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macfrog · 10 months

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you shook me all night long sex on fire chapter one

requested by @whore-4-pedro (hope u enjoy lovely)

lived all my succession fantasies out writing this one icl. enjoy 🖤 check out my masterlist for more joel fun ‼️

pairing: ceo!joel x fem!reader

summary: as joel miller's assistant, you're expected to meet all his needs. some are a little more personal than others

warnings: 18+ (minors dni!!!) creepy dude at the beginning, lotta teasing and touching, mentions of female masturbation, fingering, unprotected p in v sex, semi-public sex, daddy kink, age gap (reader is late 20s, joel late 40s), alcohol and drug use, cursing, low-key inappropriate work relationship (if bad then why sexy?)

word count: 7.8k

series masterlist | main masterlist | playlist

You grind your ass and Joel hums into your skin. He’s getting harder by the second, you’re getting wetter. It’s not enough, what you’re doing. You need more. You lower your hand and cup him through his pants, taking hold of his bulge and massaging gently. His hips are moving, he’s rutting into your palm, both of you desperate to rid yourselves of the clothing separating your skin. “I asked,” you breathe, “what’s next on the agenda?” “Next,” Joel mumbles into your skin, “was thinkin’ I could bend you over this desk ‘n fuck you.”

It’s Friday night.

You only got home from work an hour and a half ago. Tired, hungry, sore eyes from staring at a screen all night, sore back from sitting hunched over all day. Dumped your bags at the door, ripped your clothes off by your bed, dove straight into the shower. You’d picked an outfit, curled your hair in record time, and even done your makeup before Deb called to say she was out front.

It was a ten-minute drive from your place to the hotel – it’s only a couple blocks from work. The cab driver made light conversation, talked about his daughter and her new puppy, and you both nodded and uhuhed in all the breaks in his sentences. Deb made some comment about it being easier if you’d just stayed at the office until the party, and you’d hummed in agreement, looking out the window at the regal hotel.

Truth be told, you’d rather be doing anything other than attending a work function. You’ve had a long week. A lot of meetings, paperwork, emails to be answered, and most of all, running around after your boss. It’s not all fun and games being Joel Miller’s assistant, regardless of the pay, or the view from your desk over to his.

Your head’s elsewhere when you waltz through the revolving door, heels clicking along the marble floor. The elevator – gold, by the way – slides open and you both step inside, hitting the highest button before you’re swept up twenty floors to the penthouse.

“Did you send those documents over to us yet?” Deb asks.

“Nope,” you reply, slipping out when the elevator dings. “Had to sit in on a meeting with Joel and take the fucking minutes, spent all night writing them up.”

“He won’t be pissed at you?”

“If he hadn’t insisted I was in there with him, you’d have your reports, wouldn’t you?”

She shrugs, agreeing.

“Anyway,” you continue, “I can take angry Joel. He doesn’t scare me.”

Deb chuckles as you shoulder the doors to the penthouse open.

It’s a moody dull, lit only by the lights lining the bar and small lamps decorating mahogany tables, sat next to deep green velvet couches. There are clusters of people everywhere you look; stood near shelves filled with leather-bound books, examining the view from the floor to ceiling windows, sprawled out over luxurious chairs with champagne flutes in their hands. There’s a tree in the middle of the room, branches decorated in blinking string lights reaching to a glass dome in the ceiling.

It's, like, sickeningly pretentious. You know it. Hell, you all know it. Still, in your little black dress, you strut over and take a champagne of your own, sipping on the fizzing drink with one elbow resting on the wooden bar.

“There’s my girl,” his voice coos over your shoulder. “Been watchin’ for you all night, took your time.”

You lean back, bored expression on your face.

Joel’s broad chest pulls on the white shirt he’s wearing, same one you just saw him in little over three hours ago, only without a tie; the top couple of buttons are undone to reveal his chest hair peeking through. You try not to let your eyes linger on him too long.

“You look fuckin’ ecstatic to be here.”

He leans against the bar next to you, arms crossed. When you don’t reply, he nudges you. Your champagne jolts in its glass.

“I always look like this. I’m always ecstatic to be everywhere.”

He smiles. “Why aren’t you mingling?”

“Don’t wanna.”

“’s a work event. That’s the whole point.”

“Then why are you over here talkin’ to me?”

His eyes flash across your lips, and you swear they drop for a nanosecond to your chest.

“Come on,” he says, taking your wrist in his huge hand, “some people you oughta meet.”

Joel ignores your sigh and leads you over onto a plush rug, sidling between knees to sit you down on the soft couch between himself and some bald dude in a jet blue suit, whose shirt is also undone, though much further than Joel’s. He has a chest like a hairless cat.

Cue Ball snakes an arm over the back of the couch; his fingers dance across your back. You shimmy a little closer to Joel and he notices instantly, jaw turning slowly to glance over. When he sees your knees angled toward him, seeking protection, he leans back and wraps his left arm around your shoulders, his right coming down to cup your knee.

“This,” he shakes your leg, left arm pulling you tighter against him, “is my wonderful assistant. My right-hand lady. Couldn’t do anything without her, could I?”

“Could wipe your own ass, that’s about it,” you mumble into your glass, and a roar of laughter sounds from your audience.

Joel, still leaning back, pulls his arm from you but keeps his shoulder firmly behind yours, making sure whatever the creep on your left tries, he’ll feel first. Your elbow rests in the crook of his, and you keep it there, quietly enjoying the intimacy of his body caging yours.

His left hand is settled on your thigh. You realize it after a swig of champagne, and start counting in your head how many seconds his fingers stay gripped on your skin.

He talks with his hands – always has. Walks around his office, ranting and raving sometimes, arms swinging around in the air while you take notes, or file your nails, or just watch until he’s done. For the next half hour, though, he only talks with his right hand. Only sips his beer with his right hand. Only scratches his beard, or pulls his phone from his pocket, or reaches up and passes you a second drink, and then a third, with his right hand.

You stay rigid, legs unmoving, eyes barely leaving his knuckles, locked tight around your thigh. There’s heat from his touch siphoning from his palm down through your skin, rippling like waves all through your body and pooling somewhere south of your belly button. No matter how hard you try, you can’t shake it. Can’t stop thinking about it. You barely notice when Cue Ball’s hand ghosts across your back a second time.

But Joel notices, straight away. He flashes the guy a look, and you swear he’s baring his teeth. Eyes locked on the blue suit like it’s a target, never blinking. He doesn’t say anything when his prey excuses himself to the bathroom, and you don’t turn to watch him go, but you do notice three other sharp-suited pricks stand and wander off in that direction after him.

Probably not a coincidence.

Joel still has a hold on your leg. Your flute is empty, and you lean forward to place it on the wooden table at your knees, beginning to stand.

His grip loosens, but he looks up at you as you tower over him.

“Cocktail,” you tell him with a sweet smile, and he nods, letting you go.

You know he’s watching you as you slink away. Is it the alcohol in your system, or something darker, that makes you sway your hips a little more for his benefit?

Deb’s over at the bar with Martha, another of Joel’s assistants. She’s around his age, worked for him much longer than you have, but when he hired you, you took on most of the groundwork. Following Joel’s orders– sorry, requests, organizing meetings, filing paperwork for him. Martha sits at a desk outside Joel’s office, answers the phone and directs anyone who happens to wander up to the top floor of the building.

Did I say directs? I meant strikes coldblooded fear within them and sends them back running the way they came, with just one look and a nod in the opposite direction.

Unless they’re there for a meeting with Joel, that is. And if they are, that’s where you come in. Good morning, Mr. Salazar, Mr. Miller will be right with you. This way, he’s just finishing up a call.

Martha’s a tough nut. But she likes you enough, so she smiles warmly as you approach.

“I’m hearing all about your note-taking this afternoon,” she hums when you hop up onto a barstool, catching the bartender’s eye. He trots over.

You sigh to Martha, eyes wide. “I didn’t leave until, like, eight. What the fuck’s that about? Can I just get a cosmopolitan, please?” you ask, and the bartender nods. He looks about fifteen.

Martha shakes her head, laughing. “He did it to me when I was first startin’ out, too. Told him to stick his minutes where the sun don’t shine.”

“I’ve been here three years,” you mutter, and Deb snorts.

“You’d think Joel would’ve changed his ways in the, what, seven decades since you started, Martha?”

It earns her a slap across the shoulder. You stifle your laugh behind your glass, thanking the teenager who served you it with a nod.

“Twenty years next March, actually,” Martha says.

“That so? D’you think he’ll get you anything for it?”

“If I’m lucky,” she sighs, eyes travelling up to the ceiling in thought, “a lunch break where he doesn’t bother me once.”

“Knowing Joel, that means a lunch break where he bothers you twice.”

You smile, glancing past the pretentious tree to where Joel is, and notice he’s already staring right back. A swarm of butterflies flutter around your stomach, dancing over the heat his handprint left within you. They only grow more violent when he stands and walks over, broad shoulders swaying, eyes flitting up and down your body.

You lean back, sitting up straight, eyeing him right back as he joins the three of you.

“Speak of the devil,” Martha says, and Joel chuckles in response, but his eyes never leave you.

“We were just talkin’ about Martha’s twenty years,” says Deb, winking.

He finally turns to answer her. “Oh, yeah? When’s that, then, old-timer?”

“Dirtball!” Martha yells, and Joel smirks. It goes straight to your core.

“How many Manhattans tonight, then, Deb?”

Deb holds her glass up. “I am on my second, and I will not be exceeding three. We don’t need a repeat of Christmas.”

“Aw,” Joel complains, tutting, “I liked hammered Deb.”

“That’s ‘cause you didn’t have to deal with hungover Deb,” you mutter, and she shoots you a look.

Joel smiles at you, takes a step closer as Deb and Martha begin comparing past hangovers. He leans forward, waves the fifteen-year-old down, and asks for a beer. As he leans back, you notice the weight of his wrist on your right hip. Nicely done.

“You know there are four guys in the bathroom doing coke?”

“I hope to God that’s all they’re doin’. I don’t need another orgyhappenin’ at one of these things.”

You giggle like a fucking schoolgirl. He looks pleased with himself, and you instantly regret it. You try to play it off by lifting your glass back to your lips.

Joel’s studying you, though, mapping every inch of your face. Watching your mouth as it curves around the shape of the glass, your tongue licking your lips after your sip. He tracks the glass as you set it back down on the bar, then his eyes trail along your arm to your dress, and your stomach leaps.

He looks so fucking good, it sends another wave of energy through your body. Dark hair lined with grey, beard much the same. Strong jaw, lips wetting with every sip of beer he takes, dark eyes flitting across yours, holding your stare long enough to melt you a little, and then dipping just before you can read the thoughts behind them.

His skin a little tanned, his neck thick with muscle. You can feel the heat radiating off of him, you’re so close. Close enough that you could lean up, part your lips and sink your teeth under his ear, suck a mark there, taste him on your tongue.

Your head cocks after a few minutes silence, just the two of you enjoying the fucking look of each other. You lean a little against his arm, steady around your back.

“I hate work parties,” you sigh.

Joel scoffs. “Free alcohol, nice penthouse. Cocaine, if you want it. What’s not to like?”

You narrow your eyes and he laughs for real.

“I hate ‘em, too, baby. Gotta keep up appearances, though, don’t we?”

Baby. This fucker.

“Do we?” you squeak, after a few seconds dazed.

He shrugs. “’s what I hear.”

He’s so close you can smell the beer on his tongue. It makes your heart quicken, your body hum with energy. That could just be the alcohol in your system, though, right?

Who are you kidding? It’s fucking Joel doing it to you.

You have no idea how long he was here before you arrived. He left the office around six, and you presumed he’d come straight here to check everything was in order before guests started arriving. How many beers has he had? Is he just drunk, feeling up on you with liquid courage?

You’re mulling over the thought when a pair of hands clamp down on Joel’s shoulders and his hold on your waist loosens. He mumbles an apology as he’s dragged away by a couple of loose-collared, baggy-suit drunks. You shake your head in response, trying to be cool – It’s all good, man. I’m good. I’m not totally fawning over you right now, no way.

Deb swings her barstool around when she notices you’re on your own, inviting you back into their conversation. Thirty seconds into talking about childhood pets, you’re wishing Joel was back around you, igniting your skin and peaking your adrenaline. Max the Pomeranian is a nice picture; Joel’s nicer.

Martha says something with a hand motion, and Deb nods, elbow knocking into yours.

“What?”

She nods toward the balcony. “We’re headin’ out for a smoke, you comin’?”

“Nah, I’m good. I’ll save your seats.”

They nod and wander off between a crowd, swallowed up by bodies in the direction of the open sliding doors, the blinking lights of the skyline ahead.

You’re twirling the base of your empty glass around on its napkin when you feel that same heat behind you again, and a hand rests on the small of your back.

“Coat,” Joel mutters, pulling his suit jacket on.

“Huh?”

“Get your coat. Everyone’s headin’ across the street.”

“Why is everyone heading across the street?”

He shrugs. “Afterparty, I guess.”

“It’s a work function. It’s like–” you check your phone, “–oh, fuck, it’s almost midnight.” You screw your face up, watching as the small crowd slowly melts away through the suite doors.

“I know. I throw a good party, right?”

“So good, people are leaving it.”

He tuts. “Coat. Now.”

“I didn’t bring one.”

“You didn’t bring a coat?”

“You told me the party was here. I didn’t think we’d be walking all over town.”

“’s not all over town, baby,” Joel murmurs with a sigh. “Here.”

He peels the jacket off his shoulders and you hold a hand out to stop him.

“Joel, it’s fine, it’s–”

“Quit moanin’,” he groans as he throws it over your shoulders. He scoops your hair and pulls it softly out from under the collar. “Alright? C’mon.”

He takes your hand and leads you past some stragglers down the hall toward the elevator, where a group are waiting for the doors to open.

“Tight squeeze, Miller,” some dude chuckles as you follow Joel in, his hand still gripping yours.

He turns, backing into the corner, pulling you with him until your back is flush against his chest.

His hands drop to your hips. You swallow back a scream.

One of the accountants is stood in front of your – Harriet? Helen? Something beginning with H – anyway, she keeps knocking back into you, pushed by the sway of the packed elevator. It means you knock a little into Joel, and feel his chin on the crown of your head.

You turn ever so slightly to mumble an apology to him, but when you feel his breath on the shell of your ear, your words die in your throat.

“Hazel?” – That’s her fucking name – Joel reaches around you to tap her shoulder, and her bobbed haircut swings when she turns. “Did you get those balance sheets yet?”

“Not yet, Joel,” she tells him, and your face prickles with heat.

“No? That’s weird.” Joel’s grip tightens on your hips, his mouth dangerously close to your ear. In a low whisper, only to you, he says, “Thought I asked to have ‘em sent over by this afternoon.”

You muster up the courage to reply with a deep breath. From the corner of your mouth, through gritted teeth, you tell him, “That was before you forced me to sit in on a buyers’ meeting.”

You feel his chest rumble between your shoulder blades as he laughs. The elevator shudders to a stop and the doors slide open; the crowd spills out.

You step forward, ahead of Joel, and make it maybe three steps before he’s back on you, an arm draped over your shoulders. You reach up and take his hand, leaning against his strong torso to let him guide you toward the exit.

No idea what makes you do it. Maybe you’re drunk. Maybe not only on alcohol.

You’re the last of the pack, stumbling over air across the gleaming floor toward the revolving door, which Joel pushes open for you. The cool night breeze hits you as you slip out.

The crowd ahead are rushing across the street, yelling and whooping as they go. It’s juvenile, a little cringe. A bunch of rich corporates skipping across the street toward cheap alcohol and peanuts. You’d care more about the way it looks if you were sober.

Joel’s hand finds yours again and he’s leading you down the steps, cutting between parked cars toward the dive bar. You link your other arm around his elbow and he glances down, noting it. You wish the walk was longer.

A flickering fluorescent light drowns you both in a red glow, and Joel pushes the doors open. The place is flooded with half of your party, drowning booths, leaning against the bar, dancing in any open floorspace.

The floor is sticky, the bar dim. Joel takes you over to the same crowd he introduced you to earlier, and makes space for you to sit. You slide along the booth to the wall and he follows, squeezing up to you to let two more in after him.

“Beers?” a guy with a loose tie asks, to a chorus of yeses and a show of thumbs up. Mitch? Mark?

You tug Joel’s jacket from your shoulders – the movement nudges him and he turns to lift it from your back and tuck it behind you, brushing the hair off your shoulders. You smile in thanks, and his hand falls back onto your leg.

It takes you a few minutes to notice it this time. The gentle squeeze of his fingers around your thigh, the way it slowly bumps up each time he adjusts in his seat or shifts to allow space for someone else to join the booth.

His hand moves slowly, dangerously close to pulling your skirt up with it. Mitch or Mark returns with your beers and you take a massive swig, nerves and anticipation and fucking need for Joel to keep doing what he’s doing, taking over.

Under lights blurred by the alcohol in your system, the table buzzes with energy and chatter and laughter. There are posters and stickers all over the walls, graffiti of names and initials, numbers and dates scored into the walls. Joel traces them with his finger and you laugh at some of the messages.

“Lydia and Jack,” you mumble, “12-24-19. Wonder what happened then.”

“Bathroom sex,” Joel replies, eyes scanning the wall.

You scoff, beer to your lips. “On Christmas Eve?”

He nods, like it’s obvious. “Magical time ‘n all.”

You look past him with a smile to the opposite side of the bar where, through silhouetted bodies, you notice a jukebox.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” Your eyes widen, your mouth agape.

Joel follows your eyeline and then twists back around. “C’mon,” he says, taking your hand and motioning for the others to let you by. He drags you over to the machine, lighting your faces up in yellow light, and your drunk eyes scan the screen.

“Nope." You swipe Joel’s hand away right before he can pick some Pet Shop Boys song.

“Really?”

“Good, but not the vibe,” you tell him, and budge him out of the way with your hip. He sways off, laughing, and leans a palm against the jukebox, his chest on your back for the second time tonight. As your tired eyes scan the songs, Joel’s chin rests on your shoulder.

He’s judging every fucking song you linger on. “Queen? Little before your time.”

“Dick.”

“Fleetwood Mac. Definitely before your time.”

“The entire fucking jukebox is before my time, dude. Shut up. These are good songs.”

You settle on a track and turn to face him. He has you almost fucking pressed against the box.

“Change, please.”

“Oh, I’m payin’, am I?”

“Mhm. Your work party, your wallet.”

He sighs and pushes a fist into his pocket for coins, tossing a quarter into your outstretched palm. You turn back and select your song, put the money in, and the old machine barks out the intro.

Joel sighs, shaking his head. “AC/DC? That’s your thing?”

“It’s not yours?” You’re taking him by the hand between bodies, swaying as you go.

He’s laughing, following you until you’re in the middle of the cramped bar, chest to chest, moving together. His hands find your waist again and this time you don’t even flinch; your fingers trail up his shirt, across his chest, settle on his collar.

You fucking swear he’s leaning in, each beat of the song drawing his jaw closer to yours. If you weren’t in a room full of co-workers, you’d probably let him kiss you.

I mean, what you’re doing right now is hardly innocent anyway. His hands are splayed on your lower back, your hips flat against his, rubbing, dancing. Your head rolls back and your lips are under his chin, smiling up at him and singing along. Joel sings the words straight back, your breath meeting and mingling in the tiny gap between your lips.

As the song ends, it fades into another. And another, and another. It’s two in the morning before your group of partiers begin to call taxis. You stumble out of the sweaty bar with an arm linked through Deb’s, still singing along to Whitney as you catch your breath.

She staggers off to a quieter part of the street to call a cab, and you hang around under the red light waiting for her. Joel’s stood at the curb; the back door of his sleek black Rolls-Royce open.

“Where you goin’?” he asks.

“Deb’s callin’ a cab,” you reply, arms folded, shoulders hunched.

Joel shakes his head. “Get in.”

“It’s cool, I’m jumping in with those guys. Thanks, though–”

“Baby,” Joel holds a hand out, “get in.”

Your eyes trace from his palm all the way up his sleeve, to his tired, handsome face. You’re sobering up. He looks clearer. Maybe that’s just the streetlights.

“Get you home in five minutes. C’mon.”

You swivel around to look for Martha and Deb, but they’re nowhere to be seen. The cab will come, they’ll assume you’re staying a while, and get in. No big deal, right?

Well. Stepping into your boss’s car after a night of highly inappropriate touching is kind of a big fucking deal.

That’s why you do it. Waddle over to him, take his hand, let him guide you to the car. You swing a leg in and slip across the seats, admiring the ceiling dotted with hundreds of tiny white lights, like you’re staring straight up at the night sky.

They blur through your drunken gaze, which doesn’t pull from them until you feel the weight of Joel on your right and hear the door slam shut.

“Mind puttin’ the partition up, Rand?” Joel’s voice says, though you mostly hear the vibrations through his chest, where your head is lying. His arm slips around your back, pulling you closer into him as the two of you are granted privacy by the quiet whir of the screen closing.

“Good night?” Joel asks, lips on your hair.

You nod. “You?”

“Mhm.”

His fingers are drawing shapes on your left hip. His right hand intertwines with yours. Your left hand starts to wander.

You liked his hand on you. Liked feeling his grip there. Wanted him to keep moving it up, wanted to see how far he’d take it. So, you put your own hand on the inside of his thigh, just like he did. Starting at the knee, and slowly sliding north. Joel’s breath tightens, his chest lifts, his jaw ticks.

The movement knocks you sober for a couple seconds. You realize what you’re doing. You draw your hand back.

“Sorry,” you mutter.

He unlinks your hands and places a steady palm over your withdrawn fist.

“’s okay, baby. You can do that if you want to.”

The drawl of his voice makes your eyes roll back, your heart leap. Your fucking legs clench.

You let him replace your hand where it was, and his legs widen a little. His crotch more available. You’re watching what you’re doing like you’re not even in your own body; watching it how Joel must be, thinking Higher, higher, keep going, keep doing that.

You lift your heavy head, resting it on his shoulder, and look up into his brown eyes. He’s framed by the starlit ceiling of the car. He’s looking at you, brows furrowed, face lined with his expression.

“You okay?” he asks.

You nod lazily. “Tired.”

Just then his hand takes yours again and shifts it softly, stopping what was probably about to happen but still holding onto you, still wanting your fingers locked in his. Not halting the train, just switching tracks.

It’s not a long journey, certainly not as long as you’d like, until you’re parked on your street. Rand lowers the partition to call back, and Joel thanks him.

“You okay gettin’ to your apartment?”

“Yup,” you groan, hoisting yourself out of the comfortable car.

“Sure? I can walk you up if you want.”

You bend down, one arm on the roof of the car. “I’m good, thanks. Thanks for the ride, Miller.”

“Be safe, baby.”

“You be safe, too. Bye.”

You throw the door closed and meander off up the steps toward your building. Joel’s car doesn’t roll off until your elevator arrives and you disappear inside.

You spend all weekend in bed, recovering not only from the party but from the week of work you’d endured. You keep yourself busy, though. There’s a Desperate Housewives marathon on TV. And when you’re not watching that, your hand is stuffed down your pants, Joel on your mind.

All. Fucking. Weekend.

In the shower, you’re picturing him on his knees in front of you, lapping you up. Hands gripping your thighs, draped over his shoulders. Your hand plants firmly against the wet tile when you cum, your orgasm threatening to collapse you in a heap.

In bed, you’re on top of him, knees either side of his waist, letting him buck his hips up until you’re screaming, covering him in your wet. Your vibrator battery dies by Saturday night.

Monday morning, you’re getting ready to leave for the office, and need to take ten minutes out to relieve the ache between your legs again. This time, he has you pressed against your bedroom wall, fucking you quick and messy, cumming deep inside you before he’ll let you head out.

It’s just a crush, right? It’s just because of how touchy you guys were on Friday. When you were drunk. And in a cramped, dark dive bar. Everybody gets crushes. And who wouldn’t, on a six-foot-whatever man with a jawline that could cut glass, hands that take a grip of you with minimal effort, a cock probably the size of…

No. Nope. That’s enough. Cut that the fuck out.

It’s just a crush. That’s what you keep telling yourself in the elevator, lights counting down the floors until you’re going to see Joel again. Is the sparkling feeling in your chest fear, anticipation, or excitement?

And is your cunt beginning to throb again?

You give a curt nod to Martha as you arrive, hauling your bag a little further up your shoulder and adjusting the folders in your arms on your hips.

“Where’d you go?” she asks, eyes still on the computer in front of her. Her chin propped on her elbow, face inches from the screen, reading something intently.

“Huh?”

“On Friday. We couldn’t find you when the cab arrived.”

“Oh, I, uh,” you clear your throat, “Joel gave me a ride. Yeah.”

She raises her eyebrows. “Generous of ‘im.”

“Yup.”

“He’s in the conference room waitin’ for you.”

“Cool, thanks.”

You hover for a few seconds, then take your cue to leave. You hurry over to the conference room door, knocking twice before pushing it open.

Joel’s sat at the top of the table, leant back in his chair, feet up on the wood in front of him. You feel like you could collapse.

“Mornin’,” he says, over the dull droning from the phone. Your eyes flit down to it, a question, and he answers, “weekend update.”

“Anything good?”

He shakes his head, leaning forward to hit the unmute button, affirm whatever the hell the other dude had been saying, say his goodbyes, and then hang up.

“Feelin’ fresh?” he asks when he’s sat back.

You take a deep breath and wobble your head as an answer, laying files and folders out on the table in preparation for the meeting Joel has this morning.

“That bad, huh?”

“I was fine by Saturday afternoon. How were you?”

He shrugs. “Wasn’t that drunk.”

Yeah. Sure, Joel. Your fingers took the brunt of the alcohol.

He stands up, wanders around the table to join you. Your fingers begin to tremble at the thought of him so close. Your thighs heat.

“This all of it?” he asks. He’s closer than you thought.

“Y-yep. Some copies there, too, if anyone needs a spare.”

His hand slips up between your shoulder blades, patting you gently at the base of your neck.

“Good job, baby.”

You almost fucking shudder. Your stomach jolts, your chest tightens. The ache between your legs pangs, reminding you it’s there, even though you can’t fucking do anything about it.

You spin around, settling back against the table, ankles crossed. Tense.

“How long do you reckon it’ll go on?”

“No idea. Why? Somewhere you gotta be?”

You shake your head. “Just organizing lunch ‘n stuff for you.”

“That can wait until after.”

“I’ll have it ready for you comin’ out. Be easier.”

He steps forward. Your heart stutters.

“You’ll be in here with me.”

You cock your head. “Again? What– Why?”

“I need you in here. To take–”

“–minutes? Yeah, figured as much. You gonna have me up here all night again writing ‘em up?”

He smirks, dimples in his cheeks. There are two options here: either smack him, or jump his bones – he deserves the first and you deserve the latter.

“I like having you in my meetings, darlin’,” he says, as the door handle turns, “stops me wanting to blow my brains out.”

Martha enters and Joel slots in alongside you on the table. She sets a tray with a coffee pot and packets of sugar and milk on the sideboard.

Your head is fucking dizzy. There’s a ringing in your ears. Energy sparkling in waves from the tops of your thighs all through you. Joel’s shoulder brushing against yours, his eyes boring into the side of your face.

You won’t look at him. Won’t take your eyes off of Martha, laying paper coffee cups out in rows, her back to you guys.

Joel lays a palm flat on your thigh, rounding the curve until his hand is firm between your legs, threatening to push your skirt up. You feel his breath hot on your neck, his voice like honey in your ear.

“Makes for a nice view, too.”

You whip around to glare at him. He leans back, chuckling to himself.

Through gritted teeth, you whisper, “Can I talk to you? In private?”

Joel shrugs, excuses you both to Martha, and then follows at your heels out of the conference room and over to his office door. You waltz in without permission, shoving the door open and waiting for him to close it behind himself.

Joel’s office is bright, clean. Giant windows lining three walls, huge desk with an even bigger bookcase behind. Two black leather couches opposite, facing one another with a glass coffee table between. Soft white rugs, obnoxiously huge lampshades, small fern plants dotted here and there. You found and booked the interior designer for him, and not a day’s gone by since that you don’t remind him of how nice a job you did.

Today, though, you break that streak. You round on him as soon as he closes the tall, wooden door behind him.

“Will you fucking quit it?”

“Fucking quit what, baby?” He’s almost laughing, strolling around his desk and settling into his leather chair, leaning back. Casual. Fucking – arrogant.

You stammer, holding up a shaky finger. “Okay, first of all – that. Don’t call me baby, that’s not appropriate. Second – the teasing?”

“I don’t get it, you liked me callin’ you baby on Friday night.”

You take your bottom lip between your teeth and give him a furious stare. He holds his hands up.

“My mistake.”

You stalk over to the windows separating Joel’s office from the reception area. Martha’s still in the conference room, the door ajar. You haul the shades shut to give yourselves some privacy.

“Stop – fucking with me. Stop it. We were drunk on Friday night. It wasn’t– Stop.”

“’m not fucking with you.” He leans his head to scratch his eyebrow. He repeats it when you turn away, hands flying up in the air. “I’m not.”

“Let’s just forget Friday happened, can we do that?”

Wandering around Joel’s office isn’t doing anything to relieve the weight between your legs. If anything, it’s making it worse. You make your way back to his desk and place your hands down on the wood, leaning over.

“Wh…what’s next on the agenda?” you ask, almost panting, your eyes closing.

You hear Joel’s chair rock when his weight leaves it. His footsteps pad across soft carpet, around the desk. Nearing you. They come to a halt and you feel the air stop short, right behind you.

For someone not trying to fuck with you, he’s doing an awfully good job at it.

You surrender, leaning back, your shoulders making contact with his chest. Then his hands find your hips, light, gentle. No pressure on them, not until your ass presses against his crotch and your head tilts, allowing Joel to hook his chin over your shoulder.

He’s hard, under his pants. Against you. You can feel it, still, steady. Rock solid beneath four layers of clothing.

His hands lift from your waist and glide up your shirt front, your stomach tensing when they brush over it. They come to rest over your breasts, squeezing and pinching your nipples through your shirt. And you fucking let him; lifting your right arm to hook around his jaw and pull him closer into your neck, where his lips leave soft, wet marks.

It feels like the first gasp of fresh, sea air after being underwater. The first gulp of chilled water after a hike. The first wave of aircon in the car. It’s relief. It’s desperate, borderline orgasmic relief.

You grind your ass and Joel hums into your skin. He’s getting harder by the second, you’re getting wetter. It’s not enough, what you’re doing. You need more.

You lower your hand and cup him through his pants, taking hold of his bulge and massaging gently. His hips are moving, he’s rutting into your palm, both of you desperate to rid yourselves of the clothing separating your skin.

“I asked,” you breathe, “what’s next on the agenda?”

“Next,” Joel mumbles into your skin, “was thinkin’ I could bend you over this desk ‘n fuck you.”

“Fuck me?” you repeat, and he nods. You take a breath. “S-sounds good.”

Joel’s hands find the hem of your skirt and start to pull it up your legs, painfully slow, revealing more and more of your bare thighs as he goes. He’s rubbing them, massaging until your skirt sits on your hips, little black panties exposed. His hand comes down to cup you, fingers gently applying pressure to your clit through the lace.

You moan, finally being touched by him again, finally feeling his hands on you where you need it most. Already, he’s doing better, making you feel better than you could ever by yourself. Than you did, by yourself. Involuntarily, you breathe out, “Daddy…”

Joel’s fingers pick up the pace. He fucking loves it.

“That feel good, baby? Like it like that? Tell me how it feels.”

“So – fucking – good,” you whisper, legs parting more to grant him better access. He dips his hand lower, thumb staying planted on your lace-covered clit, fingers shifting the fabric under your entrance aside.

He toys with you first, middle finger swaying back and forth through your folds, collecting slick, spreading it around. Then, a second finger, pushing upward, dangerously close to entering you. You’re gasping, leaning into him, letting his strong form keep you upright.

“That’s my girl,” Joel’s whispering into your ear. “You ain’t gotta do nothin’, just enjoy.”

And then he pushes up, two thick, curled fingers entering your cunt in one motion. He has you down to his knuckles, limp against his chest, mouth wide open in a silent gasp. Your head rolls to the side to watch him as he feels you for the first time, and his expression mirrors yours.

“So fuckin’ wet, babygirl,” he whispers, lips on your forehead.

“Fuck, daddy,” you whimper as his fingers press hard inside your soft pussy, starting to pump gently before picking up the pace and fucking you good.

The office is silent, save for your gasps and moans, and the wet sounds of Joel’s fingers in your cunt. He hums into your neck, thumb pressing hard against your clit, drawing tiny circles over the swollen bud.

It doesn’t take fucking long before you’re collapsing, walls clenching, teetering on the edge of your orgasm. It’s all that’s been on your mind for almost three days, all you’ve imagined, dreamt about, thought of.

Joel feels you, knows you’re close.

“Wanna cum all over daddy’s fingers, pretty girl?”

“Mhm,” you bite back a yelp, “so – close.”

“Know you are, baby. It’s okay, you can cum. Let me feel you.”

That coil, slowly winding since approximately nine-thirty on Friday night, not relieved by your hands, your toys, or your fucking pillows, snaps in one second. The tension breaks across your stomach. Your legs give; Joel’s free hand wraps around your waist to hold you upright.

You throw your head back against his shoulder again, jaw slack with a moan you know you can’t give voice to. Joel fucks you all the way through it, fingers coated in your cum only to dive straight back in, wetter and slicker than before.

There are stars in your vision. You can’t feel between your legs. The office is slowly blinking back into view, but Joel gives you no time to recover.

He pushes you face down onto his desk roughly, hastily, like someone’s about to wander through his door any second. One ear pressed to the cold wood, you hear his belt clink, feel the teeth of his zipper graze your thighs. Hear his deep breaths as he drags his pants and boxershorts down to free his cock.

You’ve never seen him, obviously. You’ve pictured it, dreamt up what it would look like with your fingers deep inside yourself. And from this angle you still don’t see it, but when the weight of it springs against your ass, when Joel lines himself up and his tip dips between your cum-covered folds, you fucking feel it.

His thick head pushing slightly into your entrance, coating him in your slick. He’s big. You moan at the time he’s taking to just shove into you; it’s probably seconds, but it feels like fucking hours.

“I hear ya, I know,” he’s saying, but your hearing’s starting to fade. Blood pumping through your head, white noise rattling against your eardrums.

He pushes in, length separating your clenched walls, entering your wet, warm cunt with a deep growl from Joel’s lips and a gasp from yours. You open up around him, swelling as he pushes deeper and deeper.

“So – fuckin’ – tight for me, baby,” he groans, hands on your hips pulling you back onto his length. “You feel that? Feel how tight you are?”

“Mhm,” you reply, the stretch of his thick cock burning and igniting you in flame. Your eyes screw shut as he keeps pushing, further than you ever thought anyone could, until his tip kisses your cervix and you whine.

“Quiet, babygirl,” he says, pausing and placing a steady hand on the small of your back. “We don’t need anyone out there knowin’ what we’re doin’.”

“So good, daddy,” you whimper quietly, and he knows. He fucking knows.

He begins to draw back, hips leaving your ass, cock pulling out of your pussy. Your eyes roll closed, missing him the more he withdraws. Before he’s fully gone, he snaps back inside, entering you harder, faster, deeper.

You gasp, knuckles whitening with the grip of your balled fists. You bend one arm, biting into your sleeve to stop your whimpers from slipping under the door.

A couple more thrusts and Joel’s fucking you. Hard. He’s fucking huge, so huge it blurs the edges of your vision every time his cock hits against your cervix. He’s almost fucking whimpering behind you, growling your name with every stroke, groaning each time he bottoms out inside you and your tight hole wraps around his length.

You can feel the edge of the table bruising your pelvis, and it feels so fucking good. Everything about this feels good. Joel’s cock stretching you out, his hands gripping you roughly, your own hands outstretched to hold onto the desk for some sort of stability.

The only thought going through your head, only words your lips can part to utter: daddy daddy daddy.

“Good girl,” Joel hums, your moans like music to his ears. “Good fuckin’ girl. Know how naughty you are for me?”

You smile. “Yeah, daddy.”

This is the filthiest thing you’ve ever fucking done. Sure, you love sex, especially when it’s rough. But nothing you’ve ever done with anyone else, nothing you’ve ever had done to you by anyone else, compares to being bent over your boss’s desk and fucked dumb by him.

Calling him daddy, corporate managers slowly filing into a conference room just outside. Only an unlocked door separating them from you, writhing and throbbing under Joel’s cock, his rough hands on your hips, your name passing his lips in breathy moans.

Is it wrong? Yes. Do you care? Fuck no.

You know he’s close; his thrusts become sloppy, hips start hammering against you.

“Where d’you want it, baby?” he grunts, skin slapping.

You’re on the pill, and if you answered honestly, you’d tell him to finish inside you. But you know that if he wanted to do that, he’d just fucking do it. Wouldn’t ask. And you’re not prepared to waste time arguing.

“My m-mouth.”

“C’mere.” Joel slips out of you with no effort, you’re so fucking soaked for him, and spins you around. A gentle hand on your shoulder, he pushes you onto your knees, free hand jacking his cock over you.

It’s the first time you see him, fist tugging up and down a thick, veiny shaft; swollen, reddened tip spilling precum which his thumb collects and drags down his length, gleaming with your wet.

On instinct, you push forward, one hand coming to rest on his thigh, the other taking over from his on his dick. You pump him a few times, and then open your mouth wide enough to take him all the way until he’s brushing the back of your throat.

With a choke, you begin bobbing your head up and down, cheeks hollow, breathing deep through your nose. Joel moans, head rolling back, hand coming to hold your hair in a fist. He drags you back and forth a few times before he begins to shudder and you draw back, holding him steady on your swollen bottom lip.

He looks down at you and your eyes lock as he cums all over your tongue. You moan as your mouth fills with his warm, salty load. When his cock stills and he stops spilling all over you, you lean back and close your mouth, licking your lips and swallowing him.

“Aw, babygirl,” he coos, stroking your hair. “Good job. Such a good girl for me.”

You both take a few seconds to catch your breath before Joel’s hands hook under your arms and he pulls you back up, letting you lean against his desk.

Still in a daze, you feel him tug your skirt back down, fix your shirt. Tuck your hair behind your ears, wipe either saliva or cum from your lips.

“Good?” he asks, and you lace your fingers in his.

Your breath is still shaky, but through a sigh, you say, “Good.”

He nods. “Can hear Ken out front, must all be arrivin’.” He pulls you over to the door.

His fingers wrap around the handle, free hand coming up to cup your cheek. He leans down and presses his lips against yours. You open your mouth and let his tongue past, moaning into the wet, messy kiss.

Something in you almost wants to laugh, thinking about the fact you let him fuck you before you’d even kissed him.

When he pulls away, your hands take hold of his jaw, keeping him at your height.

“Have a good meeting,” you whisper, pecking him on the lips, “text me what you want for lunch.”

He growls, yanking the door open and passing by you, granting your wish to sit this one out. Something in you tells you not to wander far, though.

He’ll probably want to blow off some steam when he’s done.

----------

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folkloreguk · 3 years

Text

💌🧸 Brother's Best Friend

A/N: Got this request a while ago and now I'm wondering why I've never written this trope before bc this was so fun??? Lmk how you liked it! x

genre: optional bias (m) x reader (f), smut, size/strength kink??, choking, dom!bias (it’s kinda playful tho), brother's best friend!au, sneaking around, play fighting, lowkey getting caught but not directly?

words: ~ 4.1 k

disclaimer: I don’t mean for the age gap to be gigantic…I’m talking about anything from 1-2 years maximum tbh!!! Anything else would be weird and I’m not about that! They’re also both obviously consenting adults!

[H/N means 'his (bias) name']

In youreyes, your first meeting had been a disaster. The new spider man movie had been released only days ago, and you were adamant on seeing it. And to your luck, your older brother and his best friend had already made plans to watch it together. As a little sister, you were treated like the baby of the family, and it didn’t matter that you were far from being an infant anymore. So naturally, your brother had been condemned by your parents to bring you along. He declared his distaste in your presence by attempting to ignore you, but you were used to that. Just like you were aware of his bad moods, you knew he could change within minutes and magically turn into the sweetest, most caring big brother you could wish for.

Whatever. You didn’t need his approval to enjoy the trip to the movie theater, you told yourself. Had it not been for his best friend, who you hadn’t seen in ages. H/N and you had never properly spoken before, and the last time you saw him he had been an awkward, prepubescent boy who had appeared at your door to pick up your brother for a playdate. There was no trace of immaturity now. Instead, it was you who had morphed into an awkward, shy mess at the sight of him.

His ‘hello’ had a warm and deep melody to it which swooped you up in his aura so suddenly, you had no time to prepare. Had his smile always been this stupidly charming? Hell, it was so bright, you had to meticulously inspect the ground every time he sent a grin your way. When before you hadn’t felt guilty for being a bother, you now sure did. What impression would you leave, trailing behind the older boys like a lost puppy? What would he take you for? The annoying little sister who didn’t have friends of her own? The mood-killer, who wouldn’t understand any of the boys’ inside jokes? The anti-social, weird girl who was obsessed with fictional men, like people loved to belittle teenage girls with normal interests?

As things turned out, his initial opinion of you was quite the opposite. If only you could have spied into his brain, it would have saved you a landslide of worry. Although your brother took up all of H/N’s attention before the movie started, he noticed you a good amount. To be precise, you blew him away at first sight. Your cute laugh won him over in a matter of seconds and he liked that your merch sweater could have been stolen straight out of his own closet. He didn’t want to feel too smug, but the way you diverted your eyes away from him whenever he looked in your direction only boosted his confidence further.

Your brother might have warned him. Stay away from her. She’s off limits for you. But not a thousand vicious, older brothers could have kept him from trying to get to you. It was up to you, after all, whether you wanted him around or not, and not to your brother. From that day on, H/N didn’t skip out on a chance to see you, even if it meant merely an exchange of a few words, or a simple greeting. And to his luck, you turned out to be equally as enraptured by him.

There was something about the untouchable, the forbidden, that attracted him to you even more. Plus, you were simply too precious to forget about. One morning, you dropped off a beanie at his place, which he had left at your house after meeting with your big brother the previous day. When he had asked if he could drive you to school as a thank you, you happily accepted. You had marked that day as the first day of your new life. First, it was harmless flirting. To be honest, you were under the impression he was merely messing with you. Because you were the cute little sister of his best friend. Because you would turn into an awkward shell of a person who had lost all ability to articulate, and your cheeks would burn as if they were on fire, whenever he charmed you.

But the flirting slowly reached newer levels, and before you knew it you were discussing your sexual fantasies over text messages and giving him bedroom eyes as you opened the front door for him. “H/N’s here!” you would then shout to your big brother. Then you would watch the two boys walk off to your brother’s room, pondering why life had to be this way for you. It wasn’t fair. Siblings were supposed to share, right? Why did you have to wait your turn until after midnight, when no one would notice, to spend time with H/N?

But to H/N, the sneaking around in the middle of the night and the secret messages you sent to each other, it all added to the excitement. Surely, there were days on which he wished he could just break the truth to your brother. The impact it could have on their friendship was enough intimidation for him to refrain, though. Things were better off this way, for now.

Today was no exception to your usual lies. When your brother asked if you would go out with him to do some shopping, you had played the victim and feigned a stomachache. Your parents wouldn’t be home all weekend. You’d have been stupid to waste a perfect opportunity like that. Who knew when you could have H/N in your bed the next time? Normally, you were restricted to his car, or to his bed in the dark of night. Yes, those places had something enticing at first glance. But the backseat of a car was only enjoyable for so many clandestine meetings. So today you notified him of your golden opportunity before your brother had even walked out the door.

The moment H/N texted you that he was outside your home, you opened the front door and dragged him to your room.

“Are you in control today, little one?” he asked, closing the bedroom door after you.

“Why are you asking that?” you replied, not wanting to talk at all but rather do so much more productive things.

“I don’t know…perhaps because you haven’t let me say a word since I came through the door,” he said.

“Right. Maybe I’m planning on tying you up, blindfolding you, and torturing you with ice and wax,” you joked in a casual tone, despite not usually requesting such graphic ideas.

“I don’t know if I’d let you do that,” he grinned with raised eyebrows. “Besides, I know you’d rather be at the receiving end of that. It’s a sweet idea, though. If we had some more time…”

“Think you could get away from me if I tied you up?” you said, but he was towering over you with the calmness of a king who knew he reigned over the situation.

“We both know I’m stronger than you, doll,” he said. You didn’t like it when boys called you weak. But you’d let it slide, knowing he was only joking and would never underestimate you outside of the bedroom. He put his lips right up to yours, so you felt his breath on them. His fingers came up to cup your face, but then slowly inched to your neck. When they closed around your neck, putting the slightest amount of pressure on your skin, you whimpered quietly.

“Need reminding?” he asked. As much pent-up frustration you had, and as much as your stomach was flipping upside down from how badly you needed him, you just had to play with him. You knew it would make for more fun.

“I think- “ you started, with a grin. Then you grabbed him by the front of his shirt and pushed him backwards, until he was stumbling. Although caught off guard, he was quick to pull you along with him as he fell onto your bed. You landed on top of him with a small squeal.

“Go on, let’s see who can throw the other off the bed first,” he teased with a superiority that only spurred you on. Then again, you would always be in the mood for the oldest childhood game you had ever known. Only now it wasn’t your brother, but his best friend you were playing against. It added a layer of excitement, and after only seconds, giggles had overtaken you as you struggled in his grip.

“No tickling is allowed,” you said. He nodded obediently with a smirk that told you he might not abide by your rules.

At first, you had attempted to hold him down by his arms. But your legs tangled, and he pushed his chest up against yours, like he was about to flip you over. Your plan seemed to be working only momentarily. You groaned a little as he grabbed your wrists swiftly and held his stance against your attempt to pull his upper body to the side.

“Cute,” he said. That’s when you realized, he was barely struggling, barely trying, even. While you were giving your most, he smirked like he was watching a kitten trying to fight a lion. It was child’s play to him, keeping you in check. Literally. With an annoying expression of amusement on his face, he let you have the upper hand for a while. Then, as if you had never had an ounce of advantage, he turned it around and pulled you into him. His eyes suggested he might just send you tumbling down onto the floor any moment now. Nonetheless, you weren’t going to give up so easily. Taking your chances, you let go of his arms and moved sideways, so you could have your go at pushing him towards the edge of the mattress.

“I don’t think so,” he said. Suddenly, he bear-hugged your body and rolled you both over. Before you could protest or defend yourself, your arm was dangling off the side of your bed and if you had moved a tiny bit further, you would have slid off the bedsheets and right onto your carpet. It was his turn to straddle you now. As if his actions hadn’t been enough declarations of his strength, he pinned your wrists to the bed above your head and gave you a challenging smirk.

“I was going to let you win, doll. But you weren’t trying hard enough,” he said. “What are you going to do about it?”

What were you going to do? He had you completely immobilized. “Just let it go, then. We get it, you’re super strong and super big and the coolest,” you said.

He seemed to take an instant liking to your declaration. “Say it again. This time minus the eye-rolling, sugar.”

“You’re stronger than me,” you said, trying to avoid the laughter that was threatening to come out. Could he read in your gaze how badly you wanted him to kiss you already? If he could, he wasn’t acting on it. Instead, he bent to the crook of your neck and spoke.

“Does it turn you on that I can overpower you?” his breath fanned your ear and you had to close your eyes to control yourself.

“Yes. Because I trust you,” you answered truthfully. The corner of his lips curled into a cocky grin.

“You know what? I think I’d rather you stay in bed with me instead of throwing you on the floor. There’s so many things we can do up here, isn’t that right, little one?” His lips brushed over your cheek and then over your lips as he spoke. The nickname had always made you weak in the knees and he knew it. When he finally enveloped your lips in a kiss, you swore you could feel an electric spark jump between the two of you. The mellowness of it turned into hunger rapidly, and as soon as his tongue flicked over your bottom lip, you whimpered like you hadn’t seen him in a year.

“Needy, are we?” he asked, running his hand up your sides and underneath your shirt. He could say that again. “Let’s get these off, then.”

The seconds in which you pulled off your clothes and couldn’t hang on his lips and feel his skin on your body should have been considered a form of torture in itself. Then, time always went by so much slower than usually.

When you had both shed off your clothes, he climbed back on top of you. Instead of straddling your hips he was now resting between your legs. There was nothing separating you from him, and it was apparent not only through the body heat that radiated off him. He reached down and whilst peppering kisses on your chest, slid his fingers through your slick arousal that was pooling in your core.

“You’re so wet,” he said in surprise, but couldn’t hide his approval and self-confidence in his voice.

“I know,” you said, rolling your eyes but simultaneously fighting the urge to moan at the smallest of touches he was teasing your with. “I’m so horny. Can’t we skip foreplay?”

“Poor doll,” he said. “I should’ve come over earlier, huh?”

“You know that wasn’t possible,” you said. With a desperate look, you pleaded him silently.

“I wanna taste you,” he said, but your put your hand on his cheek softly.

“Maybe later?” you said. “Please, I need to have you inside of me. Now.”

“You’re extra cute when you’re this needy,” he smiled. “Are there still condoms in your nightstand?”

You nodded and had never moved so fast to open a drawer in your life. Pretending to have any patience left, you waited for him to roll on the rubber.

“I love the way you look at me,” he said. “When you’re waiting for me. Could watch you for hours.”

“God, I hope you won’t. Come here, please?” you replied, making him chuckle. He lined himself up with your core, but then made no inclination to move ahead. His dark eyes and little head tilt told you everything.

“Don’t mess with me anymore,” you whined, reaching for the back of his neck to pull him closer. “Do it. H/N.”

“Beg for it.” His words twisted something in the pit of your stomach. Although you were burning with hunger, you could never say no to him. Then again, you were curious to see what would happen if you did.

“What if I don’t? Don’t you want to fuck me as much as I want it?” you challenged him. Something glinted in his eyes, and you knew you shouldn’t have even brought it up.

“I can always do this,” he said, and you followed his eyes down his body and to where he had wrapped his hand around his cock. Slowly, he jerked himself off, and you weren’t sure he was biting his lip because of the feeling or to discompose you. His small sigh should’ve been caused by you. This wasn’t what you had wanted. His tip was right by your slit. He could’ve pushed his length in so easily, and yet he wasn’t. Debating what to say, you kept your eyes trained on his hard member that looked so delicious in his hands. His deep groans rang in your ears. It didn’t take long for you to cave.

“Fuck. That should be me around you,” you said. “That should be my pussy you’re fucking and not your hands. Please.”

“Isn’t that right?” he said.

“Yes. Please, fuck me. I would feel so much better than your hands, and you know it. Please,” you whined. “I need you right now H/N. Please.”

You added another ‘please’ – for good measure – because the way his tongue darted out and licked his smirking lips could make you say anything if it would get him to fuck you.

“It’s okay, I’ll take care of you,” he said. “Think you can take me?”

“Yes, yes-, I can! Please, fuck me,” you said in a waterfall of words, and he chuckled handsomely.

“Good girl,” he said, running a gentle hand over your head. “If it’s too much you let me know.”

“As always.”

The tip of his cock gently pushed into your core, making you hold your breath as he entered you slowly. It caused you to feel every inch with every second. Your brain felt fuzzy, and you sighed gratefully at the relief.

“Fuck, you’re so perfect,” he moaned. The carefulness in his thrusts paired with his moon eyes at you only remained that way for a few seconds. Then, he straightened up and grabbed your hips to drag you in closer. You moaned helplessly when he almost pulled out completely, so slowly it almost made you crazy, only to slam his length into you until his tip brushed against the deepest spot inside of you. It was an action he repeated over and over, until you were reduced to a puddle of desperate whimpers, and you clasped the bedsheets in your hands tightly.

“You like it this way, little one?” he asked. He was apparently finding enjoyment in your reaction. How you could barely keep your eyes open, and when you did, your eyeballs threatened to roll to the back of your head. How your fingers clenched around the closest plushie, and you cradled it against your chest in bliss.

“Yes- fuck,” you said. “Feels so good.”

Of course, right as you said this, he had to change things up. His thrusts turned lazy and messy as he leaned backwards slightly. With an equally lazy demeanor, his thumb flicked over your clit, rubbing circles on it.

“Let me hear you. Say my name,” he said, and you quietly moaned his name. You adored the way it sounded, voiced like this, with barely more than a breath underneath your soft tone. Now and then, his cock slipped out of you, making you clench around nothing and furthermore had you going completely out of your mind. When he would push himself into your opening again, it felt as if it was the first time he was entering you today. Except you felt it repeatedly, each time as incredible as the previous. Your mouth hung open, rendered speechless except for the little moans and whimpers sounding from your throat. There was a familiar knot beginning to form in your stomach, tying firmer with each passing minute.

As if he could read your mind, he decided then he was done with his sweet torture of teasing you to an orgasm. You couldn’t be mad at him, though, because what he had planned was just as perfect, if not better. His hands wandered to their original place on your sides, and he began to snap his hips into yours at a faster pace. A small cry of surprise left your lips, while he only smirked at you through heavy-lidded eyes. Impulsively, you lifted your legs a little, intensifying the feeling of his member roughly dragging through your velvet walls.

“H/N, I’m so close,” you whimpered.

“Me too,” he replied, not slowing down for a second.

His broad frame towering over your body was a sight you would never get enough of and his gazes at you were hot enough that they could have stopped your heart in its tracks. A few strands of hair stuck to his forehead and there was a thin sheet of sweat on his neck. It all just made him more breathtaking to you. The slight pain from his nails digging into the skin on your waist was staggering, and you could barely wait to see the masterpiece of marks he would leave tonight.

You were a moaning mess, flying on cloud nine and simultaneously overwhelmed by his treatment of you. It clouded your mind at took over your whole body like you were made for him to fuck you. His length filled up your tight hole and he did it with such force that your whole body rocked into your mattress in a steady, fast-paced rhythm. He let go of your waist then and supported himself on his arm by the side of your head. When his other hand went to your neck you shuddered in anticipation.

“You should see yourself with my hand around your throat,” he said. “So pretty, little one.”

“We can do it in front of a mirror sometime- ,” you suggested, but were cut off at the end of the sentence as his fingers tightened on your neck. Instantly, the effect of it hit you. The lack of oxygen made your head swim in a sea of pleasure and the unrelenting desire to come. Through fluttering eyelids, you peeked up at him. The way he licked his lips and then clenched his jaw, the gorgeous shape of his collarbones and shoulders – you sometimes wondered if he was even real. Every so often he loosened his grip on you. When he did, you took gulps of air and then instantly whined for him to choke you again.

“Let go for me,” he said. “Show me your pretty face when I make you come. I’m fucking you well, aren’t I?”

You nodded as well as you could when he was gripping your throat and you couldn’t breathe properly at the moment. It didn’t matter you couldn’t talk. He was probably not expecting you to answer, either way. In a pleasure-induced trance, you closed your eyes and let it happen, like he had asked it from you. Your hazy consciousness barely registered that he was reaching his high with you. Too overcome were you, with your thighs trembling uncontrollably and your back arching off the mattress. He had let go of your neck and was riding out his own orgasm with sloppy thrusts that only sent you into another frenzy and had you whimpering his name softly. When he had finished too, he slowed down and pulled you into a gentle kiss, rubbing his nose against yours sweetly.

“That was amazing,” he said, and with a blissful hum you nodded. Your lips changed into a pout when he rolled off you and got up. You were tired of sending him back home so quickly. As he discarded the condom in the bin, you put on your most enchanting eyes, so he would have no other choice.

“Stay a little longer, please,” you asked. You knew he wanted to, as well. So although he was aware that your brother could return at any moment, he tumbled back into bed with you.

“Just for a little while,” he said. “Mhm…you’re so perfect to cuddle, baby.” His embrace was warm and his scent comforting, as he hummed a lovely melody. The soft touch of his fingers running through your hair lulled you right into a light sleep. You were awoken rather abruptly, and with half a heart attack.

“Hey Y/N, have you seen my charger- “ your brother’s voice suddenly broke through the silence and you wondered if you would have to pack up and leave the country after this sort of embarrassment.

“It’s not what it looks like,” you said, knowing well enough it was the dumbest thing you could have said. But who could blame you? You had only woken up two seconds ago.

“Really?” your brother asked. “Because I hear H/N sneak into our house so often lately, I’m starting to wonder if his parents threw him out.”

His tone was surprisingly calm.

“I’m sorry. I should’ve told you,” H/N said to your brother. “I thought you’d hate me and that we’d be over as friends.”

“I know I told you once to leave Y/N alone. But now…I guess it’s cool. She’s been in a great mood lately, and if that’s thanks to you, I think I can approve of you two. Although I’m not looking forward to being a third wheel, I think I can get used to it if I try hard enough,” your brother said. You couldn’t believe your ears, and involuntarily smiled like a fool. No more hiding. No more secrets.

“I stole your charger. I’m sorry,” you said then, making your brother roll his eyes. “It’s by the sofa in the living room.”

“Great. I needed a reason to leave anyway,” your brother said. “I might approve of you, but this situation is still too awkward. I’ll see you tomorrow, then, H/N?”

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” the boy in your bed said.

“You’ll see me too!” you added as a joke, as your brother already walked away from the door.

“Unfortunately I will!” your brother shouted, with the unnerving tone only a big brother could possibly muster.

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songmingisthighs · 3 years

Text

Hooked

introduction pt. i | pt. ii | pt. iii

ch. xlvi - kinky fantasy

<< previous | masterlist | next >>

??? × reader, ateez × reader

A freshman hookup rekindled into something new. With an incentive, of course. But what would happen if your 'relationship' led you somewhere you never thought would happen to you ?

When you got back to the frat, you realized how silent it is. Usually, the boys would be running around everywhere, wreaking havoc in the best way possible. But the silence that enveloped the frat was quite a nice change. Slightly eerie, but still nice.

Realizing that there were probably no one around to bother you, you decided to try on the new clothes you just got.

You got into your room without closing the door all the way, leaving it slightly ajar. You put the shopping bags on your bed and put your own bag next to them.

Without wasting much time, you immediately unpacked the contents of the shopping bag, grinning at the items you bought. You bought some clothes that you'd wear out but those weren't the ones that made you feel giddy and excited.

Your hand excitedly reached into the black shopping bag and took out the contents carefully. The boys had been quite affectionate with you lately and you've been getting laid way more than you usually did. That increased your libido and was actually why you went shopping.

The fabric of the lace black and red bustier set was different compared to the pink babydoll. You had also paired a black choker and black mid-thigh length stocking for the bustier set and white thigh-highs for the babydoll. You laid them both to decide which one to try first.

Finally, you decided on trying the babydoll first. You slipped your clothes off and began putting on the garment. As you had hoped, it was perfect for you. It's the perfect amount of cute combined with sexiness but is still comfortable. The fabric felt soft on you and it just made you felt good.

Lastly, you decided to go all-in and try the thigh-highs as well. You sat at the edge of your bed and began pulling one up your leg.

But as you were putting on the other one, someone had opened the door, making you jump up to cover your body with the shirt you had just worn before you took it off. Not that it helped cover anything.

"(Y/N), I heard you came back a- what are you doing?" Jongho blinked his eyes innocently at you, half in confusion.

Neither one of you said anything, only staring at each other. You, not knowing exactly what to say or how to explain yourself. Jongho, still not realizing that you had been caught off-guard trying on your new lingerie.

It wasn't until Jongho's eyes shifted over your body that a smirk appeared on his face. "Oh, I see what you were doing," he closed the door and walked over to you. He knelt in front of you and carefully took a hold of the thigh-highs that was pulled up only until your calf, "may I?" he asked, looking up at you.

You bit your bottom lip but nodded at him. Before his hands moved to pull the thigh-highs over, he nodded at the shirt you were using to shield your scantily clad body.

"Show me what you were trying on," he ordered. You blushed but obeyed him promptly. You put the shirt down onto the bed and let his eyes roam over your body.

You knew Jongo has quite the baby girl kink so when his tongue darted out to lick at his bottom lip, you almost whimpered submissively at him.

His eyes slowly move downwards from your face to your chest and then to your thighs, and finally to the thigh-highs. As his fingers glided over the thin material, his eyes followed up very slowly. Once the material was fully on you, he let his fingers traced over the hem before it rested on your inner thighs and his lips left a trail of kisses from your knee up to your thighs.

"Please tell me you bought this for me," he mumbled against your skin. You held back a moan when his hands began squeezing your thighs, one of his hands snuggly in between your legs, strategically placed so close to your core.

"I mean, you were one of the few main reasons I bought this particular piece," you giggled when he bit lightly at the skin of your thigh. He groaned lowly at your response before suddenly pouncing on you, hovering over your body as he melded his lips with yours.

Your hands immediately tangle themselves up in his hair, tugging on them and letting your fingernails scrape on his scalp. His lips moved with yours to express his urgency, you knew he wanted and needed you that moment.

"J-Jongho," you called out to him. He only grunted in response, lips too preoccupied nibbling your bottom one and hands roaming all over your body, enjoying the feeling of your lingerie. "Jongho," you called him again, whining.

Reluctantly, Jongho got off your lips and moved to the junction of your neck, "what?" he mumbled against your skin. Without having to look at him, you knew he had his eyes closed. Whenever you have the chance, you'd most likely dress up a little for him. Visual stimulation tends to drive Jongho a little crazy and when he does, these tend to be mind-numbingly amazing.

"I'm still on my period, Ho," you told him. When you felt his lips stopped moving on your skin, you bit your bottom lip in anticipation of what his reaction might be.

He suddenly dropped his whole body weight on you and rested his chin on your chest. He was looking at you with the best puppy eyes he could muster, "does that mean I can't fuck you?" his bottom lip jutted out adorably. You cooed at him, your hands moved to push his hair away from his face, "Unless you want a messy, bloody dick, then I'm afraid not," you pouted back at him.

Jongho groaned loudly before burying his face on your chest. "This is not fair, I really wanna fuck you and this little outfit made you look extra fuckable," you heard him grumble even though it was a bit muffled. You chuckled at how he's acting right now, "you drama queen, there are other ways to get your dick wet,"

At the proposition of having other options, Jongho lifted his head up at you, interested. "I can always suck you off," you suggested, "or jack you off," you added, "or I can use your thighs?" he asked. You tilted your head at him, "what, like humping on me?" he rolled his eyes at you, "no, like fucking myself with your thighs,"

You pondered over the idea for a bit. You may not be able to get your pussy pounded right now, but the idea of having Jongho used you like a sex toy is beyond arousing.

"Okay, how do you want to do this?" you smirked at him. Hearing your confirmation, Jongho visibly perked up. "You're not gonna regret this," he said before returning to connect his lips with yours in a heated kiss.

You moaned when you felt his hands reached up and squeeze your boobs. His fingers slipped into the cups of your bra to play with your nipples. He expertly rolled and pinch them, playing them however he likes. The added pleasure from his toying on your chest shot straight to your core. Your thighs automatically widened and grind onto Jongho's hips.

When your core made contact with him, you could feel how hard he is through his sweatpants. You moaned into his mouth at the thought of how he was probably already leaking.

Your hands move on their own, shoving into his pants to feel him, He was already erect, his cock felt heavy and hot in your hand.

As you began to stroke him slowly, Jongho grunted into your mouth. His teeth sunk into your bottom lip when your thumb pressed on his slit. Though it stung slightly, the feeling soon dissipated and turn into added pleasure.

When Jongho began grinding into your hand, you felt like you wanted to see more. So your free hand tugged on his sweatpants to conveyed what you wanted to him. Jongho leaned back slightly to see your pouty face. How he loves it when you're whiny and begging for him.

He simply chuckled but granted your request. He scooted backwards to his feet and began undressing. As he slowly peeled his shirt off, revealing his broad chest and shoulder, your legs dropped open and you immediately press two fingers to your clit, making you moan. Just before Jongho pulled his sweatpants off, he heard you moaned and smirked teasingly, "didn't know me stripping would have such an effect on you," he simply said before pulling his pants and boxers off with one single motion.

At the sight of his erection, your eyes zeroed in on it. Your eyes glazed over the pretty veins on it and you licked your lips when you see his reddened tip, his precum only making his cock look even more appealing.

Jongho chuckled at the way you're blatantly checking his dick out. "You can have this inside your pretty pussy after you're done bleeding," he joked which made you scowl at him.

Instead of getting back on top of you, he swept the shopping bags off your bed and plopped down in the middle of it. He turned his head to you and patted his lap, "hop on baby," he grinned.

You giggled at the way he addressed you but immediately move to straddle his lap. Once you were situated comfortably, you began grinding your clothed core directly on his dick whilst maintaining eye contact with him. With the intensity of everything, Jongho was looking at you with a very wild, animalistic stare.

"Let me rephrase what I said earlier," his hands shot up to your hips and he held you still, "once your period's done," he thrust his hips towards your core, sending you gasping and almost toppling over due to his strength, "I'm not," another thrust, "letting you," another thrust, "get off," another thrust, "my dick,"

At his last word, he pulled you down onto his chest and melded your mouths again, "keep your legs straight and closed, baby," he mumbled against your lips.

You did as he told and soon enough, he manoeuvred his dick with his hand to slip between your thighs. The feeling of his dick between your thighs felt different but in a good way. While you usually could feel him directly inside of you, the feeling of being so close to having him inside but not being able to really do so increased your desire to have him.

Jongho thrusted slowly at first, wanting to see how you'd react to the new position. "Tell me," you started, detaching your mouth from his to nibble at his earlobe, "did you learn this from watching porn?" you asked. He craned his neck to expose more of his skin to you, "do you study before tests?" he answered back.

You rolled your eyes at him and bit on his collarbone, "how dare you compare me to tests," you mumbled against his skin. He chuckled but ignored your comment.

He moved his legs to trap you between his strong thighs, making sure that he's snug between your legs. At the change of position, his dick is not only snugly in between your legs but was also pressing at your pussy.

As he increased the speed of his thrust, you moaned loudly when his hips rub against your clit deliciously. Jongho took pride at how loud you're being, "don't hold back, baby, no one's home other than us,"

You did, in fact, moaned louder. Especially when he started to literally use you like a sex toy. He gripped your hips and thrust himself furiously. You knew that he was only thinking about making himself cum. Not that you were complaining because he was doing everything and your job was only to lay there, looking pretty. There was even the added bonus of your pussy receiving some indirect attention.

To add to his pleasure, your hands began roaming on his chest and playing with his nipples as your mouth leave marks on his beautifully tanned skin.

Jongho groaned when you pinched both of his nipples rather harshly. "Make yourself cum for me, Jongho, make me not regret buying this piece of lingerie," you moaned into his ear. With the way your teeth tugging at any skin you could reach and your hand teasing his nipples, it didn't take long for his hips to falter, a sign that he was so close to his release.

You pushed him to the edge by clenching and unclenching your thighs as your lips found their way back to his. Whilst your tongue lashed with each other, you felt Jongho stilled and warm spurt of his cum painted the back of your thigh. To prolong his climax, you ground yourself on him which proved to be effective.

As he relaxed and tried to catch his breath, you simply lied on his body with your arms underneath your head. Your fingers traced shapes on his chest while his tugged on the fabric of your babydoll.

"I really do like this lingerie," he said, breaking the silence. You giggled and looked up to him, "of course you do, Jongho, I know your style," you said before pressing a kiss to his chin.

He suddenly reached to the bedside table to take a few tissues to clean you up from his cum. When you were cleaned up, he patted your butt with a smile on his face, "now, I'd like to see what else you bought so you're gonna do a little fashion show for me,"

You squealed in delight at his idea and immediately jump up to do what he said.

As you were pulling the garments from the bags, Jongho's eyes followed after your movements as he smirked, "and who knows, maybe that'll lead us to a second round," he joked.

You threw a random piece of clothing at him but laughed nevertheless.

"You wish."

taglist :

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whereisten · 4 years

Text

True Love

A Jeno fic that’s a part of our Halloween Series!

Summary: You, an employee at an entertainment company, are immune to the charms of their biggest star Lee Jeno.

Pairing: Rockstar! Jeno x female reader

Genre: romance, drama, fantasy, suspense

Warning: alcohol use, smut mention, stalking, manipulation

Word Count: 4.3k

(A/N: Hiya! I’m so sorry for the delay! It’s been so hectic lol! Thank you so much for your support and patience! Hope you enjoy! And shoutout to Krys for keeping me sane and for all of her love and support. I love you! :D)

___

To everyone in the world, Lee Jeno was the epitome of perfection and rock royalty. He was a gifted musician from the very young age of five, having specialized in several instruments in his childhood. However, his heart gravitated to the guitar. He became a trainee at LCF Entertainment and along with four other trainees, they became the world famous rock band, Temptation.

He was ranked in the top 23 in World Magazine’s Sexiest Men Alive this year. He was a walking and talking Adonis with a heartwarming smile.

Jeno was a man of many talents but he certainly didn’t let it get to his head. He was a humanitarian, a UNICEF ambassador, fostered shelter animals, was the proud owner of three cats even though he was allergic, a great family man (funding his siblings’ college tuition and providing for his parents so they could retire early), etc. He did it all and he had it all.

How could anyone be immune to his charms?

People wondered who would be the queen that would reign beside him when he settled down. Frankly, one couldn’t be anything short of a supermodel on the verge of sainthood. So many hopeful contenders were discouraged from pursuing him.

Jeno’s dating life was non-existent, the paparazzi dreaded to inform.

But you were an employee of LCF Entertainment so you knew the truth, as well as the true nature of the famous Lee Jeno. He was basically like any other young man with an inflated ego. He was cocky, a huge flirt when the cameras were off, very picky, and demanding. But no one ever dared speak a word of his true nature to the paparazzi. And you always wondered why. Someone had to bring him down a few pegs.

You were the staff photographer and videographer, in charge of capturing Jeno’s good and “relatable but still unbelievably glamorous” sides. When the camera was on, that was when you felt at ease.

It didn’t help that Jeno liked you either. Although you’d been working with Temptation and the individual members for a few years now, it was only recently that Jeno really was set on it pursuing you.

When you switched off the camera after the recording of Jeno’s backstage vlog, he sat comfortably at his makeup chair and proceeded to ask, “Y/n, will you go out with me now?”

You answered immediately, “No.”

Jeno gave you a sad puppy dog face. “Why not?”

“We’ve gone over this. I would get fired.” You wanted to spare his feelings so that was what you always said when he asked you out.

Jeno groaned. “You would not. I wouldn’t let that happen.”

You snorted. “You think you have that kind of power, Lee?”

He liked when you called him by his last name. “That’s because I do have that power, y/n. The new company building is funded solely out of my earnings from my last solo album.”

You whistled. “There’s that humility I’m always reading about in O!What Magazine…”

Jeno smiled. “You read articles about me?”

“I do when my name is in the article, boss.” You started packing up your equipment, ready to call it a day and head home.

Jeno got out of his chair and stood over you. He smelled of Dior Sauvage, cologne from his latest brand endorsement. He wore his stage clothes from his solo concert rehearsal. A sleeveless jean jacket top that parted down the middle to show his abs. Along his abs, silver chains dangled and added a nice glimmer effect when he was on stage. The entire team was thrilled to see how the audience would eat it up.

He whispered into your ear, “Y/n.”

Truthfully? He was attractive. You’d always had a little crush on him but it was of a shallow nature. You liked him for his looks. Not so much for his personality. You’d known too much.

If Jeno had been any other regular guy, you would’ve been open to a one-night stand.

But Jeno wasn’t just any regular guy.

You tried to hide the fact that shivers ran down your spine. “Stop.”

He chuckled. “But I can see you through the reflection, y/n...You're crossing your legs…”

You’d hoped he wasn’t that perceptive but it turned out he was. You hid away the fact that you were turned on. Your panties were damp but you’d be damned if he ever knew that.

You met Jeno’s perfectly lined eyes as he looked at you unapologetically. Everyone else from the staff already left. Jeno’s manager was waiting downstairs to take him to the radio station J-423 for his upcoming interview.

You were breathless now. “Jeno, you’re going to be late-”

He pulled you into him and kissed you, easily slipping his tongue into your mouth and working magic against yours. You couldn’t help but return his kiss. His mouth was paradise and you wondered what else he could do with it.

He let you go after a few minutes and cupped your face. “So are you going to deny that there’s something going on here?”

You tried to catch your breath as you wiped your lipstick off of Jeno’s mouth. “No, I guess not...But this is where it stops.”

Jeno frowned. “Y/n…”

“I know where I stand. And you know it, too. And Jeno, I don’t like you that way...I’m sorry.” You caressed his face and grabbed your things, leaving Jeno with an unreadable expression on his face.

___

As a member of LCF Entertainment, your ultimate goal was profit. That was what you had to know from the very beginning. There was no such thing as LCF Family or truly prioritizing the idols. Everyone was after themselves. Whoever brought the most money to the company would get the most attention and special treatment. And that was Jeno.

And you, an aspiring film director, were thankful to be on his team because this experience could open doors for you in the future as a director. Sure, Jeno was a diva and he couldn’t stop flirting with you, but the experience wasn’t all that bad. And yeah it was frustrating that the media and the public perceived Jeno to be the nation’s sweetheart. But in the end, he wasn’t hurting anyone.

He was only hurting people’s wallets.

Temptation’s merchandise always sold out quickly but Jeno’s individual merch was always the first to sell out. And it was the first to get resold for twice and sometimes even triple the price. The fanbase was very merciless and selfish with each other. However, the scalpers were the true evil. That was less money going to your company, after all.

Even though frontman Jeno was the most popular member of Temptation, it was Temptation’s drummer Xiaojun that you had a massive crush on for a long time now. You even accumulated a secret collection of his merch. You were two photocards away from completing your Xiaojun album photocard collection.

Xiaojun even admitted to liking you back but you both kept it a secret from everyone else in the world, especially LCF. You two weren’t about to compromise your jobs. However, since Temptation was the biggest moneymaker in the game and the boys had been with the company for quite some time now, their dating ban was lifted.

Which explained why Jeno had been asking you out all week, not caring who listened and it freaked you out.

If Jeno’s fans ever found out he asked you out, they would pin the blame on you.

A week had passed since you told Jeno you weren’t interested in him. You felt bad for hurting him but you were also worried about his mood. He had the power to get you dismissed. You refused to believe he would be so cruel.

And up until this point, you were right. You were still employed and Jeno spoke with you like any other day, talking about camera angles and new concepts for upcoming shoots.

The end of another work week and Xiaojun surprises you on your way to the bus stop.

“Y/n,” Xiaojun pulls up beside you in his Porsche. He looked so elegant in a pale blue sweater and blue jeans. His face was concealed by a mask so he could leave undetected. But you’d recognized those eyebrows anywhere.

“Hey. What are you doing here?”

“I...I think we should finally talk…”

“About?”

He smiled. “About dating.”

You nearly dropped your phone out of your hand from the shock. “Really?”

He said, “Get in so I can drive you home!”

You nodded fervently and got into his passenger seat. Was this really happening?

On the drive home, Xiaojun told you he wanted to take it slow and have indoor dates with you first. You couldn’t agree more. He even surprised you with a brand new pair of AirPods after you told him that your brother took them from you.

The first of many gifts, he told you.

You got home that night and screamed excitedly into your pillow so as not to frighten your roommates

___

It has been a month since you and Xiaojun started seeing each other. You were on cloud nine. He would visit you at your apartment and would play with his dog Bella. Bella loved you a little more than she loved Xiaojun so you two would always bicker and end the night in each other’s arms.

Jeno noticed the spring in your step as you filmed his cooking vlog. He was showing his fans how he cooked breakfast for himself when he had down time. He was in a plain white T-shirt and a pair of drawstring trousers. He looked relaxed and for many, delectable, as his hair was wet from a shower. He was trying very hard to get your attention once again.

He anticipated you averting your eyes and stuttering at the sight of him but nothing. You whistled while you adjusted the tripod’s position.

“What’s got you so happy?” Jeno asked.

You nearly jumped at his question. You decided to be upfront. “I’m seeing Xiaojun.”

Jeno’s cool facade nearly cracked before your very eyes. “Oh?”

You apologized. “I’m sorry, Jeno. I should’ve told you that I liked Xiaojun…”

Jeno was furious. What the hell did Xiaojun have that he didn’t? Jeno was more muscular, taller, more talented, wealthier, more attractive...He was superior to Jeno in every way and everyone else knew it, too.

He honed his acting skills and replied evenly, “Why are you apologizing, y/n? So you like someone else...I’ll live.”

You realized maybe Jeno didn’t like you as much as you thought so you felt relieved to hear his dismissive tone. “Right. Good. I just...thought you should know…”

You and Jeno continued the shoot. He acted like nothing had happened and even behind the scenes, he joked with you and asked you which of the female trainees he should ask out. You berated him because female trainees were not allowed to date and he knew this very well. Jeno was back to his arrogant self and you were relieved.

___

You got a text from Xiaojun that he was finishing up a filming schedule with his bandmates. You wouldn’t be able to see him today because the schedule was running overtime.

He told you to go to dinner with some friends at Osaka Moon. His treat. He was good friends with the chef, apparently. You were on your way to the restaurant to meet your friends.

You were shocked at how down-to-earth Xiaojun still was after achieving so much fame and then he would do things like this. It gave you whiplash but you were having the time of your life with him.

However, you noticed him across the street. Xiaojun always wore different wigs and masks for his disguised outings with you.

But this time, there were no disguises. His side swept blonde hair and his thin framed glasses. There was no mistaking that it was him.

Was the filming for the show at the Downtown Hotel?

You were about to call his name when you saw another woman wrap her arms around him and squeeze his ass. She had long wavy brown hair and a slender frame. She could’ve been a model or a singer. They both entered the expensive hotel. Very bold of him to take her out so publicly when he was still intent on hiding you.

You felt like someone knocked the breath out of you. You shook your head in disbelief.

Immediately, you dialed Xiaojun’s number and there was no answer. You called four more times and nothing.

Son of a bitch, you thought.

He played you. You should’ve known he was no different than any other dickhead A-lister.

You decided to call his bandmates. It turned out that the filming they’d done today wrapped up over two hours ago.

Haechan had no idea where he was. Jisung didn’t either. Jaemin was equally perplexed. Last but not least you called Jeno.

He answered. “Hello?”

At this point, you couldn’t hold back your tears anymore. “Jeno…”

“Y/n? What’s wrong?”

“Do you know where Xiaojun is?”

“Not specifically...he did mention he had a reservation at the Downtown Hotel…”

You sniffled. “He did?”

“I thought he was meeting you…”

“No, he wasn’t…”

“Oh...Oh, shit, y/n. I am so-“

“It’s okay...Thanks Jeno. I’ll see you on Monday…”

You told your friends to have dinner without you and to make sure to spare no expense because your so-called boyfriend was buying. You told them Xiaojun finished at the last minute and wanted to take you dancing.

A total lie so you could wallow at your local bar.

You sat right by the bar and downed a few glasses of beer. Just to feel anything else besides the betrayal you felt.

A half hour later, you were even more buzzed now. A young man sat beside you at the counter.

He started, “Hello, gorgeous.”

You looked at the young man. He was stunning. Another face that belonged on television. Another one of those who was capable of seducing you and tossing you away the very next second.

You flipped the bird. “Bite me.”

The young man scoffed and tried again, “Feisty, aren’t we?”

He got closer to you and you began to feel uncomfortable. “Please leave me alone…”

“Tsk tsk. A beautiful girl like you in tears? You need someone who will bring your smile back.”

“And you’re the man for that job?” Someone interrupted.

You were shocked to find Jeno here. He looked gorgeous in a black leather jacket and dark jeans. His hair was slicked back the way you liked it most and wow, you may have had one too many drinks...A few customers recognized Jeno and started whispering and taking their cameras out.

“Jeno?” You nearly lost your balance as you got up from your chair.

Jeno grabbed you immediately before the other guy could.

The stranger said, “Why do you get to put your hands on her? Just cause you're some pretty boy with mediocre music...I’m sure she’s nothing compared to who you’ve bedded before-“

Jeno socked him in the face and escorted you out of the bar. The stranger cursed you both out as you left. Jeno led you quickly into his manager’s car that he borrowed for the night. You felt a little dizzy.

Jeno fastened your seatbelt.

You smiled at him. “Thanks.”

He looked at you in concern. “Are you okay?”

You shook your head. “Why are men scum, Jeno?”

Jeno sighed. “I’m so sorry about-“

“Don’t say his name...I...never want to see him again...God, now I have to sell all of his merch…”

Jeno frowned in confusion and continued, “I’ll take you home…”

You didn’t want to face your roommates. “No...Can I…Spend the night with you?”

It took all of Jeno’s might not to get out his car and raise his fist in the air. But he composed himself. “Are you sure?”

You nodded, wanting to forget all about Xiaojun and have one thoughtless night with Jeno. “Yes.”

Jeno drove you two to his penthouse suite. He was cautious around you and you were ready to shrug away your inhibitions.

Jeno helped you remove your coat at the entrance. “Take a seat. I’ll get you some water.”

You sat yourself on the couch and opened your legs wide, exposing your panties underneath your skirt. “Jeno, fuck me right now so I can forget his sorry ass.”

Jeno hesitated then but seeing how irresistible you were...He couldn’t help himself.

He asked again. “Are you sure?”

You nodded. You were buzzed but not that buzzed. You wanted to spite Xiaojun. You wanted to acknowledge the part of you that longed for Jeno for so long, too. You’d be stupid to deny that you fantasized about a night with him.

You hesitated before but now you said, why the hell not?

You and Jeno made love that night. Jeno was over the moon that you were finally in his arms. Sure it was a rebound but the look in your eyes when he was inside you had to mean something. There was a promise there and Jeno held onto that glimmer of hope.

Jeno took you home the next day and he was very cool about the whole night. Right before you returned home. you reminded him about how this was a one night stand and thanked him for a wonderful night.

You were resolute in dumping Xiaojun and simply going back to work. Thankful you only ever worked for Jeno anyway. And as expected, Jeno was his usual self: cocky, flirty, sending his food back for random reasons.

Xiaojun came under the fire for going to a hotel with a potential prostitute. The identity of the woman he was seen with remained a mystery. He tried convincing everyone that the woman was not a prostitute but he couldn’t remember how he met her or what she looked like. That night and along with how crazy Xiaojun sounded caused the company to encourage him to leave. Xiaojun’s contract with LCF Entertainment was terminated.

The week after you and Jeno made love...You started catching feelings for him. Every glance. Every fleeting touch. It drove you mad. And suddenly that one night stand was something you wanted again. And again. And again.

You accompanied Jeno and his manager as he attended a gallery opening. You were in charge of his photos for his social media. He looked extremely dapper in his red suit. You just wanted to rip his clothes off and make love to him in front of all of the guests. Becoming a work of art yourselves.

These thoughts you’ve been having used to scare you but now...you owned them. Tonight, when you got him alone, you would tell him how you really felt. You hoped you weren’t too late.

Jeno’s manager excused himself to get some refreshments. Jeno observed a painting while you took some more photos.

“Stunning,” you said aloud.

Jeno’s eyes grew at your words. “Wow, y/n...All the years we’ve worked together and you’ve never made a comment about my looks…”

Your face grew warm then. “I’m feeling a little bolder these days…”

He grinned. “Is that so?”

“Jeno, I won’t beat around the bush…I haven’t stopped thinking about you since that night…”

“Y/n…”

“I know I said it was a one night stand and...You’ve moved on…”

Jeno started, “I haven’t…”

You were shocked to hear it. “Really?”

He moved closer to you and moved the camera away from your line of sight. “What are you saying, y/n?” His voice was dangerously low.

“I’m saying...that I want to be with you, Jeno.”

Jeno’s smile looked so gorgeous then. He was the true work of art at the gallery. “Well, y/n, I’ve made my feelings abundantly clear for a while now…”

He kissed you then. And the cameras started flashing.

You were on cloud nine. You finally released your suppressed feelings for the rockstar before you.

___

You’ve been together for two years now. He made you feel safe and loved. He showered you with gifts and trips to the most beautiful parts of the world.

As for the response from netizens and the company? Jeno had all the power and he could handle a few naysayers. Your job as his photographer and videographer remained intact. And you were well on your way to transitioning to your own film projects: your dream.

You and Jeno had become a couple to root for. They called you The Prince and The Pauper Turned Princess. You hated your label but whenever you looked at Jeno’s eyes, any anxiety or anger quickly faded.

Jeno had a solo performance in your city tonight and you were seated in a private booth. He was performing so well, moving from instrument to instrument. Driving people to tears with his long low notes. And then he surprised everyone with his announcement.

“Before I perform ‘Changed Your Mind’, I want to give a shout-out to the woman of my dreams, y/n, who is here with us tonight.”

The stadium roared in excitement and many heads turned to you. Your eyes never left Jeno.

“Y/n, I love you so much. We’ve come so far, baby. And I want us to never stop. Which is why…”

He got down from the stage and was escorted by security down to the crowd. He ran his hands past adoring fans as he made his way to you.

He entered your booth with his camera crew and security close by. “Y/n, will you marry me?”

You cried out, “Yes!”

Jeno picked you up and spun you around. You kissed passionately. The crowd’s roars thundered now. It was a celebration. You didn’t care that all eyes were on you now, as well. All you cared about was Jeno. And he loved you more than anything else in the world.

You truly found your soulmate and you couldn’t be happier.

___

Jeno finished his show and was backstage cooling down with a bottle of water.

“Good job tonight,” a woman said as she stood at the door of Jeno’s dressing room.

“Thank you, sis. To what do I owe the pleasure?”

Jeno’s older sister Yeeun sat on the couch of the dressing room. “How does it feel to have her in your clutches now?”

Jeno smirked. “Pretty damn great.”

“And I’m here to collect my payment, little brother.”

Jeno sighed. “Really? It’s been two years.”

Yeeun looked at her manicured nails. “I’ve been busy.”

Jeno laughed. “Screwing over taken men? I’m sorry, I meant screwing taken men?”

“Nope. That task was a one-and-done deal. How is that poor boy doing these days?”

“Xiaojun? He’s back at school getting his master’s...He’s happy.”

“Has he tried to contact y/n since then?” Yeeun asked.

Jeno chuckled. “No. Why would he?”

She smiled at him. “They were sweet together. And you tore them apart because you couldn’t take no for an answer, could you?”

Jeno rolled his eyes. “And what about it? I have a right to get whatever I want. Do you know who I am?”

Yeeun sighed. “Yes, you repeatedly tell the family group chat who you are every week. And we all take it because you pay us well…”

Jeno and Yeeun had conspired against you and Xiaojun. Jeno stole Xiaojun’s phone and Yeeun charmed Xiaojun to join her for a night at the hotel. Jeno planned for you to go to Osaka Moon so you could see Xiaojun and Yeeun together.

Jeno watched you as you broke down in tears, calling each of his bandmates. He made sure he was far enough away by the time you called him. He played the part of a concerned friend very well. He had to take up acting, another field he would surely dominate. And with you as his director? It made him hard just thinking about it.

Jeno didn’t coincidentally find you at the bar. He’d been tailing and that stranger who hit on you was only an added bonus. Jeno could play the unsuspecting hero and you would eat it up. And that you did. He was satisfied to know that you wanted to sleep with him. He didn’t care about being a rebound.

Even so, he wasn’t going to take any chances. So after you left his penthouse the next morning, he took the bedsheets you came on and the strands of hair you left behind and got to work.

Did you really think Jeno amassed such success and wealth all on his own? He had a little help from his family and their friends from Hell, of course. Jeno’s family came from a long line of Satan-worshipping witches. Jeno was the youngest of the descendants.

Human sacrifice was only a small token of the Lee family’s appreciation to Lucifer. So Jeno’s deception of Xiaojun was almost nothing in the list of gruesome things Jeno has done to reach the top of his game.

Yeeun was able to literally charm Xiaojun with her own special concoction. Once she and Xiaojun had sex, she wiped his memory of that hour and left him alone at the hotel. Confused. Disoriented. Worried.

As for you? Well, you were the most irresistible creature in this world. Your immunity to his charms was only the first step in his growing feelings for you. You were brilliant and talented at your craft, always capturing his best features on camera. You were gorgeous. He was surprised you didn’t become an idol at LCF yourself. You were warm and sweet and giving. Even if the company was cutthroat, he saw how you’d be with your coworkers and the other idols. You were just a pure, loving girl. And he desperately needed you. Desired you. Craved you.

He simply had to call you his.

With your samples, he was able to create the perfect spell to make you his.

Forever.

That was what Jeno called true love.

[Fin]

511 notes · View notes

15-dogs · 3 years

Note

can you write about sirus (you’re dating) and you get the death mark even thougjt you didn’t want to (a draco-like situation) and she pulls away from everyone because shes scared and sirius finds out and helps her

fixing a hole |s.b.|

pairing: young!sirius black x fem!reader

summary: you realize that things for sirius black don’t always work out the same for you

warnings: food mention, implied depression, isolation (if there’s anything you want me to add don’t hesitate to message me!)

guide: (Y/N) = your name, (Y/L/N) = your last name, (Y/N/N) = your nickname, italics = flashback

word count: 2.6K

a/n: I wanted to give a little context so I started a little earlier than you and him dating I hope that’s ok!! this is a little like fluff to angst to hurt/comfort ish?? it does have some topics that could be difficult so be mindful of the warnings and I hope you like it!!

Everyone in your family talked about Sirius and Regulus Black. It was a well known fact that Sirius had run away from the family to live with those blood traitor Potters, deserting his position as a soldier to the Dark Lord. Sirius’s name was a dirty word in your family, like poison that dripped from the tongues of your predecessors.

Regulus was a godsend. Your parents would constantly talk about him. They had even mentioned you marrying into his family a few times. The command would send shivers down your spine and you weren’t sure why. This is what you wanted, this is what you’ve always wanted.

Then why couldn’t you stop thinking about Sirius Black?

You’d get distracted during classes just staring at his simple elegance. He had these strong hands that you would study as he wrote an essay in class, wondering if they were soft or rough, if they were firm or gentle, if they would fit perfectly in yours. Your eyes would glaze over as you would divulge into your imagination, imagining his arms wrapping around you and pulling you tight against him.

“Control your perverted fantasies, (Y/L/N),” Severus scolded. His eyes never once left his paper as he continued to reprimand your behavior. “Don’t deny the fact that you were staring at Black. Learn to manage those feelings.”

You scowled at the boy who you had once considered a close friend. He had no right to talk to you the way he did, seeing as he was the one who was in love with Lily Evans. He was simply bitter. Bitter at Evans, and Potter, and Black. Bitter at the lot of them just because he made bad decisions.

The more you thought about his actions, the more you feared you were to become him. But that wasn’t it. Not really, anyway. You were more concerned that everyone thought that you were like him. And by everyone, you really meant Sirius Black.

You chanced a look at the raven haired boy, until to find him staring back at you. Your heart froze over as his gray eyes were trained on your body. But then a fleet of butterflies occupied your stomach as he gave you a kind and genuine smile, waving gently at you. Potter knocked his hand down a moment later, whispering something to his friend. You took the small opportunity to stray your eyes from the boy that you undoubtedly fancied, hoping your cheeks weren’t as red as they felt.

In Divination later that day, you and Sirius were partnered up to read each other’s palms. Your hands were sweating, you were sure of it. You debated the consequences of wiping your hands off on your robes but decided against it, fearing it would lead to a risky line of questioning from the boy across from you.

“I have to be entirely honest with you, (Y/N),” Sirius began. Your heart sped in your chest as you stared at him with wide eyes. “I haven’t been doing the notes. What exactly is...palmistry?”

You cleared your throat awkwardly and shifted in your seat to avoid his piercing gaze. “Palm reading.”

A wicked grin crept onto his face. “And I get to read your palm?”

“Yes.”

“Finally, an opportunity to hold your hand.”

Your heart leapt into your throat. Sirius could see it, too. He could see how flustered his comment made you. But the longer you thought about it, the more you recalled how he always acted like that towards you.

Before Sirius left his family, you used to spend time with him. Not in a friendly way, but in a we’re-the-same-age-at-this-dinner-party-that-our-parents-made-us-go-to kind of way. He would always make gentle comments like that one. Nothing too crude, just enough to make your stomach turn. Although, the idea of him being crude to you thrilled you a little, but you’d never admit it to him.

“Hand, princess.” Sirius outstretched a hand to you, yanking yours by the wrist into his field of vision.

You always blushed when he called you princess. You were an only child, and most pureblood families lived in a sea of boys so Sirius knew you as one of the very few pureblood girls (that he wasn’t related to) he used to spend time with. He’d call you princess because that’s what you were: a pureblood princess.

You rolled your eyes at his gruffness, pretending that you were affected by it. Sirius flipped open the textbook and spotted a diagram of a hand, glancing between that and your palm in front of him.

“This looks like your...head line.” He traced a finger across your palm which had you shivering; his hands were most definitely rough.

“And?”

His eyes snapped up to yours. “And what?”

“What does it say, Black?” Your tone was borderline irritated but you knew you couldn’t be mad at Sirius. Not when he looked at you like a wounded puppy.

“What do you mean what does it say? Aren’t we supposed to be identifying the parts of the palm?”

You stifled a laugh and playfully kicked the boy in the shins. “No, you idiot, read my palm!”

“Alright, alright, okay!”

You furrowed your brow slightly, a smile still on your face; you were positive that Sirius Black was blushing. It was a good look on him.

“Your head line” —he looked up at you for confirmation, to which you nodded— “says you can’t get me out of your head.”

You scoffed and rolled your eyes. “It does not-”

He silenced you with another stroke across your palm. “Your life line says you want to spend the rest of your life with me— how romantic.”

“That’s just cheesy-”

“Your heart line says you desperately, desperately want me.”

“Impossible-”

“And your fate line says that we’re destined to go on a date to Hogsmeade this weekend.”

You blinked in shock. Your eyes darted around the room, expecting to hear someone gossiping about what Sirius had been saying. But you were simply being paranoid, and you knew it, too.

You leaned in slightly towards him, faltering as his musky cologne hit your senses. “Is that a joke? If it is, it isn’t very funny.”

You tried to lean away when he didn’t respond, feeling shame boil up in your stomach when he utilized the grip on your wrist, yanking you towards him so his breath was hot on your ear.

“No, princess,” he growled lowly in your ear, a devilish smirk on his lips, “I’m serious.”

—

From that point forward, Sirius and you were inseparable. Well, to an extent. Your relationship was a secret, the only people having known were James, Remus, and Peter at Sirius’s request. He understood the importance of hiding your relationship, seeing how he was the trademark blood traitor and all. So that was that, no one could know that you were falling in love with Sirius Black.

One of the very few places you convened for dates— or even just to spend some time together— was the illusive Room of Requirement. It opened for you one day as you wandered the halls, head cloudy with decisions that needed to be made about yours and Sirius’s relationship. Ultimately, it convinced you that you and Sirius could work together as a hidden couple, so you decided to continue things with the boy that you had admittedly grown quite fond of.

The door appeared and the room was slightly different this time, that of which had you on edge because you knew that you had come to talk to Sirius about a certain decision that he had made. So that’s exactly where you were, the room that fostered it all, cuddling up against your boyfriend’s chest as he recounted the memories of leaving his home.

Sirius’s hand ran its course up and down the side of your arm as he talked about showing up at the Potter’s familial home. “I was scared, of course, that they wouldn’t take me in. But they did, and I should’ve known that they would-”

What you said next was purely accidental. You didn’t mean to tell him in this hurried way, but you did. It was like the hours of listening could only fit in your head if you let one piece of information go; an eye for an eye. That was the sentiment that propelled you to say, “I’m thinking of moving out.”

Sirius’ movements stopped instantly. He craned his neck to meet your watery eyes, almost to check if what you said was sincere. He knew how much you hated your family, and how that hatred had bloomed and blossomed throughout the years but never did he expect you to say such definitive words.

“Do you know what you’re saying?” he asked carefully like his words would shatter you, if not drive the chisel further through your cracks.

“I do.” You sat up out of his grasp, leaning against the armrest on the couch which you two sat upon. “You did it, and I want out. I’m going to do it, too.”

He reached up to cup your cheeks, directing your line of sight to align with his. “Love, what’s going on?” You noticed his eyes flicker towards your wrist, sending your stomach tumbling. “Did they…?”

You jerked away from him. “They want to, so I want out.”

Sirius took a few sobering breaths before settling back onto the other end of the couch. He ran his hands over the worn fabric as he studied you like it was the last time he’d be able to see you. He ran a hand over his face as he sighed, “How can I help?”

—

Things did not go according to plan. You and Sirius had figured that you would escape in the middle of the night during winter break and meet him at the Potter’s home. But things went sour quickly.

You rarely showed strong emotions, feeling that you could keep them intact. But right then, you couldn’t. All the fear and anger had sat inside you for too long and you couldn’t help but cry and rage and scream and sob in the comforts of the Room of Requirement.

“I’m asking you to be quiet, Ebbol!”

“Master Veritas! Master Treagar! I fear that Master (Y/N) is attempting to escape! Masters? Masters!”

You felt that you were flush out of tears, but that emptiness still sat inside you. As you sat on the couch, your eyes unfocusing as your mind narrowed in on that hole. The emptiness hurt. You wanted it gone, or at least wanted something to fill it. Even a temporary fix would do. Just something to stop the pain.

“No, no! Please, mother, please! I swear, I wasn’t…”

You stood up a moment later, clenching your eyes shut as if that would hide the horrors that replayed relentlessly in your head. You wiped your tears away, taking out your wand to place a glamour charm that would hide your puffy eyes and pale lips.

You snuck out and walked to your first class, skipping breakfast because you truly didn’t think that you could stomach it. Your eyes could only focus on what was ahead of you, which is why you didn’t see Sirius jogging up beside you.

“Hey...hey! (Y/N/N), are you okay?”

His words were dull in your ears. You blinked slightly before shrugging out of his grasp on your arm, walking into the classroom ahead.

“You didn’t show up,” Sirius continued as he followed you in. “Are you okay?”

You felt sick bubbling up in your throat and you couldn’t continue talking to him any longer. Every second that you did, you were reminded of who you were: a pureblood princess.

“Go away,” you sneered shakily.

Sirius knew better than to argue with you so he shuffled back to his seat, stealing hurt glances at you every few seconds. Not that you could notice with that ache on your wrist. That was too powerful to focus on anything else.

—

You spent most of your time in the Room of Requirement. It became a second home to you if it wasn’t before. You knew that you couldn’t go back to your common room, knowing that all the eyes on you would make you feel sicker than you had before.

Your emptiness had swallowed you whole. You would stare, you would sleep, you would wake. Nightmares had taken a toll on that cycle, removing the sleeping portion. For a while you had debated brewing your own sleeping draught but you soon realized you couldn’t, barely having enough energy to get out of bed and attend classes each day. Some days, you skipped classes all together.

Sirius noticed your gaunt face and sunken eyes. He had seen you pull away and seal yourself off from everyone— especially him. He wasn’t really sure what your relationship was anymore, but it didn’t matter. He cared about you. Deeply, at that. Lover or friend.

You didn’t turn around as you heard the groaning of the old stones moving to welcome the familiar door. The door opened slowly and quiet footsteps padded in. The couch sunk slightly beside you, and it was only then that you looked up. Sirius jumped at the sight of your face without all the protective beauty charms covering it.

“Merlin, (Y/N), you look ill. When was the last time you ate something?”

You slowly turned away from him. “I...I don’t remember.” You didn’t have the energy to be mad at him, or feel anything towards him, for that matter.

“I brought some chocolate,” he explained as she rifled through the pockets of his leather jacket. “It’s from Moony’s stash. He let me take some for you.”

You absentmindedly took the chocolate, peeling away at the wrapper and biting down gently. As you chewed on the chocolate, Sirius patiently waited for you to speak up. You knew why he was there. You had dreamt about it going quite badly, but you had dreamt about it, nonetheless. You had to tell him. You had no choice.

So, without speaking, you set the chocolate bar down and raised your sleeve to reveal the Dark Mark on your left forearm. He jumped up from the couch, running his hands through his hair.

“I knew it, I knew it,” he mumbled to himself. “Those sick bastards.”

“I can’t get it off, Sirius. I tried charms to hide it, even muggle makeup. Nothing works.” Your voice turned shaky as you looked up at Sirius.

His pacing stopped and he sank down to your level, cupping your jaw. “How did they do it?”

“My house-elf caught me on the way out. He called my parents in and they just...mother said they couldn’t wait any longer...that I was to be a blood traitor if I didn’t get it.”

Sirius mentally scolded himself for allowing you to do such a reckless thing without backup. He helped you plan your escape, and now he was responsible for your downfall. Tears formed in the corners of his eyes but he fought them back as he looked at you.

“I can’t go back,” you whispered.

“You’re not going to,” he said decisively.

“I can’t just leave, you know that didn’t work last time.”

He took a careful breath to calm his nerves as his hands trailed down from your face to your hands. “When someone I love gets hurt, I get involved.”

You jumped into his arms. As he tugged you closer to his chest, you felt that emptiness slowly start to fill up with...something. It was a warmth you had never felt. A warmth that made you tear up. Sirius started to tear up as well as he ran his hands over you like he hadn’t seen in you in years. Maybe he felt that emptiness, too. And maybe you filled that emptiness, too. And maybe, just maybe, you filled that emptiness with love as he did for you.

#cw food mention #tw food mention #cw implied depression #tw implied depression #cw isolation #tw isolation #sirius black #sirius black x reader #sirius black x you #sirius black headcanon #sirius black imagine #young sirius black #young sirius imagine #young sirius x reader #young!sirius black #fanfiction #harry potter fanfiction

188 notes · View notes

holylulusworld · 4 years

Text

Our time

Summary: Steve wants to take the next step in your relationship. Will he be confident enough to make you his?

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Reader

Characters: Bucky Barnes, Tony Stark

Warnings: angst, Steve being a man out of time, comforting, fluff, Steve being a virgin, mentions of porn, talk about sex, light smut, protected sex, a hint of fingering, romance, first time, mentions of condoms, cock rings and lube

A/N: Sequel to: A man out of time & A woman of time

Steve Rogers may be a lot of things, but he’s not a coward. Braving himself he opens the laptop again, takes a deep breath before he presses play to watch one of the movies Bucky suggested.

While Steve was busy getting to know everything about history, music, movies, and how to dress nowadays, Bucky was busy checking the internet for something called ‘porn’.

Steve isn’t dumb. He heard men talk about porn - movies in which people have sex for real in front of a camera but till today, he never watched one of those ‘dirty movies’.

“Okay, …you can do this…” Steve presses play, gapes at the scene only to slam the laptop shut again. His face is all shades of red as he just saw a man spanking a girl’s ass bright red. “Jesus, holy…god. I could never do this to Y/N!”

“Something wrong, Steve? Do you need my help with the laptop?” His eyes drift toward your ass and he doesn’t know how to ask you if you like what the man did in the movie. “Stevie?”

“I-uh. God, this is so embarrassing.” Cheeks colored in pink Steve looks up at you like a lost puppy. “I tried to find out what women like. I know some techniques and things Bucky told me but…”

“Steve Rogers,” Giggling you hop onto his knee. “Did you watch porn, Stevie…?” Your lips press a soft kiss to his temple while Steve tries to not lose his cool. “It’s alright, baby. How about we find out what you like?”

“I like you and kissing you.” Steve’s lips meet yours and you wrap your arms around him to deepen it. “I’d like to touch you.”

“Steve, did you never imagine things you want to do with a woman? Did you like it when the women wrapped their lips around your penis?” Humming Steve shyly nods. “It’s alright, baby. Just tell me what you want.”

Steve is too embarrassed to tell you about his fantasies or the longing he feels since he met you so he remains silent, only looking up at you in awe.

“I can do this for you too. I’d love to make you feel good, Captain.” His thigh twitched for a second and you smirk as you can feel something grow against your thigh. “Oh, I think I found something you like.”

“I like it when you call me Captain, doll.” Your fingers slide through his hair, mess it up a little to make him look less like the perfect man. “What do you like?”

“I like it when you kiss me. I…I imagine you kiss me everywhere, Steve. I want you to touch my skin, cup my breasts, and sink into me. I want to feel you cum inside of me, mark me as yours.”

Steve pants heavily hearing all the things he fantasized about late at night in his room leave your lips. “Maybe I want you to pin me to my bed one day.”

“Can we watch one of the videos and you tell me what you like?” Innocently looking up at you Steve waits for your answer.

“We could, but I can just show you how to touch me, baby. We have all the time in the world, Steve.”

“That man hurt the girl. He hit her rear.” Steve stammers and you can’t hold back a smirk. Your face buried into his neck you giggle silently. “He didn’t hurt her. It’s called spanking and some people enjoy it. You have to control your strength to not hurt your partner.”

“I don’t want to do this…” Pecking Steve’s neck you nod. “Me neither, Steve. We will find out what we like. Don’t worry.”

“Maybe Bucky send me the wrong movies. I should do more research.” He’s serious. You can hear it in his voice. “I have to…”

“Steve, I don’t need you to watch that crap. Nothing in those movies is real. They get paid to fake they like it. No girl wants to get treated like a…, excuse my choice of words, whore.” Steve nods, looking at you.

“They fake everything for money and fame. Nothing is real. If we do this, we’ll do it the way we want to.”

“I want to start with kissing you. Your neck, shoulder…chest. I…I want to wrap my lips around your nipples.” Steve’s face is flushed, and you can’t believe Captain America looks flustered.

“You can, baby. Anytime you want to. I’ll be waiting for you to be ready…”

“Buck—no way!” Steve shakes his head furiously at the video Bucky just showed him. “I will not handcuff Y/N! She’s not a criminal or evil!”

“Punk, relax. Girls like to get handcuffed. I bet your girl wants you to be the strong Captain you are and take control. What do you do before you run into a battle?” Bucky cocks a brow, waiting for Steve’s answer.

“I take a deep breath, forget anything else, and concentrate on the goal – protecting people and taking the enemy down,” Steve answers, puffing his chest.

“Exactly. Now you will grab the bag with the condoms, drive home, have a shower, and then you’ll have sex with Y/N like the man you are. But uh-be gentle and all. She’s not an enemy.” Bucky snickers at the dirty look his friend gives him. “I bought something special for you…”

“Condoms, I know that…what-uh? Cherry taste? I don’t…oh-I get it, but I don’t want Y/N to give me pleasure with her mouth during our first time.” Grumbling Steve rummages in the bag. “Lube?”

“There is a cock ring and other stuff in too.” Tony snickers watching Steve’s face turn red again. “This way, you can handle the hammer a bit longer.”

“Perks of the serum, Stark. We can go all night long if we want to.” Bucky retorts and Tony grabs the cock ring. “None for you, Capsicle in that case.”

“Can you all just not!” Steve grabs the bag before he storms out of the room. “I’ll do it my way. Romantic, slow, gentle…”

“Do it, punk! Do not forget the handcuffs…” Tony watches Bucky glance at the condoms Steve just dropped. “Lucky bastard…”

“Is it true…the thing with the serum?”

Steve almost ran into the kitchen after his shower. Before you could blink, he scooped you into his arms to carry you into the bedroom.

Giggles left your lips at his serious expression when he asked you for your consent. “Captain, you have permission to undress me.”

Steve was patient, slowly undressed you with shaking fingers while you kissed his jaw and whispered encouraging words. “You’re so beautiful.”

You could hear Steve's voice go lower with every piece of clothing ending up onto the floor. Impatiently you slid your hands over his chest, up to his broad shoulder to jump into his arm.

Taking your time you kissed him deeply as you wrapped one arm around his neck. Steve gasped when he felt one of your hands wrap around his length to slowly stroke him.

“I…I have condoms and all…” He carefully placed you onto the bed to slip one hand between your legs. His fingers gently rubbed around your clit and you smirk when he groaned at your wetness. “I don’t think we need lube, doll.”

His deep voice sent shivers down your spine and you grasped for a condom to rip the wrapping open. Steve seemed to be more relaxed when you gently slid the condom over his length, never breaking eye-contact.

“Do you want this? I mean, we can stop, Y/N.” Your lips silence any doubt. Your body wrapped around Steve as he belonged on top of you. There was still hesitation in his eyes when you carefully lined him up with your entrance.

“I want you Steve, only you. Just take me…please…ba…oh-my goodness!” Your nails dug into his flesh feeling the delicious burn of his shaft splitting you open. “You feel so fucking good…”

“Doll…I…Jesus…” Clenching tightly around Steve you cupped the back of his neck to bring him down for a deep kiss. You could feel his length twitch and his hands, well they became brave and cupped your tits, even toyed with your nipples. “I want to make love to you…”

“Do, baby. Just …” Mischief in your eyes you looked up at Steve. “Fuck me, Captain. Maybe I was a bad girl…” Oddly Steve seems to get turned on.

He grabbed your wrists, pinned them down what one large palm before he started to roll his hips. “You’re good at this, Steve.”

“Yeah. Do you think you will come for me?” Nodding eagerly, you wrapped your legs around his waist, to move in sync with Steve. “I want to feel you cum, doll.”

Everything after Steve’s words was a haze. He let go of your wrists to touch you again.

His muscles flexed under your touch, lips pressed tightly against yours and his cock hit the right spot only seconds later. Steve groaned against you feeling your walls cling to him, almost gripping him like a vice.

“More…Stevie…” Your body trembled with every powerful thrust and you lost it when Steve gripped your waist to go harder.

In his eyes, you saw the change. It was like he changed from a shy boy to a beast ready to devour you. “That’s…I’m gonna…baby…”

“Y/N…” His cum hit the condom the moment you scratched your nails down his back and muttered his name against his lips. “I love you…”

“I love you too…Captain…”

“So…” Stroking Steve’s chest gently you look up at him. “How was your first time?” He has a cheeky grin on his lips, and you love he looks flustered again.

“Perfect, doll. I mean, nothing Bucky told me was correct. I liked it very much and I’d like to do it again.” Humming you pat his chest before you snuggle into his side. “Same, Stevie.”

“Do you like handcuffs?” Quirking a brow, you look up at Steve. “Just asking for a friend.”

“Captain, you naughty man. You can arrest me any time…”

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#Our time #steve rogers #virgin steve rogers #smut #steve rogers x reader #steve x reader #steve rogers x you #steve x y/n #steve x you #steve x reader smut #steve rogers x y/n #captain america #captain america fanfic #captain america oneshot #captain america x reader

332 notes · View notes

joopiterjoon · 4 years

Text

Young Forever- JJKxPJMxReader

Pairing: sub!Jimin x dom!reader x Jungkook

Genre: +18,PWP, Smut

Warnings/Tags: threesome, f-fingering, blowjobs, anal sex, praising, cum play, teasing, making out, alcohol (participants are not drunk), house parties, drinking, I did not edit this, this is a wine-induced fantasy

wordcount: 3.4k

a/n: I am halfway through a bottle of cheap wine and this was created by coming up with a funny title that I’m not even using because honestly fucking at college parties reminds me of being young (fun fact about me) and then a poll so here it is this is just smut and it gets weird maybe? I’m not apologizing also if you ever want to have a threesome please have conversations beforehand with your partner and the person and know that in real life it’s actually pretty awkward the first time but I HOPE YOU ENJOY READING THIS ONE

You watch Jimin in the kitchen. The house is bustling with people, the base and mumblerap pumping through the house, broken by the laughs and cries of drunk people swaying and tripping.

You’re not drunk, only sipping on the drink in your hand. You’re too busy watching Jimin. Who needs to be drunk when you can look at him. He dressed exactly as you said. His tight leather pants hug his legs, showing off his figure each time he turns to greet someone new. He’s wearing that pathetic excuse for a tshirt, the sweat from the heated house making his collarbones glisten.

He looks delectable.

Especialy when he’s laughing. His eyes crinkled with joy, that innocent smile on his face at something someone said. You can’t take it anymore. You set down your drink and wedge through the crowd.

You bump into someone just in the doorway. You glance up, ready to fight, but you recognize the young man. Not by his strong build, noticeable in the way his pecs rise even in the loose shirt. It’s the baby face. And he recognizes you, eyes darting to Jimin. “Sorry.”

“Jungkook?” You ask. You remember him because of Jimin. One of the student’s in his public communications class he’s TA-ing for. Jimin had gushed, showing you the boy’s instagram. And now, in person, you can see why. The firm build is under your hands, too tempting to not touch. Jungkook’s eyes widen at your boldness, then he’s startling, stepping back. His eyes bounce back in Jimin’s direction, and he blushes.

Oh.

Caught watching, Jungkook doesn’t look back at you as he mumbles again. You smile at that. You give him a wink, and he only flusters more.

Jimin hadn’t been watching you. As you sneak up behind him, he jumps a bit as you slide your hand into his back pocket. He glances back, eyes drunk with attention. You giggle, happy to see him happy, a nose at his cheek. He says, a little too loud, “Hey babe.”

“Hi yourself,” you murmur into his ear, eyeing the way the two girls he was talking to wilt with disappointment. They bid their goodbyes when you smile. Jimin whines. “I thought I could have fun.”

“I have something more fun,” you say, turning Jimin to face you. With your eyes on him, the pout starts to fade. You slip your other hand into his back pocket and tug him close. His breath hitches. You can’t hear it, but you know the way his pretty, thick lips twitch at the inhale. “Someone’s watching you.”

Jimin’s immediately jerking his head around, one arm slinging over your shoulders to get a better look. “Who?”

“Jungkook.”

“Jungkook?” Jimin’s eyes go wide before he schools his face.

“Interested?” you comment. Jimin stops looking, eyes locking behind you. He licks over his bottom lip, pulling it between his teeth. His eyes flick back to you. “I can tell.”

“I’m sorry,” Jimin whines, glancing down with pouty lips. Sometimes, Jimin can’t control himself. He’s a beautiful person and he likes beautiful things. You can’t blame him. Jimin likes to act out, if not for the attention of your scolding gaze and the punishment that follows. And you love it all the same.

You place your fingers under Jimin’s sharp chin, turning up those large puppy dog eyes to you. “Don’t be.”

Jimin’s eyes widen with surprise, and you pull him into a kiss. He melts into you,both arms wrapping around your neck. With everyone so chaotic with the alcohol and the music, no one takes note of your petting in the kitchen. You’re just another couple making out.

But there’s one person paying attention. You turn a bit, draggingJimin to pin you to the counter. He willingly complies, hands finding their way under the back of your shirt. As he moves to your neck, you look over his dash of pink hair.

Jungkook’s caught watching again. His cup is hugged close to his chest, pretty pink lips parted, eyes wide. He’s watching Jimin, unaware of you watching him eye your boyfriend.

“He’s watching,” you say just loud enough over the music. “You must look so good right now.”

Jimin groans, the sound vibrating against your lips as the base vibrates through the counter behind you.

“Bet he wants to be me,” you continue, raking your fingers through the back of Jimin’s hair.

“Stop,” Jimin mutters against your lip. There’s a furrow to his brow. “Don’t tease me.”

You lean forward, taking his bottom lip between your teeth and tugging with just enough pressure to have him leaning into you. “I’m not.”

Jimin’s fingers dig into your hip at the insinuation. His kisses grow sloppier, his hips rocking into yours. Always so needy, thirsty for attention. You know the idea of having two sets of hands on him is driving him wild as he starts nipping at your jaw.

“Is that a yes?” You ask, dragging one of your legs up the back of Jimin’s leg, feeling the muscles of his thigh and the curve of his ass before you hook your thigh over his hip. A couple of people holler in the kitchen, but you pay them no mind, giving them a wicked smile to show their heckling won’t deter you. They’d be lucky enough to see Jimin fuck you.

“Let’s go upstairs,” you say. You push Jimin back, and he unlatches from your neck with a whine.

“What about Jungkook?” he asks, turning to look over his shoulder. You turn him, pressing his back flush to your front. Jimin falls back, hand coming to hold the counter behind him as your hands travel over his tight torso.

“Look at him,” you say in his ear, nuzzling the piercings decorating the shell. This close, you can hear Jimin’s breathing pick up. You look at Jungkook, too, still frozen at the doorframe. “Do you think he wants to join?”

“I don’t know,” Jimin whines. He squirms when your hands travel lower, brushing over the hem of his pants.

“You sure?” Jungkook’s red solo cup crinkles under his grip. Large, entranced eyes follow your hands.

“Oh,” Jimin says. You aren’t sure if it’s your fingers brushing over his cock, or Jungkook’s drink flowing over his hand as he crushes the cup, jumping and glancing down before looking back up to meet your eyes, terrified.

You smile, letting go of Jimin. You take his hand. “Tell him to join us.”

You start to pull him through the crowd. As you pass Jungkook, you pause. Jimin’s behind you, staring wide-eyed at the boy.

“Tell him, if you want,” you say, watching Jungkook. Jungkook’s face pales at being caught. He opens his mouth, but you press a finger to his lips. They’re soft, pliable. “Not you. Jimin?”

“Join us,” Jimin says. You smile. So obedient. You take your finger from Jungkook’s mouth to grab Jimin’s jaw and drag him into a kiss. You watch as his eyes stay focused on Jungkook whose face is quickly regaining its color. Jimin’s tongue licks behind your teeth, curling, putting on a show.

You pull back, give him a wink, and head for the stairs. The rugby house is a fucking wreck, but you know from parties past that the bedrooms in the back are locked. For now.

As soon as you jiggle the knob loose, you have Jimin pinned against the door. Your hands span hot skin, tensing under your touch as your thigh presses between his. Jimin groans, grabbing at your face, hips already rocking against your thighs.

“Gotta get away from the door,” you say, dragging Jimin by the loops of his tight jeans. “Our guest can’t get in.”

“Do you really think,” Jimin kisses you as you guide him onto the messy bed, “He’ll come?”

“Please,” you yank his shirt over his head and shove his shoulders, taking in how good he looks splayed out beneath you on the bed. “Have you seen yourself?” You trace your fingers around sensitive nipples, giving a surprise tweak just to watch the way Jimin’s lips purse. “Who wouldn’t come running?”

Jimin tries to hold back a smile like you don’t know how much the praise turns him on. You start to rock your hips and Jimin’s eyes fall closed. He’s too lost in your touch to hear the door open tentatively, groaning loud to drown out the brief sound of the party as Jungkook slips in. You look over your shoulder and catch the boy’s attention. He freezes, his large frame looking impossibly small under your gaze. Not stopping the roll of your hips, you place the same finger that had been on Jungkook’s lips to your own now.

“Tell me,” you say, winking at Jungkook. “What would you do if Jungkook was here?”

“Fuck,” Jimin gasps. Jungkook shifts awkwardly on his feet. “I wanna suck on his tongue.”

“Oh yeah?” You ask, watching Jungkook’s knees buckle. “What else? Want me to watch him fuck you?”

Jimin shakes his head on the bed. “Want to fuck him. Or, god,” Jimin runs his hands through his hair with a happy sigh. “We could, together, I don’t-”

Jimin squeaks as his eyes open and catch sight of Jungkook. The boys stare at each other, wide eyed. You stop the roll of your hips, wondering what will happen next.

It’s not what you’re expecting.

Jungkook swallows, blinking a few times like he also thought he wasn’t here. Then, he says in a clear voice, “You want to fuck me?”

You smile. Fantastic.

“I,” Jimin glances between the two of you. “Maybe.”

“Maybe?” Jungkook asks. “Well, I think you know what you want.”

“You,” Jimin’s mouth bobs. You are taken off guard. The boy had seemed so shy downstairs, but now he sat down on the bed next to you, drinking in every inch of Jimin’s exposed form under you.

“God, you are so fucking pretty,” Jungkook sighs. He reaches out, hands touching skin. Jimin’s core tenses, body arching into the touch. “I can barely get through your breakout groups when you fucking wear pants like these. No one has a body like this. You fucking turn to write on the board and I just…”

Jungkook’s hands still, like he’s not sure what to say. Jimin’s body arches, more desperate for the compliments than the touches.

“Just what?” you ask. They both turn to you. You’re just as intrigued, this boy who came in and just touched your boyfriend. “Did you want to fuck him?”

Jungkook studies your face, looking for permission of sorts. So you give it. “He’d probably like you to fuck him.”

“Babe,” Jimin hisses, suddenly looking scandalized.

“It’s true, isn’t it?” You ask. “Imagine, both of us all over you. You said you wanted it.”

“I…” Jimin throws an arm over his face. He chuckles dryly. “I wish I was drunk.”

“No you don’t,” you say. “Jungkook, are you drunk?”

The boy shakes his head. “And I wanna fuck him.”

Jimin shudders beneath you. You swing yourself onto his side, you and Jungkook on either side of him now. You nuzzle in close to Jimin who is still hiding. “You want him to fuck you?”

Jimin nods. That’s not satisfying enough. You trace your fingers lightly over his ticklish spots. “Am I going to have to tease a real answer out of you?”

“Yes,” Jimin says, throwing his arm to the side. “Yes, I want him to fuck me.”

You smile wickedly, especially when Jungkook seems to let out a breath. “Want to eat me out while he fucks you?”

“Holy fuck,” Jungkook says from beside you. You nod your head in his direction.

“Shouldn’t you get undressed?” You ask. Surprisingly, Jungkook immediately reaches for his shirt, pulling it over his head. “Good boy.”

“Mhm,” Jungkook says, mouth twisting like he wants to stop a smile. Oh god.

“You know what?” You say, sitting up straight. “I think I have a better idea.”

“God, you have great ideas,” Jungkook sighs, fidgeting with the zipper to his pants.

“I think Jungkook here should fuck you, and I’ll jerk you off,” you say, reaching for the button of Jimin’s pants. “Otherwise, how is Jungkook going to see how pretty you really are when you cum?”

Jimin bites his lip against a smile, shoulders wriggling under the praise and insinuation. Jungkook whistles, shaking his mess of brown hair as he tugs his pants off. Jimin props up on his elbows, eyeing Jungkook’s cock.

“Wow,” he says, reaching for it. He pauses when you duck in, mouthing at his neck. He whimpers, hand stuttering short. Jungkook looks like he might whimper.

“You know,” you say against his neck. “Why don’t you show Jungkook how pretty you look with a cock in your mouth?”

You have no idea what Jimin looks like with a cock in his mouth, but boy are you ready to see. Especially as Jungkook turns to face the bed, hands twitching to reach for Jimin as he quickly shuffles over, always eager to please.

“Oh my fuck,” Jungkook groans, head immediately falling back when Jimin’s lips wrap around his cock. You can’t see it, but you can hear it. The lewd slurping sounds and the shuffle of Jimin’s hand around Jungkook’s length.

As Jungkook moans, you reach over grabbing Jungkook’s hand. “He likes it when you tug his hair,” you say. Jungkook immediately threads his fingers in, and Jimin moans deep. You glide your hand down his side, leaning into to kiss his shoulders. You can feel the bob of his head, Jungkook’s fingers brushing your teeth as you revel int he small noises Jimin makes whenever he’s not slurping and lapping at the cock.

“He takes it so good,” you muse.

“Fuck he does,” Jungkook says. Jimin goes faster, egged on by the praise. Jungkook hisses, holding Jimin by his hair. “Fuck, I’m going to cum if you do that.”

“Yeah?” Jimin asks, sounding hopeful.

“Fuck yeah,” Jungkook says. “You’re so fucking good at that.”

Jimin giggles as you roll him over. His lips are puffy and red, slick with his saliva. You lean over him and kiss him. He tastes like someone else, and you have a distinct desire to lick it from his mouth, to grab onto him tightly and pull him close before you give him up again. Jimin feels it, answering you with just as much energy. When his cock, still inside his jeans, presses into you, you finally let go.

“Let’s get you fucked, yeah?” you say. Jimin, a little dazed, nods. You smooth your palm over his cheek, gathering his attention. “You good?”

“So good,” Jimin says. He pulls you back in for a kiss. As your tongues twist, hot breath traded between wet lips, you feel Jungkook between your thighs. You hear the familiar sound of Jimin’s pants unbuttoning and the zipper. You smile into his mouth as he whines, lifting his hips as Jungkook tugs off the tight fabric.

Jimin raises his legs, feet propped behind his ass. You move to mouth at Jimin’s chest, watching Jungkook.

“Holy fuck,” Jungkook whispers, fingers finding the plug between Jimin’s thighs. Jimin’s cheeks burn read and you giggle.

“We were planning on playing regardless,” You shrug. Jimin nods, covering his face again.

“That’s so hot,” Jungkook says. “You guys are so hot.”

“Thanks,” Jimin whispers, voice cracking.

“Is it okay if I…?” Jungkook trails off, nudging at the bulb.

Jimin nods quickly. “Yeah, yeah, just carefully.”

Jungkook does as instructed. You take Jimin’s arm off his face as he pulls it out. “Let him see how pretty you look, baby.”

Jimin bites his lip, but he lets the pleasure take over, he doesn’t hide, even spreads his legs wider when Jungkook rips a condom open. He digs around in a drawer, finding lube. You watch as Jungkook slicks up his cock, and you grab one of Jimin’s thighs, pulling it higher.

“You good?” You ask again, kissing his cheek. Jimin nods again, taking a deep breath.

“Thanks,” he says quietly. You quirk your head. “For letting us do this.”

“Of course,” you kiss his lips a bit softer this time.

“Should I thank you, too?” Jungkook asks, leaning over the bed to balance his weight.

“You should fuck him,” you answer. But before he looks away, you drag him into a kiss. Jungkook yelps, surprised, but then he’s kissing you back. His lips aren’t like Jimin’s. They are faster, more aggressive. It takes your breath away and Jimin moans at the sight.

You let go of Jungkook and give a small nod. He positions himself between Jimin’s thighs.

“Breathe, baby,” you say. Jimin closes his eyes.

“Oh fuck,” Jungkook groans, just rubbing his head against Jimin’s hole. “Fuck, he looks so good.”

Jimin’s lips part at the words, soaking in the praise.

“You hear that?” You whisper and nip at his ear. “You look so good.”

“I do,” Jimin nods,a cocky smile on his face. He knows. He’s seen himself like this before, you recording while you peg him hard.

His smile vanishes as Jungkook pushes in slow. Jimin breathes in deep, hard, but breathes it out, not asking him to stop. His pretty eyes clench close, jaw tight yet held open. When Jungkook groans, letting go of his cock as it settles in deep, Jimin shivers, reaching out for you.

“Fuck me,” he whines, eyes barily open as he reaches for Jungkook’s arm as well. “Oh god, fuck me.”

Jungkook pulls out and snaps in. Jimin whines, head thrown back. You settle in, watching him from the side, an angle you rarely get to see. The low light of the room outlines the sharpness of his nose, the tilt of his chin as he rocks with Jungkook’s thrusts.

“God, you’re beautiful,” Jungkook grunts between his teeth, sinking low onto one arm. The three of you are so close, Jungkook’s mouth inches from Jimin’s, your mouth on Jimin’s neck whispering praises.

You gasp when Jimin’s hands flits down your side, wedging between your legs. You spread them, twisting so he can touch you.

“Holy fuck,” JUngkook groans, glancing over.

“Feels good,” you moan, grabbing onto Jungkook’s other arm for support. Jimin’s fingers aren’t skilled, lost in the bliss, but it’s a light bit of stimulation you need while you watch.You rock into Jimin’s fingers in time with Jungkook’s thrusts deep into him.

“Shit,” Jimin grits, grabbing onto Jungkook, lifting his legs higher. His teeth dig into his lips, and Jungkook can’t seem to take it. He ducks down, taking Jimin’s mouth in his own. Jimin grabs onto you tighter as he whimpers into Jungkook’s mouth.

“Goddamn,” you moan into his shoulder. “You look so wrecked, baby.”

Jimin gasps as Jungkook pulls off only to brace on the back of both Jimin’s thighs, folding him over. Jimin wraps his free hand around his cock. You’ve never seen him touch himself without asking, without waiting for your permission. You would be pissed, but it’s too hot. “Fuck, fuck, I’m close. Fuck me, Fuck me.”

You and Jungkook both watch your pretty boyfriend in awh, hips rocking in time to your own ends. Jimin cums first, spilling over his flexed stomach and chest. You drag your fingers through the mess as he continues to work himself through it. With a good bit dripping off your fingers, you place them in Jungkook’s open, panting mouth. Jimin whines at the sight, Jungkook too lost in ecstasy to do more than lap at your digits on his tongue.

“Oh my god,” Jimin gasps. Jungkook’s hips stutter, plunging deep. Jimin’s cum drips off his chin as he grunts, body shaking as he cums inside Jimin.

Jimin looks over at you, suddenly, and his fingers work diligently. He rubs over your clit, already so close to the edge while you watched him come undone for a man, and you grab onto his wrist as the build up quickly has your orgasm overtaking you. Jungkook watches as you cum, as Jimin pulls you in for a kiss.

“Wow,” he breathes when you guide his fingers away from your oversensitive clit. “Wow, that just happened.”

“It did,” Jungkook says, voice hoarse. He pulls out slow, and you massage Jimin’s stomach as he winces a bit. “That was… I don’t know what to say.”

“How about see you next time?” You suggest.

© May 2020 JoopiterJoon. Protected by Creative Commons. If you repost my work in any form or say “credit to author” I will find you and ruin you :D Characters only borrow name and likeness from the members. Do not copy, translate, repost, or reuse this work.

#jikook x reader #jimin x reader #jungkook x jimin #jungkook x reader kind of?#bangtanhq #ficswithluv #fwlbingo #ksmutclub #jungkook smut #jimin smut #young forever #bts smut #bts fic

363 notes · View notes

solynaceawrites · 4 years

Text

The ABCs of Demonology [4]: Dirty Secret

Fandom: Devil May Cry Characters: Dante, fem!Reader Tags: NSFW Alphabet, Drabble Collection, Smut, Fluff, Established Relationship, Aftercare Chapters: 4/26 Summary: A series of drabbles based on the-coldest-goodbye’s NSFW Alphabet template. Each drabble has a different theme, but all of them star Dante Sparda.

»»————-　⚜　————-««

“Really, Dante? Pizza delivery?”

He grins up at you from between your breasts, his hands smoothing over your backside. “Yeah! You know, you order a pizza, realize you can’t pay, and I give you some extra sausage.”

You smother a snort as you card your fingers through his hair and give the strands a gentle tug. “Why would I order a pizza if I couldn’t afford it? And why would I then pay the pizza man with sex instead of, I dunno, cancelling the order?”

“Babe,” he groans. “It’s for the fantasy.”

“You watch too many pornos.” Dante huffs and buries his face against your chest, and you laugh softly at the peek of his eyes over your flesh; he’s not prone to sulking, but those puppy-dog eyes of his are mighty damn close. “Am I supposed to open the door naked, too?”

His hand dips between your thighs, teasing over your sex, which is still slick from him having you bent over his desk. “Nope.” He pops the ‘p’. “You know that cute lil’ lingerie you bought last month?”

“The one you ripped in half?”

“The other one.” You shift a little to get his fingers where you want them, and he slides one into your opening, the glide shallow due to the angle. “The black, uh . . . negligee? Isn’t that what you called it. You could always wear that, give me the pleasure of unwrappin’ ya, too.”

“You’re a fiend,” you deadpan. He hums, pressing a kiss between your breasts before taking a nipple into his mouth, and the pressure of his tongue on the sensitive bud has you squirming in his grip, which rocks you against his finger. It’s an assault on all fronts, and you relent with a dramatic sigh. “Fine, you devil! Pizza delivery it is.”

»»————-　⚜　————-««

You tousle your hair carefully before double-checking your reflection in the mirror. Dante is due any minute for this little fantasy of his, and you want to make sure you’re as irresistible as you can be; “I’ve always wanted to do the pizza delivery thing,” wasn’t exactly what you expected when you asked if he had any dirty little secrets, but it’s certainly light enough on the spectrum that you don’t mind it too much. Your negligee is all sheer black lace, hiding absolutely nothing, and you’ve paired it with a black lace thong and the black heels that always drive him wild. The lingerie will probably be in tatters by the end of the night, but you’re not too worried about it, since you’ve got a dirty little secret of your own.

Dante manhandling you really, really turns you on.

At nine on the dot, the doorbell buzzes, and you blow yourself a kiss before heading downstairs. You’ve barely made it down two steps before it buzzes again. And then again. And again. If Dante really was a delivery man, you think, he’d piss off all of his clients.

You’re more than a little irate when you reach the front door, which results in you yanking it open with a bit more force than necessary, but it shifts to something more akin to bemusement when you catch sight of what he’s wearing. It seems he’s taken the porno slant to heart, clad in low-slung jeans that cling to his thighs, his chest left bare save for an apron that’s cinched in to show off his waist, and he grins as he peers at you from beneath the brim of the hat he’d no doubt borrowed from Antonio’s. “Someone order a pizza with extra sausage?”

Doing your best to smother a laugh, you put on what you hope is a sultry smile. “That would be me. But,” you pout, “I can’t find my wallet. Is there any way you could let me off the hook, just this once?”

“I dunno. Boss probably wouldn’t be too happy.” Dante makes a show of looking you over, his eyes lingering at the swell of your breasts. “I could pay outta my tips, but I’d need somethin’ nice from you.”

“Something nice?” you murmur. Teasingly, you toy with the strap to your negligee, pushing it down your shoulder until the cup on the right is barely covering anything at all, and his lips part at the hint of your nipple above the fabric. “Why don’t you come in so we can . . . discuss it?”

He flashes another grin as he steps by you, and you quickly shut and lock the door before following him into the shop. Per your request, he’d gotten a real pizza to go along with this, and the scent of it wafting through the air as he sets it on his desk makes your mouth water and your stomach rumble. Dante must have a similar thought, because there’s a split second of hesitation before he turns back to you, and he glances at it over his shoulder. “You, uh . . .”

"You said something about payment?" you prompt.

"Oh! Yeah." Dante grins and takes a step towards you, his hips popping with extra swagger. "I got a big ol' pepperoni for ya."

"Oh my," you sigh, fanning yourself to cover your laughter. "That is sure to cost extra."

With a grin, his tongue half hanging out of his mouth, Dante yanks on his belt. You shift a bit as he makes a show of pulling it through the loops, whipping it off like a stripper and tossing it over his head. "Man that smells good," he murmurs.

"What?"

"The pizza. Smells good." He glances at it before shaking his head. "But I bet you're even better."

He grabs you and sweeps you into a low dip, covering your mouth with his. His tongue is hot and insistent as you cling to his shoulders, letting him support your weight and praying he doesn't drop you. Your hands slide upwards into his hair, glad the silliness is over and you can get to the action when you are interrupted by a very loud growl in his stomach.

His struggle is adorable. Dante sets you back on your feet with a sheepish expression, and you hum and wrap your arms around his shoulders. “Why don’t we eat first?” you suggest. “Then we can go upstairs.”

He deflates a bit. “You sure? Seems pretty dumb now, and I know you must be starvin’, but . . .”

“No buts. Keep the pants on, though. They’re hot.”

There’s another second of thought before he relaxes, holding you close with an arm at your waist and lifting you easily off of your feet. “Yeah? You like ‘em?” You nod, and he moves behind his desk to sit in his chair, situating you comfortably on his lap. “Good. This,” he tugs at the lace hem of your negligee, “is fuckin’ sexy, by the way. You should wear it every day.”

“Even to greet clients?”

He reaches over you to open the box and grab two slices, handing one of them to you. “Maybe not. But the rest of the time, hell yeah.”

#dmc #devil may cry #dante sparda #dante/reader #dante x reader #dmc fanfic #dmc fanfiction #writing #drabble #myfic #abcs of demonology

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dammitadolfnomorecake · 4 years

Text

Once Bitten, Twice Stupid prt.85

Keith thought Coran would return to VOLTRON to analyse the book they’d stolen, instead the fae came back to their apartment with them. Sending Lance to shower, his wings had slowly gone away during the drive and his boyfriend seemed exhausted from the effort it’d taken. Changing out his uniform, Keith left a fresh change of clothes for Lance on the bathroom counter before heading into the living area where Coran had his hands full of an excited Kosmo. At the kitchen counter, Shiro was making coffee, Keith relishing the scent of normality after such a crazy night.

Dropping down on the sofa at the opposite end to Coran, Kosmo deserted pats from

Coran in favour of pats from him. His whole body wagging as he climbed into Keith’s lap

“He gets cuter each time I see him”

Keith’s heart swelled with pride. A puppy was a hell of a lot of work. Things were always being chewed and puddles always being left but he loved Kosmo so damn much. His puppy was perfect

“He does. Just mind your shoes, he loves chewing them”

Coran glanced down at his feet

“I’m wearing my shoes”

“Then they’ll be safe. Laces maybe not”

“I’ll have to remember that. Now, once Curtis comes out, and our Lance is done in the shower, we’ll get started”

Keith didn’t know Curtis was there until he shuffled out of Shiro’s bedroom looking sprung. Shiro’d been so fast to comment on their sex life, when he was keeping his boyfriend waiting in his room. As long as they kept it a minimum, Keith couldn’t complain. He wasn’t about to attack his brother for finally being able to start moving on after Adam. Standing near the doorway, Curtis seemed unsure what to do

“Hey, Curtis. Come sit down. Coran’s going to solve the mystery of our little heist tonight”

“Are you sure? I haven’t been invited in on the mission”

Coran brushed it off

“That’s quite alright. The Blades wanted this turned over to them directly, but I think Keith and Lance earned the right to know what this is before them. I can’t trace anything particular about the book. The necklace may hold some clues. And the plaque isn’t particularly important that I can tell”

Curtis came to sit with them, sitting on the coffee table thanks to the lack of seating

“You guys have any trouble?”

To Keith it sounded like Curtis missed being in the field

“If you mean they had to pause the mission to reenact their high school fantasies, then yes”

Keith shot Shiro a glare

“That wasn’t Lance’s fault”

Shiro shooting back

“You know the mission always comes first. No matter the circumstances”

They’d gotten it done. That should be enough

“Yeah. And Lance feels bad enough about it. You don’t need to make him feel any worse”

“Did Lance go into heat again?”

Curtis sounded worried. Yeah. Going into heat wasn’t part of the plan, but with all the adrenaline and fresh blood in his system, he couldn’t help himself

“Only a flash, and we handled it”

“I hope you were careful”

As careful as they could have been. He didn’t need Curtis reminding him that the uniform didn’t come with convenient condoms attached

“I’m not about to knock my boyfriend up mid-mission. Can we like not talk about this when we’ve got more important things to discuss?”

A loud thud and curse interrupted things. Keith placing Kosmo on the sofa as he climbed to his feet. Shiro staring towards the bathroom door

“Is he alright?”

What was Keith, some kind of mind reader?

“I’ll check”

Lance was laying on the bathroom floor, he’d hit his head on the shower door from the look of it. Rubbing the spot, his boyfriend looked up at him as Keith let himself into the bathroom. Keith shouldn’t laugh, but his boyfriend was buck naked and looked confused when he’d very clearly tripped

“Do I want to ask?”

Lance groaned, starting to gather himself up

“I slipped...”

“I can see that. Are you okay?”

“Yeah. I felt a bit light headed getting out...”

Lance was a vampire in perfect health, he shouldn’t be feeling light headed

“Let me help get you up. I don’t want you to slip again”

“I’m fine... a bit tired and confused but I’m okay... gimme a minute and I’ll be out”

As Lance went to stand, he slipped again. Keith sighing to himself as he moved to help Lance get up

“Let me do it. You’re going to end up breaking something at this rate”

Shooting him a wobbly smile, Lance leaned heavily against him

“Are you more concerned for me, or the bathroom?”

They both knew he was worrying over Lance

“The bathroom. Obviously. Sit down on the toilet, I’ll get the towel”

Fetching the towel, Keith started drying Lance off. He was like a big puppy, leaning into Keith’s touches as he dried him

“Do you need blood?”

“Nah... I’m tired. Today has been horrendously long”

“How do your hips feel?”

Lance yawned as he nodded, acting like he didn’t have a bump on his forehead

“Fine. I didn’t realise how intense a mission could feel, even one to just steal a Bible and a necklace. I feel really bad about taking the Bible. Next time I take Mami to church I’m going to have a lot to confess”

“Coran’s going to compensate them, and if possible we can try to return the Bible”

“Yeah, but stealing a Bible still feels super bad. Worse than having sex on a teachers desk and nearly getting caught”

“You couldn’t help that. Besides... it was kind of hot”

Lance chuckled at him, closing his eyes and letting his head loll back

“I knew you’d make an excellent teacher. Much better than the ones I had”

“I thought you’d be a model student”

“Not really. Sometimes I’d be up with nightmares and come to school looking like a walking corpse. The teachers didn’t get it and it was hard not being too smart. Plus I was awkward and gangly and Spanish, with hand me downs from my brothers”

“The teachers didn’t like me either. They thought I was too much work. I ran away in my last year”

“At least you tried to stick it out. I know it’s not much now, but I’m proud you made the effort”

Of course Lance was proud. He probably would be still if Keith had told him everything. But that was a conversation for another time

“Are you sure you don’t need blood?”

Lance’s teeth had gone right through his gloves, not that Keith minded. If Lance was hungry, he’d organise something

“I’m okay. I want to know what all this was about... then go to bed. Those wings were weird as fuck”

“They weren’t exactly normal”

“Nope. It’s only happened twice now. I don’t like it. It makes me feel less human”

“I know it does... Thanks for not dropping me”

“If the jump had gone wrong, I would have made sure you’d still landed safely. It took a lot of trust to hold onto me”

Keith’s heart skipped a beat. He trusted Lance. Like really trusted him. Having someone love him the way Lance did... the way he accepted him. It was so painfully needed. They’d been through so much together, and Keith couldn’t think of anyone else he wanted to care for him like how Lance did. With a blush in his cheeks, he tried to play it cool

“I already trust you. Coran’s out there with the book and the necklace. Curtis is here too, he came out of Shiro’s bedroom like he’d caught. Shiro’s made coffee”

Lance yawned again

“You can have mine... I really just want to go to sleep. I feel so drained it’s not funny”

Lance was stumbly, holding onto Keith as they made their way over to the sofa. Sitting down, he pulled his boyfriend into his lap. Lance didn’t seem to mind as he curled into Keith

“That’s an impressive egg you’ve got there”

Lance mumbled at Curtis about “stupid slippery shower floors having it out for innocent vampires”. Keith explaining to the group

“Sorry, he’s sleepy. He slipped getting out the shower”

“Should we be worried about a concussion?”

Keith looked to Coran who shook his head. Curtis had a valid point

“Any damage is already on the mend. He’s had quite the long day. That bad blood in his system would have really knocked him about. Anywhoo. Congratulations on completing your mission. You both did very well...

Shiro snorted. Coran continued

“... in avoiding detection and a need for incapacitation. Let’s take a look here. I’m not sensing anything off the Bible. It seems to be a beloved personal item. Let’s look at the locket”

Keith watched over Lance’s shoulder as Coran lifted the locket. Popping it open, it contained a thick lock of hair bound with a small faded pink ribbon. Nothing exciting at all. Lance mumbled grumpily

“Werewolf stink”

Coran nodded

“Yes, my boy you may be right. No use to anyone really as their are no folicals at the ends and any DNA would have degraded by now... there’s something in the middle here”

Shiro handed out the coffee as Coran went about untying the ribbon, there was a slim tooth inside the hair. The necklace hadn’t seemed thick enough to hold it, but there was no denying it’d all fitted in the slim silver. Handing Keith his cup of coffee, his brother waited for direction’s of what to do with Lance’s. Keith more concerned about how he was going to drink his coffee and cuddle his boyfriend. He needed an extra hand, then he could have the best of both worlds. Coffee and Cuddles

“I’ll drink Lance’s later. What’s the deal with the tooth?”

Coran picked the tooth up, holding it between the pads of his thumb and pointer fingers so he could examine it

“It’s definitely vampire. You can tell by the shape. Lotor’s certainly dumped a mystery on us. We have a monastery that converted to a convent in the late 1800’s. A Bible that is simply a bible as far as I can tell. No more spiritual residue than a teaspoon on that one. And now a silver plated locket with werewolf hair and a vampire tooth... and absolutely no idea what any of this means”

Lance sighed, his boyfriend shifting, conscious of Keith’s precious cup of coffee and Kosmo who wanted to cuddle with his other hooman.

Tiredly, Lance rubbed at his face, before reaching out to take the tooth off Coran

“It was probably the religious practice of putting something pure near something dirty. They believed the purity of the item would cancel out the dirtiness. Vampire and werewolves kind of don’t get much dirtier. Either that or we have a nun who was either a secret hunter, or a vampire having an affair with a werewolf in on sacred dirt. This tooth looks pretty new. Probably pulled out right after it grew back”

Lance passed the tooth back to Coran, Coran nodding at what he’d said

“That does make sense and certainly a possibility. However, I found nothing related between the building and hunting”

“Yeah, but didn’t people used to bring things to churches to be made pure? Whatever it was, the nun has long since passed away. Pass me the Bible”

Passing over the Bible Lance flicked through the pages, failing to tell them what he was thinking as he did. Keith nudged him with his elbow as he brought his cup up to his lips and blew across the surface softly. His boyfriend was doing a hard think

“Babe, not all of us have the memory you do”

Lance hefted a sigh, before holding the Bible up and reading

“There is a generation, whose teeth are as swords, and their jaw teeth as knives, to devour the poor from off the earth, and the needy from among men”

Riiiiiight. If Lance said so? He was pretty much the only church goer in the group

“Yeah... I still don’t know what you’re talking about”

“Most people think it’s about vampires. Instead of being about greedy people who’d use you up and throw you away. Our nun here didn’t think it important enough to dog ear the page, which I thought she might have if she’d been a hunter. It’s been well loved, and it definitely has charm, but I wouldn’t say it holds any great mystery I can see”

Handing the Bible back to Coran, Coran slipped it into his jacket

“I’m afraid Lotor might simply have been testing your skills. I’ll take these back and take a few readings before we present these to Lotor tomorrow morning. You boys best get your rest. We haven’t any idea what’s he’s planning next”

Lance nodded

“Sounds good to me... Is it rude if I head to bed now? I’m sorry but I’m exhausted”

Patting Lance’s leg, Coran smiled gently

“Get some rest my boy. You and Keith both did a splendid job”

“Minus the sex”

Coran chuckled at Shiro

“You have a lot to learn about heats my young boy. Don’t be too hard on them. They’re very compatible and very in tune with each other. Keith being able to scent Lance is proof of their bond. He’s got a good nose on him for being completely human”

Keith felt like he’d been called a sniffer dog. He didn’t ask to be able to pick up on Lance’s scent and he didn’t always notice until the scent grew too strong not to notice. As Coran climbed up from the sofa, Lance climbed off Keith’s lap

“Take your time, babe. You don’t need to rush your coffee because of me. Night, guys. Sorry I’m too tired to stay up”

After Lance and Coran had parted, Keith fought the urge to follow his boyfriend. Shiro’s expression said he wanted to talk, not that Keith particularly wanted to. His brother sitting down beside him, Curtis took Coran’s vacant spot, pulling Kosmo into his lap as he did. Keith closed his eyes as his brother broke the silence

“Coran’s right. I don’t understand heats. Was it really necessary to break mission like that”

There it was, Curtis replying before he could

“Lance couldn’t help it. His heats aren’t planned, nor are the flashes that come over him. Not to sound crass, but Lance would have only worsened if left unaided”

“But surely he knows how to get through a heat?”

“A heat is a sign his body is fertile. Flashes of heat stem from arousal, fresh blood after bad blood would have left his system off kilter. I suspect the adrenaline in his system, as Keith mentioned, coupled by his body trying to burn through the bad blood resulted in a heat flash as it was. A true heat is very intense, as Keith knows. Lance’s body may be receptive to scents, but the only one he allows to help him is Keith”

Shiro sighed, leaning forward he cupped his hands around his cup of coffee

“I still don’t think I understand”

“As Coran said, Keith is very compatible with Lance. Lance doesn’t intentionally trigger a heat. It’s something that cannot be helped. Like an awkward erection during puberty. He’s levelled out quite a bit when compared to the initial changes in his body. Keith helps keep him anchored. He’s spoken very fondly of Keith, which is quite natural”

Shiro sighed at his boyfriend

“Curtis, you’re doing it again”

“Basically when Lance’s body gets that way, the only comfort is found in release. Being a breeder, he feels safer and relaxes when Keith is...”

Shiro didn’t need the mental images and Keith didn’t need his sex life examined

“Okay. You don’t need to go into detail. Basically, it’s not something you can ignore. He only gets worse if you do and it hurts him physically. Dumbarse used to try sleep it off, and wouldn’t tell me how much it hurt”

Curtis backed him up

“His cramps do get quite bad. When I asked him what they felt like he described at as if you’ve drank two litres of bad milk while you’re horny. He’s doing better now that he’s allowing Keith to help him through them”

Shiro groaned, moving his hands off his cup and burying his face in them

“I thought he just got horny... he’s not a werewolf, so I didn’t think it’d be so bad”

“It’s worse for him as he doesn’t partake in fresh blood”

Keith had seen Lance in heat with and without fresh blood. Fresh blood seemed to give him more energy and stamina to keep up with his body’s demands

“He makes helping him hard... not that I want him feeding on Keith”

Keith appreciated that Shiro was beginning to actually understand that it wasn’t just sex

“Lance’s heat comes in what he calls waves. Mostly he’s okay... after... you know”

“I get the idea. Is he still in heat?”

“Not that I could tell. He really does feel super bad about the mission”

“I won’t bring it up again. You might as well head to bed. I’ll take Kosmo down so he can do his business”

Shiro was nice to offer, but Keith couldn’t push the responsibility of being a fur father onto his brother

“Nah. He’s my puppy. I’ll take responsibility. Maybe next time we can watch a movie or something together?”

Shiro patted his leg

“I’d like that. I’m sorry if it seems like I’m trying to drive Lance off”

Shiro was a seasoned hunter who was used to things running smoothly and being his partner in the field

“You were focused on the mission. I get it. Come on, Kosmo. Let’s go pee then see your other dad”

#once bitten twice stupid #oncebittentwicestupid

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likesomekindofcheese · 4 years

Text

The BEN-nefits of Fake Dating

Hello! @littlespoiltthing it is I!!! Your Secret Santa revealed! Here is a one shot I wrote (with a title inspired by @littlespoiltthing ‘s own beautiful work) for @dtfrogertaylor‘s Christmas Event. Enjoy everyone!!

Pairing: Ben Hardy x fem!Reader

Words: 2412

Warnings: Families, kissing, swearing, Christmas, grandparents, and parents being grandparents and parents. Sex, engagement, and kids are mentioned, nudity but nothing graphic. Plus a LOT was inspired by the Hallmark movie Holiday Engagement

Genre: Fluff and a bit of Angst!

“If I have to see you single again on another Christmas, I’ll jump off a bridge!” your grandmother whined over the phone. You sighed deeply, out of reach of the phone on the speaker in your hand.

“She’s joking, of course!” your mom interjected.

Yeah right, with another year and another ring less finger in the midst of an Instagram feed full of clean, French manicures with the largest diamonds sparkling on the left hand with two billion likes, you had had it. Especially since a lot of those clean, French manicured hands of yours with large sparkling diamonds on the left hand with two billion likes were in your family.

So now every head that was female and greying turned to you in anticipation. And every holiday, from their wrinkled, pink lips and their hot breath full of peppermint came the dreaded question with the monotone, dreaded answer.

Then came Ben.

Charming. Funny. Smart. Single. Ben.

He sat in your car on the passenger side and his eyes widened at your grandmother’s comment.

“Oh, I just want you to be happy, dear! And know you’re taken care of!”

Your grandmother forgot to recall the new world of college degrees, Netflix nights with friends, job choices, and vibrators to think a man could possibly be in the picture for women in the 21st century.

This was where Ben came in. Especially his job for the next week.

Ben clicked his tongue a little and bit his lips in a way that almost made you miss the turn.

He reached over the clicked the red button on the phone to end the call.

“Well, she’s a little mad.”

“She’s mad for babies, that’s what. I think she just wants babies to play with without changing diapers or, you know, responsibility” you said.

“Maybe I should’ve brought a dog, then” Ben quipped.

It was ideal. But too ideal. Ben and you were friends. Just. Friends. No matter what your stomach felt. No matter what fantasies you had at night. Just friends.

But it was nice to live that fantasy for a week. Merry frickin’ Christmas.

You pulled the car over to the park and walked into the big house. Already a lot of your family had entered in and were having drinks in red cups as a sports game blared on the tv as opposed to nice Christmas music tinkling away.

“Oh, honey, welcome!” your mother greeted, walking in with a big hug, the red arms of her red sweater outstretched.

“And is this your boyfriend?”

“Oh, yes, I’m Ben, Ben Jones.” He greeted. He had a polite smile and had engaged in his role. Today’s audition he had to read the role of boyfriend to shut up the Karens for a week. Only no real script except what was discussed, and pure improv. Good thing he was paid to leap off of trucks and shoot fake guns for Micheal Bay.

How hard could it be? After all hard was his name. His stage name.

Your grandmother gawked at you.

“Oh my gosh! What a cutie! I haven’t seen a butt that perky since your grandfather in ’72!” “Grandma!” you gasp, but giggling anyway.

You hug your mom very tightly, so much you can smell her. Ben merely gives her a platonic handshake.

But Ben handles being the dutiful boyfriend very well. People go over and drill questions into him. He hesitates a little and then replies quietly.

“So Ben, what job do you have.”

“I’m an actor, film, and television.”

Though one cousin of yours, who is at least six foot five and the size of a buffalo storms over, almost to Ben’s face. If it were not for the reindeer antlers hanging from his head, you probably would have been nervous.

“I’ll tell you Jonesey, my cousin, Y/N, is the sweetest, smartest, best girl ever.”

“I know! I wouldn’t be datin’ ‘er if she wasn’t!” Ben replies. His hands shoot out in front of him.

You can feel yourself biting your cheek insides in order not to smile.

Your cousin practically grabs him by the shirt collar and lifts him almost.

“If you break her heart or hurt her, I swear to God, man, I’ll cut your nuts off!”

“I-I won’t!” Ben insists being lowered to the ground.

But right as Ben turns around and sees your brother and you feel your stomach turn a little. Are your family members ganging up on poor Ben?

But he just nods his head and says “I think you seem like a nice guy, Ben, so ditto. But Y/N is a tough cookie, I trust you with her. And I trust her” he adds, he picks up his mug in the shape of Frosty the Snowman and lifts it as a toast in your direction.

Pretending to be dating was almost too easy. Natural, even.

It seems like forever, but the guests eventually filter their way out. Your family sighs deeply Your stepfather throws himself on the couch, almost melting into it.

“Well somebody has to pick up the dogs tomorrow…”

You can see Ben’s face light up.

“Dogs?” Ben interrupts, widening into the smile of a seagull offered a crumb of bread.

Your mom is a little taken aback.

“Uhm, yes…we have two German Shepherd puppies. We had to put them in a daycare center for the party. They’re cute, but a little rowdy,” she warned, shuffling her feet.

You have to hold Ben back from jumping into the car and picking them up now.

“I’ll go, why, I’ll even drive!”

“Well, thank you, Ben!”

“Anything for my best…”

You kick him softly into the back of his leg, threating harder later if he doesn’t keep it together.

“Anything for my best girl! That is! The best girlfriend ever!”

The night gets darker and everyone is exhausted from the greeting party.

“You guys are fine sharing a bed, is that right? Well, the only bed available is Y/N’s old bed…” your stepfather begins.

You are both muttering and Ben’s turning very pink.

“Yes, Dad! We are thinking about moving in, soon, so sharing a bed isn’t a problem.”

But you both head to the room, lock the door and sigh.

“This is gonna be harder than I thought.” You confess.

“I think we’re doing great!” Ben adds optimistically, looking around at the trinkets and clothes left on hangers and chairs in your room. “And we don’t have to sleep together, I brought an air mattress.”

Fighting the urge to wince from the comment, you begin chewing your bottom lip.

“I need to go to bed, when do you shower? There’s only two up here.” You suggest, fanning out your top from the sweat you gathered.

“Mornin” Ben added, noticing an old book on your shelf and curiously thumbing through it.

As you take some towels and walk off, you bump into your mother getting a laundry basket.

“Do you think they liked the cake I made?” she asked.

“Oh, they definitely did!” you assure.

“I just think I may not have put enough icing, you know the family always goes for the heavy sweet stuff”

“Oh, mom, your baking is always great! Fyi, Ben got a really big slice today if that’s a sign!” you tease.

She taps your shoulder lovingly.

“And how’s your relationship with Ben going?”

You pull your hands under the towel and squeeze.

“It’s…good mom, really good.”

“It’s just that today I noticed you didn’t hug or hold hands or kiss that much” she murmured, relaxing her arms so that the empty laundry basket seemed to dangle from her grasp.

“We wanted to be respectful. You wouldn’t want to see your daughter making out with a guy all evening, would you!”

Your mother’s eyes sparkled as if hesitant to give you an unexpected answer.

“Well, of course not!”

“Besides,” you say, turning to the bathroom and opening the door “he’s the kind of person who’d rather be private about touchy stuff, you know?”

Your mother hums in understanding and turns off to her room.

A warm homey shower and a nice bedtime routine got you all settled. Cleanliness of your body and mouth seemed to free you from the weariness of the social demands and your mental worries of what could go wrong.

But there was one more thing that did go a little wrong. When you walked back into your room Ben was lifting the blanket to get into the air mattress.

In his birthday suit.

You let out a scream and turned away immediately, not sure whether to be thankful or mortified or both. Ben saw you and let out a small yelp as well, he grabbed an old pillow and put it right over his junk. His whole head turned pink.

“I’m so sorry. You were taking your time and I thought I’d be under by the time you…y’know!!!” He seemed to curl down and you fought the powerful urge not to let your eyes wander to his eight-pack.

“Just put on some underwear for the love of God!”

You manage to get him in underwear and your mother's fluffy pink robe full of flowers. Almost scoffing, you flop on your bed and fall asleep almost at once.

What you don’t see is Ben turning his head to look at you. He can’t go to sleep quite yet. Thoughts are racing thought his head far too fast for him to catch one and examine it.

Being in your room, seeing all your old trinkets, clothes, books, and even toys everywhere. Bits of your personality shine out to him. And now a younger, but your deeper, almost private self is now all around him.

He adores it and his heart is bursting silently. With widening eyes, he keeps still on the bed and observes each tiny detail as if it is a clue to reveal a bit more about you.

And there you are, your face turned right to face his, eyes closed and deep asleep. He admires how there’s a bit of moonlight from the window falling on you and he can see you.

There you are so close. If he got up now, he could touch your hand perhaps and even stir. He could place his head against your heart to feel how after everything today that it’s beating just, so, so slow. Your lips are curved into a smile. Is it a dream, perhaps? His hand almost reaches out, wanting to trace every bit of your face but he stops himself.

He nestles down on the pillow and your face is the last thing he sees before he closes his eyes and drifts off into uneasy rest.

Nights like these got quieter as the days got repetitive. There was a lot of smiling and conversing with each other in the day and in the evening, you both would be quiet. The air dripping with words that wanted to be said and yet could not be said for fear of something dying.

One evening the clock had struck one in the morning and neither one of you had gotten any sleep other than tossing and turning.

“Let’s just watch Christmas movies together!” Ben suggests childishly, and you nod. You two will sneak downstairs and watch The Grinch and Netflix together. One evening, Ben suggested The Snowman.

“It’s on Youtube, have you ever seen it?”

“No!”

“Let’s watch it!” Ben says, whipping out his phone and suggesting you scoot over.

It’s hard not to let your head fall on his shoulder and you force yourself to keep the slightest distance.

At the very end of the short little feature, the magical Snowman had melted, leaving the little boy alone in the snow as the credits rolled over a soft song with an orchestra and boy soprano.

Ben was bawling quietly.

“Oh my god…every bloody time…”

But as you reach over, you wipe off the tears and he looks right at you. You are both quiet.

“Go back to sleep, I need to have a smoke before I sleep.”

It had been a long smoke too.

On Christmas Eve, it was another small gathering. Mainly Grandma. She was eyeing you two as if she was watching the last five minutes of a Game of Thrones episode for any sudden, shocking twist or turn.

Like a kiss. Or a hug.

Ben could tell something was up and pulled up to her. “Well hello there, I’m Ben Jones, I don’t think I’ve talked with you much yet, but I’m dating your granddaughter.”

She nodded and gigged. Her eyes shone and brought energy not felt for about fifty years

“I know, we haven’t talked!” she replied, raising her shoulders a little in shyness.

“And I can’t leave a lovely lady all by herself!” Ben added with a wink.

You smiled. Ever the charmer where it counted.

You went over to the kitchen and heated up two mugs of hot milk and picked tow packets of hot chocolate.

But as you walked over to hand them to Ben right by the doorway there was a sudden burst of “OOOOOOOHHHHH!” from your brother.

There was mistletoe hanging over the two of you.

Mistletoe that wasn’t there yesterday.

You and Ben stared at each other, blinking. Then you looked at your grandmother, eyes wide and nodding.

You gave him a short peck. His lips were cold and reeked of onions from the pizza you ate, but it was soft and plump.

Ben looked back at you, dazed. You only half heard the cheering from everyone and the toasts.

You both looked at each other, the party went on, but it was as if you two were the only ones in the world.

“Y/N…” he starts….”I think I need some air…” he confesses.

“Me too…” you say, following after.

You both rush, the air is cool and soft, not freezing like the typical Christmas Eve and with a disappointingly green front yard in front of you and a semi-clear sky.

Before you can say anything, Ben looks up at you shyly.

“Can I kiss you properly? And date you proper? Not for fake…”

You take your hands on each side of his face, his green eyes grow to the size of your neighbors' bushes.

“Uhm…it that a yes? It was a pretty bad kiss back…”

“Shut up” you insist before locking your lips onto yours for a much bigger improvement.

#fake dating #mutual pining #ben hardy #ben hardy imagine #Christmas event #secret santa #ben hardy x reader #ben hardy x fem!reader #ben hardy x you #ben hardy x y/n #ben hardy fanfiction #bohrap cast #bohrap fanfiction #christmas fanfiction #holiday fanfiction #tgic #tgic gift #littlespoiltthing #dtfrogertaylor

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heli0s-writes · 5 years

Text

VII. Blessed Be the Mystery of Love

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Reader x Bucky Barnes Summary: An epilogue. Six months later. A/N: The last chapter! And with that, Mystery of Love has concluded :)

A large hand paws lazily at your back as you fix the blouse you’d just slipped on. It had taken you almost an hour to get out of bed and even longer to get ready today, so you’re in a bit of a mood when the same hand starts walking itself up your shirt. You slap it with a sharp thwack and it retreats with a sniveling whine.

There’s a rumbling of laughter that follows as you slip your blazer over your shoulders.

Rolling your eyes, you land them on the bed where your two lovers lie. Steve is nursing his offending hand under his cheek as he peers up with his signature ocean gaze. Bucky is lying on his back, inoffensive limbs tucked neatly behind his head, telling you: look at me, I’m a good boy.

They’re both shirtless, taut chest and abs radiant in the chiaroscuro light your vanity table provides. The striped comforter comes up to reach just beneath their waists and you know for a fact Bucky’s completely nude this morning, but avert your gaze.

“Brat...” You shoot at Steve instead, who pouts even more. In the mirror, you swipe on a quick layer of mascara before slinging your purse over your shoulder.

Crossing your arms at the foot of the bed, you regard the men lying in it, eagerly awaiting your attention. It’s such a comical sight, you think, as you step from one heeled foot to the other, blazer fixed neatly and buttoned. You, nearly 70 years younger than them, look like some kind of sugar-momma or dominatrix, in complete command of two compliant subordinates.

As naughty as they were, keeping you up last night after they returned from a three-day-long mission, you couldn’t help but melt under their coquettish-bitten lips and puppy-dog sulking eyes. You’d been woken up past midnight and weren’t able to sleep until nearly three in the morning, and they both knew you had to be up at six.

It wasn’t entirely their fault, of course, since it only took half a mischievous bite to your neck from Bucky before your clothes were completely shed.

“Boys, this is ridiculous.” You want to be stern, but their absolutely endearing expressions melts your mood right off. A tiny quirk of your lips appear and they quickly match your countenance.

“Does that mean you forgive us?”

Your smile says more than enough. Yes, of course. Always.

“Good. I’ll drive.” Steve rises from the bed and Bucky follows. They head into the restroom to brush their teeth before pulling casual clothes on in a rush, eager to spend as much time with you as possible. You’d been taking the car by yourself for the past week, but you do love it when Steve drives. They’re much better company than what your radio can give you.

At the car, Bucky pinches your bottom and climbs in before he shuts the door.

“You know,” Steve grumbles, squinting at the rearview mirror image of Bucky nipping at your ear, “I thought you’d sit up here with me.”

“Nah, pal. I’m much better company. ‘Sides, you don’t need any distractions while you’re driving. But me? I’m a free agent back here.” He starts peeling your skirt upward, “How bout you, hon?”

You only laugh, catching Steve’s eye before intertwining your fingers in Bucky’s and kissing him, leaning your head against his shoulder. Steve puts on a song and starts singing along.

The drive is a lengthy one, and it gets even more tiresome when you get into the city. Steve is in bumper-to-bumper traffic as you gaze off in contemplation.

The last six months of your life have been the absolute nuttiest, you think, watching the streetlights go past against a gradient of orange, pink, and blue hues. Sunrise has started coming up a little bit later, now that it’s well into fall, and the chilly morning air lets Steve roll the windows down a bit.

He’s taking you to work, and it’s a procedure that you’re still trying to get used to.

You started two months ago at Cooper Union- just a visiting artist position, but still one that you take very, very seriously. Byrne kept good on his promise after the show and had given you a list of opportunities to interview for. It’s all by choice, anyway, since the profit from the show totaled more than enough to set you up comfortably for at least five years. And that’s saying quite a lot considering that you live in Manhattan of all places.

You wanted to start your job with baby steps to avoid overwhelming yourself in an academic setting. Being a visiting artist gave you a lot of freedom and just the right amount of responsibility.

The position entailed no more than three public speaking events, your own studio to develop a show at the end of the semester, and the opportunity to work closely with a mixed group of graduate and undergraduate students as their mentor. You were required to be on-campus at least once a week, but you usually went in twice just to keep your office open.

So far, it had been smooth sailing.

You look from Steve up front to Bucky at your shoulder, sighing happily and nuzzling deeper into his chest, flicking his nose with your finger. He growls playfully in response.

This had been smooth sailing too, save for a couple of rainy days and one very turbulent storm. All natural and expected aspects of being in a relationship. The biggest fight you’d had so far was a furious row after a mission where you were so cross afterward that you didn’t speak to either of them for an entire night.

You had sat in on the debriefing out of curiosity and learned that they’d taken an impulsive risk that had put their lives in more danger than the mission anticipated. Even worse, this was a regular occurrence. Tony called them the “Super-Annoying Soldiers”.

That night, you slept in Bucky’s room and ordered them into Steve’s.

The next morning, they both came in, stammering, apologetic, promising that they would never, ever be that careless again. The make-up session lasted four hours and you emerged around noon thoroughly convinced and dog-tired.

The three of you learned new things about each other every day.

For example, Bucky religiously ate bad Chinese take-out and Steve danced in the shower. Steve loved it when you pulled his hair and Bucky loved pulling your hair. The three of you spent nights fumbling all over each other when they had time at the compound, and if one of them happened to be away, the other two would Facetime when possible. It wasn’t a necessity, by any means, it was more of consideration; they were also content to let each other be with you privately.

Jealousy never arrived to bother any of you.

In fact, you often let the boys have time to themselves. Especially on your days at work. There had been many evenings when you’d come back to the compound after dinner and they were cuddled up on the couch, enjoying a movie or a nap. It was the sweetest thing. Sam and Clint took many pictures and both turned red after you casually mentioned that they should see pictures of what else the Steve and Bucky get up to when you’re not around.

“Because... they get up to a lot. I’m not always a necessary part of the puzzle, you know.” A single wink was all it took for your friends to high tail it out of the room.

It was a running joke with the team that the three of you had a very adventurous sex life together- as predicted by Tony. Admittedly, yes, it was exciting, but beyond the sex (and there was quite a lot of it- so many positions and scheduled water breaks), you were more than happy to just sit with a cup of tea and a board game, or going for walks, or watching them spar. You had even started to go on short jogs and spent time working out with them as well. It was painful at first (leg day was fine, chest day was the devil’s invention), but the showers together afterward really made up for it.

Every day brought something new to the table.

Last night, after Bucky fell asleep on the edge of the bed a little past three, Steve settled in the middle and you laid your head on his chest, kissing the sweat-slick skin beneath your lips.

“Hey...” You began slowly, pressing your mouth to his neck.

“Mhm... Hey back,” he parroted, slurring through the sleepy fog. “What’s on your mind?”

“Honestly, kind of a lot...?” You felt yourself come down from the high peak of love and marching up a peak of anxiety. You had started to babble about the mechanics of domesticity because the television prompter in your brain began to marquee way too fast. This ritual of sleeping together and waking up together had been blossoming into some future fantasies that you’re not sure how to bring up. You supposed this was as good of a time as any.

Steve was a bit stunned from your sudden outburst, “Hold on honey... Let me wake up for this.”

“Sorry... But Steve,” You rambled onward, “What about being Captain America? And how does that I don’t know- what does that mean when it comes to a family? Marriage? Children?” Your face burned at the thought of a little blue-eyed toddler running around by your feet, perhaps fair-haired, or rowdy and cleft-chinned.

You’d been dreaming about it at night, blanket forts and stuffed animals, a nursery, and a crib, and a mobile full of stars. The rational side of your brain chastised it- you were too young, you wanted to keep exploring the world, getting used to your position, and your relationship. The rational side also continuously brought up the fact that the father of your children would be one of two Super Soldiers- Jesus, maybe both, whose lives were always precariously balancing on … God, you didn’t know what.

Underneath you, Steve buzzed awake—as much as he could.

“Well… I’d love that.” He exhaled a deep breath, arm coming up to rub your shoulders. “Always wanted to be a dad, but let’s start with uh, maybe sleep for now. What do you say?”

You mumbled against him, “I didn’t mean to sound like I’m rushing you into those things, by the way. I suppose it was just a natural discussion to bring up.”

“I know, sweetheart,” Steve had rubbed his nose against your ear, breath warm and inviting. You distinctly felt a smile grow on his face. “I also know Bucky would appreciate being in the loop. Let’s save it for the morning.” He placed a hand on Bucky’s bare back, drawing circles along his spine as he groaned in his sleep.

You kissed your man sweetly, and before you knew it, you’d fallen dreamlessly asleep in his arms.

“Ready, honey?” Bucky squeezes your thigh, snapping you from your daze. He’s a little concerned that you’ve been so quiet for the whole trip, and grumpy that he’d been subject to Steve’s awful bellowing. The car’s parked on the street, about a block away. “You okay?”

“Yes, sorry... just thinking about our conversation last night.”

Bucky’s eyes light up delightedly, “Kitten, I don’t know if dirty talk counts as a conversation... but I’m all ears.”

“Buck, you fell asleep early. We talked about havin’ kids, pal.”

“Mhmmm—what?” After a pause, with you and Steve exchanging concerned looks, Bucky grips your hand so tightly it almost hurts, “Babe, I... I... wh-” The expression on his face changes from shock to concern, then finally, it knocks the air from your lungs when he looks at you.

“I can’t... I can’t.”

You see the storm over the horizon in Bucky’s eyes. His blue fades into grey, and billowing clouds have cast a shadow over the sloping mountain of his nose and the sharp plains of his cheeks. You can only console him with a sad smile and kisses along his jaw. He’s lost, now, in the past of his actions, in the raging tempest of thunderous roars and lightning strikes in his mind. It’s all scorched earth and barren wasteland to him. It’s filling your chest up with embers—not for yourself, but for him, and you are struggling to speak calmly.

“It was just a thought, Buck. For the future. Don’t think about it too much.”

You exit the car, kissing both your Soulmates softly. Steve gives you a final lingering look before you disappear down the campus street, starting to fill up with student bodies. Bucky is motionless in the back as Steve shifts gears and takes him back home.

They spend the next hour arguing in the bedroom, taking their squabble from the car to the garage, to the common area where Natasha raises an eyebrow too sharply for Steve’s comfort. Bucky’s pulling his hair and stomping, Steve’s sitting with both fists clenched on his knees, head leaned back in frustration. It’s moved beyond just the possibility of children, and deeper into the territory of Bucky’s repentance.

It’s a conversation Steve is sick of having because he doesn’t think Bucky needs to repent for anything. Steve has physically fought for this; he’s bled for this. But every time it seems like he might have pushed his boulder to the peak of the hill, it rolls back down on top of him.

“Buddy, you gotta stop.” Steve admonishes, feeling the aggravation building, deflecting a glare from his friend, “We’re not talking about if you deserve kids, Buck. We’re just … talking about kids. That’s it.”

“Look at me, Stevie, what th’ fuck am I gonna do with a kid?” Bucky sputters and waves his arms around, and then he takes his flesh one and points it to his cybernetic one. “Look at me!” There’s a panic in his eyes- the same one that’s lasted for over an hour with no sign of quelling. “She... sh-she can have your baby. I’m not... I can’t be a part of that.”

As soon as the words leave his mouth, he feels himself clench up with a devastating truth that hurts too much to imagine.

Steve crosses his arms and stands, using his full height to stare down at Bucky. He’s not that much taller, but it’s enough for Steve to say with his body I’m bigger than you and you need to listen to me. Bucky flinches at the hard stare and puts both hands over his face with a groan.

“There is no that without you.” Steve says firmly, arms tucked under each other so tightly his biceps bulge like boulders against his chest. He’s trying not to get angry because he knows it would be like squirting kerosene into a burning building. He needs to smother the fire, not encourage it.

“There is no this without you. We are Bound, all three of us. Buck, this isn’t happening tomorrow, or even next year, or even the year after that. We just talked about the possibility of it in the future.” His voice grows softer the longer he talks, and Bucky’s fear begins to slow to his pace, fizzling out like a candlelight.

“Pal, can you blame her? She’s twenty-three. She’s in love... with you of all people. Gee, Buck. Someone’s in love with you so much they think about havin’ a baby with you... And ya run for the hills.” Bucky mulls it over as Steve approaches, and there’s regret sinking into his stomach as he thinks about your sad eyes in the backseat of the car. He thinks about how you still kissed him before you left.

“Shit. I screwed it up, didn’t I? God. We got the sweetest girl and..” He grimaces, eyes flickering with anxiety.

Steve pats him on both shoulders before pulling him into his arms. Bucky is hard, tense muscle and warm breaths as he leans into Steve and they embrace until he calms down again.

They’ve always been happy to give and receive hugs as friends, often patting each other on the back fondly or comfortingly. It’s been moreso as of late- a result of spending more time together intimately. The hugs are more tender, more loving.

When Steve wakes up in the middle of the night in-between two bodies, he often looks over at Bucky, too, admiring the way he looks when he’s at peace. It’s something Steve’s wanted to see since he found Bucky; it’s something he sees more of every day. He wants to keep it that way.

“Think she’ll forgive me?”

Steve can only laugh as he brushes the hair out of Bucky’s face, rubbing his knuckles over the bristles along his jaw. “Yeah, Buck. Of course.” The sigh against his shoulder once more is a response all on its own.

Steve thinks back to the night he woke up and you were sitting on the sofa crying. It was your first time without Bucky since the three of you had started sharing a bed together. It was the first time you hadn’t slept with both in almost a month; it was long enough to pine for and ache about. You were used to being in the middle, he had thought, so maybe piling pillows on the empty side to simulate a presence might help. You stirred anyway.

He quietly sat down next to you, kissing your bare shoulder that peeked out from under the throw blanket. There were tears in your eyes as he cradled you in his arms.

“I miss him too. He’ll be back soon.”

“It’s not that…” You sniffled, “I was just thinking about... something Pietro told me.” You turned to him, crossing your legs and opening up the blanket to invite him in. Steve wrapped the edge as much as he could around his large frame and pulled you into his lap.

“What’s that?”

“Remember that day I came back, and you saw me by the pool?”

He nodded. Of course he remembered. He had spent three days in agony, feverish at night, freezing in the morning, waking up dripping in sweat. His chest hurt every waking moment and only ached even more in Bucky’s presence as if it was the Binding’s reminder to them that there was a missing piece that wouldn’t be forgotten. Seeing you by the pool that day extracted all of Steve’s pain in a single scoop. He had almost slipped running out of the room to catch you.

“Pietro said... There are two meant to love you. You never have to wonder, it is wonderful.”

He didn’t understand why you looked so sad until you glanced over to the bed where the pile of pillows had been kicked off, exposing the vacancy. “Do you think… Bucky knows that? I don’t wonder about the future and think that either of you will leave me, and I don’t think about me leaving either of you.”

You paused to wipe your cheeks, “But does Bucky know? Does he still think that he’s unlovable? He never tells me the truth, but I see it when he’s just looking at me. It hurts, Steve. I’m so worried all the time. I don’t want him to wonder about us.”

Steve Rogers kissed you that night with the intensity of a lover leaving for war. He held onto you so tightly you thought you might sink inside of him. He made love to you on that sofa in the darkness and caressed the tears on your cheeks so sweetly you cried. He had seen more and more of your heart every day, and it filled him with so much love it sometimes hurt. You loved them, together, equally, and separately, with their individual flaws and quirks.

And God, Steve thinks, there are a fucking lot of flaws.

“Buck,” Steve says, taking his friend’s face in his hands, fingers running through the dark mane. “She loves you. She loves you more than she knows what to do with. You can’t treat yourself like this. It hurts all of us.”

Another silence envelopes them as Steve holds onto him, massaging the back of his head tenderly. They break apart after another long moment before sending each other half-smiles and understanding nods, affirmations exchanged through smiles and blinks. Bucky speaks first.

“I love you too, Steve.”

The boys arrive around two to pick you up and wave from the car, parked outside of the Art Building. The students surrounding you eventually let you go but stare open-mouthed at the shiny classic Mustang and Bucky’s vibranium-black hand holding your favorite drink. It’s his own personal white flag. The conversation is casual throughout the whole ride as they sit up front and you in the back. You tell them about your day and the work you’ve been up to, mentioning a few favorite teaching moments with students. They listen intently and coil their intended conversation slowly around your own, reading your mood with prudence.

At the compound, it’s turned up many notches when Bucky falls to his knees and lays his head against your tummy.

“I’m s’rry, babe.” He mumbles “S’rry I jumped t’ conclusions and... I’m such an idiot. Please don’t be mad with me, even if I deserve it.” His twang comes back when he’s emotional. The slurring of his ‘r’s and dropping his vowels brings a slight pinch to your chest when you think about all of the things he’s been through and how he could have so easily have just been another soldier returned from war, living out the rest of his days as a Brooklyn boy. But the path he’s been on has led him to this moment, to this darkness inside of him.

You pat his head gingerly, watching the smile grow on Steve’s face as he stands beside you. You know this is his doing, pulling Bucky from his own trap and bringing him back out. You’ve spent enough time with him to know that without help, Bucky will torture himself for days, biting off his own tail in a box of his own design.

“Bucky, the problem isn’t that you jumped to conclusions; the problem is that you think you’re an idiot. And that you think you deserve it.” You’re stern with him but continue to pet his hair.

He nods, over and over frantically, but you’re not sure if he really hears you. He wants this moment to be finished, you think, and so for now you’ll let it be. Sometimes you had to pick the right battles to fight, and for now you were content with this battle ending how it will. You don’t mind repeating it later, you know Bucky needs more assurance than most, and you’re happy to a part of that constant thing for him.

For now, he wants to be touched. It’s how he knows you still love him.

So you do. You kiss him all over. Steve latches on to his wrist and takes him to the bed. You both undress him and then yourselves. Bucky lies on his back, still sorrowful and regretful, but as the two of you hang over him, fingers intertwined, he feels his sadness vanish into the sheets.

Between your soft hands and Steve’s firm grasps, Bucky falls apart completely.

When Bucky goes to starts the bath, you spend a few minutes lying in bed with Steve just to caress him. You want to let him know too that he’s just as important, that you care just as deeply and passionately for him.

“You’re amazing.” He says, eyes dancing under your gaze, “He’s just stubborn. Always has been.”

“Mmm,” you smile back, “Reminds me of someone I know.”

“Who’s that?”

You pretend to contemplate it before planting countless kisses on his lips. “Come on, he’ll get fussy if we’re late.”

He gives you a piggy-back ride to the tub.

They take turns lathering you up and each other in the water, in-between playful splashing and affectionate touches. The three of you are a sight to behold, all covered up in soap suds with mops of wet hair. Steve dutifully washes the shampoo from Bucky’s locks as you lean your head on his shoulder, patiently waiting your turn. They start getting into a powwow about whose turn it is to do the laundry next and you space out, smiling into the mass of bubbles when you feel Steve’s fingers spitefully leave Bucky’s hair and go to yours.

You know he’s stubborn. Steve is too. And so are you.

It doesn’t really bother you when Bucky gets into one of his moods, because you know he’ll always come back. It doesn’t bother you either when Steve’s impulsive on missions because he always comes back too. They both know that they must… simply because you’re home expecting them. Unless they’re acting dangerously- which, they’ve promised that they’d stop- you give them all your trust, just like you’ve given them your heart.

You have the rest of your life with them to figure the remainder of it out.

It sinks in, like the soap and bubbles, like the perfume of the shower gel and the gentle motions of Steve’s hands on your body. It sinks in that for the rest of your life, you’ll have them, both of them. No matter where your paths take you, you’ll be walking hand-in-hand with two perfect Soulmates by your side.

In the background, Bucky and Steve nag and jab each other with their sarcastic taunts and jibes of past embarrassments. There’s name calling and noogies, pinching, and snapping of teeth against fingers. Bucky blows bubbles in Steve’s face. Steve flicks droplets in Bucky’s eyes.

You lean forward against the edge of the porcelain tub, draping yourself over it and grin at them.

“What’s on your mind, sweetheart?” Steve asks, quieting the chatter and rubs his hand against your spine.

The look you give him melts him on the spot. There’s an unfathomable light in your eyes, swimming in something unspeakably loud but necessarily silent. He wants to pull apart the puzzle of it, finding the pieces that you’re keeping to yourself, but something keeps him immobile. Bucky splashes as he leans forward too, intrigued by the look on your face.

Saying nothing, you turn back around, humming a tune and motioning for Steve to continue. You’ll let them contemplate, you think, because eventually they’ll arrive at the same ending that you have. Bucky might take a while longer than Steve, but that’s okay too.

It’s kind of funny that you’d gone through so much of your life fearing love to the point of near madness and physical ailment. It’s so strange to think of how in the span of six months, you’ve transformed into a person so far removed from who you were then.

At 23, you had once rejected love.

But also, at 23, you’ve solved the mystery of love. Its disarray of angst and apprehension that’s long gripped your mind has been untangled by your dutiful hands. It’s Gordian Knot has been completely dissembled, slipping away into the depths along with your fear and anxiety.

You now tread over its strands, blissfully following the trail leading to your lovers’ embrace.

#mcu #marvel #steve rogers x reader x bucky barnes #Mystery of Love heli0s #reader insert #fanfiction

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ladyherenya · 3 years

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Books read in December

I set myself some reading goals for the end of the year -- finish any books I’d already started, read the books I'd already borrowed, and to read ebooks I’d bought before buying any more. But I guess most of those books just weren’t the right genre? A few exceptions aside, this month I read a bunch of other things instead.

Also read: The Frost Fair Affair and Holiday Brew by Tansy Rayner Roberts, and Sweetest in the Gale and 40-Love by Olivia Dade.

Reread: Love Lettering by Kate Clayborn and Bookish and the Beast by Ashley Poston.

Total: thirteen novels (including two audiobooks and two rereads), three novellas, and three story/novella collections.

Favourite cover: The cover was what caught my attention for Finding My Voice and Old Baggage.

Still reading: Between Silk and Cyanide by Leo Marks, Or What You Will by Jo Walton and The Disorderly Knights by Dorothy Dunnett.

Next up: A Most Improper Magick by Stephanie Burgis.

Queen’s Play by Dorothy Dunnett (narrated by David Monteath): In 1548, Francis Crawford of Lymond arrives in France, incognito in order to protect Scotland’s queen, seven-year-old Mary. I enjoyed this, even though I am not very interested in the antics of the French court and thought The Game of Kings benefitted from having more characters who I found wholly likeable and/or who matter, personally, to Lymond. Dunnett is an impressive storyteller -- vivid descriptions, lively dialogue, nuanced characters and twists that take me by surprise. Moreover, those satisfying puzzle pieces explain the plots and intrigue, give insight into personalities and develop the narrative’s themes (here, the consequences of power).

The Kinship of Secrets by Eugenia Kim: In 1950, four year old Inja lives with her grandparents and uncle in Seoul, while her sister Miran is in America with their parents. War delays the family’s reunion. This is a fascinating portrayal of two sisters growing up in different countries, and an incredibly poignant story about a family separated. Compelling, and beautifully written, and despite moments of intense grief, hopeful. I liked how, in the end, Inja and Miran didn’t have all the answers.. But I wonder if I’d have found the ending more satisfying if I had a deeper understanding of who they both were as adults.

Teacup Magic series by Tansy Rayner Roberts:

Tea and Sympathetic Magic: Stephanie Burgis recommended this novella as something similar to her Harwood Spellbook series and it certainly has a similar appeal: romantic fantasy, bordering on comedy-of-manners territory. Like Georgette Heyer but with magic and diversity and an intention to challenge problematic and outdated attitudes. Charming and cosy, like a good cup of tea rather than a frothy hot chocolate. Miss Mnemosyne Seaborne, a reluctant guest at a houseparty. She joins forces with the other guests after an unexpected abduction occurs. Entertaining, and even though it was too short for me to really become invested, I immediately wanted to read the sequel.

The Frost Fair Affair: After her previous adventures, Mneme has new friends, a suitor and a campaign: overturning the social conventions which prevent women from travelling by portal. After someone in Town steals her political pamphlets, she gets caught up in a mystery. I enjoyed this oh so much! I found myself caring a lot more about Mneme and her relationships; I liked the mixture of intrigue and danger, and how in the cause of dealing with these, Mneme learns more about the man she hopes to marry; and the Frost Fair, on a frozen river, makes a delightful setting. I'd love to read more.

Belladonna U(niversity) series by Tansy Rayner Roberts:

Unreal Alchemy: Oh, this is my new favourite! Urban fantasy about Australian uni students who are connected to an indie rock band, Fake Geek Girl. These stories are funny, geeky and romantic, with great chapter titles and lots of fandom references. They employ different points of view and different narrative styles in a way that’s really effective. I love the characters and how important and intense their non-romantic relationships are. Between them they have a variety of romantic/sexual relationships and feelings, but friendships and familial relationships, like the one between twin sisters Hebe and Holly, also drive the narrative. The first collection contains four stories/novellas.

Fake Geek Girl -- Ferd moves into the Manic Pixie Dream House; Holly and Sage argue about the future of the band.

Unmagical Boy Story -- Viola has feelings about her best friend losing his magic, transferring colleges and making new friends.

The Bromancers -- The band and frriends spend a weekend at a magical music festival.

The Alchemy of Fine -- A prequel about the band’s origins.

Holiday Brew: This collection is more serious and less overtly fandom-y than the first, but arguably still very meta (especially if you consider Viola, Jules and Ferd as a response to the trio in Harry Potter). I sat down intending to read just one of these stories -- and ended up reading them all.

Halloween Is Not A Verb -- Holly invites various people to their mums’ place for Halloween.

Solstice on the Rocks -- A short story about university graduation.

Kissing Basilisks -- Begins on New Year’s Day, is compelling, and picks up the non-band-related narrative threads from Fake Geek Girl.

Missing Christmas by Kate Clayborn: This novella is loosely connected to Beginer's Luck but stands alone. It's sweet. Business partners and best friends Jasper and Kristen pay a last minute trip to a client and get trapped by a blizzard, which pushes them to reconsider the boundaries they’ve drawn in their relationship. I liked the moments which showed that they’re an effective team because they know each other so well and can communicate through subtle body language.

Finding My Voice by Marie Myung-Ok Lee: Ellen is a Korean-American teenager in her final year of high school. Her story is about applying for college, gymnastics training, Ellen’s relationships with her best friend and her first boyfriend, dealing with racism at school and with her parents’ expectations that she will follow her sister to Harvard. It’s very short, first published in 1993. I was aware of all the places where a YA novel written today would be allowed to give more details and to expand the story, but it was still interesting.

The Magnolia Sword: A Ballad of Mulan by Sherry Thomas: I’ve borrowed this several times this year, only to return it unread each time, and I was starting to wonder if I really wanted to read it. But once I actually sat down and focused, I quickly realised that I definitely did! I became completely engrossed in this Mulan retelling. It’s a tense adventure. I enjoyed the characters and their interactions, particularly the elaborate courtesy of formal conversations, and the way Mulan and her companions value loyalty and camaraderie. I thought this was a very believable take on the whole girl-disguised-as-a-boy thing too.

Dear Mrs Bird by AJ Pearce: In 1940, Emmy wants a newspaper job but is instead typing up letters for a women’s magazine and discarding mail from readers whose problems are Unacceptable. Frustrated that Mrs Bird won’t offer advice to so many women in need, Emmy's tempted to take matters into her own hands. Her optimism means she makes some naive mistakes, some of which made me wince, but it’s also an incredible strength. She's delightful company. I really like how much of this story is about her friendship with Bunty and I enjoyed the insight into women's magazines and the Auxiliary Fire Service.

The Lonely Hearts Dog Walkers by Sheila Norton: Recently separated, Nicola moves back in with her mother, starts as a teaching assistant at her daughter’s new school, gets a puppy and joins a group of dog walkers, who embark upon a mission to save the local park. This was very low-angst and, once I realised the sort of story it was, kind of predictable. I can recognise the appeal of this brand of realism, but personally would have preferred more humour or more emotional complexity. Were Nicola a colleague, it’d be easy to find things in common to discuss, but her story wasn’t quite what I was looking for.

Chasing Lucky by Jenn Bennett: When Josie and her mother return to Beauty to look after the family bookshop, Josie has plans -- keep to herself, finish high school, secure a photography apprenticeship, move to LA. But after Josie accidentally breaks a store-front window and her childhood friend Lucky takes the blame, Josie’s priorities change. I enjoyed this more than I expected to. I particularly liked how Lucky subverts people’s expectations, and how Josie’s family works at communicating better with each other.

Old Baggage by Lissa Evans (narrated by Joanna Scanlan): It’s 1928 and Mattie Simpkin, a now-middle-aged militant suffragette, lives in Hampstead with her friend Florrie Lee (aka The Flea). Mattie gives lectures about the suffragettes but realises she’s not reaching the younger generation. So she starts a club for “healthy outdoor fun” for teenage girls. Mattie is wonderfully forthright -- amusing, engaging and informative when it comes to things she’s passionate about -- but she’s also fallible. A really delightful yet bittersweet story about friendship and loss and the opportunities available for women. I liked its awareness that being able to loudly be yourself is a privilege not everyone has.

There’s Something About Marysburg series by Olivia Dade:

Teach Me: Rose is unimpressed -- not only must she share her classroom with the new history teacher, he’s been given her Honors World History class. There’s something particularly satisfying about people who have been hurt and lonely finding support and love in each other. I like that they get to know each other over many months. I like Martin’s relationship with his teenage daughter and Rose’s relationship with her ex’s parents is so touching that one scene made me cry. And it was interesting seeing the US school system from the perspective of experienced teachers; I appreciated the details about their jobs.

Sweetest in the Gale: a Marysburg story collection contains three novellas about couples in their forties.

Sweetest in the Gale -- Griff is worried when Candy, a fellow English teacher, returns for the new school year uncharacteristically sombre and subdued. A really sweet romance about people who are navigating loss and grief.

Unraveled -- Maths teacher Simon is assigned to observe and mentor the new art teacher, Poppy. I enjoyed the threads of mystery.

Cover Me -- After a concerning mammogram result, Elizabeth marries an old friend so she’s covered by his health insurance. Predictable as anything, but that made it a safe position from which to explore serious and sobering topics.

40-Love: I’m not interested in tennis or holiday resorts; I was disappointed that this novel wouldn’t show Tess being an assistant principal; and even though some of my favourite fictional couples have a significant age-gap, I’m wary about age-gap romances (and socially-programmed to think it’s odd for a woman to date a much younger guy). But I liked the other stories in this series and I was curious. It’s Not really My Cup of Tea, but I was convinced that Tess and Lucas were both capable of making their (somewhat unconventional) relationship work. An interesting exercise in challenging my social-programming.

The Viscount Who Loved Me by Julia Quinn: After watching Bridgerton (not always to my tastes but mostly fun), curiosity prompted me to read the opening of the second novel, and I was so entertained by Kate Sheffield verbally sparring with the viscount, whom Kate is determined to prevent from marrying her younger sister. I continued to be entertained up until the viscount acts a bit too entitled on his wedding night (that’s unattractive, if outrightly problematic). Which left me in rather an uncharitable mood for the final act, so I can’t identify if the drama of dealing with past traumas didn’t meet the standard of the earlier comedy or if I just hold such scenes to differing standards.

#Herenya reviews books #sooner or later

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crazy-little-thing-called-me · 5 years

Text

“Fantasy” (Ben Hardy x reader)

Summary: You give your boyfriend (aka Ben Hardy) something he can fantasise about when being away from you for filming.

Word count: 1500+/-

Warnings: Smutty thoughts, smutty words, smutty deeds! Reader giving blowjob. I’m sorry my writing is really shit. But this blog is my safe space so here we go! ♡

Ben was especially needy on this day. He had just returned from weeks of filming, leaving both of you craving for each other. However, you two already have had two rounds in the sheets today, and it was only 5pm now.

You were chopping some vegetables for dinner when you felt Ben sneaking up behind you, his warm hands coming to rest on your hips as he hugged you from behind. He buried his nose into your neck, softly kissing the sensitive skin.

“M‘ so hard for you”, he whispered into your ear while he pressed his hips against your ass. You could feel his firm boner which let your stomach go fuzzy.

“Again?”, you chuckled, turning your head and pressing a kiss to his cheek.

“Mmh”, he hummed into your ear, “have to make up for those last weeks”, he said, letting goosebumps rise all over your body, “you turn me on so much.. making me hard when I just see you”, Ben growled while letting his fingertips slip under your shirt, now running up and down the bare skin of your waist.

You finally put the knife you just used down and slowly turned in his arms until you faced him. His green eyes had gone several shades darker, devouring your figure with his gaze.

You leant closer and put a kiss right on the corner of his puffy pink lips before moving over to his earlobe.

“Mmh.. I never thought I could have such an effect on you...” you murmured, lips slightly brushing over his jawline. Ben could only reply with a soft moan, one of those that made your panties go damp.

“Oh god, yes you have.. you drive me crazy love.. when I’m alone in my hotel room and thinking of you...”

He now eagerly pressed his lips to yours and you moaned quietly into his mouth, in your head the picture your boyfriend on his hotel bed thinking of you. Touching himself. That pretty cock that could bring you to other dimensions.

“What.. exactly.. do you think about?”, you asked between kisses, Ben’s hands roaming all over your back sending tingles down your spine.

He softly sighed into your mouth.

“How you lay beneath me, pretty little thing you are..” he said hoarsely, “makes me get all riled up and desperate.”

He put a sweet kiss onto your collarbone as you tangled your fingers in his blonde locks.

“Then you.. jerk off to my imagination?”, you whispered while softly massaging his scalp.

“Mmh..”, he moaned into the bend of you neck while impatiently pulling at the hem of your shirt.

“And do you come?”

“Yes..”, Ben growled.

God, this turned you on so much. And him too, telling by the prominent erection now clearly visible through his jeans.

“When you’re feeling like that the next time”, you continued, “just call me.. I’d like to hear you.. the pretty noises you make.” You let out a soft whimper as his hand ghosted over your clothed core.

Ben’s motions abruptly froze.

“...You’d like that?”, he asked, eyes now searching your gaze.

“Yes”, you cracked him a smile, cupping his face with one hand. Ben smiled back at you, and his eyes were so soft and warm it melt your heart. You had an idea.

“If I should not be available at some point..”, you hummed into his ear,

“I’ll give you something you can fantasise about”, you said, letting both your hands run down over his chest and stomach before you slipped down on your knees in front of him. Ben’s eyes grew big as he watched you.

“But love, don’t we-“

“Please”, you cut him off mid sentence, throwing him your best puppies eyes from below.

“Please let me suck you off”, you begged, “I want to taste you..” you whispered, and just as your words had slipped past your lips, you could see Ben’s cock twitch in anticipation. You looked back up at him biting your bottom lip.

“Oh my god”, he sighed, swallowing hard. The picture of you begging him to let you suck his dick almost made him come right then and there.

“Please”, he whispered, “go on”, his eyes lids heavy.

You shot him a mischievous smile before you reached down to take off your shirt.

You were wearing a lacy bralette underneath that gave a great view on the outline of your breasts. Ben could see your erected nipples poking through the thin fabric and let his gaze wander all over your cleavage, along the soft valley between your breasts.

“Like what you see?”, you asked while letting your fingertips ghost over your cleavage. Ben drew in a sharp breath and you grinned up at him before finally turning your attention to his hard-on in front of you.

He immediately closed his eyes at the sensation as you pressed your hand against his crotch, leaning against the kitchen counter to steady himself and bucking his hips for more friction.

You quickly unbuckled his belt and pulled down his jeans, leaving him in his boxers that were painfully strained from his already hard cock.

“Can you take off your shirt for me?”, you asked while palming him through his boxers.

He did as you asked, pulling his shirt over his head hurriedly and throwing it aside.

You let your hands run over his lower abdomen, admiring his adonis-shaped figure, his strong abs and soft skin.

“You’re so beautiful..”, you whisper, letting your index finger trail down the thin line of blond pubic hair beneath his navel to the hem of his boxers.

You hooked your fingers into his pants on either side and put them down, letting his cock spring free.

“..and so huge”, you finish your sentence, taking in the sight of his cock at full mast in front of you, heavy, needy, already leaking with precum.

Ben’s breath had gone uncontrollably by that time. He’d closed his eyes, head thrown back in pleasure when you shot him a final glance before closing your hand around the base of his shaft.

He let out a guttural growl as you started palming his balls while slowly inching your other hand upwards his shaft. It twitched in your grasp as you reached the very top, letting your thumb run over the head to collect the precum and spreading it all over his cock.

You leant closer and licked a long stripe from the base to the very tip. You gently swirled your tongue over the head a few times, watching Ben’s hands clench on the cupboard, his knuckles turning white.

You closed your lips around his head and sucked lazily a few times before taking him completely inside your mouth. A deep growl eliciting from Ben’s lips.

He began to buck his hips in a steady rhythm, fucking your mouth slowly while you continued to palm his balls. You could feel one of his hands tangling in your hair, slightly pulling whenever you applied more pressure along with strangled moans leaving Ben’s mouth.

When you started using your other hand to work the rest of his shaft, he turned into a whimpering mess.

“I-I’m close”, he stammered through gritted teeth. Well, that was quick you thought.

He looked all fucked out already, mouth hanging open, a stream of curses falling permanently from his lips.

You pulled back a little to draw your attention back to his head, running your tongue all over it and working his shaft steadily, twisting your hand.

“Y/n, I.. oh fuck”

With one last hard suck, Ben shot his load in your mouth. You guided him through his high, his loud and filthy moans letting wetness pool in your panties. You swallowed every last drop of his sweet cum before you pulled away to lick his cock clean.

When you finished, you looked up at your boyfriend and shot him a beaming smile. He looked super exhausted, cheeks pink, his chest rising and falling heavily.

“Hell, Y/n”, he whispered, his voice rough.

You chuckled, putting his boxers back up before rising to your feet.

You wrapped your arms around his neck and leant your body against his. You could feel his strong arms around you, immediately feeling comfortable and safe in the warmth radiating from his body.

“God, you’re bloody perfect”, Ben whispered against your hair. He leant back to press a kiss to your forehead.

“I love you”, he mumbled before your lips connected and you melted into the kiss. It felt so sweet and soft like only Ben could make you feel.

After a while he broke the kiss and took your hand to guide you to the bedroom.

It was time to repay your favour...

#fanfiction #ben hardy x reader #ben hardy x you #queen #queen fandom #borhap cast #one shot #smut #my writing

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deviationdivine · 5 years

Text

The Stoic Prince (RK900!Prompt Request)

TLDR: To you he’s a smug pain in the ass but you still fantasize about getting dirty with him at the DPD.

Word Count: 1,912

TW: Language, Suggestive Themes, Smut Fantasy

A/N: Follower/Reader Appreciation Drabble | Prompt: “Why the hell am I attracted to snarky stuck up dick faces?” - anon request! Thanks for participating nonnie! This went somewhere else. 1 in the queue done! Onto the next!

"Why do you even bother talking to it?"

Bitter taste of coffee barely touches tongue. Peering up at the question leaves a tiny smirk across lips, which did a hesitant skim of cup rim. Can the DPD honestly get a better brand to chug out of this dispenser?

“Excuse me?”

Purposely hedging away from your co-worker’s sudden interrogation hardly hides the clear tinge of artifice lacing words. Speaking any further may give away this ploy. Of course you know who they mean. He is the only smug jackass that does a heck of a job digging under skin.

Tall, imposing steel scoping a sea of puny humans to gnaw on, using his steadfast jaw, cut from stone if he were made of clay to be fitted by the gods themselves. Plastic, metal – raw material configured, manipulated into eye catching aesthetics.

Fabricated beauty and despite a brusque imperious affectation streaming out of those cool, pert lips. Often times you fantasize how human, warm they might taste. Not just against your mouth but gliding in a hungry appreciation upon every inch of skin made readily available.

To say you had the hots for Nines is an understatement. To say it can go anywhere is another quandary in your grand scheme of things. Natural enigmas be damned he is a walking puzzle waiting to be stripped of his authoritarian programming and cynical attitude.

Unfortunately those gods decided pompous and hypocrisy should be star qualities. Incessantly rolling eyes at your luck, leaning casually into table, coffee machine obscured by your current position, sank an invigorating quiet into your weary body for a brief moment.

Breaks are never long enough. At least there isn’t a sign of top human asshole of the Detroit Police. Rather not have to put a foot up his ass again. However, let’s get back to the inquiry at hand since it hasn’t left the break room.

“Daydreaming about it? Wow, Y/N.”

Sounds like some others you’ve known in the city. Detroit is just a heaping pile of garbage on a good day. Android fever is still in full swing and not how society originally saw it unfolding. "Don't call him that." You defend him while not in his presence. Better to keep it that way because no way in hell are you admitting how fast you’d drop clothes and get down with the rigid android on the force. "Just because he's an android, I mean." The female officer rolls eyes at you. "Uh huh. Sure. Next time you’ll tell me Reed’s going out for drinks with Anderson and Connor.”

Considering androids do not drink she’s a long way off course. You snort.

“Better luck with puppy eyed boy,” the officer jabs, smug. “He doesn’t look like he wants to eat people alive. Or maybe that RK900 just wants to eat you out.”

Nearly spitting coffee all over moves you in a quick step forward, grabbing a napkin out of dispenser to brush splotches of brown liquid off shirt. Eat you out?! Yeah, absolutely!

Perfervid antagonism blinds your gaze resting in a target over fellow officer all consuming in personal embarrassment. Truth is not far from luscious fantasies swirling in nightly subconscious. More than a few dreams about tangling body, flesh and humanity with synthetic, plastic and robotics transforms sleep. It is a burning secret.

A mystery garden planted between the cages absconding the heart ruminating for something of construct, designed in perfection but never mind false images. Never mind unnatural heavenly auras built around a shell of mechanized man. He is everything you can dream about but never will quite openly acknowledge.

One more step and – "Your heart rate is dangerously high for caffeine consumption."

The calculating voice of the RK900 hovers close, sinking in smooth and curt. A statement more so than concern but appropriately edged with his swift, sharp stride into break room.

Fusing a firm hand atop your shoulder seemingly resonates effectively. Analysis is punctual upon your figure as are the sweeping steel he possesses to invoke fear in opponents. He stares down suspects and useless colleagues alike. However there is a bit more skill in you out of most among these humans. He keeps silent, studying a wide appreciation in your eyes.

Pupil dilation is telling to an android who measures subtlety, language in the human form, moving under its own command. Rarely does he witness a shining example of what is referred to as a poker face in most offenders. Upon you it is quite - delicious.

The spike in vitals draws him. Nostrils flare in your personal radius sampling as a bloodhound on a ferocious hunt. Fluctuations respond exquisitely as you are equally confounding in his state of processing.

Do you honestly believe you will affect him in such a wasteful way without retaliation? The form in which he shadows your trembling inhibitions is opposite of what is desired in potential partners. This android does not care in the slightest for decorum.

He will pull you into his awaiting grasp, splaying atop his smooth marbled chest, wanton in prurience, undone from the molecules that form soft, fragile flesh. Tasting your essence will act as more than data on a long, skillful tongue. It will bury into the nerves breaking down your barriers in a flood of rapture.

All it takes is a deliberate push. Buttons unfastening with each poke he prods, bleeding into your skin and he does so intentionally to gain reaction. Steeping within your system liquefies him to the plasma running through veins.

Just as thirium runs a gamut of power to biocomponents he readily will be the life force keeping your mortal existence afloat. So it will be because he wills it out of a viral need you have unwittingly but most adoringly spread into his frame.

His lips twitch faint. A tiniest curve unseen by naked eye but he settles them to a hard line.

Your entire body shivers giving away how good he’s gotten you. Damn it. And he’s looking awfully smug about it all. Somehow he manages to keep his stoic façade nestling in his wide, masculine exterior; handsome is a mere flash in the pan for Nines.

He is beyond definition. You think he knows it too. Why else does he single you out? Making you literally sweat, taking great pleasure in how you behave and pretending nothing is happening.

What a complete and total jackass! Sometimes you swear he fakes this hard ass persona to look the part. Actually, no he’s built this way. Deviancy does nothing for him!

Collecting yourself is instinct and self preservation kicking in. Nobody in their life will get away with this but he melts your strong core down to a puddle. Limpid steel expunges self control. In front of him you strive to be alert so it's not obvious but there was more warmth underneath his imposing touch than you can stand.

God, he's too good. Flicking eyes down the length of his body drives a surge in your heart, thundering in desperation to current fantasy riding out awake.

Strewn atop table, legs around his waist; ripping open that damn white jacket, digging fingers against defined pecs visibly bursting at the seams through black material, fluffy camouflage to a toned body. Taking you right then and there, moaning his name, sinking fingers into exposed synthetic skin because you want to lay into him as heavily as he lays into you.

Biting of perfectly white teeth, licking languid, sensual from smooth tongue and pounding your body on hard surface, pain thumping against the plane of your back but you beg him for more.

Ravenous, unfiltered and insatiably poetic while he completely ravages whatever is left of you, nearly collapsing the chosen surface of your hungry carnality. Eye witnesses neither ceasing nor distracting from the obvious orgasm you will ride on high in the clouds of your mind.

Breath catches in a mystifying glaze sparkling up to his hard narrowed brow. A daylight delusion swept hold at the least private location for you to be horny. For a minute you fear he knows what went on in your head. A predatory slit of Nines’ eyes tracks each minute expression, fidget you relay. He resembles an albino king cobra, flaring a shroud to engulf you in his beguiling shadow.

Hammering against ribs betrays you to the point of imagining the entire precinct eavesdropping on the laborious thud. A small inhalation expands his chest one he hardly requires for oxygen but absorbs your arousal. Oh, it’s very obvious. You have a bit of a problem between your legs right now. Fuck.

"Peak performance suggests you not consume more than the recommended dose of caffeine, Detective.”

The android’s voice is deeper, darker than usual. Almost testing, watchful of how your body will respond next. Enough so that a smirk graces the mouth you wish to ascend in prayer to the immediate issue you physically suffer. He will cure such issue predominantly efficient. “Coffee will not help your productivity if you misuse it." Misuse it, huh? Oh, you’re sure nothing will be of misuse here. Preferably his tongue; you screw up your face to hide the lust.

Why the fuck is he looking like that? Does he realize people will start noticing? Honestly, it’s first time you realize it’s just the two of you in the break room. Guess he scared off your former gossip partner. "Why do you care what I do anyway?” Seething at his game and the fact you’re turned on at work, you slam a finger into his chest. Stabbing him doesn’t move his perfect posture but it sure does make you ache more. “It's not as if it's worth your time."

Nines’ head cocks to the side marginally amused by this insolence. He finds it cripplingly fascinating on a good day but why voice such trivialities?

“Perhaps if you behave in a professional capacity, Detective Y/L/N?” Leaning in to brush the words beside ear, purposely expelling artificial breath to lick your skin, the android fuses fingers against your hip.

A slow slide kisses beneath the android’s tempting fingertips allowing the hitch of your natural breath fuel his personal stimulus. Aroused by you will not go without discipline. There is only one kind he imagines to have utmost potency and satisfaction.

“Tell me, Y/N,” Nines switches to informalities, dangerously silken. “Do you wish every advanced piece of technology that wanders into the DPD to fuck you? Or is it because I am faster, stronger and more resilient to your needs?”

Gasping is the last vocalization you will give him. Pushing back from you reserves dignity even if you want him to just snag you hard by the hips and throw you down into the evidence room. Quieter, less traffic right now and it’d be a pretty good way to… He just called himself the best and believes it.

Well, it’s true right? No. Fuck his snide self!

You are trying but still…

“Why the hell am I attracted to snarky, stuck up dick faces?!”

Story of your goddamn life apparently and this one is the snarkiest, smuggest, sexy piece of android you’ve had the discomfort and pleasure to meet.

“Get over yourself, Nines!”

Yelling on the way out of the break room only causes looks and you’re sure without turning around he’s still standing there. Tall as hell and making you weak, oh so weak to his stormy sea and he’s already swallowed you up.

Wait until he devours you.

Tag List: @elydith @your-taxidermy

#dbh #rk900 x reader #dbh rk900 x reader #dbh nines x reader #nines x reader #follower/reader appreciation #dbh drabbles #detroit become human #dbh drabble choice #drabble prompt #personal prompts #it's popping off #lets get follower appreciation lit #snarky nines is best nines #oof it's hot here

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justanotherloveaffair · 5 years

Text

The Layover (Part 2/2) - Chadwick x Reader One Shot

LINK TO PART 1

Summary: You’re finally together but the interruptions continue.

Warnings: smut, oral sex, language, NSFW

Word Count: 6,877

Author’s Note: Let it be known I have no idea what filming a movie or being on set is like and am sure all of those details are horribly inaccurate.

Also I didn’t have a lot of time to edit this so I’m sure there are a ton of mistakes...

Taglist: @brianabreeze @sarahboseman @kumkaniudaku@grandadchadwick@supersizemeplz, @purple-apricots, @deliciousstreetkidcroissant, @ashanti-notthesinger, @onyour-right, @maverickabull, @lavitabella87, @fullonfrenzy, @builtalongthewayside, @belauriette, @jaeee-http, @airis-paris14, @fortuitoushappenings , @queentearra, @h-challa @90sinspiredgirl @wildaboutchrisevans@theunsweetenedtruth @stevesthot @afraiddreamingandloving @killmongerrss@nah-imjustfeelinit @tchallaholla @a-heretic-child @simplyyamberr@tacohead13 @heyauntieeee @big3gocandykahn + sorry if you didn’t want to be tagged, just ignore.

With the morning sun came perspective on just how much snow had fallen over night.

Outside of Chadwick’s place, several feet of snow blanketed the sidewalk and street, still collecting volume from the outpouring that continued from the heavens. Boot tracks cut through the middle by brave pedestrians who needed to get by. On the street, parked cars had a fresh, snowy makeover that would have looked beautiful if it wasn’t so inconvenient for their owners.

You woke up to dim, grey light from the sun’s rays filtered through heavy clouds and still falling snow. To those outside trying to go about their day, the weather was wreaking havoc. But from the warmth of Chadwick’s bed, there was a quiet, simple beauty to it. A coziness that made you snuggle closer into his side.

His contented sigh when you did it alerted you that you weren’t the only one awake, taking in the quiet morning. You peeked up through your eyelashes for your first glimpse of Chadwick that wasn’t blanketed in darkness.

There was just something about being in his embrace that fulfilled a deep yearning. FaceTime did the job, but robbed your senses of all that made him real - touch, colour, scent, feel. He was a work of art by a master’s hand, vivid perfection in every line and stroke.

He returned your look with the same quiet reverence and you both broke into cheesy smiles.

“Lovely morning,” you bit your lip, grinning.

Chadwick’s finger trailed a line down your spine, all the way down to your butt where he followed with his gaze. “Lovely indeed,” he murmured, his eyes glazing over as he drank in every part of you he could see.

He slipped his finger underneath the garter around your waist. “Present for me?”

“Surprise,” you announced. You shuffled forward to kiss his prominent cupid’s bow, in the act giving his hand more access to the lower parts of your body for him to cup and squeeze. “Sorry I fell asleep baby,” you whispered.

His palm was warm on your ass and he couldn’t resist giving it a hard squeeze. You had a delectable round ass, and anytime it was near Chadwick, his hands were on it, even in public.

“Yeah you’ll be sorry alright,” he teased, playfully biting your bottom lip into his mouth.

At that moment you both heard an electronic vibrating sound nearby.

It was coming from Chadwick’s phone, face down on the nightstand which forced him to pick it up to see who it was.

He sighed.

“I have to get this, it’s the director.”

Frowning at the interruption, you scooted down his body to hold your arms around his middle and listened intently as he answered the phone. It was so quiet in the room you could hear the entire conversation. The more you heard, the more you sat up, your mouth opening in protest hoping Chadwick would acknowledge your indignant expression.

Apparently the snowstorm had given them the perfect day for shooting one particular scene and they had to do it that day.

“No!” you hissed in the background.

“Isn’t there any way to do it another time? You know I’m off today – I wasn’t even supposed to be in town,” Chadwick was calm but stern in his response.

You could hear the voice on the other end and he wasn’t budging.

“Come on man,” Chadwick gave it one last shot, ending with a dramatic sigh and pressing his hand to his forehead. “Please. Just one day.”

Your blood boiled at the muffled “I’m sorry” in response.

Chadwick’s lip was curled up but he kept his tone professional with a curt, “I’ll be there in an hour.”

He ended the call while you curled your hands into your face, holding back tears of anger and frustration.

You felt his palms touch the sides of your arms. “I’m so sorry.”

“It’s not your fault,” you croaked.

“Maybe this is God’s way of punishing us for having premarital sex,” he joked and you dropped your hands to make a face at him, but found his little smile and stupid joke breaking through the cracks of your angry demeanor.

“We’ve sinned a lot,” you agreed, warming and Chadwick pulled you closer to him.

“We’re gonna sin a lot more tonight when I finally get you to myself,” his voice rumbled in his chest. Warm kisses found their way onto your neck and along your jawline, up to your ear.

“Do you really think you’ll be gone all day? What am I gonna do here?” You pouted.

He leaned back to give you his impossible to resist pleading, puppy dog eyes. “Come with me, to set. I know it’s not exciting for you, but at least we’d be near each other.”

You huffed looking outside, every inch of you protesting having to go out in the snow and having your fantasy of spending all day with Chadwick ruined. But the idea of being alone in the house without him wasn’t appealing either.

“Okay, I’ll come.”

You couldn’t help but smile at his excited expression. “There’s just one small problem. I literally only brought one outfit…” you looked down at your lingerie with a shrug and a suggestive smile. “I didn’t think we’d be leaving this bed.”

Lost in staring at your body, Chadwick blinked the distraction out of his eyes and his gaze slid towards the ceiling in thought. “Hmm... think you can wear one of my sweaters as a dress?”

“I guess,” you laughed and he jumped down to hunt around for something appropriate. You accepted a green knit sweater and went to the bathroom to wash up and change, deciding to keep the stockings and garter on underneath.

Together you descended the stairs and grab your jackets. Your scarf was dry and you wrapped it around your neck multiple times, covering the lower half of your face. Chadwick took similar precautions against the cold and also gave you a pair of his gloves to wear, even though they were giant on you.

A wall of snow met your mostly bare legs on the sidewalk and you yelped, trying to seek out the path others had made to avoid the snow touching you, while Chadwick began clearing the powder off of his car.

Inside the car, the leather seats were cold and you could see your breath. Chadwick started the car while you rubbed your hands together. Once you joined traffic, it was slow going with the slippery driving conditions.

He drove into an uncovered parking lot while you observed the nearby action. Living in New York, you were used to seeing movie sets. Big bright lights, backdrops, film cables, production assistants in bright vests, craft services tents and trailers for hair, makeup and wardrobe, as well as private ones for the bigger stars.

Thankfully, that included Chadwick who quickly led you from the car over to a large white trailer.

“You okay to hang out in here for a bit while I head to wardrobe?”

You looked around at the sleek interior with a little private bar, books, a TV and a comfy bed and nodded.

Chadwick slid his big hands over your cool cheeks, his warm breath gusting over your lips as he kissed you. “I love you. I’m sorry.”

“I know,” you smiled. “I’ll be right here. Go on,” you kissed his forehead and watched his face until he closed the door and left you to wander around, once again snooping all over Chadwick’s other space away from you.

You found an interesting book in his pile and were just getting absorbed in its pages when a gentle knock came at the door, followed by the door opening. Hovering in the gap was Chadwick’s immaculate face, his beard freshly groomed and his skin flawless.

“Hey, did you want to come with? I’m heading over.”

“Oh, yes,” you jumped to action, pulling your arms through your coat and following with the scarf and gloves.

As you followed Chadwick, you couldn’t help but think how terribly ordinary making movie magic was in reality. You took it all in as you navigated towards a black tent where a cluster of people who weren’t standing in the elements, actively setting up lighting equipment or cameras, were chatting near black chairs.

You felt a little shy even though everyone was totally normal and friendly as Chadwick introduced you around with his hand on the small of your back. Once the round of introductions were made, he turned to you.

“There’s a tent over there with some food, why don’t you go get something to eat? When you get back you can have my chair and watch.”

Your gaze followed where he was pointing and at the prospect of coffee and food, you lit up. You hadn’t eaten since you left New York and the coffee withdrawal headache was starting to kick in.

“Okay,” you said obediently and he leaned down to kiss your cheek, giving you a wink before he gently shoved you towards the white tent. You gathered your coat around you and half walked, half jogged between tents, marvelling at how the snow was continuing to fall.

The whole shooting area was in an abandoned street, where the entrance was being tightly controlled by police and production assistants to keep it clear from the public. An empty brick building was the backdrop for the scene they were shooting, which you watched with interest while chewing on a dry muffin. Chadwick’s distinct frame was easy to spot and you watched him perform the same few movements and lines over and over until your large coffee was long gone.

The longer you were still, the colder you felt, even after you took shelter under the black tent with a fresh coffee. The frigid air on your mostly bare legs made you shiver so bad your knees were knocking together.

You started to feel your bravery and patience slipping until finally, you saw him walking back to you after the director yelled “CUT!”

When he got close enough to you to see your body shaking, he frowned with concern and closed the distance at a jog.

“You’re freezing,” he grabbed your face.

“I’m o-oka-a-a-ay,” your teeth chattered.

“TAKE 20!” You heard a loud voice behind you, which was followed by relieved groans all around. Chadwick turned back to you as people vacated their chairs and wandered over to the white tent in search of lunch.

He cast a look over his shoulder at the retreating crowd and then turned to you, lowering his face next to yours. “Come with me,” he whispered, finding your hands and tugging you along with him away from everyone, towards his trailer.

The way Chadwick was hurrying had you suppressing a smile at what you were sure was about to happen.

The trailer door slammed shut behind you, closing behind you the cold, the wind, and the rest of the world.

As you were gripped and lifted onto a high surface, a grunt escaped you as your butt made rough contact. There was no time for questions or protest. Chadwick was already sucking on your pulse point and groaning at the taste of your skin, the feel of his tongue and lips making your body temperature rise in an instant. He dumped off his jacket, aiming and throwing it behind him, and when his hands came back to you, they began working you out of yours.

“Fuck, Y/N....” his lips broke from your skin as he ogled the sight of his hands running up the sides of your stockings, discovering the ribbons of your garter belt you were still wearing. “So sexy,” he hissed, fingering the thin straps.

At the touch of his hot hands on your upper thigh, you arched towards him, rubbing your silk-covered center against his pants. It occurred to you that you were grinding on his character’s costume and if Chadwick didn’t care, neither did you.

It had been too many weeks since the last time and you were overcome with need, so you weren’t exactly feeling delicate and careful about removing his clothes. Chadwick had to take over from your ripping and pulling to remove the pants and button up shirt of his costume as rapidly and efficiently as he could. While he did, you lifted the sweater over your head and savoured Chadwick’s expression at seeing you braless underneath.

He sighed on your neck. “I wish we had more time,” he moaned with regret. Your legs circled his hips and pulled his naked lower half against you, relishing in the press of steely warmth of his trapped dick against your panties.

“Plenty of time later,” you murmured as he nibbled your neck and began to grind himself against you. Gratifying yourself on the animal need for each other was all you would have time for right now. You reached down and pulled your panties aside, and Chadwick was there, holding himself still to guide himself into you. “Do it Daddy,” you whispered encouragingly in his ear, “Give me what I’ve been missing.”

You both groaned loudly when he thrust suddenly forward. Your nails bit into his back while you whimpered at all those inches you weren’t used to anymore.

“You okay baby?” His hips grinded slightly in a circle, deep inside you.

“Oh, yeah” you breathed out, awed by the sensations he gave you that made your toys, your only companion for the last month, so disappointing in comparison.

Once Chadwick was sure you were fully adjusted, he didn’t hold back. His large hands gripped your body to keep you still and all you had to do was hold on for the ride. He soon had your breasts bouncing, your voice straining in high pitched gasps, your skin slapping against his as he grunted and gave you his all.

There was no way the trailer wasn’t rocking from side to side, nor was it possible anyone in the vicinity weren’t hearing your screams.

Chadwick’s face was between your breasts, his fingertips clutching on your skin pulling you towards him and you were sure you were going to pass out from the intense fucking. Your orgasm was within reach, with just a slight move of your hips, his angle started to grind your clit and your hands flew to his face, your mouth dropping open in a O.

“You gonna cum on this dick, huh? You gon cum for Daddy?” You heard him grunt and you started to unravel the second you heard his words.

“Ye—eeeesssss!!” You, Chadwick, and everyone nearby were privy to your loud cry of pleasure. Holding your thighs around him, he slammed deep in you and unloaded as your inner muscles gripped him. His sounds of pleasure joined yours, the trailer filling with the intermingling cries of relief from two lovers who’d been separated too long.

You eased your body backwards, each breath coming almost painfully from effort and Chadwick’s eyes twinkled down at you. You both smiled around your ragged breathing, a shared moment of connection you couldn’t wait to repeat later.

The moment ended too soon. He stepped back and quickly dressed, the twenty minute break almost up. You had no interest in getting dressed again yourself and going back out into the cold, especially now that the trailer was steamy from sex.

“You okay if I hang out in here?” You swayed your stocking-clad legs side to side.

Chadwick paused in his haste to kiss you and run his fingers over your cheek, while his other hand stole a squeeze of your ass. “Course. It’s freezing out there. I’ll come get you when we’re done.”

“I’ll be waiting,” you nipped his lip.

When he was gone, you pulled the sweater back on, grabbed his book and wandered over to the bed, where you collapsed with happy satisfaction and drifted off into a nap after only reading a few sentences.

You were amazed to find that after waking up from a two hour nap, Chadwick still hadn’t come back. The first thing you noticed when you sat up was that the snow outside had stopped.

You considered going back outside, and ultimately decided to but only because you already missed his face.

You shrugged on your coat, and returning outside you could have sworn it had gotten colder, even though the snow had stopped and the clouds were starting to clear.

From the looks of it, the production was still in full swing. From getting to know this strange world through Chadwick, you appreciated your office job more than ever. Standing outside in the cold all day, waiting for hours and shooting take after take was much more bland and boring than anyone realized.

You spotted him at the director’s tent, sitting in his chair watching a monitor with narrowed eyes that opened in surprise and delight when he saw you.

Even for as long as you’d been together, giddy excitement still possessed you at the sight of him. Your heart pounded that much faster as the smile spread across his face, and his arms reached to snatch you up and pull you into his lap.

You laughed, feeling a bit self conscious at the attention as he nuzzled you, his lap already warming the backside of your body.

“We’re almost done Y/N,” he murmured at your ear, making you tingle. “Just watching some footage. Have a good nap?”

“I did,” you accepted his snuggles and attention while in front of you, a monitor attached to expensive looking portable equipment was showing scenes shot that day. Surrounding you were a handful of people sitting in chairs or standing in a huddle which thankfully blocked out some of the wind. You were the only non-industry attendee and nobody questioned why you were there.

A few minutes later, the director stood from his chair and turned around, cupping his hands around his mouth. “Alright, great stuff today everyone, that’s a wrap!” He clapped his hands together, prompting cheers and applause in a wide circle all around you. You and Chadwick joined in more enthusiastically than anyone, because it meant you could finally go home and fuck again.

As you were climbing down from the chair with Chadwick’s hand firmly in yours, the director turned to him.

“Oh hey Chadwick, I was hoping we could chat a bit – I don’t mean to take more time away from your lady, but can you spare a few minutes?”

You felt his body stiffen next to yours, as you did the same.

He hesitated and looked to you, searching your face for either disapproval or permission. You couldn’t dictate either way, so you settled for a noncommittal shrug.

“Ok, sure, I have a few minutes,” he responded with emphasis on the words a few minutes.

“Promise it won’t be long. Can I just show you something I noticed?” he started walking back to the monitors and when his face was turned, Chadwick made you smile with one of his patented eye rolls so sassy it used every muscle in his face.

You lingered nearby watching everyone around you pack up equipment and half-listened to the low, serious tones of Chadwick’s intense conversation, not really paying attention to the words. They were still talking as film cables were rolled up onto giant wheels, loaded into the back of white trucks that soon drove away. The debate continued until hardly anyone remained and you were once again shivering, teeth chattering at the cold breeze swirling up your coat.

You were just about to head back to the trailer to seek warm shelter when finally their conversation wrapped up.

Chadwick turned to you and immediately wrapped his arms around your shivering body. “I’m sorry…” he looked remorsefully down at you. “I’ll make it up to you.”

“Y—y-o-u k-know of a-a-n-y wa-a-ys to w-w-warm me u-up?” You tried to sound suggestive and sexy but your chattering jaws made you stutter and you both laughed.

“I do,” he answered smoothly, wrapping one arm around your side as you both began to walk to his car. “I’ve got a hot bath with your name on it when we get home.”

Under the glow of street lamps, you walked hand in hand from the car to his front door step. He let you in first, then firmly shut out the cold, frigid air you’d been standing in for half the day. The chill had set in to your bones, a damp, wet cold typical of the East coast winter that was hard to shake.

Chadwick hung your jackets, then spun you around so you were facing the stairs, his warm hands on your shoulders and the tickle of his beard at your ear as his honey-smooth voice murmured into your neck, “Now go up and get naked in the bathroom. Daddy’s gonna run you a hot bath.”

He gently smacked your behind while you bit back a grin. Finally, you were going to have him all to yourself.

You hurried up the stairs and you both made a beeline for the bathroom. He bent to turn on the water of the deep, jetted tub while you whipped the sweater over your head.

“I’ve been dying to use this tub,” he thought out loud. “Been thinking of all kinds of ways I wanna have you in here.”

“Oh? Like what?” You raised your eyebrow, pleased at hearing how much he thought about you.

He looked over his shoulder from where he was kneeling next to the porcelain tub, a hungry look raking over your body from your toes to your chest. “You’re about to find out,” he smiled.

Right now, you couldn’t think of anything better than hot water and Chadwick’s glistening, naked, wet skin surrounding you.

You raised your foot onto the edge of the tub, presenting your stocking covered calves and thigh. “Will you do the honors?” You tugged on the garter strap, pulling it loose from the top of the lace.

Chadwick’s smiling lips met your upper thigh where he left a dirty french kiss with plenty of tongue as his fingers peeled back the silk until it was rolled all the way down your leg. He gently lifted your other leg to do the same thing, his teeth raking slightly on your sensitive inner thigh and you shivered.

The tub was half full already and he quickly finished undressing. It had been too long since you’d last seen Chadwick naked. Your eyes went right to where his abdomen tapered down into a V, to his thick, beautiful dick. You were longing to treat it with the attention and love it deserved.

He stepped over the lip of the tub and reached for you. With both your hands in his, you daintily stepped into the hot water, and followed his lead to sit down as he arranged his limbs behind you, encouraging you to rest back against his chest.

As soon as you were in place, using his shoulder as your headrest, with his much bigger thighs and knees next to yours and the water covering both of your bodies, he reached out to crank off the tap and the water slowed to a drip. At that moment, true contentment finally settled into your bones. Your previously freezing skin was now warm and sweating and Chadwick had his arms crossed over your belly, hugging you tight, his breath next to your ear. You had the whole night ahead with him. Everything was right with the world.

All you heard was the occasional plink of water from the tap, Chadwick’s breathing and your own. Silence and contentment took you both. There was plenty of time for sex, right now was about the intimacy of your bodies, reconnecting in a steamy cocoon.

Your fingertips traced the skin of his arms and he responded with kisses on your neck. Occasionally he would make the slightest little moan or sigh that you felt through your whole body. You wanted to pinch yourself, thinking about this moment where you were finally in his arms after missing it for so long.

As if hearing your thoughts, he murmured, “I’ve missed you so much.”

You hugged his arms under the water and he squeezed back. “I’m useless without you. I’ve been a wreck.”

“I can’t wait to come home.” He lifted his hand out of the water, spreading his fingers and you pressed your palm to his. Chadwick’s fingers were so long, they completely engulfed yours.

He lowered his hand onto your body and cupped your soft breast, the silky feel of his touch making your eyes lull closed in pleasure. He wasn’t satisfied with one breast and soon filled his other palm, gently massaging both. Your nipples became hard and he lazily toyed with them, pinching in teasing passes. Immediately, arousal started to electrify your core and make you want more of his fingers elsewhere, and your legs fell open to encourage it.

One hand broke away to travel down your belly towards your crotch. No matter how many years with him passed, the anticipation for the touch of Chadwick’s hand on you still made you lose your breath. His fingers slid down until he covered your pussy fully. He pressed down firmly and rubbed up and down in a flat handed gesture that made your clit sing with each pass. You grabbed Chadwick’s thighs and grinded up against the pressure as you gasped. He knew your body well and what it took to make you come fast, and was close to giving you your first of the night.

Confident he had the rhythm down, he let his other hand roam and palm your breasts while his lips explored your neck, fanning your wet skin with hot breath mixed in with his groans. Hearing his voice in your ear was a weakness of yours. You held on to him, happily succumbing to his controlled, skillful touches. He was rubbing faster now, still grinding in little circles while your hips moved with him.

It was almost too easy to reach your first peak. As you were feeling the sweet spread of bliss in your body, he added to the sensations by sliding two of his fingers inside and fucking you slow, drawing your orgasm out to twice as long and intense as you bucked on him. Chadwick had turned making you cum into a beautiful art, each time different and spectacular.

As you finally stopped quaking under his hand, you rubbed his thighs and knees and became aware of how hard he was behind you, pressed into your back. All you could think about was taking him inside you and you didn’t care if you were in the bath, on the floor, or anywhere else.

You began to reach for him when he stopped your wrist. “Hold up. There’s something I wanna do first.” His fingers, wrapped around your wrist, held you still as his hot mouth moved to your ear to breathe, “Will you let me lick that sweet pussy from the back?”

Your stomach tightened. “Fuck,” you swore around clenched teeth.

“That a yes?” He asked breathily, starting to guide your arms forward and water began shifting around your bodies as he started to move you into place.

“I don’t… yes.. okay,” you said dumbly and allowed Chadwick to arrange you in the tub so you were on all fours, your ass above the water, right in front of him and your head was hovering just above the surface in your kneeling position.

You felt how slippery your pussy was as his two fingers slid back inside. Chadwick groaned and bit the apple of your cheek, then repeated it on the other as his fingers gave you some of the penetration you needed, but not all. Wanting more of him, you pushed back, and water sloshed around your bodies at your greedy movements. Chadwick spanked your butt, not hard, but loud enough to bounce off the tile walls of the small space.

His fingers withdrew to spread your cheeks open and you felt a soft, wide tongue at your entrance, teasing you with little flicks. You weren’t prepared and made a loud whimpering sound, your hips stilling immediately as you waited breathlessly for the next touch. He gripped your thighs and pulled you back on his tongue, plunging right inside of you. You cried in choked surprise, “Chadwiiickk fuuuuuuck!”

He did it again, fucking his tongue in and out of your hole firmly but slowly, so you felt everything and then he began circling over your pussy in wide laps. “Shhittttt!” you squealed. It felt so luxurious, and you pictured how he looked, face grinding into your pussy, his lips and tongue sucking and swirling and your cream dripping all over his gorgeous face.

Each pass of his tongue overwhelmed you and you struggled to stay on your shaking limbs, above the water.

“You need to stop,” you gasped and crawled forward, breaking your bodies apart so you could turn around.

Chadwick wore a lazy smirk along with your juices glistening on his face and beard. You crawled over to attack his lips with yours, licking your flavour from him ravenously as your hands shot down to his dick.

In your shifting around, you must have kicked the plug out because you both heard the sucking sound of water draining around you and the water level began to recede.

“Whoops,” you grinned, but not really feeling sorry about it, because you were done with the bath anyway.

Chadwick rose up to his full height, taking you up with him.

You both negotiated your way carefully out of the slippery tub to dry yourselves and each other off with towels until you were dry enough not to drip all over the carpet on your way to the bed.

The towels were discarded on the floor, and you both climbed up on the bed, turning to each other with lust and excitement.

Chadwick cupped your cheeks and kissed along your bottom lip. “What do you want baby? Sweet and slow? Hard? Fast?” His lip lifted in a smile, “want me to send you back home with a bruised ass tomorrow?”

You laughed, cherishing his face with your hands.

“I know this is boring,” you looking up at him with hopeful eyes, “but I just want you on top of me. I swear we can do kinky shit the rest of the night,” you followed quickly.

He lifted your knuckles to his lips. “We’ve got all night and we can fuck however we want.” His eyes settled on yours with a playful intensity. “I’m not even close to tired so I hope you’re ready.”

Heat throbbed in your body at the thought.

“I’m ready to go all night, I don’t even plan to sleep.” You proclaimed with pride.

“You talk a big game,” he smirked. “I’ll be reminding you of that if you try and tap out on me later….”

“I’ve never done such a thing,” you lifted your chin, enjoying the banter while your hands were roaming his upper torso.

He looked upwards in recollection, his hands stroking your arms, “I remember a certain Saturday you promised a full day of sex until you claimed I broke your pussy after two rounds.”

“Chadwick!” You squealed, recalling the day perfectly and shoving him as he rolled his eyes. “My pussy was sore because your giant dick had no mercy that day, I swear you took some performance enhancing drugs that morning. That erection just would not go away and you were pounding me like a sex doll for hours.”

“No drugs needed with you around,” he said sweetly and you narrowed your eyes.

“That hardness was unnatural, Chadwick.”

He shrugged, a secretive smile spreading over his face. “Alright, I took something that morning … just to see what would happen.”

“Chad, you fuckin’… liar!” Your expression was a mixture of shock and amusement. He lifted your legs suddenly and you squealed, laughing as you bounce landed onto the mattress and he immediately laid down to cover you.

At the press of his body you began to sigh as his hands started moving over you as yours did the same. The mood quickly turned changed and you reached for him, eager to be taken while he looked in your eyes.

You didn’t stay up all night, but you damn near tried.

It was way past midnight when you both succumbed to exhaustion. After intimate, face to face sex and a languid period of recovery, you took advantage of his energy to have him in as many positions as you could think of. Your feet on his chest as he plunged deep in you. On your knees. Flat and face down on the mattress, trapped under his heavy weight while he plundered you. And on, and on, until you had only the strength to pull each other close and fall asleep.

You awoke the next morning with the disappointment that it was Sunday.

In the warm daylight of the early morning, you had lazy morning sex, in a spooning position where Chadwick drew out your orgasmic gasps holding your thighs apart with his face in your neck, whispering softly in your ear as you came.

Neither of you wanted to acknowledge the impending goodbye and made the morning last as long as possible. You had coffee on the couch, with Chadwick sitting on the floor next to you plucking at the strings of his guitar.

When it came time to finally address that it was time to go, Chadwick helped you get your small bag of things together, a cloud of melancholy settling over you both.

He drove you to the airport under a bright, winter sun beaming in a clear sky down onto the frost-covered landscape, making the snow twinkle so brightly you both had to squint. If only you’d had this weather one day earlier, the film production would have left your boyfriend alone.

Noticing the familiar stares in the airport, you tried to insist Chadwick turn back before there was a mob for photos and autographs, but he kept your fingers enclosed in his as he waited with you through check in. Only when you reached a point he couldn’t continue at your side did you turn to hug and kiss each other goodbye.

“Hey,” you smiled, tracing his cheekbone with your finger as it sharpened from his smile, “maybe next time let’s tell each other if we’re planning a surprise visit, yeah?”

“Then technically it’s not a surprise, but I see your point,” he agreed, kissing your finger. “It all worked out in the end, though. Don’t think I didn’t notice you limping around today,” his eyes glimmered.

Your thighs, calves and butt were burning and sore, and there were other souvenirs, little bite marks, on your body under your clothes.

You laughed, cupping his face and feeling an overwhelming surge of love in your heart.

“Another four weeks until you’re home.” You pressed a kiss to his lips.

“I know.” He let out a sigh. “Call me when you get in.”

You nodded and forced a smile, trying not to think of the next four weeks of loneliness waiting for you at home as you hugged goodbye.

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