the side of your face just right and made your eyes glitter like crystals. Namjoon was probably being incredibly rude, staring at you like he’d never seen a woman before. Like he didn’t know what to do with himself.

Which he didn’t.

But that was beside the point.

“–ind anything?”

Namjoon blinked, mentally shaking himself back out of dreamland. He really hoped you couldn’t see his cheeks turning red underneath the face mask he had pulled all the way up to his nose. Or that you’d somehow caught him staring at you with wide eyes behind the heavy tint of his sunglasses. Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallowed nothing but air, Namjoon thanked his ability to spit out pure poetry on a whim.

“Huh?”

Or not.

A giggle slipped past your lips and oh...Wow it fit you. It wasn’t like the tinkling of bells or any other romantic cliche. If anything, your laugh reminded him a lot of Seokjin’s.

But it fit you.

“I said,” you spoke, raising your eyebrows at him teasingly as you leaned a shoulder against the bookshelf beside you. “Can I help you find anything?”

The name tag pinned neatly to the front of your oversized – god you were so cute – sweater was the first hint Namjoon had that you worked there. And the other? Well, you were approaching him asking if he needed help.

Namjoon completely disregarded the book – the only one he’d come into the bookstore to purchase – he’d been about to reach for and shook his head. “I–uh.”

Why was he so nervous?

“I don’t know what I’m looking for, actually.” Namjoon completely lied through his teeth. He turned to face you instead of straining his neck to look over and reached out to brace a hand against the wooden shelf beside him. “What would you recomm–”

Except his hand completely missed the shelf and he fell face first into the side of it with a crack, knocking his sunglasses slightly askew.

“Are you okay?” A gasp slipped from your mouth, sweater paws hovering in the air, wavering between wanting to reach out to him and not wanting to invade his personal space.

“Yeah, I’m fine.” He wasn’t. The side of his face was throbbing painfully in sync with his heartbeat, but Namjoon ignored it in favor of wiping the concerned look off your face. Why was he such an idiot?

Disbelief mixed with worry in an adorable cocktail of an expression as your eyebrows raised even further. “Are you sure?”

The way that your voice lilted at the end asked a silent question that he only hesitated a little (not at all) to answer. His hand stretched out to hang between the two of you. “Namjoon. And yes, I’m sure.”

A hum left you along with the twitch of your lips in what he assumed to be amusement. Your own fingers wrapped delicately around his and your skin was so soft and – “God of Destruction indeed, huh? I’m Y/n.”

Namjoon froze, brain coming to a complete halt while he attempted to stammer out, “W-wait, you know who I am?”

You shot him a really? look, though he noted that your hand was still clasped in his. “I was suspicious. I mean, the whole disguise thing kinda gave it away, but I wasn’t sure it was you until, well.” With a nod of your head, you gestured at the bookshelf he just imprinted his face into with a giggle. “That. But anyway, what can I help you find, Kim Namjoon? Anything in particular?”

“Why are you looking at me like that?”

A valid question. Especially given the fact that Kim Namjoon was staring you down (again!) over the brim of the hardback book in his hands like you were an alien. With his face mask pulled down under his chin and the dark hood of his hoodie thrown up over his head, Namjoon leaned further back against the wall behind him.

The two of you were camping out in the back of the bookshop way past closing time. Luckily, the owner of said shop was a kindly old man who let you have your run of the place whenever you wanted since he’d known you for years. So, he didn’t mind that you were there after your shift ended, hiding in the back behind the shelves like a pair of school children.

Namjoon brushed a stray strand of brunette hair out of his eyes and bookmarked the page he was on with a slender finger. It’d been about two weeks since you’d first met, since he’d almost given himself a concussion from hitting his head against one of the bookshelves. And he’d returned today close to closing time, asking if you’d had a certain book in stock that he’d been searching for.

You did.

Which was exactly what brought you to where the two of you were now. Somehow, you showing him where the aforementioned book was led to both of you getting into a deep discussion on literature. Though, you kept getting sidetracked.

And, apparently, the last thing you’d said had caused Namjoon’s brain to shut down.

“Seriously,” he finally asked, espresso hued eyes wide with disbelief.

“Super seriously.” The wooden shelves behind you were starting to dig into your back but you didn’t care.

“I don’t believe you.” Namjoon set the book in his hands aside in order to lean closer across the space between you. His eyes narrowed playfully; plump lips pursed. “There’s no way.”

“Whelp,” you answered with a shrugg. “It’s true. I’ve never been to a concert before.”

“None at all? Not even an orchestra concert?”

You kicked at his leg playfully, already starting to regret the way you’d confessed to having a secret love for classical music. And that you’d never been to a concert before in all of your twenty-four years of life. “No, not even an orchestra concert.”

“Huh,” Namjoon hummed and leaned back, head tilted to the side in thought. He let the silence linger so long that you were really starting to think that you broke him. And just as you were about to ask him if he was alright, he finally spoke again. “What are you doing this weekend?”

You raised an eyebrow at his random question but answered anyway. “Nothing that I know of. Why?”

Namjoon chewed on his bottom lip, incidentally flashing his deep dimples. “Well, Bangtan is performing at the Olympic Stadium this weekend to kick off our world tour. If you want...you could come.”

When your other eyebrow jumped up to join the first, he quickly cut in before you could reply. “Don’t feel obligated to or anything! Just if you want to. I could get you front row tickets if you--”

“Namjoon.” You held up a hand to stop his cute rambling and had to hide a smile at the way his mouth clamped shut. “I’d love to.”

“Yeah?” The smile reached his eyes before it reached his lips.

“Yeah.” And your own reached out to mimic his.

#bts #bts fic #namjoon #namjoon fic #bangtanarmynet #networkbangtan #btsbookclub #ficswithluv #magicshopnet

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typical-simplelove · 3 years

Text

Dancing Around Feelings (T. Jost)

Summary: Four times you dragged Tyson to the dance with you and One time he dragged you to dance with him. Or, one time you danced, three times you danced and almost kissed, and one time you danced and finally kissed.

Author’s note: I absolutely love Tyson now and I thought this idea would fit him best. Let me know what you thought!

Warnings: maybe one curse word?

Word Count: 5.6k

One

You were by no means a professional dancer or a good dancer. You just knew that when there is a time and place, it doesn’t hurt to shake your body just a little bit. Sometimes, dancing is also a vital part of certain social events. For example, this social event. You were at a Colorado Avalanche charity gala and you couldn’t help but look sad as you watched everyone around you get up to dance to the slow song. You were tagging along as Tyson Jost’s date, a date who was just a friend. You and Tyson were good friends, best friends at that. If one was having a bad day, the other would always be the one to comfort the other. Sometimes, Tyson knew you better than you knew yourself. It didn’t take much for Tyson to make you laugh. Throughout your friendship with Tyson, you knew you could count on him and he could do the same. That is how you ended up being Tyson’s date to this charity gala.

“Tyson, Yn, you need to dance,” Gabe Landeskog said to you and Tyson. Tyson laughed. He was by no means a dancer. He would rather not. “I’m not asking you to dance, I am telling you to dance to show off for the investors and season ticket holders.” As Gabe walked away, you looked at Tyson; he had an unreadable look on his face.

“What’s wrong, Tyson?” you tease. “Can’t dance?”

“No,” he replies. “It’s not that.”

You quirk your eyebrow at him willing him to explain himself to you.

“Isn’t slow dancing kind of romantic? I mean, we are just friends so isn’t dancing kind of overstepping the boundaries just a bit?” Tyson is quick to say. Your smile fades. Despite the “just friends” logo on the two of you, you couldn’t help but wish that you were more. You wanted to kiss him, stroke your hand through his hair, and love him freely. His words, though, confirmed that your feelings were unrequited.

“I guess,” you reply glumly. You really wanted to dance with Tyson. You wanted to be close to him. You wanted to feel his hands sitting on your waist guiding you to move with him and the music. You looked up and saw Gabe eyeing you to get Tyson up to dance. You sighed. He caught on to your feelings for Tyson and constantly insisted that Tyson felt the same way. He didn’t. Tyson just wanted you as a friend. Nothing else. However, you knew that Tyson had to dance because he plays for the Avalanche and the players had to put up a facade for the season ticket holders.

“Come on,” you tell Tyson, getting up. You grab his hand and pull him from his seat. “Yes, it’s quite romantic to dance but you have a duty you need to fulfill. I think you need to dance regardless if you want to do it or not.”

Tyson nods to what you have to say but barely meets your eye. This was weird for him. Tyson always looked you in the eye whenever you talked. You once asked him about it; he replied by saying that everyone deserves the respect of someone looking them in the eyes as they talked.

When you and Tyson got to the dance floor and you put your hands around Tyson’s neck, you laughed at him. He looked lost. His hands were stuck at his sides, he wasn’t moving, and he could barely look at you. In order to save you both from the awkward situation, you decided to take the lead knowing that Tyson wasn’t going to be the one to do so.

“Put your hands on my waist and close up the large space between us,” you instruct Tyson, trying to ignore the red growing on your face. Once Tyson did as instructed, you slowly began to sway to the slow song playing over the speakers. Tyson, still, was lost and didn’t move. “Tyson, you have to move as well.”

Tyson doesn’t respond. All he can focus on is your hands behind his neck lightly playing with the hair at the nape of his neck.

“You also should look at me,” you tell Tyson with a laugh. Your best friend’s manner was confusing to you. He was always confident around you and never failed to have the words. You would have thought that he would have cracked at least four jokes by now.

It wasn’t you that took him out of his trance, it was Cale. Cale walked up to you and Tyson and said, “Because Tyson can’t seem to dance, let me dance with you Yn. You deserve to dance with someone who knows what they are doing.”

Cale has his suspicions about your feelings towards Tyson but never addressed them properly with you. However, he knows that Tyson reciprocates the feelings, but Tyson is oblivious to his feelings towards you. However, Cale’s words to you and the feeling of you slowly pulling away hit Tyson like a truck.

“No, she’s dancing with me,” Tyson says aggressively with an undertone of jealousy in his voice. He pushes Cale away from you and finally begins to sway with you and the music. You can’t help but smile. Maybe for one night, you can pretend that you and Tyson are more than just friends.

You failed to realize the look that everyone on the team was giving you and Tyson. The both of you were oblivious to the very obvious and painstakingly clear feelings between the two of you.

As you were dancing with Tyson, you realized that dancing with him might be the one thing that might make you snap over the edge and have to tell him how you truly feel.

Two

“C’mon Tyson,” you plead. “Please? For me?”

“No, Yn,” Tyson objects. “I’m not dancing with you. The charity gala is the only dancing you are ever going to get out of me.”

You laugh in response knowing that you were going to dance with him at some point that night but also blushing at the memory of the charity gala. Tyson was at your place that night. You decided to bake cookies that night but needed more brown sugar for the cookies and called Tyson to go buy some brown sugar for you. When he brought the sugar, he plopped himself down on a stool on the counter and stayed. Not that you minded. However, the quite extensive feelings of the domestic life you wanted with Tyson made your stomach churn and you fall more in love.

Currently playing was one of your favorite songs blasting through your portable speakers and you absolutely wanted Tyson to dance with you. You decided, once again, screw what he said. You wanted to dance with Tyson and he was going to dance with you whether or not he wanted to. You stepped away from the counter and went to start the song from the start; you walked over to Tyson, grabbed his hand and pulled him off the stool he was sitting on. You brought him to the empty space where the counter and stove met and began to dance with him. You were holding both his hands and dancing to the sound and singing the lyrics. You probably looked ridiculous, but you knew that Tyson wasn’t going to say anything to you.

“What are you doing, Ynn?” Tyson amusingly asked.

“Do you want to guess, Tys?” you asked flirtatiously.

Tyson caught onto the light and flirty tone in your voice so he decided to get in on it, too. He let go of one of your hands and laughed when you whined at the loss of contact. Using the one hand he already had on yours, he twirled you around causing you to giggle like a maniac. This is what you wanted. The only thing you would have wished was that Tyson would kiss you. Your thoughts were interrupted by Tyson loudly offkey singing to the song. You couldn’t help but giggle even more. This man-child was going to be the death of you.

When the current song playing switched to a slower song, you were about to let go of Tyson’s grasp when he held onto your hands tighter.

“No way, Ms. Yln,” Tyson teases. “You pulled me to dance in your kitchen, you are getting the whole experience.”

You couldn’t help but laugh. “Ok, then, Mr. Jost. Wow me.”

The tension in the room immediately thickened as Tyson pulled you closer to him and moved his hands to your waist and gripped you firmly so that you could both move in sync. As the song continued, you and Tyson both gazed at each other and kept swaying to the music. Abruptly, Tyson dropped his hands from your waist. Your smile dropped, but then reemerged when Tyson grabbed on your hands and twirled you around. He did it again; however, this time, instead of putting you in a position with your front towards him, your back was to him. Tyson used this as an opportunity to pull you into him and your back was right up against him. You could feel Tyson’s strong abdominal muscles through his shirt and just that allowed for your face to begin to grow red. His arms were wrapped around your waist and your hands were on top of his. His head was balanced on top of yours and you could feel his heartbeat on the back of your head.

You both continued to dance to the music as the song continued. As the song was reaching towards the end, Tyson twirled you around again. This time, he didn’t put you in one of the two of the same positions as before. He kept one hand in yours and one hand wrapped around your waist. Your breath caught in your throat as he dipped you down as you’ve seen in many Hallmark movies. You didn’t fear that Tyson would drop you because you knew that Tyson had a strong grip on you. When he brought you back up, he didn’t let go of you. He brought his hands to wrap around your waist and he brought you so close to him that a needle wouldn’t be able to make it through to the other side. As you both continued to sway to the final notes of the song, both of your heads started getting close together. Tyson’s eyes continued to flick between your lips and your eyes. Just as his lips were ghosting yours, the timer on the oven for the cookies broke the trance you were both in.

You both jumped away from each other and you went to go get the cookies out of the oven.

Tyson was about to kiss you and you were going to let him. Tyson Jost, your best friend who you were in love with, was going to kiss you and you were going to let him. Your face was so red that you were sure that it could have melted a block of ice in seconds if you tried.

“Are they ready? The cookies, I mean.” Tyson asks with hesitation. He was going to kiss you and you weren’t pulling away. If it weren’t for the timer, Tyson would have kissed you revealing the true feelings you have for each other. Tyson was going to kiss you and you were going to let him kiss you.

“Yeah. They’re just hot so don’t eat one just quite yet, Tys.” You teased him. Normally, when the cookies were ready, Tyson would wrap his hands around your waist and nuzzle his face into your neck softly asking if the cookies were ready. He didn’t do that this time. Figures, considering you both almost kissed in your kitchen.

With your playful remark just seconds before, Tyson understood that the two of you weren’t going to address the kiss and therefore followed your lead. Despite this, he so desperately wanted to talk to you about the kiss.

Who knew that dancing would lead to you and Tyson almost kissing and fessing up about your feelings for each other?

Three

The events of the night baking cookies went untalked about and you and Tyson went back to normal. Despite this, there was always a level of tension that couldn’t be erased and everyone noticed. You and Tyson couldn’t quite always look each other in the eye anymore. Tyson was more touchy with you when he was sober. Everyone thought you both finally hooked up; however, when prompted with that, you both turned bright red but shook your head. So, if you didn’t hook up, then what was with the very obvious sexual tension?

You didn’t tell anyone and Tyson, very obviously, didn’t tell anyone.

This is how you ended up with you watching as JT tried to get Tyson to talk to this beautiful blonde. You were green with jealousy. The only consolation was that Tyson was oblivious to her advances and he very much didn’t want to talk or dance with her. Some of the others at your table were egging you on to “go save your man.”

“Go, save him,” Mel says to you seriously. “He doesn’t want to talk to her. He’ll talk to you. Then, maybe you two can figure out what in the world is going on between you two.”

You nod, not trusting your words not to spill how you truly feel.

You walk over to Tyson, put on a genuine smile, and wrap your arm around his waist. “Hey Tys, you owe me a dance.”

Tyson looked so gracious to have you save him. He wasn’t sure if he wanted to dance with you, but you left no room for any kind of argument as you apologized to the blonde and led Tyson to the dance floor. Just as the two of you were getting onto the dance floor, a slow song began to play throughout the club. Okay then, this was how it was going to be. You and Tyson were going to slow dance. Thankfully, this time, Tyson knew what he was doing and didn’t freeze up.

When Tyson’s hands landed on your waist, your breath caught in your throat. This didn’t go unnoticed by Tyson and he shot you a wink along with a smirk. You shook your head in response. You were both very close to each other. Not as close as when you almost kissed but also much closer than the night of the charity gala.

“Thank you for saving me,” Tyson says softly.

“Of course, Tys,” you murmur. “You always save me from creeps. It’s probably my turn to repay the favor.”

Tyson nods. “Not sure if she qualifies to be in the same category, but thanks.”

You both continue to dance to the song. As the song went on, you and Tyson, once again, failed to see the looks that his teammates and significant others were throwing at you. On top of that, everyone failed to see that the blonde who Tyson ditched was slowly making her way over to you and Tyson plotting her revenge.

As the song got closer to the end, you and Tyson subconsciously got closer together, as close as the night of the almost kiss in your kitchen. Tyson kept on flicking his eyes back and forth between your eyes and lips. He was so ready to kiss you. There was nothing he wanted more. Just as the final line of the song was playing, Tyson leaned down and his lips brushed against yours. You were about to place your lips on his when out of nowhere you felt a wet drip go down your back. You shrieked and backed away. Tyson looked hurt thinking you shrieked because you almost kissed.

When you turned around to try to figure out who did that to you, Tyson saw the wetness on your shirt.

“What the hell was that for?” you screech at the blonde. You knew it was her. She was conspicuously close to you, had an empty glass in her hand, and a smirk on her face that you wanted to rip off her face. She very deliberately ruined your chance to kiss Tyson.

“It was an accident,” she replied innocently but with an undertone of bitchy to her voice.

“Whatever,” you reply. All you wanted was to go home. You exited out of the club with Tyson hot on your heels.

“Here,” Tyson says whilst offering you his jacket once you were both outside. “Your shirt is all wet. Why don’t you put the jacket on and then take the shirt off so as not to get sick?”

Your heart melted as his thoughtfulness and you couldn’t be made at anyone anymore. You took his jacket and zipped it up, somehow maneuvering your wet shirt off.

“Can I get your pants too? They’re also kind of wet, too.” You tease Tyson.

“Let me buy you dinner first before I’m losing my pants,” Tyson flirts back to you. This was how it was, you were both, once again, going to ignore the fact that you were almost going to kiss.

“Oh my goodness!” Mel yells to you. “Ynn, are you ok? Gosh, that woman is rude.” With her words, Mel eyes you up and down noticing that you ditched your shirt and are now wearing Tyson’s jacket zipped up. She was about to make a comment but decided against it, for right now.

“Yeah, I’m fine. Thanks for asking. I’m just going to head home now.”

“Ok, let me know when you get home safely.”

“No need, I’ll go with you.” Tyson interjects.

“Thanks, Tys,” you reply, smiling up at him. Tyson turns red with your smile. Everyone around you gives each other looks like “they are so oblivious” that go completely unnoticed by you and Tyson.

On the uber ride back to your apartment, all you kept thinking about was that Tyson, again, was going to kiss you while you were dancing but got interrupted, again. Maybe this was for a reason? Maybe you and Tyson weren’t meant to kiss, ever. This thought frightened you. You decided just to ignore it and cuddle into Tyson’s side seeking the warmth he always gave to you. When his arm snaked around you, you knew that you and Tyson would kiss when the time was right. It would undoubtedly happen, right?

Four

“So, you mean to tell me that you and Tyson have danced together three times and all three times, something romantic happened?” Mel questions.

“No, that’s not what I’m telling you. I’m telling you that something romantic happened the past two times. And the romantic something was almost kissing. I have no idea where you got something happening the first time.” you reply, trying to clear the air.

“Because something did happen!” Mel says completely ignoring the other part of your reply. “He was looking at you like you were the most beautiful woman he has ever seen.”

“No, he wasn’t. And please don’t argue with me. I’d rather talk about the almost kisses. How am I supposed to face him today at Linnea’s birthday party?”

“The same way you faced him before.”

“But it’s different now?”

“How is it any different now?”

“Because, now it’s two times. And one time is an accident. Two times is on purpose.”

“Don’t you want to kiss him?” Mel questions.

“Yeah,” you say barely audible.

“I’m sorry, can you please say that again? I didn’t quite hear you.” Mel eggs you on in a joking way. You don’t reply. “I’m sorry. Mommy brain. You are going to have to speak louder.”

You, again, don't say anything. “C’mon Yn. The first step to facing your problems is acknowledging what they are.” She gives you a suggestive look and you know that she isn’t going to drop the subject.

“Fine! I want Tyson to kiss me!” you loudly reply, probably more loudly then you should have. Mel smiles in satisfaction.

“Whoa, chill Yn. We get that you’re in love with Tyson and want to sleep with him but you don’t have to scream it loudly, especially with my daughter in the house.” Gabe says from the entry way into the kitchen jokingly covering his daughter’s ears.

“What is Yn saying that she shouldn’t say in front of your daughter?” Mikko asks teasingly knowing exactly what it is.

“Nothing, and how do you get I want Tyson to kiss me and connect it with I want him to sleep with me?” you ask, confused about the assumption that was made.

“It’s obvious. You want to sleep with him.” Gabe says.

“Who wants to sleep with whom?” JT asks, entering into the conversation at an awkward time.

You’re about to brush off the question with a nothing when Mikko pipes up with, “Yn is finally admitting she wants to sleep with Tyson.”

“I never said that! I said I wanted to kiss Tyson, not sleep with him. C’mon, Mel, back me up.” you defend yourself. Mel doesn’t say anything; she gives you a suggestive look. “Really? You too?”

The conversation is immediately interrupted when Tyson is heard entering into the house.

“This ends here. No one says a word about anything or I am never talking to any of you.” you tell the group of people.

Your ultimatum is given back with comical looks. “Fine, you say something, I am never baking for any of you ever again.”

With your next ultimatum, everyone agrees not to say anything to Tyson or bring it up again. The murmuring ends when Tyson walks in and wraps his arms around you in a greeting. The suggestive looks keep on coming. This is going to be a long day.

…

Linnea’s birthday party is a few hours in when people start dancing. At first, it was Mel and Gabe dancing with Linnea bringing out her shrieks of happiness. Eventually, more and more people began dancing. The two people that the team noticed that weren’t dancing were Tyson and Yn; the both of you both sitting at opposite ends of the backyard. JT takes a break from dancing to approach you.

“Yn, you should go and bring Tyson out to dance. Here, no one will interrupt you if you both decide to finally kiss. And, a plus is that Gabe and Mel would love to give you a spare room for you and Tyson to finally release all of the sexual tension.”

“Oh my goodness, shut up!” you say, accusatory but comical. Tyson heard your remark and instantly went over to try to save you from his teammate.

“Harassing Yn, I see?” Tyson says joking.

“That’s what you see? Not the loving lo--- ow!” JT is cut short when you kick him in the leg. He glares at you and you just glare right back at him.

“Ok, this is weird. You good, Ynn?” Tyson asks, obviously confused.

“Yeah, I’m good,” you say. “Hey Tys?”

Tyson perks up.

“Come dance with me?” you ask.

“I’d say no but you’re going to drag me -- what is he doing?” Tyson thought it interrupted when JT abruptly ran away from you two and over to the person who is controlling the music.

“Ignore him, come on, let’s dance.”

The minute the two of you reach the makeshift dance floor, a slow song comes on. You instantly realize that this is why JT abruptly ran away from you and Tyson. You both aren’t dancing as close together knowing that this is a child’s birthday party. However, the tension between the two of you is obvious. Throughout the song, though, you and Tyson do get closer together and stand as close together as you did back the first time you both almost kissed. Tyson’s hands leave your waist and are cupping your face. He begins stroking your cheek with his thumb. You decided this is one of your favorite ways for him to touch you. He stops brushing your cheek and leans down to kiss you. His nose touches yours and you giggle bashfully. His face turns red in response; he leans back and goes in to try to do it a second time properly. He is about to kiss you, for real this time, when he hears:

“Look! Those grown ups are going to kiss!!” a child shrieks, causing everyone to look at you and both of you to pull away, groaning, without a kiss.

Mel rushes up to you, apologizing about her niece. You both tell her it’s ok and that it’s fine. It truly is. However, you both desperately wanted to kiss.

Maybe you both aren’t meant to kiss, then.

One

After dancing four times and three almost kisses, you were giving up on ever kissing Tyson. You, a few times, thought about driving up to his house and kissing him when he opened the door and then walk away from him. This is very immature, you decide. However, here you are in the same club that that blonde spilled her drink on you. You are sitting next to Tyson, your bodies are pressed up against each other and his arm is hanging over your shoulder. You both are nursing your drinks and talking to each other and the teammates and significant others at the table.

As this is happening, you hear the same song that came on during the night at your apartment begin to play. You smile into your drink as you take a sip reminiscing about the memory. As you do this, you don’t notice that Tyson notices your actions. He realizes that this is his chance to try to get you to dance with him and finally kiss you.

As you are about to take another sip of your drink, Tyson takes it out of your hand. You whine at the inability to take a sip but your whine is cut short when you feel Tyson take your hand.

“Dance with me, Ynn?” Tyson whispers into your ear and you feel the chill go up and down your body. You nod. As Tyson leads you onto the dance floor, his teammates are grinning and high fiving thinking that this is finally the time that everything will go right.

Instead of starting to dance with space between you and Tyson, you both put yourselves in a position where there is no space between the two of you.

“It’s weird that you asked me to dance, Tys. Normally, I have to egg you on to dance with me.” you tease Tyson, trying to calm your nerves.

“It’s funny. Almost every time that you dragged me out to dance, we almost kissed. Key word is almost. Something always went wrong. So, I figured, if we want a kiss to happen, then maybe I should initiate the dance and maybe a kiss could happen.”

Your face turns a deep red. Is this Tyson telling you that he likes you too? That he’s in love with you? You are about to voice these thoughts when Tyson twirls you around and places your back against him similar to the actions in your apartment all that time ago. Your breathing is short and terse. You can’t think straight. Maybe this is it. Finally, you and Tyson might finally kiss and then the two of you can finally stop walking around these feelings.

Your thinking is interrupted when Tyson reaches for you again and twirls you. You aren’t brought back into his body this time. Instead, Tyson dips you and never breaks eye contact with you. When he brings you back up and puts you back up against his body, you can feel how fast his heart is beating.

“Tys, I am so in love with you. I can’t do it anymore. I can’t be just friends anymore. I need to be with you.” you confess to Tyson.

“What if I told you I felt the same? What if I’m in love with you and I don’t want to be just friends with you? What if I told you I don’t think I can go another day without being with you? What would you do then?” Tyson asks.

“I would tell you to kiss me and then take me out for a date and you can finally lose those pants.”

“Yeah?”

You nod. Tyson smiles but is not leaning forward to kiss you like indicated.

“Tys, this is the part where you kiss me, now.” you tell Tyson. His face turns red before bringing his hands up to cup your face. He begins to stroke your cheek with his thumb. The song, at this point, is long over and is now some upbeat hip-hop song. You both ignore that. Nothing in the world is happening or matters except for the two of you this close to each other. Tyson’s eyes go back and forth between your eyes and your lips. One of his hands goes to gently stroke your soft lips. The anticipation that Tyson is building is killing you. However, despite your wants, you aren’t going to rush him. You just need him close and touching you like this.

Slowly, Tyson’s head gets closer to yours. He tilts his head and his lips are barely brushing yours. You think he is about to kiss you but he pulls slightly away from you that no one probably could have noticed. But you noticed. You noticed the glint in his eye when you groaned when he pulled away. You noticed the way he smirked knowing that he should just kiss you already. You noticed the way that his eyes glanced at the way your shoulders slightly dropped with the loss of contact and lack of a kiss. You noticed the way a small laugh escaped his lips when you groaned wishing he would just kiss you already.

“You know, you are really playing with fate. You want to kiss me with nothing interrupting us? Then maybe you should get on with it then.” you tease, but only slightly.

“It’s all about the love and anticipation, babe.” Tyson replies. Your heart stops when he calls you babe. You know Tyson knows exactly what he’s doing to you and he doesn’t plan to stop. He hopes to drive you crazy like this forever.

Finally, finally, Tyson leans forward one more time. You tell yourself that if he doesn’t kiss you, then you are going to take initiative and kiss him.

His lips find yours softly. It is more than a peck but it’s also not a full makeout kiss. It’s a kiss full of love, longing, hope, and happiness. You both pull away before going in for another kiss and deepen that.

You probably would have stood in your place kissing Tyson all evening if it weren’t for the hooting and howling coming from your table. You both separate and place your foreheads against each other giggling and lovingly looking at each other. Tyson is about to go in and kiss you again when JT comes up and pats Tyson on the back.

“Atta boy! That’s how you get the girl.” JT congratulates Tyson. You and Tyson both laugh. He just places a soft kiss on your temple.

Yeah, you could get used to this, Tyson asking you to dance and you both finally got the kiss.

Two, bonus

Five Years Later

“For the first time ever, I’d like to introduce to you, Mr. and Mrs. Jost!” The guests at your wedding cheered on as you and Tyson walked into the ballroom.

After you and Tyson made your rounds around the room, the DJ made the announcement that it was time for the first dance. When the announcement was made, you and Tyson had just sat down to take a breather. However, this allowed for Tyson to lead you onto the dance floor.

“Mrs. Jost, my wife, may I offer you this dance?” Tyson asked with a teasing tone to his voice.

“Why yes, of course, Mr. Jost, my husband,” you said while taking Tyson’s hand.

The song that began to belt out from the speakers also happens to be the same song of the night in your apartment and the same song from your first kiss with Tyson. You both felt that the song was the start of your true romantic relationship together and it was important to honor that past.

“You know, now that we’re married, I am thinking that we are probably going to be dancing around our new kitchen quite often?” Tyson says to you.

“Why yes of course, why not? Isn’t dancing a prominent fixture of our relationship? And, one day, when we have a baby, we will dance with the baby in our arms all around the future nursery and kitchen.” you replied dreamily.

“Ok, my wife. Slow down, babe. Let’s just get through the wedding.”

“If you say so, husband.”

The rest of the song and dance continued with you and Tyson dancing and looking at each other. When the song ended and Tyson placed a way to passionate kiss for a family wedding on your lips, you knew that you and Tyson were forever. There was nothing that was going to stop you. It may have taken a little bit of time to finally get the kiss and together, but it was perfect.

You may have danced around your feelings for quite some time but now you were dancing into your forever.

#hockey imagine #hockey fic #hockey writing #nhl writing #nhl fic #nhl imagine #nhl fanfiction #hockey #tyson jost #tyson jost imagine #tyson jost x reader #josty #colorado avalanche #colorado avalanche imagine #will I ever write a 4+1 without a bonus part two?#probably not #don't count on it #claudia writes

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