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broadstbroskis · 3 years ago

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no better company than you | nathan mackinnon

a/n: alright, i’m rolling in late for @antoineroussel oussel summer exchange (thank you love, for running such a lovely exchange again, it was wonderful and i’m glad i was able to particiapte) and i’m very sorry for the lateness! i had the pleasure of writing for the lovely @ghstandpucks 💜 again, i am SO sorry about the wait but i hope you enjoy this!

word count: 3.2k

-----

“Oh my god, I’m so sorry I’m late!” You slide into the booth and throw your bag down next to you, hoping to god you don’t look as frazzled as you feel; this restaurant is far too nice.

Nate just smiles at your words, too familiar with your family by now to know that you’re always running 5-10 minutes behind. He’s ordered a bottle of wine- a nice rosé, fitting for the beautiful end of summer day- and had already started pouring a matching glass for you the second you started sitting down. “How’d the interview go?”

You bite your lip. “Eh.”

“I’m sure it went better than you think.” Nate says encouragingly. “You’re too hard on yourself. All three of you are.”

And well, that’s not a lie. Your siblings were just as critical of themselves as you were. Sid was famously known for it and Taylor, your twin, was as bad as you. But…

“Listen to you!” You laugh at him. Nate’s just as bad as the three of you. A mini-Sid in many ways, to many people in your hometown.

But that was in Canada. This was Denver. And here, Nate was cool. Laid-back. Lowkey. Everything a professional athlete should be. Nobody knew about what a dork he really was, except his teammates.

And now, maybe you too, if all went well with this job interview.

“Don’t know what you’re talking about.” Nate says, looking at his menu to feign ignorance.

You giggle, pulling your own up toward your face. “Sure, buddy.”

It’s not often that you and Nate spend time one on one like this, even if you see him all the time over the summer. He’s usually with your brother when you see him, politely trying to decline your mom’s invites to dinner or already hanging at Sid’s house when you invite yourself over to your brother’s house for pool or lake time. Usually time one on one with Nate like this is brief, usually like in passing while he’s waiting for Sid in the kitchen while you’re eating.

It’s nice. Nate’s funnier than people give him credit for and it’s easy to relax into dinner and conversation, to forget about the anxiety from your interview as you chat about what’s new for both of you and gossip about people you both know.

By the time he drops you off at your hotel, it’s late and you’re too tired (and maybe just on the right side of tipsy) to even worry about the interview. You just barely change into pajamas, run through your nightly routine, and climb into bed, before shutting the lights off. It feels like you’re asleep before your head even hits the pillow.

In the morning, you’re awoken by the sound of your phone ringing, and it takes a second for you to place the sound, but when you do you pounce on it, recognizing the local area code immediately. “Good morning.” You say, trying your hardest not to sound like you woke up literally thirty seconds ago.

It’s human resources, from the job you interviewed for yesterday.

You got it.

-----

“Ew, no!” Your dad holds his hands up innocently, when you rush over to stop him from unpacking a box. “Why would you put that there?”

“Hey, sweetie, maybe it’s time for a break.” Your mom says gently, exchanging a look with your dad, who nods his agreement enthusiastically.

Which is fair. You’d just about almost taken his fingers off just because you didn’t like where he was unpacking colanders.

“Dinner!’” Your dad latches onto immediately. “Nate offered to take us all out tonight, I’ll let him know we’re ready.”

“Ready?” You frown, looking down at your workout shorts and baggy t-shirt.

“We’ll be ready in an hour.” He amends, already texting Nate.

Nate knocks on the door to the new condo you’re renting an hour and fifteen minutes later, sheepishly grinning when your dad tells him that you and your mom still need a few minutes. “Thought I had my timing perfect.”

Your dad snorts. “Oh buddy. Keep dreaming.”

He’s not too off on his timing, but unfortunately for Nate, you don’t have too much else going for you in your condo yet. Your dad had gotten your TV all set up, but in addition to the TV and living room furniture, you haven’t gotten much else, and that includes food and beverages. So the two of them sit in mostly silence while they wait another few minutes for you and your mom to finish getting ready.

“I told you that you should have just met us there.” You tell Nate, as he trips on a box on his way out the door.

“Oh, so this wasn’t deliberate sabotage?” He deadpans.

“You caught me. Just trying to keep you around the city full time until I have time to make better friends.”

Nate laughs, as the two of you follow your parents out the door. “Be nicer to me or I won’t introduce you to my friends.”

“Who said I want to be friends with your friends?”

“Children.” Your mom turns to look back at you and Nate smiles at her innocently, but it’s been a while since that’s fooled her. “Do we need to stay home?”

It serves to get the two of you moving, even as you laugh at her joke. Nate drives you to another one of his favorite restaurants, and dinner flies by, with Nate insisting on picking up the tab, even when your dad tries to fight him on it.

It’s started to cool down a little by the time you’re walking back toward the car, Nate and your dad still fake-fighting about paying for dinner, and you find yourself not realizing you’re smiling at the two of them as you walk behind them until your mom bumps your shoulder. “A few hours off for dinner with some good company was just what you needed.” She says.

And even though the smile on her face seems too knowing, you’re too tired to ask about it right now, so you just nod in agreement. “Yeah, this was nice.” You smile back at her.

-----

Mel Landeskog pokes her head around the corner and you wave at her, trying to catch her attention. “Jesus Christ.” She shakes her head. “I didn’t think he was serious.”

“I mean.” You bite your lip. “I did have to work today.”

“I would have picked you up!” She shakes her head, muttering under her breath, and you know Nate’s going to get an earful from her later. “But no, no. That dumbass just let you come all the way over here by yourself. Sends me a text to come meet you by the door. All casual.”

“I mean.” You send her a look. “Did you expect anything different from Nate?”

It’s the way she looks at you and sets her face that almost has you nervous for Nate. You’ve known Mel for a long time now, but really, you don’t know her from more than just years of NHL events. “I do now.” She says.

You hope Nate knew what he was getting himself into sending Mel a text to come find you earlier.

Once she leads you up into the box with some of the wives and kids, she’s back to smiling and laughing, making introductions all around. The mood all around is light and easy, everyone excited for the home opener of the season, and happy to be back with everyone again.

It’s fun to be back in this atmosphere. Hockey’s been a part of your life for so long and there’s truly nothing like the energy of the first game of the season. You feed off the energy, catching up with some familiar faces and chatting with all the other girls, probably too excited when they invite you to a girl’s night later in the week, but it feels good to have plans that don’t involve trying to invite yourself to Nate’s when you’re bored.

“Hey, good job tonight.” You nudge him afterwards, catching up with him in the family room.

He laughs, pulling you in for a hug. “A little different than what you were used to?”

“It lived up to the hype, I guess.”

“I’ll turn you from a Pens fan.” Nate promises.

It’s your turn to laugh. “Feel Sid’s wrath.”

“What’s he going to do? Check me into the boards? Bring it.”

Nate’s been hanging out with your brother and your family for years now, so he should really know better by now. “Okay, buddy.” You pat his shoulder patronizingly. “Sure.”

“I could take him.” Nate insists.

“Throw hands. Next game. I dare you.”

He side-eyes you, because you both know that’s not going to happen and it’s only a minute before you’re both laughing.

“I better see you on Friday!” Ashley Kadri shouts out to you as she’s walking past with Naz and Naylah, interrupting your laughter. “No excuses!”

“I’ll be there!” You call back. “Promise!”

When you look back, Nate’s pouting-exaggerated, albeit, but pouting. “Are you ditching me this Friday?”

“Yup. Found better company.”

“How dare you?” He cries. “There is no better company.”

“Well.” You shrug. “I’ll know for sure after happy hour on Friday.”

“Find your own ride home.” Nate says and then he starts speed walking away from you at an absurd speed.

“Nate!” You protest, jogging to catch up and he finally slows down enough for you to catch up when you round the corner, bumping your shoulder right back when you purposely bump into him in retaliation.

-----

No one lets loose like a group of moms when they’ve got a night without their kids.

Someone has mentioned this to you before, at a bachelorette party or a wedding or something, but you don’t think you’ve ever seen it really in action before until this happy hour.

“If the waitress comes back, order me another drink!” Kerry calls, before running off to the bathroom.

The waitress nods at her, before addressing the rest of you. “Another round?”

“Oh, please!” Mel nods quickly and repeatedly.

“Can we get a few more orders of mozzarella sticks too, please?” You look down at the empty plates in front of you. “And maybe some nachos too?”

“Yes!” Jackie lights up across from you. “Great call!”

It pretty much only goes downhill from there and by the end of the night, both Mel and Ashley are crying for reasons no one is sure of entirely and you’re pretty grateful to see Nate among the group of husbands and boyfriends to come to pick up all their girlfriends.

So grateful you scream his name the second you see him. “Nate!”

He winces, trying to pull his ear away from you, but he’s laughing. “Guess you had a good time, huh?”

“Uh huh!” You nod enthusiastically, not realizing how loud you are until he winces again.

Nate laughs. “Alright, I think it’s time to go home.”

You gasp loudly. “I can’t leave my new friends!”

“Your new friends are all leaving you!”

You frown, but look around and realize he’s right. Naz has already sneakily pulled Ashley out of the bar and Gabe and Erik were collecting Mel and Jackie’s things. “Oh.”

“Oh?” Nate parrots. “Come on, get your stuff, crazy girl.”

“Hey!” You protest, grabbing your purse. “I am the least crazy person in my family.”

“I hate to break it to you.” Nate says, as he guides you into standing. “But that’s not saying much.”

He’s right, but you bump him with your shoulder anyway as you walk past. That’s about sibling honor and shit.

Nate parked too far away and by the time you reach his car, you’re leaning on him, the adrenaline from hanging out with friends wearing off quickly. Nate’s nice about it, guiding you to his car and then helping you into his front seat before heading around to the driver’s side.

“You guys had a fun time then?” Nate says, once he’s started driving and you’re half asleep leaning against the window. “Looks like it at least.”

“Yeah.” You nod sleepily. “But you were right.”

He chuckles. “About what?”

“There’s no better company than you.”

-----

Nate becomes pretty clingy after that night, texting and facetiming whenever he’s out of town, and stopping by pretty much anytime he’s got a free minute. It quickly becomes something you look forward to, missing his visits when he’s out of town and looking forward to his calls, smiling when his texts come in and breaking up your work day. And it isn’t long before you realize that you’re being just the same. Sending him messages before and after games. Inviting yourself over for dinner and making Nate cheat on his diet.

In a blessed move from the NHL scheduling department, Sid and the rest of the Pens are scheduled to arrive in town on a Friday morning and aren’t leaving until the end of the weekend.

They have a practice scheduled for early afternoon, which is perfect for you to wrap up your work day before heading over to watch the end.

Geno lights up when he sees you watching from the glass, the first person to acknowledge you, and skating over in the middle of the drill, leaving behind two shocked linemates. “Mini!” He shouts cheerfully, even as you roll your eyes at your least favorite nickname. All because you happen to be the shortest of your siblings. “Great to see you.”

“You too, Geno.” You smile warmly at him, a little annoyed that you can’t get a giant bear hug from your favorite pseudo-older brother right away. “But I don’t think a few other people feel the same right now.” You jerk your chin back over his shoulder.

He turns his head quickly but then looks back. “Psh. They’ll get over it.”

You bust out laughing, which is right about when your brother comes over, and in classic Sid fashion, is all about hockey. “Stop being a distraction.”

“I was minding my own business until Geno came over here!” You protest, even as Geno starts laughing and Sid eyes you skeptically.

“Why don’t I believe that one?” Sid says dryly and sure, maybe you were making faces at some of the guys you knew well as they were passing you, but you weren’t actively being a distraction.

“That’s your prerogative.” You tell Sid, who shakes his head and pulls Geno back for the remainder of practice.

Practice doesn’t last for too much longer and you spend a few minutes chatting with the coaching staff while you wait for Sid to change. But he and Geno finally come out of the locker room and you stop mid-sentence to throw yourself at your brother.

Sid’s laughing and so are you, but both of you start laughing even harder when Geno pulls you both into his arms. “Two of my favorite people!”

“Taylor’s going to be so offended.” Kris grins, watching the three of you amused.

“Taylor?” You grin back at him, going for a hug once Geno releases you. “How about his wife and kid?”

“Those are my other favorite people.” Geno reasons.

“Now I’m offended.” Kappy deadpans.

“You’re not even close.” Geno grins, roughing his hair.

Kappy tries to get him right back, but Geno just swats his hand away and then Sid’s shaking his head, like this is just the same shit, different day. “Look what you did.”

You grin, leaning against him. “Not sorry. I’ve missed this entertainment.”

Sid shakes his head. “Then you can round them up for dinner.”

You do. Easily.

Nate had suggested one of the team’s favorite restaurants and you’re happy to see that he’d accepted your invitation to join everyone, even if he rolls in a little late. You’re deep into Kris’ camera roll, looking at pictures of his kids and catching up on stories that you haven’t heard about them recently, so you don’t even notice he’s arrived and said hello already until he blows on the back of your neck.

You jump. “What the hell?”

Nate’s grinning. “Hey.”

You shake your head at him and bump your shoulders against him. “Hey.” You mimic and then turn right back to Kris.

But your shoulder stays leaning on Nate, and it remains there comfortably all night.

-----

Sid’s a little cranky when you first meet him for breakfast the morning after the game and you’re sure it has everything to do with the last minute turnover that cost them the game (and bragging rights over Nate this summer, which is really what he’s probably cranky about).

He gets over it pretty quickly though, and soon the two of you are laughing and talking, catching up about your family and your lives.

“-and I even love my office, the vibes are just great!”

Sid shakes his head. “Vibes.”

You grin. You know he hates that word. “Good vibes.” You confirm.

“So you’re liking Denver?”

“Love it.” You confirm, smiling.

“Meeting good people?”

You eye him skeptically. “Yes dad. I already said my coworkers are great and I’ve been hanging out with Nate and his friends a lot too. It’s good”

“Geno thinks there’s something going on between you and Nate.” Sid says casually.

The jump of your heart is far from casual. “Oh yeah?”

Sid eyes you but his response to that is surprising. “You know if there was something going on between you and Nate that would be okay?” He pauses, watching you again, but your face is completely neutral, purposely not moving. “Right?”

“You know if there was something going on between me and Nate that your opinion wouldn’t matter at all, right?”

He grins, laughing as he nods, but after he takes a bite of pancakes he says, “To you, yeah. To him, it does.”

“Why?” You blurt out, giving yourself away before you can stop yourself.

But Sid doesn’t say anything to that. He grins again and then changes the subject entirely.

-----

You only make it about a day before you’re knocking on Nate’s door, pretty forcefully.

“What’s up?” He swings the door open, with a frown. “You okay?”

“Does what my brother thinks really matter to you that much?” You blurt out. It’s been bothering you ever since Sid mentioned it at breakfast. That you lasted this long was probably a miracle.

Nate blushes and your jaw drops. “It-”

“Oh my god.” You grin delightedly. “Come on, really?”

“That’s not-” He blows out a frustrated sigh. “You’re really going to make me say it?”

You nod, but you’re pretty sure he’s not going to get far into what he’s going to say.

He sighs again. “It’s not about, like, his approval, or shit. It’s just- he’s important to you. So obviously he’s important to me-”

You kiss him.

“You know that you don’t even have to worry about that, right?” At some point, you’d slid one hand to his hip and the other arm around his neck, and the hand there plays with the hair at the nape of his neck.

“I’ll argue about that with you later.” Nate says impatiently and so you’re laughing when he kisses you again.

#nathan mackinnon fanfiction #hockey fanfiction #hockey fanfic #hockey imagines #nhl fanfiction #nhl fanfic #nhl imagines #my hockey fics

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cafedanslanuit · 4 years ago

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chapter guide | prev. chapter | next chapter

✖ — chapter summary: Now that Zeke has explained what truly happened with Yelena, all your troubles have finally ended. Except that now you need to start avoiding Porco. However, things change once you overhear a conversation in the woman's bathroom.

✖ — pairing: porco/reader & zeke/reader

✖ — chapter tags/warnings: college au, descriptions of panic attacks, lots of self-doubt, gaslighting, hurt/comfort, fluff, referenced cheating.

✖ — a/n: i have posted the playlist that goes with this series! click here to check this post <3

chapter three: me and my husband

Porco looked at his cellphone, an ill sensation filling up his stomach as he read over and over your last messages. For the past few days, he had been trying to reach out to you but he had been rejected every time.

He knew something wrong was going on the moment you said you couldn’t make it to his lacrosse game. Ever since you became friends, you hadn’t missed a single game. He had once seen you finishing an essay on your phone and sending it while you were sitting on the bleachers, excited for the game to begin. He had seen you falling asleep on his shoulder during a party after a game, too tired from studying for a test that you took earlier.

Porco sighed. He wished he could find any other reason to explain your behaviour but the only one that came to his mind was his late night confession to you. He shouldn’t have told you he loved you. Now you were avoiding him and his feelings and he was scared he had lost your friendship completely.

He put the phone on his back pocket and grabbed his keys, heading to the parking lot. After getting into his car, he turned on the radio and drove out of the campus, entering the main highway of the city. He wasn’t sure where he was heading to, but all he knew is that he wanted to stop thinking about you, the moment he thought you had shared and the dry messages that followed.

He had really fucked it up.

…

Sitting on your faculty’s corridor floor, you looked over at the texts Porco had been sending you the past week. It physically pained you to be so curt with someone that meant so much to you. Porco had always been there for you, even in the times you had told him you really didn’t need him. He cared when you got sick, when you were sad and also when you wanted company to crash a party on campus. You two had been inseparable since the day you met and he was already acquaintances with Annie and Armin due to all the time he had spent at your place.

This was the right thing to do, you told yourself one more time, closing your Instagram. You were taking the right decision. Porco had fallen in love with you and then had tried to make you think your boyfriend had cheated on you. If Zeke hadn’t pointed that out for you, you probably wouldn’t have noticed until it was too late. Truly, you were lucky Zeke had been understanding about the whole situation and had forgiven you for not trusting in him.

Porco wasn’t a bad person. You knew in your heart he wasn’t. But you had been wrong to trust he had your best interest in his mind.

That’s what didn’t make sense. Why had Porco, sweet and caring Porco had suddenly decided to put you against Zeke only just because he had caught feelings for you? The Porco you knew wouldn’t have done that. If he truly only wanted to drive you away from Zeke, he would have let you kiss him the night he spent with you. He would have taken the opportunity, right? So, why didn’t he?

Your head started hurting.

Your thumb ghosted over Porco’s contact on your phone, wondering whether to call him or not. You missed him dearly and knew that if you asked him to be honest, he would. There were countless moments in the past where he had been honest with you, from the time he confessed to accidentally stepping on your foundation powder and the time he opened up about his father’s death.

He’ll say anything to make you doubt your relationship with me.

Zeke’s voice resonated in your ears and you bit your tongue. He was right. You needed to remember Porco was trying to put you against your boyfriend.

Before you could think of a counterargument, you shot a quick text to Zeke. Yes. A day with your boyfriend would help you keep your mind busy.

“wanna hang out later? <3”

You watched intently, a small smile on your face as the three dots twinkled on your screen. Zeke’s answer came a few seconds later.

“Can’t. Exam tomorrow :(“

He then sent you a picture of a couple of books over a table that you recognized as the university’s library. He also had the tumbler you had given him a couple of months ago, filled with straight black coffee if you had to take a guess.

“:(( okaaaay, good luck on your exam, love u!”

“<3”

You put your phone away and sighed. You missed Zeke too. The few days after you had confronted him about the time you thought you saw Yelena and him kissing, he had showered you with love. You had spent the weekend at his place wearing nothing but an old t-shirt of his and making love several times a day. You snuggled to him on the couch as he watched an old documentary and playfully took the cigar from his lips and took a puff yourself. ‘Ladies like you shouldn’t smoke,’ he had said playfully as he took it back from your lips and then pressed a kiss on your temple.

Nevertheless, the short honeymoon phase after you made up had come to an end. You knew it was going to happen, but now your body and heart were craving more of him and his classes were taking all his time. If it wasn’t an exam it was a group project or a study session and even if you knew seniors had it way harder than you, you missed him. Missed his beard scratching your neck, his strong cologne and his deep chuckle whenever you managed to make him smile.

Maybe you could walk around the mall. You still had some birthday money and you could treat yourself a little. Maybe a new body cream or a pair of cute underwear from Victoria Secret to surprise your boyfriend after he was done with his classes. Yes, a shopping trip was exactly what you needed to stop thinking so much. Smiling, you walked to the bathroom of your faculty, just a quick detour to freshen up before you got into your car.

You looked at yourself in the mirror and took out your lipstick, fixing it carefully.

“I fucking hate her.”

You turned around as you saw three girls entering the bathroom. They stood by your side, none of them seeming to notice your presence. One of them fixing her hair, another was looking down at her phone, eyebrows knitted together and mumbling more and more curses and the last one just leaned against the bathroom stalls, arms crossed against her chest as she watched the other two.

“We did tell you she wasn’t meant to be trusted,” she reminded the girl with the phone. When she raised her head, you recognized her as Pieck, one of Porco’s close friends, who you had seen around at a lot of parties and on many of his Instagram photos.

“How is that helping me?” Pieck asked icily.

“I’m just saying, Yelena is shady. Telling you all that crap about only being able to open up with you— and for what? For her to post photo after photo of her fuckboy?” the girl in front of the mirror said. “Like, nobody needs to know you’re getting it at the library, why post about it? Literally, nobody cares.”

“She’s not worth it,” the other girl interjected.

“She really isn’t, babe. And Zeke isn’t even that hot,” her friend continued with a mocking laugh. “The one that looks like a clown is her, not you. Just let it go.”

“He truly is a bad case of the monkey face,” Pieck agreed with a snort. “Men like that are what keep me a lesbian.”

“Hi Pieck,” you greeted her. For the first time, Pieck looked your way and widened her eyes, recognizing you in an instant.

“Hey,” she said in an apologetic voice. “I— I’m sorry. Shouldn’t have said that.”

You faked a chuckle. “It’s okay. I just wanted to say you shouldn’t worry about them, Yelena is—”

“Yeah, yeah, we both shouldn’t worry. You’re probably trying to move on and ignore them too,” Pieck sighed and then pursed her lips in discomfort. “But I know you were Zeke’s girlfriend for a while, it’s normal you don’t want to hear about who he’s fucking now—”

“Zeke and I are still together,” you interrupted her.

Pieck’s face fell at your words. She looked at her friends, who were also looking at each other with an indecipherable expression. Your furrowed your eyebrows, confused as to why they were sharing those glances. Why would they think you weren’t with Zeke? Sure, you hadn’t posted photos with him lately but that didn’t mean you weren’t together anymore.

“I’ll catch up with you in a bit,” Pieck said softly to her friends. They nodded and said they would be by the cafeteria before leaving. Once they went away, Pieck closed the bathroom door and walked to you again.

“Why— why would you think we’re not together?” you insisted, your voice trembling more than you would have wanted.

“Yelena and Zeke are fucking,” she sentenced in a soft voice. You shook your head.

“I know that’s what it looks like but Yelena likes women,” you said. “You— I mean you guys were dating or something, right? You know she’s a lesbian, she’s just pretending to have something with Zeke so her parents back off for a while.”

Pieck’s silence was deafening.

“Right?” you pushed. “It’s cool because she’s a lesbian and—”

“Yelena is bisexual.”

You paused, blinking as you tried to understand. After a few seconds, you shook your head.

“She’s not.”

“The reason we’re not dating anymore is because I saw her fucking Zeke at a party,” she explained.

“No,” you said, and shook your head once more. “No, because if it happened at a party then someone would have seen them. Someone would have noticed, there would have been rumours, I would have known . Pieck, someone would have told me, Reiner, Marcel, Porco—”

“They weren’t there. Almost everyone was a senior.”

“Then you! You would have told me,” you cried. “You’re telling me you saw my boyfriend fucking someone else and didn’t tell me!? Pieck—!”

“I thought you weren’t together anymore!” she defended herself. “What was I supposed to think when every single one of his friends at that shitty apartment knew he was fucking her in the bedroom and they all acted like it was a normal thing to do? I see all these photos of both of them and…” she continued, shaking her phone. “Of course I think he’s not with you anymore! Yelena is uploading pictures as she rests her legs on his lap, about their movie dates at his place and you want me to think she has a girlfriend!?”

Tears started falling from your eyes as she spoke. You sniffled, trying to compose yourself but you could feel every muscle of your body shaking.

“Does Porco know?” you asked in a whisper.

“Porco?”

“I know you two are best friends since high school. You— you had to tell him. If this was real, if this happened, you had to tell Porco,” you reasoned. “So tell me, Pieck, does Porco know?” you insisted, raising your voice, hating the way it cracked at the end.

Pieck shook her head. “I told him Yelena cheated on me, didn’t tell him with who.”

“Why?”

“Because he told me not to date Yelena, said she wasn’t a good person. I didn’t want to prove Porco right, you know him,” Pieck said with a small shrug.

You nodded idly, your eyes lost. No. It didn’t make sense, it didn’t— even if it did. It did make sense but it couldn’t make sense. Because if Pieck was right, if Yelena and Zeke were—

No.

“Give me a date,” you whispered.

“What?”

“When was this?”

“I don’t— Two weeks ago?”

“I need to know the exact date, Pieck.”

“Girl, I don’t remember exactly, I—”

“Give me a date, Pieck!” you sobbed, raising your voice. She sighed and nodded, taking out her phone.

You watched as Pieck went through her messages with Yelena, scrolling up as she tried to remember the date. Your breath was hitching, inhaling more than you were exhaling but you didn’t care. You wanted to know when it was. Pieck was going to tell you it happened on a date where he was with you. She was going to say it happened one of the nights you and Zeke stayed the weekend at his place and then you would know she’s lying. Yes, that was going to happen. She would tumble over her own lie and this nightmare would be over.

“March 31st,” Pieck murmured. “I kept texting her, asking where she was before I went to look for her,” she reminisced, before showing you her phone.

00:36

lena where are u

?????

why are my friends saying you’re with zeke rn

yelena answer me

fuck u i’m going there

01:19

FUCK YOU YELENA YOURE THE WORST

PIECE OF SHIT IVE EVER MET

REALLY???? ZEKE?????

HOPE YOU GET HERPES

I FUCKING HATE YOU

babe, i’m sorry

can we talk?

A bitter taste crept inside your mouth as you took out your phone and went through yours and Zeke’s messages, looking desperately for the date. It was the weekend you spent together. It had to be. The memories of Zeke’s kitchen calendar that said April were lying to you. It had to be March. Or maybe he changed the calendar because he was with you on March 31st.

You scrolled up until March and went to read the messages exchanged on that day.

07:23

Good morning! I know it’s really early

But I want to see you today <3

Meet me at the tennis court?

sure, i’ll take an uber :)

Silent sobs escaped your mouth as your phone started shaking in your trembling hands. Pieck whispered apologies and you wanted nothing more than to tell her to shut up, that it wasn’t her fault, that she wasn’t the one that swore she wanted to marry you and then went to fuck someone else at a party, not caring if he was seen or not.

But it wasn’t true. Zeke said it was just a ruse, that Yelena just wanted to hide her queerness, that they were just good friends. He said so. Pieck had to be lying, she had to be. She was just messing with you, lying to see how much you could believe her. Because Zeke wouldn’t do that, you were the one he trusted, you were the one he was going to marry, you—

Pieck was still holding her phone in front of you.

With the very same date.

And Yelena admitting her crime.

But it couldn't be right. There had to be a mistake because Zeke loved you. He loved you and he had told you about his family, he had taken you to meet his grandparents, he promised he hadn’t kissed Yelena that night, he—

Had he not kissed her?

Was it only a movie night?

…

No, it hadn’t.

“Hey, are you okay?”

Pieck’s voice sounded far, your lips parted as you tried to gasp for air. You lifted your head and saw her lips moving but you couldn’t hear any sound but your heart beating out of your chest. Tingles started creeping on your fingers and without you being able to do anything to prevent it, you dropped your phone on the bathroom floor.

Why didn’t it make a sound?

Why were your fingers numb?

You lifted your head and Pieck was gone. Dismissing her sudden disappearance, you crouched down and picked your phone. You winced at the huge crack on your screen and slid your finger several times over it until you could press on Zeke’s contact and call him.

As his phone rang, you pressed your back on the wall, slowly sinking until you were sitting on the floor.

“Baby, I told you I was studying for this test, I can’t—”

“I know about you and Yelena,” you said in a broken voice. You heard him let out an annoyed sigh on the other line.

“Didn’t we talk about this already? I told you she’s not—”

“I know about the party. The day we played baseball and— that same night you went to a party and fucked her,” you sobbed. You wiped the tears on your face with the back of your hand. “Zeke, tell me it’s a lie, tell me you didn’t do this, please, please tell me you didn’t really fuck Yelena,” you begged. “Please.”

“You know what? Get some help. Like, psychological help. This isn’t normal.”

The silence after Zeke hung up choked you. Your chest rose up and down as you sobbed uncontrollably. Your brain was screaming. Loudly. ‘Make it stop,’ you told yourself. ‘Get it together. Make it stop.’

Make it stop.

It’s a lie.

Make it stop.

He lied to you.

Stop.

He fucked her.

Please, stop.

He lied.

I can’t breathe.

Inhale.

Exhale.

Inhale.

Exhale.

Inhale.

…

When you woke up, Porco was there.

Your head felt heavy as you tried to sit up, rubbing your eyes. A quick look around let you know you were in your apartment but you weren’t sure as to how , or why your friend was there, his phone on his lap and his eyes looking at you filled with worry.

He whispered your name as if his voice could hurt you. “How are you feeling?”

“What are you doing here?” you asked groggily. You noticed your throat was hurting as well. “What hour is it?” you mumbled as you palmed your jean pockets looking for your phone. You found it hidden between two pillows and pressed the power button, trying to see if you had any unread messages.

None.

“Pieck called me,” Porco explained. “And it’s eight and a half.”

Pieck. Pieck with her friends in the bathroom, Pieck with the text messages. Everything came back to you in a second and you couldn’t help but wince at the way your head hurt.

“How are you feeling?” he insisted. You took a deep breath. The small movement made you realize how much the muscles of your back were hurting along with your arms. You licked your lips, hating how dry they felt against your tongue.

“I broke my phone.”

Porco furrowed his eyebrows. “What?”

“I— I dropped it. There’s a crack on the screen.”

He nodded slowly and looked down at his shoes, his forearms resting on his knees. You could almost listen to his loud thoughts, one coming after another inside his head. Porco sighed and turned his head back to you.

“Want me to get it fixed? Marcel knows a guy, I’m sure he can get it done by tomorrow.”

“No, it’s okay. It’s working just fine,” you said, passing your thumb over the crack. “No need to change it.”

Porco watched your eyes get lost on the dark screen and tightened his lips. He had the urge to throw your phone out of your window, make you understand you had to leave it, that it wasn’t good for you, that you didn’t need it, that you didn’t need him —

Instead, he nodded.

“What happened?” you asked.

Porco paused, deliberating his words before speaking. “Pieck called and told me what you guys talked about and that… you didn’t take it well. She said you were crying and— that you had a panic attack, so she left the bathroom to look for help. She found Armin and he was the one that helped you regain your breath. Once you settle down, he called Annie to tell her what happened and she picked you up. When I got here you were already asleep on the couch, Annie said it was okay if I waited here.”

“I… don’t remember much,” you confessed with a grimace. “I don’t remember Armin helping me out. I— I do remember what Pieck and I talked about, though. Wish I could forget it instead,” you snorted.

“Wanna talk about it?”

You shook your head. Ouch . Why did every muscle of your body hurt so much?

“Wanna watch some shitty reality TV?” he offered. He didn’t miss the way a small smile appeared on your face.

In a matter of minutes, Porco had gone into your room and brought your laptop, and started looking for the show on Netflix. He put your laptop on his thighs and let you crawl by his side, your head resting against his shoulder.

“Wish they had Ink Master,” you sighed, as the intro of Netflix’s newest reality show played on your screen.

“We both know Netflix doesn’t have good shows.”

You snorted. “Black Mirror is good.”

“And yet we’re watching The Circle,” Porco teased you.

“Weren’t you the one that binged Season 1 on one night and then asked me to do the same so you could rant?” you reminded him with a playful tone.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he replied nonchalantly, making you chuckle.

What followed next was a comfortable silence. One episode went by and Porco made no attempts to stop it from automatically playing the second episode. You snuggled closer, the fabric of his green jacket feeling nice against your cheek. How long had it been since you felt so much peace with someone else by your side?

In any other situation, you would be commenting on it, pressing pause just to bitch and rant about the contestants or make quick runs to the kitchen. But Porco was sitting still, his eyes fixed on the screen and his arms crossed in front of his chest. He was trying to comfort you the best way he could, knowing any words would fail, he aimed to create a safe space for you and not force you to behave normally when you both knew better than to completely ignore what had happened earlier.

Right. Zeke.

You felt your eyes watering and bit the inside of your cheek to prevent them from falling down. Focusing on your breath, you inhaled and exhaled rhythmically until the knot in your throat seemed to loosen up. Your feelings towards Zeke were confusing, a part of you wanting to run, look for him and demand an explanation. Another part of you wanted to face with, punch his stupid little face until you got tired and leave him on the floor. And another, maybe a bigger part of you wanted him to cradle you in his strong arms, kiss your temple and scratch your skin with his beard as he whispered sweet nothings to you.

You swallowed. Maybe Zeke was right. Maybe you did need psychological help.

Could you trust his words if he were to provide another explanation? Could you ever trust in him again? Most of all, could you trust yourself? Many voices had different opinions inside your head, yet they all agreed on something.

You were miserable.

“Every time I’m not with him, I’m anxious,” you mumbled, the words leaving your mouth before you thought them over. Porco moved his hand to pause the show, but you gestured to him not to. “And when he’s with me…” you continued, “I feel like I’m drowning.”

Your voice cracked at the end. Porco’s hand twitched, not sure what to do next. Should he hold you, put an arm around your shoulder to comfort you? Should he not move a muscle until you were done? Should he offer a word of comfort? He turned his head to you and noticed tears were silently streaming down your face.

“If Zeke was in front of me right now and told me Pieck lied her ass off, even after all the proof she showed me today… I would believe him. I would,” you sobbed. “And I hate myself so much for it. I’m so tired of this, I’m so tired of loving him, Pock.”

Porco’s hand cupped your head, his fingers gently caressing your hair. You snuggled closer to him, his perfume soothing the pain inside your heart and his gentle gesture comforting you. That was the magic Porco had. You knew he wasn’t always good with his words and most of the time he preferred to show rather than tell and boy, did he do a spectacular good job at showing you how much he cared.

He was there. Even after you had been ignoring him for over two weeks, he was here with his green jacket and his earthy-scented perfume ready to hold you if you needed him. And you did. You could never think of a moment where you wouldn’t want him to be there with you.

You wiped your face with the back of your hand and reluctantly pulled away from his touch, turning on your seat so you were facing him. You paused your show and put a strand of your hair behind your ear.

“Thank you,” you said, biting down your bottom lip. “For being here and waiting until I woke up. I— I’ve been such a bad friend to you,” you sighed. “I’m so sorry, I just—”

Porco shook his head. “No. I’m sorry for what I said the night I stayed here.”

“No, you don’t need to— I mean— I wasn’t mad about it,” you fumbled with your words, feeling your cheeks heat up.

“I don’t know,” Porco shrugged. “Felt like I made you uncomfortable.”

“You didn’t,” you assured him. “Thank you for staying with me that night. I really didn’t want to be alone.”

“I just— Can I say something else? Promise this is the last time I talk about it.” You nodded. “I didn’t love you the first time I met you,” he blurted, shrugging. “I mean, it’s not like I saw you and caught feelings— first time I saw you you were drunk off your ass at Reiner’s party. I was your friend first. Still am, nothing will change that. And honestly? I wouldn’t be surprised if my feelings went away,” he chuckled. “Who knows. Might finally meet someone else and fall for them.”

“Yeah, maybe you’ll meet someone,” you agreed with a strained smile.

“Whatever happens, know that before anything else, I’m your friend,” Porco said, golden eyes setting on yours. “And that will never change. You’re stuck with me.”

“And you’re stuck with me.”

“See any other reason why I’m watching a shitty reality show on a Tuesday night?”

At this, you hit Porco with one of the pillows, square on his face. You couldn’t help but laugh at his stunned face.

“You’re so fucked,” he said, putting the laptop on the coffee table in front of him.

You took this as a sign to run, the ache in your muscles forgotten at the back of your head as you tried to dodge the pillows Porco was throwing at you. Your legs weren’t weak anymore, as you quickly jumped to avoid the furniture and picked up one of the pillows to throw it back at him. Your heart was no longer aching, but jumping as you cackled when Porco tripped and fell. Even if your eyes were watering again, this time was due to the excessive laughter. And yes, your breath was hitching but it was thanks to Porco chasing you around the living room.

You let yourself fall on the floor next to Porco, the coldness of the floor soothing your skin as he dramatically held his knee against his chest like an injured soccer player. You turned your head to him, smiling at his antics as he filled your heart with happiness once more.

Maybe that had been his power all along.

#porco x reader #snk x reader #aot x reader #porco galliard #porco galliard x reader #porco x you #porco galliard x you #porco galliard angst #porco galliard fluff #porco angst #porco fluff #zeke x reader #zeke jaeger x reade #zeke x you #zeke jaeger x you #zeke jaeger #zeke angst

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letomills · 2 years ago

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Pleasantfiesta Round 1 Part 13: Terrano (4/4)

After Stella’s slightly tumultuous junior year was over, things started to look up again. Her last year at La Fiesta Tech was probably her most fun one.

She now had a pretty good understanding of literature and other forms of human art (especially painting, which she had a knack for). When time would come to find a job, she knew that she’d want to do something creative.

She spoke with Nancy again, and their first impressions of each other turned out accurate: they definitely get along well. Having an older friend helped Stella picture her post-graduation life, as Nancy gave her precious insights on human adult society.

Stella was both scared and excited to finish her studies and move out of the dorm.

She kept perfecting her skills and studying hard, but also made sure to enjoy the company of her friends as long as she could.

She passed her second to last exam with a respectable B+.

During her last semester, she felt comfortable enough in her relationships that she took some risks that didn’t always pan out.

Here she autonomously attempted to sweet talk Sunny, but she must have been clumsy because Sunny was not impressed.

Oh well, making mistakes is how you learn.

She then apologized and was apparently able to clear up her blunder so well that Sunny came around completely.

After a last stretch of studying, Stella went to her last final exam...

and graduated with an A-!

She celebrated by playing video games until late at night.

On the next day, a heat wave struck La Fiesta Tech.

“Earthlings are lucky to be able to handle this kind of weather! Seems like I’m not built the same.”

“I guess it’s a good thing I’m moving out soon. I’m definitely going to a place with a cooler climate.” She’d heard many good things from Nancy about a town called Pleasantview.

She took a page from Hayden’s book and spent the rest of the day in her underwear to try to cool off.

Which Sunny was very much into.

They even had their first kiss together ^^

The emotion, coupled with the heat, was a bit too much though, and Stella collapsed in the hallway.

Nobody lifted a finger to douse her off so it took a little bit, but she regained consciousness eventually.

And that was the end of Stella’s round! Since she’s become such close friends with Guy Wrightley, next up will be his household, the Oresha-Hoh-Var fraternity.

#sims 2 #pleasantfiesta #la fiesta tech

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honeymoonjin · 4 years ago

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ᴘᴀɪʀɪɴɢ: ot7 x reader || ᴡᴏʀᴅ ᴄᴏᴜɴᴛ: 11.1k || ɢᴇɴʀᴇ: smut - rated 18+

sᴜᴍᴍᴀʀʏ:

Sick of unsatisfying hookups, boring relationships or the company of your own hand? Apply today for the chance to be on bangasm.com’s very first reality show! Seven attractive young gentlemen will be vying for your choice of who is best in bed. All from different backgrounds, these men claim they’ll be able to rock your world, so don’t hesitate! Apply now!

Congratulations! You’ve been accepted as the Lady in the first season of The Gentlemen.

<- prev || masterlist || next ->

ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢs: voyeurism, exhibitionism, filmed sex, unprotected sex, oral (f receiving), big dick namjoon serving us tripod realness, dom!joon, and when i say dom i mean both dominant AND domestic : ), impregnation kink, daddy kink, praise, dom!jimin, sub!reader in both of these scenes, lingerie kink (m wearing), copious teasing, very light spanking, french kissing, lapdance, the jimin scene is filthier than the tags give it credit for ngl, oral (m receiving), cum swallowing/eating, aftercare (as always)

banner designer @jamaisjoons | thank you everyone in the sfhs server, you bring me so much joy, motivation and good ideas | AND finally thank you to the anon that suggested [redacted] jimin i legit replanned everything just to make that his prompt

DAY TWELVE

The mattresses in the room of bunk beds are surprisingly comfortable. The metal springs squeak a little if you move too much, but you wake up feeling well-rested.

“Not too bad, right?” Hoseok chirps, swinging out on the ladder and jumping down onto the floor with a thud. Using his laundry from the day before, he unceremoniously swaps his sleep shirt and boxers for some deep green skinny jeans and an orange sweater. Namjoon, more modest and distinctly more sleepy, grabs his clothes and stumbles back to his own room.

“The beds? Better than I was expecting for sure.”

Hoseok smiles warmly as you hop down the ladder and arrive on steady ground again, toes curling into the carpet. He fiddles quickly with a chunky watch, doing up the links. “Breakfast is downstairs if you want it.”

You throw him a teasing grin. “Not if you’re making it, thanks.”

He has the good graces to pretend to be offended, before tugging you into a playful side-hug, ignoring your squeak of surprise. “No, you cheeky fucker, Jungkook bought pancake mix. He texted me saying there’s plenty for everyone.”

“Jungkook making breakfast?” you ask dubiously, but the warm image of pancakes for breakfast makes your stomach growl. “Let me get dressed real quick and I’ll come down.”

Jungkook, it seems, is starting out the day cheerful as ever. He gives you a big grin when you, Namjoon and Hoseok come down for breakfast, and he makes sure to dish up the biggest pancakes for you, before taking the second biggest for himself.

Jin raises a teasing brow when you come down accompanied by the two men, Namjoon still with his hair ruffled up awkwardly from his slumber. “Long night?” he questions with a cheesy wink.

Hoseok catches on to the teasing nature, letting out a dramatic sigh. “Sadly, Namjoon wanted a rest day, so we didn’t enjoy any funny business.”

Jungkook watches the three of you closely, lips tightening just a little bit before he breaks out into a cheeky smile. “I think Y/n would have been too tired out to do anything more anyway.”

You choke on air, a forkful of pancakes blessedly not in your mouth yet. Beside you, Hoseok chuckles awkwardly. “Goodness, JK, we heard enough yesterday. The gym walls are not as thick as they should be.”

Instead of blushing like you are, Jungkook puffs his chest up. “I’ve never heard Y/n scream like that with any of you guys. Then again; I bet you haven’t made her squirt like I did.”

This time you aren’t so fortunate, coughing on a mouthful that you’d anxiously stuffed in to keep yourself occupied. You send Yoongi a grateful look as he slides you a glass of water.

“Jesus, Jungkook,” Jin grimaces, “we’re trying to eat breakfast.”

You keep your eyes down, confused by Jungkook’s behaviour and more than a little embarrassed.

When you hear Namjoon speak up, his voice is strangely tensed. “That’s really not appropriate.”

A heated pause. “This is literally a porn show,” Jungkook states defensively, “sex is the whole reason we’re here. I think everyone’s forgetting this is a competition about being the best in bed, I’m just- You know what, never mind, pretend I didn’t say anything.”

“You just what?” Namjoon questions. It’s unlike him to be argumentative, and you shift in your seat, taking another sip of the ice-cold water. “Did you really make us all pancakes just so you could gloat? Y/n is a person, not a video game, Jungkook. Have a little respect.”

Jungkook doesn’t respond, but when you glance up, the frustrated rolling of his eyes and furious stabbing of his fork in a pancake speaks volumes.

Yoongi pinches his brow. “Jin-hyung, can you pass the syrup? Thanks.”

Namjoon stares expectantly at the youngest Gentleman for a few moments, before letting out a light huff and returning to his food.

Silence continues for a moment or two before Taehyung pipes up, voice tiny in the oppressive tension. “How many people still have to do their prompts this week? I haven’t done mine yet.”

Yoongi sends him a lightly exasperated look. “Really?”

Taehyung gives a small shrug, glancing to the camboy sitting beside him. “I mean… I don’t think we need to be explicit but this show is about sex. I feel like it’s equally bad if we don’t talk about it at all, you know?”

“The kid’s right,” Jin allows with a wry grin. “I’ve done mine. Tuesday; though I suppose some of you saw.”

Jimin cocks his head, lost. “Saw? Uh, yes, I haven’t done my prompt yet. Actually, uh, if you guys wanna take part, stay in the lounge tonight. I need an audience.”

You send him an inquiring look. “What about me?”

Jimin lets out a short laugh. “Your participation is kind of mandatory. Please stay in the lounge too.”

You appreciate the slow brushes of conversation that ease the tension away. “Am I an audience member or a volunteer?” You grimace suddenly. “Wait, fuck, it isn’t like a circus act or something, right? You aren’t a magician?”

“Don’t worry, the show won’t be that kind of magic,” he promises.

You go to reply, but your attention is caught by the way Jungkook is openly glaring at Namjoon like he’s waiting for something. “Kook?” you question.

Jungkook’s eye twitches. “Why aren’t you saying anything now, Namjoon? So they get to talk about sex but I can’t?”

Jin sucks in harshly through his teeth, sending a look of alarm to the youngest. “Okay, break it up, that’s enough. Jungkook, any more smart comments and you can leave. We’ll talk privately if you need it.”

Jungkook lets out a bitter scoff, but Namjoon is already rising hastily, banging the edge of the table in his haste to get up. “I’ll go,” he urges, “you all can enjoy your breakfast in peace.”

Nobody seems to even breathe as the sounds of Namjoon’s footsteps fade away, a door upstairs shutting harshly.

Yoongi has his face bent, thumb and forefinger pressing to his forehead, like a headache is coming on. “What the fuck was that?” he muses tiredly.

Jungkook doesn’t answer, staring at his pancakes like he’s trying to make them burst into flames.

You bite your tongue harshly, unsettled by how tempers flared so quickly. Unsure of what to do, you stare at Jungkook for a moment. You don’t want it to seem like you’re picking a side, but he has five others around him, and Namjoon is upstairs alone. You slide your chair out, quieter than last time. “I’m just going to check on him. Jungkook; you’re fine, I’m not angry.”

He breaks out of his death stare at his breakfast to send you a look of bewilderment, but Yoongi is already clicking his tongue disapprovingly. “Well, I am,” the second eldest declares, and you rush upstairs before the scolding begins.

Namjoon answers, albeit reluctantly, when you knock on the door and call out to him. He’s well and truly awake and alert now, hair combed down sullenly, the purple looking more faded than ever against the rich blue of his long-sleeved t-shirt. “Are you okay?” he asks with a tired frown.

Your brows lift automatically. “That is the exact question I came up here to ask. Can I come in?”

His bedroom is even more tidy than usual, now that he hasn’t been sleeping there. You sit down on the edge of his bed, feeling an unsettling swirl of dread.

“I’m sorry about Jungkook,” is the first thing out of his mouth as he sits down beside you, shoulders hunched like he’s making himself as small as possible.

You shake your head slowly. “You shouldn’t apologise on other people’s behalf. He’ll say sorry if he wants to.”

Namjoon pauses for a moment. “Then I’m sorry about contributing to the uncomfortable atmosphere.”

Despite the situation, your mouth quirks into a grin and your eyes soften. “Forgiven. I’m more worried than angry, you know? About the both of you.”

Namjoon lets out a sigh, eyes dancing aimlessly around the room, no doubt pondering complex concepts at the speed of light like he usually was. “This is probably to be expected, right? Tension. I didn’t think I’d be the one involved, though.”

“Ah, it wouldn’t be a reality show without some drama,” you allow, scooting back on the bed so you can tuck your feet up, crossing your legs. “We’ve just gotta move past it, I guess.”

“Didn’t it make you uncomfortable?” Namjoon blurts suddenly, cringing at the volume of his voice. “Him talking about you so publicly like that?”

You run your tongue along the inside of your cheek. “It took me off guard for sure. I don’t know; I guess sex is kind of our currency in here, you know? Him being so, uh, bold about it out of nowhere is pretty weird, though.” You shrug it off. “Maybe he slept bad last night.”

Namjoon searches your face. “I’m too much of a prude, aren’t I? Things like that bother me, so why did I sign up for a porn show?”

You turn to face him, brows knitted in sympathy. “Just because others are more open doesn’t mean being modest is a bad thing. Don’t let Jungkook’s bad mood make you believe that you don’t belong on the show or that you need to change. Okay?”

The two of you share a tender moment of eye contact, before Namjoon laughs shyly and turns his head away. You grin at him. “What?”

“It’s stupid,” Namjoon deflects, “it’s not the time.”

“Not the time for what?” you press. “Tell me; I’m curious now.”

Namjoon’s eyes dart up, pausing briefly at your lips. “I just… I really wanted to kiss you.”

Your heart swells, but you keep your face open, your voice barely louder than a whisper. “Then you should kiss me.”

All the breath leaves his lungs in a rush, but before he can inhale again, he’s propelling himself forward, wide hands cradling your jaw steady so your lips can join, a little uncoordinated but perfect nonetheless.

The small whimper of surprise is muffled by his lips, but you quickly melt into him, hands clutching at the front of his shirt for stability.

You can taste the remnants of breakfast, the sweet stickiness of maple syrup on his lips. You deepen the kiss to seek out more of the flavour, breaths escaping your nose as you don’t dare part for a second. Namjoon seems equally enraptured, shy flicks of his tongue making your head spin.

You lean in until your wrists are pinned between his chest and yours, and then lean in more, wanting to be close. Like oxygen to fire, the more contact you get the more desperate you become, and when his hands lower to lift you easily onto his lap, grinding you unconsciously against his erection, you feel ablaze.

“I need to-nm-do my prompt,” Namjoon murmurs out, teeth catching on your tongue with how deeply you kiss.

You swallow, leaning back slightly to take a breath in. “We don’t have to now,” you assure, moving your hands up to stabilise yourself on his shoulders so that he cranes his neck up to chase your lips. “Or have you graduated from Hoseok’s School of Sexual Prowess already.”

You smile down at the way his eyes flutter shut with a crooked grin, delicate crescent moon lash line a deep brown against his tanned skin. His lips are flushed and swollen, and he swallows like a man parched before he speaks, blinking blearily up at you. “I prefer to learn on the job,” he quips hoarsely.

You grin, leaning down to nudge him slightly to the side with your nose, giving you a better angle to leave a trail of light kisses from the corner of his mouth to the top of his jaw, tugging on his earlobe just enough that you feel his dick twitch against you. “What’s it gonna be, then? Am I a naughty student? Slacking receptionist? Do I need to sign for a package, delivery boy?”

The chuckle Namjoon lets out is pained and reluctant. “Was that what you were hoping for? It’s a bit more romantic than that.”

“Romantic is good,” you assure, letting his arms on your hips hold you steady as you lean back and search his face. “Do I get any more clues? Tell me something.”

When he blinks up at you, there’s something open and earnest in his gaze, like he’s left behind that shy boy that blushes at any mention of sex. “Let me show you, love.”

He cradles your back and lays you down on his bed so delicately it takes your breath away. Without speaking, he presses his lips to yours again, and once again you feel unanchored in an ocean, kept floating by the pressure of his proximity. Slower than usual, you move against each other; his hands bracing him up by the pillow, your leg hitched up over his waist to keep him close. Between the soft cushioning of his bed and the solid heat of his body, you feel secure and safe, eyes closed so that he fills your other senses entirely.

The sweetness of the maple syrup on his tongue and lips has long since melted away, but it leaves behind his natural flavour, one you think you prefer more. Aftershave still clings to his cheeks, tingling your nostrils, but past it is the bright candylike scent of his orange blossom shampoo, and they mix dizzily as the ends of his hair brush your skin.

Need begins to pool between your legs, but it doesn’t drive you, instead staying muted in the background like the pleasant heat of a bubbling jacuzzi, hips rocking lazily without any true purpose as you focus on the shocks of pleasure when your tongues connect.

It’s impossible to tell how long the two of you stay like that, no urgency or haste, just enjoying the intimacy and closeness of shared breaths and swollen lips. When he trails a hand down to slip under your shirt, even his slightly calloused fingertips running up your side is enough to make you whimper, sensitised to every touch.

Namjoon groans when his palm covers your breast, gripping it and swiping a thumb over your stiffened peak, arousing even through the fabric of your bra, his mouth only leaving yours for the second it takes to push your shirt over and off, connecting again with a small grunt of need.

Though Namjoon’s body is hot like a furnace against you, the open air still causes you to shiver, arching your back so Namjoon can blindly locate the hooks on your bra, able to slip it off you in no time at all.

This time, when his teeth tug at your lip and you feel the uninhibited contact of his fingertip tracing a circle around your nipple, it’s like a spike of electricity straight to your core, igniting that spark of full-blown arousal. Namjoon’s lips quirk against yours when you let a moan catch in your throat.

When he shifts down, you’re expecting his mouth on your breast, or perhaps him to sit up to take his own clothes off, but he doesn’t go nearly that far. Instead he presses your jaw up, exposing your neck but laying kisses on the underside of your chin first.

Perhaps it’s that you weren’t expecting that touch, or perhaps such a unique place isn’t used to that type of attention, but his swollen lips caressing just below your jaw feels magical, eyelids fluttering as he sucks so, so gently.

His hand never leaves your breast, massaging the flesh, tracing where your regular skin pebbles into the dusky areola, nail dragging teasingly over the bud, and your mind is working itself into knots trying to process all the sensations he’s stirring in you.

If his first time was thrilling, this was nothing short of electric, neon bursts of colour behind your eyelids the only thing you can see. As his kisses slowly venture lower, dipping to the base of your neck, pulse throbbing against him, you picture your nerve endings like purple strands of electricity in a plasma ball, lighting up with every touch of his fingers, lips and tongue to your skin.

“Na-Namjoon,” you gasp out, swallowing to ease the dryness in your throat, “don’t tease, I need you.”

Namjoon shifts lower, but not low enough, chin resting on your chest as he looks up at you with a pleased smile, clearly satisfied with his improvement from last time. “But love, there’s no rush. We have the rest of our lives, remember? To have and to hold,” he rumbles lowly, pressing two light kisses to the top of your heaving breasts, “til death do us part.”

Your eyes widen. “Oh.”

Namjoon’s lip twitches. “Oh,” he repeats playfully. Goosebumps break out on the tops of your arms at this sudden brazenness. He’d clearly been doing plenty of talking with Hoseok, and to see his hard work pay off in your pleasured reactions probably gave him a burst of confidence. “Are you going to be patient for me now, love? Let me savour you?”

Your breath catches in your throat, so you just nod shakily.

Satisfied with your response, Namjoon quirks a lip before using the very tip of his tongue to trail a circle around your nipple, just wide enough that the bud strains for his attention. Your fingers clutch his sides, annoyingly still clothed, as he moves to the other one, still giving your nipple a wide berth. “C-come on, Joonie,” you complain hoarsely, “I need more.”

When he looks up at you from below his lashes and sucks one nipple slowly into his mouth, tongue pressing it against his upper teeth, you hiss sharply, releasing the air in a breathy moan. Namjoon suckles at you gently, still languid but no longer avoiding your most sensitive areas, and the hand not propping him up begins rolling the other one between his fingers, making you shudder.

You’re so wet between your legs it’s growing uncomfortable, and so you cant your hips up towards him, hoping he gets the message. He tuts at you, but pulls off your nipple with a wet pop and sits up to undress further.

Namjoon shucks his own shirt without ceremony before his fingers find your waistband, and you let him slide off your pants and underwear as you lie back and enjoy the sight of his thick chest and smooth stomach, a trail of dark baby hairs disappearing past his jeans that you didn’t remember noticing the first time you slept with him.

He takes off those jeans, his boxers too, and joins you on the bed again, running a warm palm up your side. “I want to taste you,” he announces simply, carding a hand through his hair to keep it out of your face.

“Fuck, please.” You watch with wide eyes as he lies on his stomach, hands dipping under your thighs to lift and part them. The exposed air has you clenching instinctively, and you swear you can see his eyes dilate at the sight. “Namjoon,” you whine, back arching in impatience.

“Shh, love, I’ve got you,” he assures, peppering kisses from just below your knees, down your thighs until you can feel his breath on your core. “So beautiful.”

You can barely breathe, head propped up on the pillow to stare down the plains of your chest and stomach to the insanely attractive man between your legs. Though you’d grown fond of the kinkier, wild scenes - in fact, your dreams at night had taken a turn since joining the show - something about seeing Namjoon so at his element in this domestic atmosphere has you dripping.

Like he has all the time in the world, he locks eyes with you and blows a wave of slightly cool air over your folds. You breathe out a groan, sending him what you hope is a convincing-enough pleading gaze. He smiles placidly, licks his lips, ducks his head even further, and-

And blows another stream, this time narrowed and colder, directly over your clit. You shudder and buck instinctively in his grip, his hands on your thighs keeping you spread.

“Come on,” you gasp out, “Hoseok’s made you into a fucking demon!”

“Oh, trust me,” Namjoon murmurs, “Hoseok’s version was way kinkier than this. I’m trying to be romantic and sensual.”

You shift again, fruitlessly trying to wiggle your hips closer. “It would be really fucking romantic if you would actually put your mouth on my-ah!”

Just like you know Hoseok would (you don’t know whether to thank him or curse him for this), Namjoon strikes when you least expect it, and when you most need it.

Though his mouth is small, his tongue is no less nimble, darting deeply through your folds to collect your juices and using them to slurp harshly at your clit. You jerk, hand shooting down to latch in his hair, but he continues that constant, unyielding vacuum until you’re squirming hopelessly beneath him, finally pulling off with the slightest graze of teeth.

“Happy now?” he retorts, swollen lips glossy with your slick. His hands tighten on your thighs. “Hold them.”

Invigorated by his command, you rush to grasp the backs of your knees, keeping your legs up and spread for him. “Fuck, so good, Joonie, w-want more.”

Now with two hands freed, it’s no surprise when two fingers find their way into your wet heat, twisting inside you with every smooth thrust. His chin is smeared with your wetness when he lowers it to continue laving his tongue over your sensitive clit, but he groans sinfully into you, like he’s getting just as much pleasure from it as you are.

Once he really gets going, he’s merciless, his fingers so thick that you don’t even need a third one to really feel him filling you, hooking up to rub at your g-spot every now and again to hear the involuntary whimpers you give out.

You hold onto your own knees for dear life, writhing under him as a hot coil tightens inside you. “Fu-fuck, Joonie, I’m getting close.”

His mouth detaches from your clit for a bare moment, enough for him to pant out a groan and stare lustily up at you. “Don’t cum yet,” he instructs lowly, “you’re going to cum on my cock this time, love.”

You whine, biting your lip harshly to try and distract from the building pleasure. “Then you have to- have to stop, Joonie,” you shudder out reluctantly.

To your surprise, Namjoon is even more begrudging than you are, tugging out his fingers to chase a last few indulgent licks up your seam before he finally sits up to kneel, panting. “Are you ready for me?”

You feel yourself grow impossibly wetter at the sight of him grasping his length, slipping it through your folds to slick it up. “Yes, god yes, I need it, need your cock,” you garble.

Namjoon’s eyes flutter shut for a moment, before he presses his head to your entrance, sinking in barely an inch to test your reaction. “Can’t wait to fill you up, love,” he admits, abs clenching with the effort it takes to sink in slowly. “Fuck a baby into you, my perfect girl.”

Your heart races at his words, clenching around. “God, yes, Joonie, please.” Though all the Gentlemen were well aware you were on birth control, there was something wildly erotic about the thought of it. “Fill me up, wanna be good for you.”

Finally he bottoms out, and your thighs shake at the stretch. With your hips tilted up, it almost feels like he’s fucking right into your stomach, so deep your mind struggles to process the sensations. He heaves a few breaths, giving you a chance to squeeze around him experimentally and grow accustomed to him filling you so completely.

You mumble out your permission for him to move breathily, the air punched out of your lungs when he pulls out only to drive deep inside of you in one slick thrust. Your mouth drops open once he begins to thrust, holding onto your knees for dear life as they tremble uncontrollably.

“God, look at you,” Namjoon pants out, chest heaving with excitement or exertion, perhaps a mix of both. One of his palms presses against the top of your stomach, increasing the pressure of his cock inside you. “‘Be so beautiful with my baby inside you, love, tummy swollen. I’ll take good care of you, would you like that?”

You have to squeeze your eyes shut to put all your focus into speaking. “Ye-yeah, I want that, Joonie,” you manage to articulate, his length keeping your mouth watering whenever he’s inside you. “Gonna be such a good daddy, Joon.”

Like a switch being flicked, Namjoon suddenly jerks, going rigid. Your eyes open blearily when he stills inside you, and you moan openly at the fucked-out look on his face, his eyes lidded and hair wild.

“S-say that again,” he commands, and your mouth drops open at the desperate grate to his voice.

So Namjoon liked to be called… “Daddy,” you whine experimentally, grinning when his cock twitches, hips juddering. “Want you to fuck me, Daddy, please move.”

“God, love, so fucking perfect for me,” he makes out before he starts off again with a renewed vigor, hands kneading at your breasts, at the flesh of your hips, at your ass as he lifts you up to meet his every thrust.

The feeling of him fucking into you so intensely has you feeling delirious, unsure if the ringing in your ears is actually the sounds of your own cries, torn from your throat with every slap of his balls against your ass, the weight of his hips jerking you into the pillow more and more every time.

You feel the pressure of his body hovering just above you, the angle of his thrusts changing, then suddenly his mouth is on your breast again, sucking harshly at the nipple. With the way your body moves beneath him, he can’t help but scrape his teeth against you a couple times, but it just makes the pleasure soar higher, neon starbusts of colour behind your eyelids when you squeeze them closed.

“Close again,” you warn desperately, losing the grip on one of your knees due to the sweat gathering there. With one up and one down, the angle changes again, and you reach out blindly to latch onto his upper arm, screaming at the heights of pleasure. “Can I cum this time, Daddy, please let me cum!”

“Fuck, give it to me, cum for me,” he growls out around your breast, and you see stars.

The orgasm that rips through you is powerful enough that all your senses fade suddenly away, unable to feel anything expect a rush of pleasure all the way down to your toes, boneless yet convulsing as he pistons his hips into you once, twice, three more times until he’s taken by the way you clench tightly around him.

He laps clumsily, wetly at your nipple as he spills inside you, before the two of you are completely drained of energy. Panting, heaving, you don’t even manage to catch your breath before you’re falling into slumber, Namjoon still inside you.

“He told us to wait here, right?” you ask anxiously.

There are six of you gathered on the couches in the lounge. Television off, the silence is weirdly uncomfortable. Perhaps that’s just because you know that everyone is waiting here not only to see Jimin, but to see what Jimin is going to do to you.

Hoseok, tucked into the smallest corner of the couch on the right, huffs lightly at your question. “He’s Jimin, Y/n. Either he’s up there primping or he’s just making you wait to be obnoxious.”

Perched beside him with a glass of whisky, two fingers full, Yoongi sends a droll glare to Hoseok. “Bold words for a man who’s choosing to watch the show.”

“I’m curious, sue me.”

“I think we all are,” Namjoon adds, curled up beside you in the central position of the three couches. “I think the only one that knows his prompt is Tae.”

Taehyung turns to answer, propped up against Jin’s side on the left, but the eldest interrupts, a crease of worry between his brows. “Not all of us, it seems,” he points out. “Don’t you find it strange that Jungkook isn’t here?”

“Does he know?” Taehyung wonders, fingers dipping into his pocket to reach for his phone.

Yoongi frowns. “He knows. He asked me not to make him anything for dinner tonight. Said he wasn’t feeling well. Didn’t seem like he was sick, just… distressed. I think you should talk with him, Jin.”

Jin sucks in a breath, pauses, and exhales again, jaw flexing. “Sure.”

The six of you lapse into a slightly strained silence again, before Namjoon gets restless, shifting beside you until he finally clears his throat and looks up at Yoongi. “What is for dinner, hyung?”

“We didn’t really have much for lunch, so I’m thinking steak and pasta,” the doctor offers up. “There’s some carbonara sauce in the pantry that looks good.”

Taehyung coughs nervously. “Do we have steak? I didn’t think there were-”

“We had plenty this morning when I checked,” Yoongi cuts in evenly. “Should I be aware of any recent developments?”

The masseuse pouts, leaning further into Jin’s side like he’ll protect him. “Well… It’s just that I feel so bad for Mango! The kennel I bought online isn’t as insulated as I hoped it would be and I know she gets lonely.”

Yoongi groans, going lax on the leather of the couch. “So you figured she’d what? Cuddle with the steaks?”

“I just figured maybe if I gave her nice food she’d cheer up,” Taehyung adds, “and it was just two! Are you mad at me?”

“No, I guess I’m not. Jungkook isn’t eating anyway, and…” Yoongi grins. “As penance, you can have plain pasta and watch the rest of us enjoy our perfectly cooked steaks.”

Taehyung throws himself against Jin dramatically, but even as he moans in misery, a relieved smile crooks at his lips. “I suppose,” he drawls begrudgingly, and once again a light atmosphere fills the room, like everyone’s just sighed out a breath of relief.

You lean onto the arm of the couch, facing Taehyung. “Tae, Jimin’s prompt isn’t too, like, intense, right?”

He cocks his head. “What do you mean? For him or for you?”

“Uh…” Your mind whirls blankly, cheeks heating up as you draw the attention of the other guys. “For- for me. So far some of the scenes have been pretty taxing, and I guess I just didn’t expect such a jump up from Week One.”

Instead of laughing or teasing, the others go a little solemn, perhaps even bashful. “Jimin’s isn’t super crazy, Y/n, don’t worry,” Taehyung assures quickly.

Yoongi bites down hard on his tongue, jaw popping. “We didn’t go too hard on you, did we?”

You suck in a breath. “I mean- No, not individually. It builds up though, you know?” Something niggles in the back of your mind, something you’ve wondered for a while. “Do you guys talk about it?”

Hoseok hesitates. “About fucking you?”

Your cheeks are on fire as you curl up small in the corner. “Not- Not that specifically, but just… Do you guys discuss who goes when and who has what? I kinda wondered why you spread yourselves out, if it’s just a coincidence or if you- Never mind, it’s stupid.”

“We kinda do,” Hoseok admits freely. “Like, obviously we don’t all sit down in a room brainstorming or something-” You don’t miss the way Taehyung and Namjoon instinctively lock gazes, though you can’t quite read their expressions. Hoseok continues, “but we do chat with each other and try and give each other space.”

Jin shrugs easily. “Yeah, like, I’ll just say in the groupchat, ‘I’m planning on doing my scene outside, look outside at your own risk’ or whatever.” The eldest stiffens as he’s fixed with several glares of alarm, including your own. “What? Were we not meant to tell her about the groupchat?”

Your mouth drops open. “You guys have a groupchat without me? I wanna see!”

“That defeats the purpose of you not being in the group chat,” Yoongi points out, though his grin is more sheepish than mischievous.

You make a noise of exasperation, ready to protest further, but before you can open your mouth the doorbell rings.

Everyone freezes.

After a moment, the doorbell rings again.

“You should go get it,” Taehyung supplies helpfully, eyes on you. “Might be interesting.”

Your heart picks up with the cool thread of adrenaline. It’s time. All eyes are on you as you sit up and make your way out to the foyer, the tile cool under your bare feet.

Though the door is a rich mahogany, clouded glass panels on either side betray a dark figure, perfectly still. Even though you can barely see the outline, there’s no deny the expectant tilt of their head belongs to none other than Jimin.

By the time you pad up to the door and turn the knob, his hand is outstretched to ring the bell a third time, and his mouth parts in surprise before giving you a pleasant beam.

You’d been wondering if he was meant to be a delivery guy, a mechanic, something along those lines, but your first glance over him proves you wrong.

His blue hair is glossy enough to reflect the light of the lamp above the doorway, curled in graceful swoops on his forehead and temples. Though he always wore makeup, it was clear he’s set to impress, with a bold russet red lip, powerful black eyeliner and a spot of gold under each eye.

He’s taller than usual, and you glance down automatically, to be greeted with the most gorgeous black heels, stiletto points giving him an extra few inches of height. The shoes make his legs look a mile long, and you suck in a breath as you follow them up, realising they’re completely bare, the only adornment a sinfully tight pair of black fishnets that dig in to his thighs and calves.

In fact, all he seems to be wearing otherwise is a black trenchcoat, falling to mid-thigh and with the sash tied so tightly it accentuates his narrow waist.

All put together, he looks like sin personified, the kind sailors drown for. You can’t help but want to dive in yourself. Trying to go along with the roleplay, you play dumb. “Do I, uh, do I know you?”

Jimin’s smile broadens as his arm falls, hand resting snugly on his hip. “You will soon, sweetness.” Usually one for pinks, nudes and clear glosses, seeing him suddenly in a deep red makes you realise just how full his lips are. You miss the feeling of them on you. “Did Taehyung not tell you I was coming?”

“Did Tae-?” You clear your throat, unsure how to proceed. This Jimin was Amazonian; bruisingly pretty and intimidating in his grace. “I guess not? Was he supposed to?”

His eyes crinkle empathetically, darting past you into the foyer. “Let’s talk inside, shall we? I’m not exactly dressed for the outdoors.”

“Oh, fuck!” you blurt instinctively, and you swear his lip twitches before you’re backing away hastily, ushering him inside. “I’m so sorry, please come in! Do you want me to take your coat? I don’t- I don’t know what you need.”

Jimin steps inside and closes the door behind him in one smooth motion, punctuated only by the click of his heels on the tile. He reaches out to pat your cheek, only somewhat condescendingly. “No wonder, sweetness, you didn’t even know I was coming.” That isn’t quite true, but in the scheme of things, you may as well not have known he was doing his scene tonight at all for all it’s helping you. “Why don’t you lead me to Taehyung? I assume he’s here.”

“Of course he’s- I mean, yes, he’s here. Right this way.”

The two of you only have a short trip to the lounge, where no doubt the other five have been straining their ears to eavesdrop, but every strike of his heels against the floor behind you has the hairs on the nape of your neck standing on end.

In the lounge, the guys are all turned around in their seats to shamelessly ogle Jimin, Taehyung the only one without the gobsmacked look on his face - though even he takes in an unsteady breath at how gorgeous the man looks.

You make your way to him, standing awkwardly in front of the couch that him and Jin share. Turning back to face Jimin, you can’t help but match Taehyung’s reaction. Jimin looks even more radiant in the decent lighting of the room. You can see now his trenchcoat is a lush fabric, slightly thicker than silk, and deeply matte. Around the inside of the collar is a faint embossed silver logo, promoting Chanel as the designer of that piece.

Ignoring the stunned silence of the room, Jimin slinks immediately to Taehyung, tipping his chin up with his knuckles. “Did you not tell Y/n about me, hm?” he questions with a faux pout. “Kept it a secret, our naughty Taehyungie.”

The masseuse wilts pleadingly under Jimin’s gaze, and the responding wicked grin makes you think that Jimin probably told him to keep quiet, only to tell him off for it now. “Sorry, Minnie,” Taehyung mutters nonetheless. “Wanted it to be a surprise.”

“Did you now?” Jimin lets go of him, stepping back. “I suppose we should get down to business, then. Are you all leaving, or do I have an audience tonight?” Glancing around imperiously, you watch as his eyes dart back and forth, smile faltering. His breath catches, eyes dull with disappointment that he quickly masks under a broad smile. “It’s just the six of you, then?”

Your heart aches as you think of the missing person still upstairs in his room. “Yeah, it’s just us.”

Always the professional, Jimin moves on without comment. “Well, then, sweetness; take a seat and get comfortable. You’re a lucky girl tonight.”

Your mouth feels dry even as it waters. Taking your seat beside Namjoon again, you watch in rapt anticipation as Jimin slips a hand into his pocket and pulls out his phone, fiddling with something on it as he strolls slowly into the center of the room, just in front of the television.

“We have a few rules,” Jimin announces. “No heckling, no getting drunk while I’m here, and no touching unless I give you permission. They’re simple, so I expect you to follow them. Got it?”

With his back to the group as he sets up his phone, you’re unsure who exactly he’s addressing, but some of you make general hums of confirmation, all the attention on Jimin.

When the music starts - a deep, thrumming beat with a sensual pace - you can see the change in him immediately, even from the back. His shoulders adjust, head tips back slightly like he’s letting it run through him, and his fingers find the knot of his sash.

You can barely comprehend the fact that Jimin is about to dance for you, breath caught in your throat when his hips begin to sway and the fabric of his trenchcoat loosens, slipping down just enough to reveal the tops of his shoulders, bare except two skinny black straps.

Following the groove of the music, he rocks his head back, hips shifting side to side, and lets the coat fall an inch at a time. A tight black bodice is revealed, structured leather with a soft velvet trim that covers most of his back. Sleeves dangling right at the ends of his fingertips, the coat dips just below the swells of his ass, which are clad in a racy g-string, a thicker band of lace low across his hips and a narrow one running down the middle of his cheeks. Letting the coat go completely, the last of his back silhouette is exposed, the leather garter straps that hold those fishnet stockings up.

“Shit!” Yoongi hisses under his breath, hands glinting in the light and whiskey glass significantly emptier than before. A dark patch spreads across one leg of his pants, evidence of him spilling his drink.

Though he was quiet, Jimin picks up on it, and turns smoothly, lightly surprised and heavily amused, watching Yoongi squirm in embarrassment as he approaches.

If the view from the back is breathtaking, seeing Jimin full-frontal is another level. The bodice has clearly been tailored for someone with a flat chest, but the shape no less speaks to the feminine style of a bra, roughly triangular leather covering the upper half of his chest to meet the smooth velvet straps. The whole piece is just short enough that it leaves a stripe of skin between fabrics, his hipbones jutting out gracefully and guiding your gaze lower, where the front of his lace panties strain with the size of his length, the tip threatening to peek out the top.

He’s hard, you notice with a start, and from the hazy look on everyone’s faces, they’ve noticed it too. Jimin likes this.

When he’s standing in front of Yoongi, towering over the other in his heels, he reaches out a hand silently, eyes darting to the glass in Yoongi’s hand.

The elder gulps, holding it up, blushing as Jimin wraps one hand around Yoongi’s wrist, and takes the glass from him with the other. In a graceful swill, he downs the last of Yoongi’s whiskey, not even wincing. Teasingly, he bends down to place the empty glass directly over Yoongi’s crotch, making him hiss.

Like he has all the time in the world, Jimin straightens up again and tugs the wrist in his grasp higher. Locking eyes, Jimin parts his lips and wraps them around the base of Yoongi’s thumb, sucking off the spilt liquor.

Yoongi groans lowly, cheeks stained red as his eyes flutter shut in a mix of pleasure and humiliation. As Jimin makes his way through all of Yoongi’s fingers, bobbing his head obscenely and swirling his tongue, you think you see the empty glass wobble on Yoongi’s lap, like his cock is twitching in his pants. Fuck. It’s not even you getting the full weight of Jimin’s attention and you already feel dizzy with need.

Once he’s done, Jimin lets go and Yoongi’s hand falls limply to his side. Satisfied, he moves to the center of the room again, hips fluid with the flow of the music.

A cursory glance around the room shows that you’re not the only one heavily affected. Beside you Namjoon is restless, shifting back and forth from spreading his legs to ease the pressure, and clenching them together to try and hide the bulge in his pants. Hoseok looks pale, eyes wide and locked onto Jimin’s ass as he walks away from their couch.

On the other side, Taehyung and Jin are significantly more shameless; Jin rests a hand on the back of Tae’s neck and tugs at the curls of hair there as the younger boy ruts against his thigh, curled into his side even as the two of them focus on the attraction in the centre of the room.

You can only imagine how fucked out you must look too, wriggling against the couch cushion seeking friction with your heart thudding in your chest. The effect is only heightened when Jimin locks his eyes to you and begins to dance.

One day, a few of you were gathered in this very lounge, having enough drinks to get a bit silly and uncoordinated. Jimin had told you all a little bit about his dancing career. From what he’d said, you formed this mental image of him in soft makeup and satin shoes, dainty but powerful in front of an adoring crowd. The way he spoke about music - too much of a heavyweight to be as incoherent as the rest of you - made it seem like it was his greatest love, a match made in heaven.

Though now pirouettes and grand jetés had been replaced by spread legs and lidded eyes, you could still see that passion he spoke of. It enchanted you like a snake charmer or a siren, and arousal entwines endlessly with awe in your stomach.

After what feels like the shortest eternity, the music of the first song fades out, and Jimin straightens up, exhaling a breath like he’s releasing its hold from his body to make room for the next.

The tune that fills the room next has a decently higher tempo than the first one, each beat punctuated by a clap, and he grins when he hears it, stalking forwards.

Between Jimin and the rest of you is a coffee table, and he makes his way around to Taehyung and Jin, eyes sparkling at how Taehyung straddles Jin’s thigh, blinking up at the dancer owlishly.

“Oh, baby,” Jimin coos, “enjoying the show?”

Taehyung nods, not shy but too wound up to speak.

At the lack of verbal response, Jimin grins, perching himself on Jin’s other thigh, making the eldest hiss. “Taehyungie,” Jimin calls in a sing-song voice, fingers winding into his hair, just above Jin’s, “you still haven’t paid me for my services, you know?”

“H-huh?” Poor Taehyung looks barely coherent, interrupted from his grind and staring weakly at Jimin’s glossy lips. You can’t imagine you’d be faring any better in his situation. “What- How do I pay you?”

Jimin faux pouts. “Normally I’m very expensive,” he admits lowly, but the room is silent apart from the music, and since it’s just playing from his phone, it doesn’t impede the rest of you listening in. “But I like you. I’ll take my payment tomorrow. You know what I mean, right?”

Taehyung nods dumbly, obediently, making the dancer grin wickedly.

Fixing his attention on Jin, Jimin trails his fingertips up his thigh and traces the outline of Jin’s cock in his makes, making him groan. “Take good care of my baby tonight, won’t you?”

Jin sucks in a shaky breath, eyes darting to Taehyung, but the curly-haired boy just whines and buries his face in the crook of Jin’s neck, a wordless display. “You got it, Min.”

From the other side of the room, a click of the tongue catches your attention. Hoseok is straight-faced, extricating himself from the corner of the couch to stand up and make his way out.

Jimin swiftly stands in front of him to impede his way. “Where are you going?”

Hoseok rolls his eyes with a shrug. “I came, I saw, I sated my curiosity. I’m not interested in waiting in line to be fondled, thank you very much.”

Jimin seems to have forgotten the music, eyes gleaming as he faces off the dom. “Poor baby too impatient to wait, hm? I’ll let you jump the queue,” he finishes in a husky voice, grinning.

Hoseok eyes the doorway behind Jimin, huffing impatiently. “Nice try. I’m not interested.”

Tipping his head to the side, Jimin’s brows lift in a mix of surprise and bemusement. “I’m inclined to disagree,” he says, taking a step closer so that only a sliver of air parts them. Hoseok stiffens, stubbornly avoiding looking at the dancer. “I’d venture a guess that you’re leaving so suddenly because you’re a little too interested.” Slow enough that Hoseok has plenty of time to refuse, Jimin runs his knuckles all the way down Hoseok’s front, brushing over his crotch. His grin widens, flashing white teeth. “Hmm.”

Hoseok scoffs and pulls himself away, neck and forehead slightly red. “Don’t get too cocky. It was from Taehyung, not from you, peaches.”

Even from the other side of the room, Jimin’s instinctual reaction is clear as day. His shoulders drop and his lips part, lashes fluttering before he can control the response.

If you didn’t miss it, Hoseok certainly didn’t either. He barks out a laugh, back in power again, and steps to Jimin’s side to pass him. “Knew it. Don’t miss me too much, then, peaches.”

Even as Jimin is shuddering at the petname again, Hoseok rears his hand back to smack Jimin’s ass with a sharp noise of impact, Jimin jumping forward with a startled squeak. “No touching!” the dancer hisses, one ass cheek already flooding with a sweet candy pink.

“Apologies,” Hoseok says with a teasing grin, already at the doorway, “I’ll see myself out.”

Jimin makes an indignant cry, but the older man is already bouncing up the stairs cheerfully. Determined to get the sexy atmosphere back, Jimin takes a deep breath and turns back to you all with a rueful smile, but it falters when the music fades out, the second song ending. “Ah,” he murmurs, “show’s over, kids.”

Namjoon, the only guy that hadn’t received any personal attention, sits up with a frown. “Wait, already?”

Jimin shrugs, smiling at him sweetly. “Sorry, Joon. Last song’s a private dance. Maybe another time.”

A private dance. Your breath quickens as Jimin turns off the next song that randomly came up on shuffle, collects his phone, and hitches his coat off the floor with the point of a stiletto, gathering it under his arm.

The others quietly start to stretch, sit up, Yoongi going to fill up his glass again. By the time Jimin makes his way to you, Jin has already lifted Tae up with a single arm under him, carrying the younger upstairs as Taehyung sucks shamelessly at his neck. Namjoon is slower to move, probably still a little worked up and edged from the show, but he joins Yoongi in the kitchen, leaving the two of you alone.

Once Jimin is directly in front of you, your breath stops. He’s gathered the lightest sheen of sweat from dancing, or perhaps that’s just the highlighter on his cheeks, and his eyes are hazed from the excitement of performing. He silently reaches a hand out to you with an enticing smirk.

You furrow your brow in confusion. “Not here?”

“I did say private. Unless you want me to fuck you where everyone can see?”

You gulp at the thinly veiled threat. “We can go.” You take his hand and let him lift you up with effortless strength, pausing when he looks at you expectantly. “Did I do something…?”

Jimin beams like you’re a cute but stupid pet. “I haven’t been here before, remember? Show me to your room, sweetness.”

“Oh!” You rush past him, hands catching to guide him out and upstairs. The thrill of excitement speeds your steps, and in no time at all he’s placing his coat and phone on your desk, guiding you to sit on the end of the bed.

The third song starts with the familiar smoothness of Beyonce’s voice, an older pop song that holds up still, and Jimin slips off the black straps of the bodice, another set directly below them. Arms tucking behind him, he begins to undo the clasps one by one.

“You were being very well behaved, you know, sitting there and waiting for your turn,” he muses, fiddling with the fabric behind him. “Now you get a reward.”

You don’t know what to say in response, just nodding wordlessly, but it seems he is content with that. After a moment, you notice the top half of the bodice pull away from his chest lightly, revealing not plain skin but more lace, matching the panties that struggle to cover his cock. He approaches you as he undoes the last few at the base, and slips smoothly between your legs, letting it fall to the side.

In front of you in all his glory, Jimin looks gorgeous, the inky swoops of his tattoo peeking out from under a sweet black lace bralette, the skinniest straps holding up the delicate cups. In the center is a tiny black satin bow, and you think you feel your heart give out a little at the sight of it.

Even in his pretty lingerie, he’s no less intimidating, and you shudder at the feeling of his eyes locked onto you, feeding on your reactions and pinning you to the bed.

“You like it?” the dancer asks, voice rough with arousal. You nod quickly, still too stunned for words. Jimin hums, winding a hand around the back of your neck. “Show me how much you like it.”

Before you can suck in a breath, his mouth descends on yours, and a shot of electricity runs through you as he spares no time for pecks and caresses. This kiss is nothing short of filthy, his tongue runs over your teeth, he bites your lips, he sucks on your tongue. You do your best to reciprocate enthusiastically, but there’s no question who’s in charge.

With how deep and primal it is, there’s no surprise when you feel your shared spit begin to collect in the corners of your lips and run down your chin. Jimin doesn’t stop, but lowers his mouth to lap it up, pushing it back in and continuing to fuck his tongue into your mouth.

You moan hopelessly into the kiss, hips rocking on the edge of the mattress fruitlessly and fingers holding on to his neck and shoulder for dear life. His teeth are sharp, nipping mercilessly at your bottom lip until your eyes sting, but it only serves to drive more need.

The music in the background livens up as it reaches the chorus, and suddenly the thought of the song finishing and him leaving you high and dry comes to mind. You tug yourself away from him, sucking the spit off your swollen lip. “Jimin,” you gasp out, “I want you.”

Jimin grins. Though his gloss is all but gone, the colour on his lips remains intact. “You aren’t gonna let me finish my dance, sweetness?”

“Wi-Will you still fuck me after the song ends?” you ask, feeling stupid for needing confirmation.

Jimin lets out a soft but condescending coo, hands squeezing your cheeks together so that your lips pout. “Poor baby just wants to get fucked, does she? Baby just wants a cock in her.”

Even as he mocks you, you can’t even defend yourself. “Please, Jiminie.”

He places a single light peck over your protruding and obscenely swollen lips. “Let’s make a deal; I’ll dance for the rest of the song, and if you can keep your hands to yourself, I’ll let you cum when I fuck you. Sound fair?”

At this point, you’d agree to anything, and both of you know it. “I can do it,” you insist even as your voice wobbles.

Instead of answering, Jimin begins to move, following the momentum of the music. Your hands lie at their sides, the duvet cool against your heated flesh.

He starts out easy, stepping back to give himself more space and slowly lowering into a crouch, the heels making his calves pop. Running his hands down his chest, fingers slipping under the lace, he sighs out like his own touch gives him unspeakable pleasure.

You grit your teeth. Watching him touch himself just makes you want to touch him more. He widens his legs, showing the place where the lacy band narrows down below his balls into a thin string. Whether it’s the angle or just the amount of moving he’s done, the tip of his cock has nestled up higher, poking out just to the side of his hip. Shamelessly, he runs a single fingertip over it, tapping so you can see the clear strands of precum that cling.

You let out an unsteady breath, relaxing slightly as the song begins to build to the final chorus. Not long.

Unfortunately for you, Jimin recognises the changing keys as well as you do, and he stands up smoothly, slinking towards you.

Instead of settling between your knees this time, he turns his back to you and bends down, folding himself in half to fully bare his ass. Hoseok’s handprint still pinkens the skin of one, and the sudden desire to reach out and see if it’s as warm to the touch as it looks overcomes you. You hiss and fist your hands in the fabric of the duvet cover, making Jimin stretch up with a laugh.

Merciless, Jimin widens his stance, choosing to sit on top of your lap, ass grinding on you. You can imagine this movement would be much more unbearable for a guy, but you still feel your resolve unravelling, taken by the fluidity of his hips, the lace accuentuating his slender waist, the pressure of his head as he tips it back onto your shoulder.

“This is so unfair,” you complain shakily, and are rewarded with the musical giggle Jimin lets out, bubbling from his arched throat right into your ear.

Luckily, the chorus ends, and the final notes settle down. Jimin’s hips still and he turns his head, lips just about brushing your cheek. “Good job, sweetness,” he praises warmly, “can I have another kiss?”

Your jaw jerks automatically before you catch yourself. Though it’s fading out, the song technically hasn’t ended yet. “Not yet.”

Shameless even as his ruse is exposed, Jimin just beams and twist around so that he’s straddling you face-on. He lowers his mouth to your collarbone, nibbling at the skin there as the beat fades and the overlaying instruments peter out. Though it must only be ten or fifteen seconds, it feels like forever as he rocks himself against you just like Taehyung had done to Jin - albeit less desperate and more strategic - and licks at the bite marks on your neck.

Finally, it goes silent, and you exhale deeply, hands automatically coming up to rest on his hips as he laughs lightly at your successful efforts. “I’m impressed,” he admits, “guess you get your reward after all, sweetness.”

So relieved that the heat between your legs will get some attention, you barely take notice of him standing up off you, at least not until he slips his cock fully out of the panties.

His cock, straining with being left unattended so long, is a far deeper pink than the mark on his ass, particularly around the head. He sucks in a breath through his nose as he strokes himself, before blinking down at you.

“Clothes off if you want me, sweetness.”

You could guarantee you’ve never undressed so quickly before, frantically enough that your hips are hot from the friction of tugging down your pants. You take no note, however, just spreading your legs wantonly as you eye up his cock.

“Fuck, look at you,” Jimin curses, bracing a hand on your hip as he lines himself up. “Don’t even need stretching, do you? Looks like Joonie opened you up for me already.”

Your cheeks burn, but there’s not enough time to dwell on the embarrassment, as Jimin holds you down with his grasp on your hip and bottoms out in a single thrust.

Even though he’s right, the sudden fullness has you gasping a moan, almost falling onto your back. You prop yourself up and widen your legs further, eyes locked on the sight of his cock, nestled underneath by the lushest black lace, buried deep inside you. “Fuck, please move.”

“My pleasure,” he coos with a sweet smile, before the smile drops to a slack pout of lust, snapping his hips with a deftness that you now know is due to his background as a dancer.

You fight to keep yourself sitting up, one hand around the back of his neck as he fills you with every stroke, but the angle isn’t quite right, and you find your pelvis shifting to find it.

Jimin notices your frustration, and wordlessly pauses, grips your thighs and tugs you forward so that you’re flat on your back, ass over the edge and held up by his upper body strength. Without you even processing the change, he’s returning to his ruthless place, and you sob from relief at the way your insides come alive with pleasure, so much stronger than before.

“Fuck, right there! Right- ungh, yes, Ji-Jimin,” you pant out, feeling unbearably hot all at once with the intensity of it.

Though part of you is still sore from the scene you had with Namjoon earlier, your swollen walls only increase the drag of him against your sensitive tissue, and you quickly turn incoherent, tongue so thick in your mouth that you open it, panting as your fingers clutch the duvet to anchor you.

“That good, huh?” Jimin notes with a laugh stuttered by grunts of exertion. Normally, you’d protest or retort, but with your ankles wrapped around him and back arching off the bed, there’s nothing on your mind but the enveloping urge to cum.

Rather than reply, you just let yourself drown in the sensations, vision going black as your eyes roll into the back of your head.

Your orgasm comes so fast that you don’t even notice it approaching, can’t even warn him. It’s like a clap of thunder, making you go stiff with a scream before turning completely boneless, legs slipping down off him weakly.

Jimin curses as you squeeze around him, but fucks you through it thoroughly, only slowing down once you begin to fuss, shivering and wriggling away.

Dazed from the sudden onslaught of pleasure, it takes you a few moments for the fog in your brain to clear. Once you do, you glance down and realise Jimin is still achingly hard, dripping with your slick and the remnants of Namjoon’s cum, but none of his own. He strokes it lazily, gaze searching your face.

So exhausted from two intense scenes in one day, you don’t think you could manage to jerk him off or give him a decent blowjob, but to leave him hanging would be cruel. Instead, you fumble to slide yourself off the bed, landing a little too hard on your knees.

“What are you- oh, Y/n, fuck,” Jimin exclaims lowly as you blink up at him and open your mouth, sticking your tongue out. He gets the message easily, speeding up his strokes as his tip bounces on your tongue, brief sparks of the salty tang of your shared arousal.

He must have been close before, because it doesn’t take him more than a minute to fall over the edge, cumming into your mouth with thick spurts. A shame it couldn’t have been inside you a different way, but you nonetheless chase his cock, blade of your tongue dipping into his slit to make sure you’d gotten every last drop.

Jimin swears lowly, stroking your hair back fondly as you swallow, and helps you stand up on wobbly legs.

Leading you to the bathroom, Jimin sits you on the closed toilet seat as he runs a bath. Having slipped off his heels somewhere back in the room, he unhooks his garters as he waits for the tub to fill. With one leg resting on the high edge of the tub, rolling down the fishnets one at a time, you once again are silenced in awe of his beauty.

It feels unspeakably intimate to watch him unclasp the bralette, slip off the panties, and slowly take his makeup off, easily locating the makeup remover he’d borrowed from you that very first night.

Your eyes sting a little as you’re reminded of that time. It feels like an eternity ago, even though it’s just under a fortnight. You’d thought he was so intimidating back then. Though he still had the power to command attention, you’d seen enough of the kindhearted, thoughtful and sensitive man beneath that the Jimin two weeks ago felt like a very different man.

“Water’s ready.”

You blink yourself out of that train of thought, letting Jimin help you carefully into the tub, joining you on the other side, legs tangled. “Thank you,” you manage to say, still feeling a little out of it after a tiring day and a good orgasm.

Jimin beams, glancing away to obscure some of his face. It’s clear to you that the lack of makeup has him feeling a bit vulnerable. His skin is flushed red - either naturally or from exertion you couldn’t tell - and his brows were softer, eyes looking smaller without the shadow that emphasised them. He wasn’t any less beautiful like this, just more human. Comforting, in a way, as he passes you a washcloth and begins to lather himself up in strawberry-scented bodywash.

“Hey, Y/n,” Jimin starts, but his voice sounds weirdly stilted and unlike him.

“Mm?”

“My, um, my…” He lets out a light cough, avoiding your gaze with an air of forced aloofness. “Granny keeps asking about you. She’s convinced we’re dating, but that’s, uh, I’ve assured her we aren’t. She really liked you, and whenever we chat she asks to speak to you, and, um…”

You feel more coherent than you have in a good couple hours, sitting upright. “She does?”

Jimin laughs ruefully. “I never really knew how to ask you if you wanted to speak to her, or if I should even ask you at all-”

“So you thought now, while we’re both naked in a tub after you fucking my brains out is the right time?”

Jimin’s cheeks colour more as he splutters. “You can say no, I just didn’t want you to… I don’t know. You can say no.”

You beam at him. “I have one rule.”

“What?”

“I’ll hang out with Mrs. Park on one condition.”

The blue-haired boy stares at you warily. “Which is?”

You lean forward with a deadpan expression on your face, making him grimace in worry. “You let me sleep in your bed tonight,” you explain gravely, “I’m running out of options for this Bangasm Bomb thingy, and it’s only fair after you just took me out of commission like that.”

Jimin laughs in relief, throwing his head back with a joyous grin. “Deal! Don’t scare me like that.”

You return his smile, heart swelling from the fondness you hold for him. “Of course I’ll chat with your grandma, Jimin. I love her. She reminds me of you a lot.”

You may have said too much, but Jimin goes lax against the opposite end of the tub, smile never leaving his lips, and you don’t regret it for a second.

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blacksmokehorizons · 3 years ago

Text

Something In Common

Summary: Spending decades under HYDRA’s control can fuck someone up in many ways. Somehow you managed to escape and live under the radar for a while. That is until your friend Sharon Carter has some old ‘friends’ show up. || 1,397 words

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Female Reader

Warnings: Mentions of torture and traumatic memories

A/N: This is re-posted since I moved blogs! Again this is my first piece of writing so bear with me as I find a format I like to write in. I’ve read this 100 times and don’t wanna re-read it anymore so I apologize for any errors. || Please don’t copy/rewrite my work! I also don’t want anything reuploaded onto different cites, etc. || This gif isn’t mine, the reupload messed it up

Sharon said she wouldn’t be gone long, after all she had a party to throw. Well, clients to meet with, technically but that didn’t stop you from calling her ‘sorority sister Sharon’ and nicknaming your shared house ‘Sigma Kappa Madripoor’. You found your jokes hilarious, Sharon had grown to tolerate them after a while.

You had just changed into your outfit when your phone buzzed. It was a message from Sharon, ‘Bringing some early company.’ You chuckled to yourself as you responded, ‘You made some friends while you were out? Proud of you.’ It had taken you some time to finally get comfortable with people and be back in the real world. But Sharon didn’t seem to mind helping you, even after learning your past.

Finally you heard voices and footsteps, you were perched on the arm of the couch when she opened the door, followed by 3 men you’ve never met. She nodded at you as she spoke, moving racks of clothes towards them.

“So you gonna introduce me to your friends or is this a hookup of yours?” you asked snickering as she made a gagging noise while two of the men softly chuckled.

“God no. Y/N this is Sam, Bucky, and Zemo. Boys this is Y/N.” Sharon said motioning from you to them.

You and the man named Bucky had stared at each other for a moment before you distracted yourself with your phone. You tuned out the conversation for a bit, stealing glances at the visitors feeling a bit out of place.

“Why does your name sound familiar?” you asked, the question tumbling out of your mouth as you stared at Bucky.

“Bucky Barnes, the Winter Soldier, Steve Rogers best friend, any of that ring a bell for you?” Sharon asked as you shifted to sink into the couch. “You guys should be able to get along the easiest, considering you share a nearly identical past.” she continued moving around the room.

“The hell does that mean?” Bucky asked looking from you to Sharon, while you stuck out your middle finger at her.

“You both got to play the role of HYDRA’s puppet for quite some time.” was all Sharon said, leaving you to continue. Suddenly you could feel all the eyes in the room burning through you, Zemo was the first to speak.

“Does she mean you were-”

“Given the special super soldier juice and forced to do some of the dirty work? Yes.” you replied flatly staring at Zemo before looking over at Sharon, “That didn’t really need to be brought up.”

“Hey, you asked why he sounded familiar.”

The room was silent for a bit, Bucky's eyes not leaving you for a second. You sighed and just shrugged your shoulders, “I can feel the game of 20 questions coming on so let’s get it going before the party.” cracking your neck as you spoke.

“So they used you as another super soldier?” Zemo asked, shifting to lean more towards you.

“Yes and no. I was used as a last resort. I was… more of a… test subject in most cases.” swallowing the knot that was trying to form in your throat. Hoping nobody else in the room noticed how you shifted, squirmed almost, as you spoke. You didn’t have a problem with talking about your past, it’s just some memories were more painful than others.

“I can fight the same way any super soldier can, but they always wanted to see how far the serum would go in terms of healing. So that’s what my role was,” you chuckled a bit before continuing, “The only thing they didn’t do to me was put a bullet in my skull.”

Once again the room became quiet, until Sharon spoke changing the subject for a moment as you got lost in thought. You were thankful people started arriving so you could be alone for a bit, it was easy for you to disappear into a crowd.

“If you somehow can’t blend in for shit tonight, stay near Y/N.” Sharon said, slipping her phone into her pocket. “What exactly will staying near her do?” Sam asked mumbling a ‘no offense’ quickly after causing you to laugh.

“I’m good at hiding in plain sight, so if you’re near me I’ll make sure you don’t get your ass kicked. Gotta remember this isn’t your homeland buddy.” you snickered as you adjusted your maroon turtleneck before you walked to the main room welcoming guests in and pointing a few in Sharon's direction as she entered. Relief flooded your veins as the crowd grew and you could finally slip into the background and breathe.

You didn’t mind being in a room full of people, but your mind has been replaying memories of your time under HYDRA’s control since you spoke earlier.

You cringed as you sipped your drink, your eyes scanned the room locating Zemo and Sam but not Bucky. You moved along the wall slipping past a few dancers, deciding to lean against a corner of the room. As you attempted to locate Bucky your mind began to wander.

You screamed and kicked at the person who had begun slicing your arm with a scalpel. Another attempted to get near you and this time you managed to kick their knee, hearing a crunch as they fell to the ground. Soon you had guns aimed at you and a man spoke, “We go through this all the time. You know your purpose here, so why do you continue to fight? I would hate to have you killed.’ his gravelly tone making you want to sink into the floor. As your legs were strapped to the chair he spoke again, “After she’s done here freeze her as normal.”

Again you screamed as your skin was peeled back and muscles were prodded, but you didn’t fight. You knew your purpose-

“You were right about hiding in plain sight, but you’ll have to try a little harder to hide from me.” Bucky spoke next to you, causing you to jump and your thoughts to come to a halt. Turning your head you chuckled and tried to mask what you just re-lived in your head.

“I have to say, you hide better than me. Found your friends but I couldn’t seem to find you.” your mouth cracking into a smile as you spoke. Neither of you spoke for a bit, just watched the room together making sure the others stayed out of trouble. The silence was oddly comfortable, with the occasional joke about someone's outfit. At one point you could feel Bucky's eyes on you for a while.

“Hydra didn’t give me mind reading powers so you’re gonna have to communicate with words.” turning your head to face Bucky as you spoke, chuckling as he scrambled for a comeback. He scratched the back of his neck trying to spit out his sentence, which you already had an idea as to what he was going to bring up. An amused smile on your face as you watched his metal hand shine in the flashing lights.

“What you said earlier… about Hydra-”

“You can ask questions if you want. You might understand what I say a little more anyway.” You said pressing your lips together in a thin line before adjusting your posture as you leaned more into the wall and looked to the crowd.

“I would ask… but I know what being under that control is like. As well as the memories that come with it,” you glanced over at Bucky as he stopped talking and he was watching his vibranium hand move. “I’m sorry you had to become a part of all that Y/N.” he said softly, but loud enough for you to catch.

When your eyes met you can’t help but feel they mirrored each other's pain… or maybe it was sadness? Not that it would make much of a difference.

“I’m sorry you had to become part of it as well Bucky.” a sad smile taking over your face.

You had unconsciously moved closer to him, not saying much more but not leaving each other's side. The signal from Sharon came and you sighed before nudging Bucky's arm.

“Guess we better go see what she wants huh?” stretching as you kicked off the wall.

“I guess so.” Bucky chuckled trailing behind you as you walked away.

#bucky barnes imagine #tfatws imagine #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x female reader #tfatws fanfiction #bucky barnes x y/n

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tundrainafrica · 4 years ago

Note

Hi Sav! Hope all is well! Just wanna ask, do you get writer's block once in a while? If so, how do you fight it? How do you keep yourself motivated in writing?

Omg, thank you for the ask.

I’m honestly surprised people are pretty interested in my writing habits because I guess no one in real life actually knows me as a writer so nobody really asks about this. But yeah, the good news is I do have a set way of how I go about writing so this is a pretty easy ask to navigate.

So to answer your questions...

Just wanna ask, do you get writer's block once in a while?

Yes. I get it all the time. Writing the first few words of the next chapters of my fics or writing the first words of the fic given a prompt is always painful.

If so, how do you fight it?

I actually have some concrete ways which help me keep my head moving so I’ll drop these here. I can’t say it works for everyone but yeah, it might help people I guess?

I write things which I wish would happen no matter how much it doesn’t make any sense.

That’s why when I’m writing a fic, I never start at the start or what I believe the first words will be. I have a document and I write skeletons of dialogues which I want to show up, I write scenes and interactions that I want to happen.

All of my fics started from badly written notes. Most of them usually get deleted once the fic is done so I had to unearth these. I’ll drop a sample here of my shitty notes from fics I’ve been working on and some I actually finished. You might recognize some of the prompts from fics I’ve finished already

Canon fixit: fic where Hänge pulls Levi out of the water again, helps him wake up from his coma of Levi, the world just goes back to normal. Hange figures out her feelings for Levi, lives her cottage core life waiting for Levi to wake up and Levi discuss feelings for each other. reads romeo and Juliet ( is that us?) romeo and Juliet, gets a dream did it hurt?

Rekindle: sad songs more varied than happy songs, Levi saves Hänge drowning, works multiple jobs to make ends meet

Levihanzeke love triangle Hange is a lawyer, Levi is an illegitimate child convicted criminal in a Ponzi scheme, that's the thing about rich kids, Mikasa agrees with him, tries to save him by feeding information Philosophy Other prompts

Soulmates AU but a love child can be born from the love of someone else. Udo is the one who knows that Levijan are together, he goes with Gaby with them to Paradis and he tells them he knows them makes Levi and Hänge analyze their relationship

Lifetime: Levi takes up painting after the war.

Sometimes, I have interactions written out

And it becomes a matter of getting the kinks fixed and the ropes tied together.

Like this one dialogue...

“So, Levi Ackerman and Hange Zoe…” The teacher started as she looked through what could have been her list of names. With the way she was holding it, Levi had found it difficult to sneak a peek at what’s inside. “Commander Hange Zoe and Retired Captain Levi Ackerman…” The teacher corrected, clearing her throat at that.

“Yes, but no need for pleasantries. I mean you have been taking care of our son…” Hange spoke up and held one hand out for a hand shake, obviously trying to ease the tension in the room, or at the least the discomfort in the teacher’s face.

“ according to your son... Shitty four eyes… and Clean freak?”

Or this one...

“Prophylactic… Contraceptive…” Hange read aloud the more unfamiliar words as she turned the box around on her fingertips. She had hoped saying them aloud with ring some bells for her researcher mind. That small effort though turned out to be futile. I should ask Kiyomi about this when she gets back. She thought to herself.

“Never heard those words before,” Levi commented from his own table next to her. He always did keep her company after hours taking on some of the paperwork or reading through records and documentation on communications and deliveries that only rapidly multiplied with every passing day since the building of the port.

“Me neither,” Hange said. She sighed and rested her cheek on her hand as she looked out the window.

And...

The thinking process is, once I have a point A and a point B. Once I have all the dots I want written, connecting the dots becomes a bit more straightforward. I think the harder part really is figuring out the ‘dots’. That’s why I would recommend, once you feel like you wanna write something out, no matter how ugly it is, just get it written on your phone, even if it’s as messy as the notes above, or even if it’s just a dialogue skeleton.

And here’s the thing, I really believe that once you have a point A and a point B, there is a line that will always exist, regardless of how different point A and point B are. It’s just difficult to see from the start.

And yeah, I think this is where writer’s block comes for most people. Because sometimes we can’t find the logical way to connect the two.

So this is where my own concrete methods of fixing that comes in. (I’m sure it wouldn’t work for everyone but it might be worth a try for some people so I’ll leave it here.)

Find a hobby that follows a ‘connect the dots’ thinking process and before you write, do it.

When I get writer’s block, I like to do things in real life where I am reminded that even the weirdest things can easily be connected, or I like doing things that require deep thought and organization and that require good ideas on the fly. I play strategy games like chess or mahjong.

This probably won’t make sense for a lot of people but for the people who does, having a game with set a smaller set of rules than writing yet still requires lots of innovative thinking and organizational thinking, helps keep my head moving in a smaller space, so it’s a good warm up. So when I go back to writing and I look at the point A and the point B again, I’m more easily able to see how I want it to connect. Because chess and mahjong are games where we are given set pieces and we have to find a way to make it connect given our environment and circumstances.

If not chess or mahjong, and if you’re particularly musical, I found that just experimenting on an instrument when dealing with writer’s block actually works. I play the piano, and something which follows the same process as connecting the dots for me, is to open the lyrics of a song, look at a chords and just play the chords on the piano then just play around with the melody and the broken chords. The chords act like that ‘enclosed environment’ and the tinkering I do on the piano act like that ‘innovative thinking’ which gets my head moving.

Music: I go on walks and listen to my spotify on shuffle until a song comes out which I think resonates with the story. And then I listen to it again and again and again until I complete the fic. This is how I’m able to make that line from point A to point B more complete, and this is how I manage to channel my emotions into the writing.

Research: All fics will require some sort of research, especially when you’re writing something more complex. So when I’m going into some particular writer’s block, if it’s a history AU, I read history and watch documentaries. If I’m writing hc, I like to read medical journals. If I need to incorporate some sort of a science law into my fics, I read scientific journals (don’t read the whole thing lmao, the abstract usually works), When particularly writing a scene which requires in depth thought about a certain field or occupation, I talk to someone who has that occupation. I know this sounds totally weird to do over a fanfiction so I just don’t mention it’s fanfiction and just ask. I mean asking people about their job is generally an incredibly normal conversation starter.

How do you keep yourself motivated in writing?

Okay, so there’s one thing I need to point out here, if the pandemic didn’t happen, if I didn’t get laid off in my first job and if I didn’t drop law school for the year, I probably wouldn’t be here writing haha.

Like right now, when I’m stuck in the house 24/7, reading and writing is my only outlet and my only hobby outside my job. I can’t travel. I can’t see friends. I can’t see family. The skating rink is closed. The gyms are closed. Anything which is remotely seen as fun is closed.

So writing has been incredibly comforting in helping me process my emotions.

But I recognize the fact that starting a fic will always be hard especially if people don’t know what to do. So people tend to put it off, and this habit usually extends to work or studies too I’m guessing. I mean I’ve worked in enough groupworks to know that people like to wait for that sense of urgency before they do anything.

‘Motivation’ is such a fleeting thing that I don’t think anybody should be relying on that to get something moving. I think it’s pretty much discipline more than anything that gets people moving. So how do I avoid procrastination or that feeling where ‘just thinking about it makes me freeze so I don’t do it.

I just do it. But it isn’t as easy as that right?

I have this concept of a future self. Like a future me I do not wanna disappoint and I trust that future self when she says ‘ you will not regret doing this.’ So even if the writing process is hard the first few pages, I’m able to write because even if it is painful, I know that in between and actually finishing up those pages isn’t. I’m sure people who have finished a fic know, there is an in between where you aren’t thinking too much about the actual process, you’re just writing. And the painful part is just getting to that trance.

And in the end, you’re just like ‘I’m glad I wrote that.’

But that trance is liberating and it reminds me why the hell I’m doing all this in the first place. And I’m sure this isn’t limited to writing. Any hobby people pursue, working out, staying up all night to get homework done, I’m sure we all experience an in between or maybe some feeling after which makes us realize that it is worth it. It’s a matter of just trusting our future self to actually be grateful we did it.

I know it’s easier said than done but I guess it helps at least to build the habit and the mindset so I’ve dropped some concrete ways it helps me.

#fanfic #drabble #writing

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smol-and-grumpy · 4 years ago

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Light My Fire - CH15

Pairing: CEO!Dean Winchester x Reader

Summary: She always thought her boss was an ill-tempered man, but when he presents her with a proposition she can’t quite deny, she gets to know him better. It’s not bad, right? Because all she has to do is being fake married to him for six months, sounds do-able, right? Right.

Warnings: NSFW, Fluff

WC: 4290

Please share your thoughts with me, I’d love to hear your feedback.

Beta’d by @deanwanddamons <3

SERIES MATSTERLIST

BECOME A PATRON ~ BUY ME A COFFEE

Dean left her to splash around because he had a business call coming in. Y/N was surprised, she never knew that he works on weekends.

When she climbs up the stairs from the sea, she washes herself free from the salt water under the spray of the shower on the balcony, and slips into the pool.

She can see Dean sitting on their bed with a laptop on his lap and a headset in his ears. He already changed into his swimming trunks so no video call, then.

He’s laughing at a joke someone made and looks up. Their eyes meet.

Getting out of the pool, she lies down on the sun lounger, letting her skin catch some rays. Her skin burns, but not necessarily from the sun. No, the burning feeling definitely comes from Dean’s gaze that followed her from the pool to the lounger.

After a while she turns from her back onto her stomach. She closes her eyes, feels the ray of sun warming up her whole body.

“Jesus, Y/N,”

She hears Dean’s voice from behind her, and blinks her eyes open. He sits down next to her. From this view she can see the creases his stomach makes when he sits. It doesn’t make him look less sexy, and that is totally not fair.

“You’re going to look like a lobster tonight and not a living one!” He sits down and she hears a squirt of a bottle before she feels his hands rubbing at her back, applying sunscreen all over.

“Mmh,” She sighs. It really does feel good.

Dean moves lower, works his hands over her lower back and then he moves her bottoms, pushing them into the crack of her ass to apply sunscreen on her ass cheeks. He takes more time there, kneads them roughly before jiggling them in his hands.

“Hey!” She laughs.

“What? That’s how I apply sunscreen,”

“Sure,”

He works down her thighs, getting his fingers between them and brushes against her clothed pussy. My god, she’s turned on by a simple touch.

She hears a groan as he works his hand there, rubbing at her clit through her bikini bottoms, “Dean,”

“Right,” He clears his throat, and works down her legs to her toes.

When he finishes that area, he comes up again, applies more sunscreen onto her shoulders. He pulls at her bikini top, making it come loose.

“Dean!”

“Relax, nobody will see,” He rubs his hands along the base of her neck, “Turn around,”

He’s right. They overlook the big blue sea, there’s nobody close by. She turns herself around and lets him apply sunscreen to her chest. He pulls the bikini top over her head and drops it next to the sun lounger only to cup her tits in his hands.

Leaning down, he captures one of her nipples in his mouth and sucks at it. She arches her back at the sensation and a soft moan rolls off her tongue.

Dean takes his time with her other nipple too, while his other hand kneads and pinches her other breast and nipple.

After what seems like forever, Dean comes up again and smirks, her nipples are hard and perky, “Right, gotta finish what I started,” He says, works some more sunscreen down her stomach and her thighs. To her surprise he didn’t touch her where she wants him most but she thinks it’s just a stupid game he plays.

When Dean screws the sunscreen bottle shut and stands up, she can see the tent in his swimming trunks. He’s definitely not able to hide that.

Smirking, she asks, “You are not going to enjoy paradise with me?”

He lets out a soft chuckle before he sits down again, his hands stroking her cheek, “I got another conference call. I should be finished in about two hours, okay? Gotta wait til then,”

“Okay,” She pouts and he thumbs at her lips before he bends down, kissing her soft and sweet.

“Maybe you should go into the shade, or at least out of my fucking sight.” Dean growls a little and smacks her thigh.

“Why?” She turns around on her stomach and he can’t help but smack her ass, too.

“You’re fucking distracting when I’m trying to close a deal.”

She giggles at that and wriggles with her ass some more. Dean spanks her one more time before he leaves to go inside.

Two hours came and went and Dean’s still not finished. Deciding that she’s had enough of the sun for the time being, Y/N goes inside to take a shower. It’s slowly getting darker, so she closes the door to their bungalow because she hates to have mosquitoes inside. Although, she guesses that there won’t be a lot of them because they’re so far out from the beach and there’s a steady breeze going all the time.

Dean didn’t seem to notice her because he had moved to sit at the desk to face the wall with his laptop. Apparently, she really did distract him. He had ordered room service in the afternoon and made a reservation at a restaurant here in the resort for the first night, but if he doesn’t finish soon, she doesn’t know if they can make it there on time.

After her shower, she walks out in a comfy bathrobe. Dean’s still chatting away at the screen and typing up an email simultaneously. She takes a book out of her suitcase and plants herself on the bed, her back rests against the headboard. The mattress feels comfy, and honestly, she can’t wait to sleep in it. She feels a little tired from the travel and the sun kissed her skin enough to make it glow after she moisturized it.

Just when she was about to open up the book to where she left off, her phone pings. She takes it from the charger.

R: [picture]

R: Guess you’re a celebrity now, huh? Don’t ever forget me, alright?

Y/N thumbs the message open. It’s a picture of her and Dean at the airport, not really a paparazzi picture because the resolution of the picture is not that high and she can see that someone took it sneakily.

Y/N: I am shocked they recognized Dean. It was so fucking early in the morning.

R: Everyone would recognize Dean.

Ruby’s probably not wrong.

R: How’s Jamaica?

Y/N: Great. I’ve been in the sea already and Dean spent his afternoon on conference calls.

R: Sam said something about the deadline of closing a deal, poor you. He’s got to make up for it.

Y/N: Yeah, maybe he will.

R: [picture]

R: I’m at his apartment, still.

The picture shows Ruby’s face and in the back, Sam’s sitting lazily on his couch. She grins, is truly happy about their progress.

When she’s about to type something back, Dean stands up to take his headset off, and he rubs at his ear. It’s probably itching like hell. She has the same problem when she wears a headset for too long.

Dean stretches himself. He’s still in only his swimming trunks. She can see every muscle moving and twitching. It’s kind of a turn on, not going to lie about it.

He lets out a loud groan before he looks over to the bed and notices her. His lips curve into a smile as he slumps his shoulders down and walks over to the bed. He crawls over to where she is lying and lays his head into her lap.

“I’m so exhausted,” He mumbles into the fluffy bathrobe and she chuckles, her hand strokes at his head.

“I hope it was worth missing out on a swim for,”

He looks up from her lap, grins the boyish grin of his that she has come to like, “We have a reason for celebration,”

“Is that so?” She lifts one of her eyebrows.

“Yeah,” He nuzzles his head deeper into her lap, “Finally I can invest in that company I was after. Their chairman didn’t agree on the conditions on Friday but it seems like I could convince him.”

“How did you do that?”

He smiles again, “I’m just that good.”

She rolls her eyes at his cockiness.

Dean turns in her lap, looks up to her, “What were you doing?”

“I took a shower,”

His eyes widen, and he gasps all fake and adorably, “You took a shower without me?”

“Well, you were busy, sir.”

“And why were you grinning before?” He turns to his side, buries his face into her stomach and she strokes his hair once more.

“You didn’t notice when I was showering but you notice me grinning?”

He laughs into her bathrobe, it feels warm where his breathing hits, “Yeah, I always notice you grinning, or smiling, or laughing for that matter.”

“Ruby sent a text. There was a picture of us at the airport.”

Dean stills and looks up, “Already?”

Y/N thumbs over her phone to show it to him. Dean’s expression is unreadable.

“I don’t like it,” He mumbles, “I mean, it helps the case but I don't like people snapping private pictures behind my back.”

“We’re not exactly private, Dean. I’m your fake wife for a reason.”

He doesn’t answer, he sits up instead and he’s thinking about something, she can tell by the way he looks at her. She decides to change the subject, and shows him another picture. The one of Ruby and Sam in the background.

Dean snorts, “Tell her that Sam better fucking check his emails. He’s got work to do since I worked all day to close this deal.”

She types away, wants to send Ruby Dean’s exact words but before she could hit the send button, he takes the phone from her hand and places it on to her night stand, “Hey!”

“I didn’t mean now,” He grins and slots himself between her legs, still on his knees, and pulls at her legs until she’s lying flat on her back.

“No?” She asks, it’s her turn to grin cockily.

“Nuh-uh,” Dean mumbles, his fingers working on the rope of her bathrobe. It’s barely held together so he has no problem opening it up. Dean swallows when he sees that she’s naked.

He gets back on his knees and leans over her, his hand cradling her face as he kisses her. And again, it grows from soft and tender to rough and hard, no other man has ever kissed her like Dean does. He kisses her as if he wants to claim her, as if he wants to dominate her, to make her his. And honestly, that’s all she wants at this very moment.

Her mind doesn’t agree though because she realizes that they have a dinner reservation and they’re not going to make it when he keeps on kissing her the way he does.

She breaks the kiss, and Dean can’t quite stop, sprays little kisses on her face, down her throat, “Dean, we’ll be late for dinner.”

Dean chuckles, pulls at the skin of her throat with his teeth, “I don’t know about you, but I’m about to have dinner.”

“Oh my god,” He’s so full of himself. Of course she likes it, but still…

“Baby, it’s the first time that I get to have you horizontal, you think I care about dinner?” He cocks an eyebrow before his mouth latches at her throat and kisses down a path to her chest.

He flicks his tongue against one of her nipples, kneads the other tit in his big fucking hand and she writhes below him. Her hands fly to his head, fists themselves in his hair. Dean seals his whole mouth around her nipple, tickling it on the inside with his tongue and he uses his teeth too, making her moan out at the sensation and there’s something pulsing between her thighs but she can’t quite reach there because Dean’s blocking her fucking way.

“Dean,” She whimpers, doesn’t care that it sounds needy because that’s all she fucking is. She squirms some more to make him notice.

Dean chuckles and sucks in her nipple, only to let it out with a wet popping sound before his lips connect back to her body, and he licks his way down her stomach. He slots himself further between her thighs, and spreads little kisses along her pelvis, down to the apex of her thighs, leaving out her center on purpose and it’s fucking killing her. He’s such a tease.

“Dean!” She’s louder, but she can’t help it. She’s dying here and he thinks it’s funny.

“What?”

“Would you just—”

Dean licks his lips and grins at her before he thumbs along her center, parting her folds with both of his thumbs. He stares at her pussy and she feels a little uncomfortable. He lets out a low growl when he sees her glistening. She knows that she’s awfully wet. Has been since this fucking morning actually.

“Tell me what you want,” Dean’s face is so close to her cunt, she can feel his breath hot against her center.

“God, can you touch me there?”

“You’re too cute,” He chuckles but instead of teasing her some more, he gives in, licks a broad stripe up her center and seals his lips around the hood of her clit.

Y/N fists her hands in the sheets, “Fuck,”

“That’s the plan,” Dean mumbles against her slick folds, french kisses her cunt and groans when he feels her getting even wetter.

They haven’t had that kind of sex before. It was passionate too, but mostly real quick and never horizontal. She can feel that Dean wants to take his time and that in turn, drives her fucking crazy. She also never had someone eating her out like Dean does. Her ex Kevin was okay with foreplay but he doesn’t really like it. He mostly licked her to get her wet enough to plunge his dick into her but that’s not the only point on Dean’s agenda. She can feel that he really, truly loves to eat her out, and he’s determined to make her come on his tongue. He doesn’t seem to mind if he would be down there for hours on end. It blows her mind. He is blowing her mind.

Dean hums against her cunt, his scruff rubs against her thighs and she’s close because Dean sucks and his humming sends the right vibration against the nub of her clit. She pushes herself off the bed with her feet, driving her cunt deeper into Dean’s face and holds him steady with her hands in his hair. He doesn’t seem to mind, hums along, licks and slurps up his own drool and her juice. God, it sounds so fucking obscene and it turns her on even more.

“Fuck, yes, yes, oh god, don’t stop,” She moans out and Dean shakes his head, hums some more. He changes between nibbling and sucking and it feels so fucking good.

“Oh god,” Here it comes, she feels her thighs cramp up, feels her insides trembling, her walls convulsing and she can’t help but push herself harder against his face. Dean’s hands are around her thighs, holding on for dear life as she locks her thighs around his face, caging him in, when she comes.

She pants hard when the moment’s finally over, laughing loudly and Dean taps at her thighs, asking for her to release her grip around his head.

When she releases him, Dean looks up from below, his nose and lips are shiny from her slick. He smacks his lips loudly, swallows hard, “Good?”

“Oh my god, yes,” She says, clasps her hand over her face. She probably looks like she just ran a marathon.

Dean places one more kiss on her clit before he pushes himself away and stands at the foot of the bed. With one swipe, he gets rid of his trunks and climbs back to bed, walks on his knees up to where she is.

He strokes himself, jerks off his impressive dick and he bends down, kisses her hard. She can taste herself off his tongue.

“Fuck— I—,” Dean’s breathing hard.

She grins up at him, takes his dick in her hand and begins to stroke him up and down. She gets on her elbows, and sticks her tongue out to lick at his balls, sucking them in one by one while her fists are tight around his tip, stroking up and down. Dean spits on the head of his dick, helps slicking his cock up while she worries at his sac, “Fuck, your mouth feels amazing,”

He lowers himself a little when he notices that she wants to take him further into her mouth, his hands stroking along her legs and thighs. She takes him in, tongue licking up along his shaft before she seals her lips around his tip. Dean lets out a groan when she takes him deeper, his hand rubs circles on her clit before he toys at her entrance, slipping in one finger and then two. He moves faster inside of her, making her hum and sucking him off harder.

“Baby, as much as I would love you to suck me dry, fuck, I— your mouths feels too good,” Dean pulls his dick away from her, takes his wet fingers out from her cunt and flips her over with no problem at all.

Dean helps her get rid of her bathrobe, throws it somewhere in the room, “On your elbows and knees,” He says, his voice is low and it sounds strained.

Y/N can’t lie, she likes when he tells her what to do.

Propping herself on her elbows and knees, she waits. Dean’s one hand is jerking himself off while his other one kneads at the flesh of her ass. He spanks down on one of them, she’s sure that her skin turns red immediately. Leaving his hand there, he jiggles her ass, “Fucking beautiful,” He whispers and then he lowers himself, she can feel his face between her asscrack. Dean tongues at her clit, licks up her rim to her asshole and she moans out shamelessly.

“Like that?” His voice is cocky.

“Y-yes,” She admits and Dean takes the cue to lick some more. God, she fucking loves it. Never felt anything like it before.

“Fuck,” Dean curses, “You’re so tasty, but I really gotta—” He holds his cock out, threads the head through her slick and rubs it against her cunt, teasing her.

“Dean, please!” She’s damn near exploding. She wants him inside right the fuck now.

“Yeah, yeah, I’m—” Dean mumbles and pushes his tip into her waiting and slick cunt. He rests the tip there before he places his hands around her hips and pushes in, groaning louder the deeper he gets.

“Oh fuck,” She bites down on her lip, lowers her forehead to the mattress, “You’re so fucking deep,”

“Jesus, you feel so good,” Dean groans, his hands kneads her ass, pulling them apart to watch his dick go in and out of hot and wet heat, “Looks so fucking great,”

He goes slow, before he picks up speed and while it’s perfect, she can’t help but want even more.

“Dean, please, harder,” Y/N’s body is filled with want, and she fucks back into him.

“Christ, look at you, so fucking perfect,” He spreads her ass cheeks wider, “Yeah, fuck yourself on my cock, baby, take what you want, good girl,”

She shakes her ass while moving back and forth, and she can hear him chuckle before he spanks down on her ass. The pain is sharp, it soars through her body. Not going to lie, it is painful but it fucking turns her on.

“You like that? Like to be spanked?”

“Fuck,” She’s glad he can’t see how she turns red, “Yes!”

Dean lets out a groan at her answer, spanks her twice more, for good measure, “Jesus,” He pants and then he starts to set a fast pace, fucking in to her with wild abandon.

At one point, he leans forward, grabs her by her arms and pulls her up against his chest, his one hand yanking at her hair while his other hand goes down to rub at her clit. He never stops fucking her hard, like she wants him to.

“Oh god,” She moans out upon feeling her second orgasm approaching.

Dean licks up the shell of her ear and whispers, “Come, baby, be a good girl, come for me,”

And that, she does, comes hard around him, her cunt pushes him out and Dean has to let go of her and pushes her down on her elbow again to be able to slip inside once more.

“Fuck, you’re still coming, so fucking tight,” He has to bite down on his bottom lip at the tight squeeze. It needed only a couple more thrusts for him to come deep inside her and he leans down, sinks his teeth into her back before he sucks and licks at the mark he left behind.

His legs gave out and he collapsed on top of her, and he turned them around in his grip so that he was spooning her from behind. They’re still connected. Dean has his arms around her middle, kisses along the nape of her neck to her shoulder, “You’re something else,”

“Am I?” She strokes along his forearm.

“Yeah,” He breathes out a chuckle, “I came so hard I think I blacked out.”

They stay connected for a while longer until Dean slips out with a squelching sound. He carries her into the shower and she finds herself showering for the second time.

He dries himself off before he goes out to get the robe for her and comes back holding it out for her to step into, “How about we don’t go out tonight? We can order room service.”

Y/N agrees because her legs are too wobbly to walk anywhere right now.

They’re cozy in bed with her lying on her stomach on the other end from Dean who has the cover pulled to protect his modesty while typing away on his laptop. They’re both still naked and she’s well aware that Dean has a clear view of her cunt and ass, but she didn’t mind very much. It seems like the most natural thing to be when they are around each other.

Finally she gets to send out the text to Ruby and there’s immediately a reply back.

R: [picture]

R: Sam’s working right now.

It’s a picture of Ruby’s face and Sam’s in the background, staring grumpily into the camera.

She has to laugh which prompts Dean to look at her with one raised eyebrow. She looks back and holds out the phone to show him the picture, “Sam’s working.”

“As he should,” Dean says sternly and she turns back, her thumb hovers over her screen.

Y/N starts to type a reply when Dean closes his laptop and gets out from under the covers to come crouching on top of her. He’s already half hard again, she can feel the tip of his dick brushing over her ass.

“You want to send her a picture back?”

She frowns, she’s actually never thought about it but now Dean makes her second guess it, “I don’t know,”

“Come on, do it,” He nuzzles his nose against her temple.

“What?”

“I know you’re good friends and she always sends you pictures. So maybe if you really want, you can send one too, I’m okay with it.”

Tilting her head to her side, she meets his green eyes. He’s smiling, the crinkles deep around the corner.

“Really?”

“Yeah,”

“I don’t know,” She is having doubts. It’s not like they have something going on like Sam and Ruby do. Their arrangement is purely business.

“C’mon,” Dean takes her phone out of her hands, and holds it out to snap a picture, doesn’t even mind if they’re still naked.

His hands are longer than hers, it can snap up a picture from a wider angle. She sees herself on the screen, sees Dean behind her, his chin on her shoulder. Her hair covers her boobs.

Dean lowers his face, kisses and sucks at her shoulder while he looks up at the screen, the wrinkles on his forehead showing. She bites her lip because his warm tongue and sharp teeth feel great on her skin. He quickly snaps a couple of pictures.

He gives her back her phone, urges her to send one out again when he nibbles and sucks at her throat.

God, this man is doing things to her.

She quickly sends it out. Doesn’t even write anything else and abandons her phone because Dean turns her around, kisses her lazily soft.

“Come on, we should get some sleep,” He whispers against her lips.

“Why?”

“Because I don’t think I wanna wake up to a cranky you again tomorrow.” He chuckles lightly, and gets off the bed to pick her up before he pulls the cover away with one hand and lets her fall back into the bed with the other. He climbs in after her, spreads his arms for her to crawl in.

He kisses her again, all soft and tender. It’s a contrast to how he just fucked her. She likes both sides of him. Likes how he can go all rough and demanding on her but shows her his softer side as well. And it’s easy, she thinks, they are comfortable around each other, at least as far as she can tell. She just wishes that the circumstances around whatever they have right now would have been different.

CH16

#light my fire #dean winchester #dean winchester x reader #ceo!dean winchester #dean winchester fic #dean winchester fan fic #dean winchester fan fiction #nathalie writes

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almostxinnocent · 4 years ago

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“Society wants to believe it can identify evil people, or bad or harmful people, but it's not practical. There are no stereotypes.” ― Ted Bundy Anyone who knows me also knows that I am a huge fan of true crime. Even knowing that, it has taken me a long time to actually write about this, or maybe just fear at re-living it over again has held me back. I figure if I don’t do it now I never will. It would be easier to simply do this as just another story. So here we go. (Part One)When I was fourteen other girls were reading Teen Beat and I was reading True Crime novels about Ken Bernardo, Jeffrey Dahmer and other serial killers no young girl should know about. So when I stumbled across the address to actually write one of them it was no surprise that I jumped on the chance.

For the sake of privacy and my sanity we will call him Mr. E. A lot of people don’t even know about it but there is a place called J-pay where you can write to inmates and see if they respond. I wanted to ensure a response so I included a couple of pictures of myself. I was fifteen and throwing modesty aside, I thought I was pretty attractive. It had been a few weeks since I had sent my first message and I rushed home each day to see if there was a response. It had become a routine for me. I quickly logged into the website and saw that I actually had a response. I had only written one person and immediately I felt like a ten year old on Christmas morning. I clicked to open it and greedily read what was inside.

“I have to say for a young girl you are not only intelligent, but beautiful as well. I would be more than happy to answer your questions but if I am going to be nice to you, you need to be nice to me too. I have a couple questions of my own.”

I read down further, scrunched my face up at some of the more personal questions like “How often do you bath” or “What does your hair smell like before a good wash” . I knew he was highly intelligent, and I was sure he would smell bullshit from a mile away. I can’t say I wasn’t nervous but it was more nervous excitement. I was going to write my reply, but hesitation got the best of me. I turned the computer off and went to drown myself in another book. When I finally did sleep I was thrown into some pretty intense nightmares. I woke up tired from the lack of good sleep I had gotten and rolled over in bed. It wasn’t unusual to remember my dreams, but this time I would rather not have. All night I had dreams of being visited by Mr. E. They seemed so real that I actually decided I would not write back at all.

After a couple nights of not having any nightmares and scolding myself for being a sissy, I gathered enough courage to write back.

“Mr. E,I would be lying if I said I wasn’t excited to see your response, even if you do ask some pretty weird questions. To show you that I will be an honest pen-pal I will answer them but first I want to ask a couple of my own. Do you ever feel sorry for what you did to the family of your victims? I already know how you feel about the girls that you killed. There are so many books written about you! What is it like not being able to be free anymore? What is your day to day like there? Do you get a lot of fan mail? Do you think I am a fan??”

I went down his list and answered all his questions, providing as little detail as possible. It did give me the creeps to think about a real life serial killer who tortured girls to death so close to my age having knowledge of my personal bathing habits and odors. Sometimes knowing someone is locked up isn’t enough, it’s wondering what they do with their time that can be unsettling. We had been writing for about four months before things started to get even more uncomfortable. Mr. E had always given me the answers that I wanted, although I tended to not ask any graphic details about his murders. Then suddenly he started to give me details on his own, some of them that I had never actually read in any of his books. I would be lying if I said that I wasn’t more jumpy than usual or that the contents of his letters were not giving me nightmares. The truth was I had been plagued by them, but I just could not stop responding.

I knew if my mother ever found out what I was doing she would probably take away my computer and everything else that provided contact with anyone in the world, and I think that was putting me on edge as well.I wanted to believe that Mr. E trusted me, but I knew his mail was being read. Since the details were just descriptions of his killing rituals and habits I guess it didn’t matter. It wasn’t like he was revealing where more bodies were or anything. His personal questions started to became more intrusive too. The minute I started to feel too uncomfortable, or there was a lapse of response, I would get a kinder letter of assurance which motivated me to keep writing. I was playing a game of cat and mouse but was starting to feel I was more the mouse than cat.

Finally, in one of our conversations he asked for my address. He told me that he had a few drawings and poetry he wanted me to have. In this message he especially made it a point to compliment me and thank me for keeping him company. He told me about how most of the writing he received was from distasteful and rude women (I assumed grown-ups) that he would never consider responding to. I have to admit I was flattered and less uncomfortable but looking back I see I was being manipulated. I gave him my address. I figured being locked up forever would prevent anything bad from happening to me. I was safe, so why not? It was only a few days later that a small package arrived, and I ran upstairs before my mother could see what I had. I opened it carefully, and my heart was pounding so loud it seemed like it was coming from across the room. I almost lost my breath to be completely honest. Here I was, a teenager getting mail from a notorious serial killer! Who would believe it!

Inside the package contained two poems, with what looked like dried blood smeared across them. A lock of hair tied with what looked like some kind of frayed rope and three drawings. One of the poems went as follows; “Her lips looked like two berries. I knew I had to touch but my touch was so heavy off her face the lips I plucked I kissed the bloody space where they once used to be a beautiful and gaping hole but then she tried to flee I wrapped her up in ribbons I tied them like a bow Her mouth kept making noises So the hole I had to sew” I am sure you get the picture. In my young mind I wasn’t sure what to think, but I guess I thought it was to be expected. I wondered if there were any rules about what you could send someone so young, but then again I had never mentioned my age. I had only sent photos since you had to be eighteen to use the website. We had made an agreement that when his arrived, I would send my own. That night my nightmares were so intense that I woke sweating and feeling trapped. The next morning I cut off a lock of my own hair, pricked my finger and smeared some blood across it. I can’t explain how or why but Mr. E had some kind of hold on me. At this point you might be wondering what kind of laws they had back then about what you could or could not send into prison. I didn’t realize that we lived in a world with such liberties or restrictions. I was in a state of being embarrassed about my nightmares and thinking I was some hot shot getting details nobody else had gotten. Two more weeks went by and I did not hear from my pen-pal. I was confused and constantly checking my inbox. I wondered if what I sent had gotten him into some kind of trouble, but was more worried my mom might find out if someone from the prison contacted us. Then a week or so later, another box appeared and I once again ran upstairs to open it. I was lucky that the mail was there when I came home from school. I did not want to have to deal with a confrontation with my mom about strange boxes at our front door. I opened the box and was immediately confused. What I saw put goosebumps all over my body, not just my arms. It was almost painful. There was only a letter, and the box was too big for just a letter. That was strange enough. The letter was short itself was short. “I hope you are as excited as I am. It won’t be long now.” The more I thought about it, the less scared I was. I was actually angry. I felt like I had been betrayed. Then I realized how ridiculous that was. Why would I expect honesty from a serial killer? I bet this was his new way of getting his kicks now that he was locked up. I went to my computer and was ready to write a bunch of insults but when I got to the web page it would not load. That happened a lot, so I decided to just cut my losses and move on. I was embarrassed that I had been such an easy target, so even weeks later I never told my friends and obviously not my mother.One night I was out with my best friend and we went to our favorite spot, the playground. Yeah, I know. Juvenile, but it was the best place at night because it was private and nobody bothered you. After the usual talk about boys at school, and general gossip we decided it was time to head home. My mother was almost always gone on the weekends, and it happened to be the weekend my little brother and sister weren’t at home with me either. I tried to convince Lilly to spend the night but she said her dad would freak out since she basically spent every weekend at my house anyways. This meant flicking through television channels until I got frustrated enough to read a book and then go to sleep.My walk back home was short but it seemed like the perfect time for my mind to start thinking about Mr. E. It bothered me that I was so foolish and even though I knew I had nothing to be scared of I still felt a little jumpy when I was turning the corner onto my street. I finally got home and shut and locked the door and let out a deep sigh. It felt like I had been holding my breath. I had to laugh at myself as I walked upstairs to start a boring routine of spending a Saturday night alone. My little yorkie Koby was running around my legs wagging his stub tail excitedly. I picked him up and opened my bedroom door. “Hello pal, I told you it wouldn’t be much longer.” I felt dizzy and nauseous at the same time but I could not move. It felt like the entire room tilted. I stood there trying to process what was happening. He made no attempt to move from the bed. He was holding one of my stuffed animals in his hands. I kept telling myself this wasn’t real, it was another dream. This wasn’t him. This was not happening. This wasn’t him. The voice inside my head became more frantic and I put my hands on both my ears. I felt like I was losing my mind because there could not possibly be a man sitting on my bed, holding my stuffed animal. “Don’t be upset, I know I’m not who you are looking for but I promise I can give you much more than some man stuck in a cell could anyway. We have so much to talk about. I knew you were the one when you sent that hair back to me. I said to myself, here is a girl who isn’t afraid to do things out of the ordinary.” His voice was vibrating though me. I knew my only way to get out of this would be to either do what he said, or make him think I would. At the same time that thought was going through my head I also realized there was no way I was going to talk my way out of this. This wasn’t Mr. E, and this wasn’t a nightmare. I could tell this man was very tall from the height of him simply sitting there. His black hair was straight. He looked ordinary. He didn’t look like a monster at all. “How?....” I barely said the words as if speaking too loud might cause him to do something. “Well, I could insult your intelligence for not making sure the website you were using was actually the real website, but most of you young ones usually don’t bother. Let’s just say you were never writing to who you thought you were and start fresh.” All the terrible details from his letter came back to me. The way he stalked the girls, kidnapped them and then held for days while they were tortured. Like dolls, he played with them until they were no longer breathing.

“I thought I could trust you.” I whispered, still frozen in my place. I could attempt to run but he would just catch me on the stairs as I tried to go down. There wasn’t any feasible way to get away.

“Oh you can trust me. I never lied to you did I? Now come over here and sit on my lap and I will tell you all the fun things we will do together. I know you like the park, did you want to go back and swing on the swings again? You looked so fresh with your skirt flying up your legs.”

I shook my head and back into my doorway which was at the exact moment that he lunged at me. The fact that he had been watching me made me feel violated enough. I didn’t even bother to take time to think about how long he had been watching me but now assumed it was from the moment I sent him my actual address.

I let out a startled yelp as we both landed on the ground. He was quick and before I knew it he had my arms over my head was straddling me. He leaned down for a kiss but I kept twisting my head back and forth with tears streaming down my face. “Please don’t let him kiss me, please.” I begged God inside my mind to make it go away.

The next thing I knew he slapped me so hard across my face that I was seeing everything in two’s with blurred lines. I was no longer frantically twisting, but slowly going back and forth, still reeling from the hand that had rocked me. I was so dazed I could barely feel his mouth drooling on mine until he sharply bit down on my lip. It was so hard I came out of my daze screaming as loudly as I could before he clamped his hand over my lips and shook his head.

“There will be plenty of time for that.”

#serial killers #writing #short stories #horror #scary #true crime #true crime stories #goosebumps #stalkers #teenage #nightmare #nightmares #jeffrey dahmer #ted bundy #paul bernardo #kidnapping #scary stories #horror stories

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fantastic-secrets · 4 years ago

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Butterfly Wings [1]

Fandom: Bleach

Summary: "Have you ever wondered what would happen if you tore off a butterfly's wings? Do you think it would crawl on the ground, struggling to survive? Or would it just die slowly, deprived of its freedom?"

When Gin joins the Fifth Division of the Gotei 13 to keep an eye on Aizen and carry out his revenge, the Vice-Captain welcomes him with open arms. Soon, they’re playing a game of cat-and-mouse, each trying to guess what the other knows and their motives. Aizen, in particular, seems to enjoy pushing Gin down into the mire, and for Gin, there’s no turning back.

Characters: Ichimaru Gin, Aizen Sousuke

Warnings: Murder, Innuendo

Word Count: 1.8k

He wasn't unfamiliar with death. But there was always something different about taking a life with his own hands. Despite the presence behind him, he didn't move as he gazed down at the lump of flesh, composing his feelings. This was just the first step in his plan, and his goal was much too important to ever make a misstep.

The events of the evening had been carefully choreographed from the moment he stepped onto the grounds this morning. During the tour, he'd carefully paid attention to his surroundings, fixing in mind where the seated officers' quarters were and the ideal location in which to call out his opponent. Then, with just the right balance of flattery and confidence, he'd asked for a private practice match, fully aware that his reputation preceded him. The other man's pride--and his fear of having that pride dragged into the mud before everyone else--sealed the deal. Really, the most difficult part was making sure that he was caught by just the right person; anyone else, and all his careful efforts would be rendered entirely useless. It couldn't appear to be anything but a coincidence, so as not to raise suspicion, and despite his calm facade, his heart had been racing the whole time, until he sensed someone stop to watch them. Watching, but not raising a hand… not even when his opponent had called out for help in desperation, finally relinquishing his foolish pride as he grasped for life. And that was when he was certain, and he had struck the final blow without hesitation and with a quieting heart.

So when his companion finally spoke, he was able to turn and greet him with a smile and a tone of calm indifference despite being half-covered in blood. But it really was strange, how easy it was to defeat the third seat. Even if his opponent had never seriously considered the possibility that a mere "kid" would really try to kill him, he had been way too soft. If this was the level of the Gotei 13, it really was no surprise that Soul Society couldn't even keep its affairs in order. So when the fukutaichou asked for his opinion, he answered truthfully, and not just because that was the answer Aizen expected.

"Completely useless. What a joke."

That slight smile told him everything: he had passed the first test. He had the resolve to kill another human and the skills to fulfill the task. Of course, Gin wasn't naive enough to think that Aizen trusted him at all with just that, but that would come in time. On the other hand, the fukutaichou was highly respected and renowned as a kind man; Rangiku had gushed about how lucky he was to have been accepted into the Fifth Company and the importance of making a good impression on his superiors. At the time, Gin had reassured her that that was exactly what he intended to do.

"Ichimaru-kun, I would like you to be my subordinate."

Still grinning, Gin tilted his head as though he was puzzled by the statement. "Ain't I already, though, Aizen-fukutaichou? I'm part'a the Fifth Company like ya, right? 'less you're saying ya think I wanna fight ya for yer seat, or the taichou's. I ain't that good."

"Not yet, but perhaps in the future," Aizen agreed, favoring him with another smile that said he saw right through Gin's innocent charade. "Now, wash up and go back to bed. I'll take care of the cleanup here."

It wasn't until much later that Gin learned just how the fukutaichou had managed to disguise the murder as a suicide. But in the end, nobody questioned the situation when the body was found the next day, or challenged his assignment to the third seat. There was certainly some resentment over the fact that a recruit fresh from the Academy would be given the position, but everyone recognized that the so-called genius was more than qualified to hold it.

So like a shadow, Gin was often found trailing behind Aizen, always smiling and eager to please his superior. "A creepy kid" seemed to be the general consensus about him, and many seemed relieved that he had attached himself so closely to the highly respected fukutaichou, as if they expected that Aizen would keep him in check. But really, it wasn't as though he had ever been caught doing something wrong. He was just too clever, too strong, and too young… combined with his polite indifference towards most, it scared people. Both of them recognized that truth, and so Gin did nothing that would challenge that perception, because that was what Aizen wanted.

The only person who truly trusted him was Rangiku, and only around his childhood friend could Gin relax. Between his company duties and her classes, he couldn't see her often, but the brief moments of relative peace that they shared together were worth it. Although Rukongai had practically been a living hell, if there was anything that he missed about it, it was the way they had created their own universe together with just the two of them. He didn't resent her or her new friends, though: she'd always been more sociable than him, and he was glad that her world was being filled with color and laughter. But sometimes, he felt like her complaints and teasing were the only thing keeping him sane as his own world sank into the shadows.

In retrospect, though, he'd still been too naive. He'd never actively tried to hide their relationship from his fukutaichou, knowing that it would be a futile effort. Aizen watched the third seat too closely, clearly still cautious despite their shared complicity. And even if he hadn't, he was clever enough to notice if Gin was hiding something from him and persistent enough to figure out what it was. So long as Rangiku didn't get in the way of his plans, she wasn't worth his notice… or so Gin believed.

Several years later, Gin stepped silently into Aizen's office, his usual smile affixed to his face as he greeted the other man.

"Ya called fer me, Aizen-fukutaichou?"

"Ah, Gin. I was hoping to get your opinion on something. Please, sit."

Obediently, Gin lowered himself onto the cushion that Aizen indicated, puzzled. In all the time that they'd worked together, Aizen had never sincerely asked for his opinion on anything, not since the night he'd killed the former third seat. Would it be another test, or was it a sign that he was beginning to earn Aizen's trust?

He accepted the document that the older man offered to him, opening it to reveal Rangiku's Academy report. Carefully, he read through it before looking back up, with his expression as noncommittal as ever.

"So whatcha wanna ask, then?"

"I was thinking about inviting her to join the Fifth Company. The taichou is rather ambivalent about her, but she's your friend, right? I wouldn't mind putting in a word for your sake, since you've been so helpful to us."

A chill crept into Gin's bones as he shrugged, acutely aware of the fukutaichou's steady gaze under the lightness of his words. He'd expected that Aizen would be aware of his friendship, but this possibility had never occurred to him. He didn't want Rangiku anywhere near Aizen, not only because of what had happened in the past, but also since it seemed just as likely that she'd end up as yet another casualty of the man's charisma. Even with the experiments, she'd be safer elsewhere. Carefully, he considered his words before he spoke.

"Nah, ya don't need t' do that. You saw her report, too. She ain't anything more than an average shinigami, so she wouldn't be able t' help ya much. I 'preciate ya thinkin' 'bout me, but she'd just get in the way here. It ain't like I can't see her if she's in a diff'rent company."

Aizen nodded, as kind and understanding as ever, though his eyes never left Gin's face.

"She's a fairly attractive woman, though, isn't she? Still a bit young, but she's got promise. Are you seeing her romantically?"

At that, Gin's smile widened slightly, making him even more inscrutable than usual, even as he shook his head.

"We ain't like that, Aizen-fukutaichou. We were just friends, growin' up in Rukongai. 'sides, her other friends don't seem t' like me much. She probably doesn't even really need me anymore."

"And that doesn't upset you?"

"Would ya like it to?" Though the words sounded like a challenge, Gin's tone was as casual as always. The contrast seemed to surprise a chuckle out of the other man, though he caught himself quickly, holding out a hand. Obediently, Gin moved to return the report, only to be startled himself when Aizen grabbed his wrist, tugging him closer so he was half-sprawled over the desk. The smile slipped from his face, and his eyes slitted open slightly, revealing a flash of blue in his otherwise pale complexion. Bemused, he watched with wary caution as Aizen's free hand moved deliberately toward his face, tucking under his chin to tilt his face up.

"Your eyes are quite beautiful, Gin. It's a pity that I don't get to see them more often." Though Gin had tensed, he didn't resist as those slender fingers drifted closer to his eyes, tugging his lids wider and applying a gentle, steady pressure. "But I also feel jealous when I think that others might also see them. I'd like to take them out and keep them locked away, just for myself. What do you think about that, Gin?"

Slowly, the smile returned to Gin's face as he relaxed despite Aizen's terrifying words. "If that's what ya think is best. Though I dunno if I could be as good as Tousen-san."

For a long moment, the threatening pressure remained, and then Aizen released Gin, allowing the younger man to return to his seat and smooth down his robes.

"It truly would be a pity to lose your skills," Aizen agreed. Then, as if the last few minutes hadn't happened at all, he continued, "You're certain, then, that you don't want me to invite Matsumoto-kun to our division?"

"Prob'ly best that way. But thanks fer lookin' out fer me," Gin answered with an empty smile. Aizen nodded a dismissal, so Gin got up and left, making his way back to his rooms. Only once he had closed the door behind him did he collapse in a flood of relief.

He wasn't sure how much of his words Aizen had believed, but Rangiku would be safe. At least from their superficial conversation, the fukutaichou wouldn't extend that proposed invitation. His hand trembled slightly as it reached up to touch his eye, as though making certain it was still there. If Aizen had tried to rip them out, Gin would have let him, but that didn't make the prospect of blindness any less terrifying. He also couldn't shake the feeling that he'd missed something, in those long moments. He hadn't failed the test… but he hadn't quite passed it, either.

#bleach #fanfic #fan fic #ichimaru gin #gin ichimaru #gin #aizen sousuke #aizen sōsuke #sosuke aizen #aizen #mine

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honeymoonjin · 5 years ago

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ᴘᴀɪʀɪɴɢ: ot7 x reader || ᴡᴏʀᴅ ᴄᴏᴜɴᴛ: 12k || ɢᴇɴʀᴇ: smut - rated 18+

sᴜᴍᴍᴀʀʏ:

Congratulations! You’ve been accepted as the Lady in the first season of The Gentlemen.

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ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢs: good god where to begin, loss of virginity : ) for real, big dick joon, cowgirl, unprotected sex, special appearance from namjoon’s sensitive neck o.o, premature ejaculation sorry bud, creampie, dom!joon still tho, sub!reader, sexting, dom!hoseok/master!hoseok, sub!jungkook, sub!reader agAIN, bondage and shibari, master/slave dynamics (sorry i have to spoil the prompt but want to properly TW this stuff, but the word slave is only used once out-of-scene), filmed sex, exhibitionism, voyeurism, hoseok wearing the tear dior fit you are WELCOME, fingering, orgasm control/denial, oral (m receiving), anal (m receiving), a position i am told is called a lucky pierre/french sandwich, threesome in case you couldn’t guess, aftercare, guided masturbation, phone sex, pet-names, discipline/punishment

banner designer @jamaisjoons | thank you my darling SFHS babies ! i love you

DAY EIGHT

“Are you ready to make your decision?”

No. Of course the answer is no, but there’s no delaying it anymore. “Is it nine already?”

Sejin sighs, shuffling to the side of the table to indicate you’re to sit beside him. When you do, facing the boys on the couch, your heart gives another sickening lurch. Sejin squeezes your shoulder kindly. “Just a game, sweetheart,” he assures quietly, before raising his voice into the authorial tone he used for announcements. “Thank you for all being here on time, any on topic questions before we begin?”

Nobody answers, not even Jin. There’s a tense atmosphere, and you feel caught right in the centre of it.

“Okay, then,” he says softly, sensing the sullen atmosphere. “I’d like to give each of the Gentlemen a chance to explain why Y/n should keep them in the show. Let’s go around the room. Yoongi?”

To Sejin’s left, perched on the end of the three-person couch, is the doctor himself, legs crossed and face relaxed. “Um, Y/n should keep me in becau-”

“Say it to her,” Sejin guides, shuffling back to move out of the way.

Reflexively, Yoongi glances up at you, and the calm warmth of his eyes reassures you. “Y/n, I’d ask you to keep me in because we’ve had a good time together so far, but there’s so much that we have yet to explore. Beyond that, I’d like to think I’m a good fit for the house, and I’ll continue to assist Jin-hyung in cooking many meals.” Once he’s done, he sends you a small smile, eyes glinting playfully.

The younger boy sitting next to him is not as cheerful. Bottom lip red from gnawing, Jungkook tucks his feet up on the couch, resting his chin on his knees. His eyes meet yours after Sejin signals for him to begin. “I really hope you don’t vote me out because I like it here a lot. You’re so cool, and the hyungs are so cool, and I feel really happy here. I know we haven’t spent a whole lot of quality time yet, but I want to, if I stick around long enough.”

You bite down harshly on your tongue, sending him a strained smile. Fuck, this sucks. Beside Jungkook is Hoseok, who props his elbow on the arm of the couch, posture casual but face stricken.

“Y/n,” Hoseok begins, voice tentative and uncharacteristically subdued, “you’re a very intelligent girl and you have a lot of potential in being a sub. I’d appreciate the opportunity to stay in and show you and the audience how enjoyable BDSM can be. We’re all very lucky men to be on the show with you.”

On the couch beside, Namjoon is the next one around. He pauses, eyes dancing about the room as he thinks. “I think it probably doesn’t make much sense to keep me in the game,” he allows. “I’m not experienced like the others and so it’s a little hard to defend on that front, but I think me staying allows you the advantage of being my first and best experience. I feel like with just a bit more time, I’ll really grow into my element, and I feel safe doing it with you. So I really hope I stay.”

Squished beside him is Jin, who sends you a big grin, even if it doesn’t fully reach his eyes. “This is so shitty,” he says with a laugh, “it’s harder than I was prepared for before I came, and I think that’s due partly to the warm environment that we’re developing with each other, but also because you, Y/n, are a very genuine and lively person. Of course this is a game about sex, but I don’t think any one of us could say that’s the only factor here. As for me, I ask that you keep me in at least a week more because I can promise not only a good time, but also an ear if you need one, and advice should you ever want it.” He pauses to glance around the room. “That goes for all of you,” Jin adds, “I cannot believe that I don’t hate any of you, I don’t know how the producers found such great people.”

His words ease a bit of the tension, and the rest of you let out laughs of relief, your heart easing slightly.

Next, it’s down on the floor for Taehyung, who seems to prefer sitting cross-legged on the carpet to any other spot in the room. “I really wanna stay here,” he pleads with his eyes locked on yours, so earnest, “you’re so fantastic, and Jungkookie and the hyungs are all so fantastic, and I don’t wanna go home so soon. And also I think in terms of sex and stuff, I bring a lot to the table.” Taehyung avoids Sejin’s gaze, fiddling with the hem of his shirt innocently even as he stares up through his eyelashes at the rest of you cheekily. “I think we saw that yesterday. Though in the future, hopefully it’ll cost me less.” He sends a withering glare at Yoongi and Jin. “You assholes.”

You let out a chuckle, Jin huffing in response and Yoongi just shrugging with a shameless grin. Finally, it’s Jimin’s turn, and your chest pangs as you remember the last time you were together. The way he squeezed your hand gently before getting out of the car last night, the way he walked you to your bedroom door, wishing you sweet dreams. The way you saw an entirely different man to the one he’s been advertising.

His eyes on you are imploring even as his back is straight and legs crossed. “I value the time I spend with you. This is, after all, a game about sex so I’ll defend myself by saying you can rest assured I’m skilled enough to please you well, but if you allow me to stay,” he drops eye contact, fiddling with his rings even as he fights to remain poised, “I do hope it’s not the sex alone that keeps me here.” Like a switch is flicked, his momentary vulnerability vanishes, and he glances up and sends you a smile, warm and at-ease, having said his piece.

“And Y/n,” Sejin guides from beside you, his kind eyes on you, “anything to say to the guys?”

Your heart stutters in your chest. It’s been a week? Why is this so hard? “I- First of all, this decision has been insanely hard. You’re all amazing, not just in bed but as people, and I hope that whoever has to leave will still stay in touch. It feels really cruel that I have to say goodbye to someone so soon. The reality is, none of you did bad, and there’s nobody I don’t like; nobody that doesn’t belong here. I’ve made my decision, but- I don’t know. I’m not happy with it, but I don’t think I’d be happy with any decision. In the end, I guess I just went for the least painful option.” You take a deep breath, eyes lifting to look at Hoseok, who sends you a sad smile. You open your mouth-

“Wait!” Sejin interrupts loudly. Everyone turns to look at him in unison, eyes wide. “There-” He breaks off with a sigh, glancing at the camera closest to him before looking back down at the group. “Listen; this will be edited out, but ratings have been doing far better than we’d ever anticipated. We already hired a third editor to keep up with demand and get more episodes out than was on the schedule, and there’s talk we may even start getting sponsorships because the support has been creating headlines, at least on Twitter. The higher-ups at Bangasm, well… they want to make an exception.”

You furrow your brows. “What do you mean?”

“You’ll see,” Sejin answers. “Act surprised.” The eight of you stare at him with varying degrees of bewilderment as he puffs his chest and carries his voice louder, switching back into producer mode. “Wait!” he repeats in the same tone as earlier. “The production team hasn’t been completely honest with you. This isn’t just a basic game with prompts each week like we told you. There will be a special advantage, a wildcard if you wish, that changes things up. They could affect the prompts, or how the game proceeds for that week. We call them Bangasm Bombs. And while we didn’t tell you, our production team has drawn the Bangasm Bomb for Week One.”

Sejin pauses to look at you all meaningfully. Jimin picks up the hint. “So; what’s the ‘Bangasm Bomb’ for this week?” he asks for you, gesturing quote marks with his fingers.

Your mind is starting to whir, possibilities beginning to percolate in your mind, but you aren’t prepared for what Sejin says next.

“Nobody goes home this week.”

Your mouth drops open, eyes darting around the room to see the open disbelief on the guys’ faces. “So I- I don’t have to send anyone home today?”

“No,” Sejin answers warmly, and you feel your shoulders sag in relief, a breath rushing out you didn’t know you were holding. Sejin winces, clearing his throat lightly. “That’s… the other thing.”

“Other thing?” Yoongi asks incredulously. “There’s more?”

“With the success of the show comes other benefits. For example; the CEO and treasurer of Bangasm have agreed to double our funding if we can keep the views up. No, Seokjin,” Sejin quips the second the eldest contestant raises his hand. Jin puts his hand down, lips pursed in a pout. “We’re changing the rules a bit. Before, we said if Y/n eliminated you, you’d pack your bags and leave. Now; you stay.”

Sejin can’t get another word out over the clamour that arises, everyone shocked and excited and confused all at once. He waves his hand for silence, and only after a minute or so everyone calms down.

“So, there’s just no eliminating?” Jungkook asks with a comically quizzical look on his face.

“Please just let me explain,” Sejin requests, sighing. “Yes, there will still be eliminations. But if you get eliminated, you stay in the house.”

“So it’s a free pass,” Jungkook surmises.

“Not quite. No longer will you not be competing in the game, but you won’t be able to have sex with or sexually touch Y/n in any way. If you do, then you’ll be sent out of the house for good.”

“No sex with Y/n?” Taehyung asks meaningfully. “So… otherwise…?”

Sejin sighs, a tired laugh falling from his lips. “Just no sex with Y/n,” he confirms. “If you touch Y/n sexually, you go home. If Y/n touches you, of course we can’t send her home, so we’ve devised a punishment.”

At the word punishment your head darts up to stare at the producer, but Hoseok beats you to the punch. “She’s gonna come join us in the bunkroom?”

“That’s for failing prompts, Hobi-hyung,” Namjoon points out, “Y/n doesn’t have any prompts.”

“Correct,” Sejin confirms. “If Y/n touches an eliminated member in a sexual manner, then that member gets to choose what she wears for the next 24 hours.”

You frown. “That doesn’t sound so…” you trail off when you glance up, only to be met with seven hungry sets of eyes. You can just about see the cogs turning in their brains as they stare at your body. “Ah.”

“Yes. So stick to the rules, and you get, as Jungkook so elegantly put, a free pass minus Y/n. Got it?”

The eight of you stay silent, still shell-shocked from the two revelations. This changed things. Now, when you voted someone off, they would get to stay, but they would get to stay. You can see both the positive and negative possibilities there, and it’s no surprise that a reality show would have such a sneaky plot twist.

So you’d have all seven fucking you for one more week, and then all seven every week in the future, only with your sexual prospects dropping as you went. It does ensure that you’ll begin voting for them purely based on sexual performance; considering their personalities in the house wasn’t an issue if you’d have those anyway.

As you glance around the room, you can’t help but wonder if your vote would’ve been different had you known that he’d get to stay. And you wonder if you’ll end up picking the same person in a week’s time, after a new set of prompts. The thought makes you sit up, turning to Sejin again.

“Will the boys draw their new prompts, then?” you ask. “Do I get to know the theme again?”

“Ah, of course-” Sejin breaks off to sit up, retrieving a stack of slightly crumpled papers from his back pocket. “This week’s theme is dynamics and roleplay. Come pick a card.”

Like last week, you pay close attention to the reactions of each of the seven. Namjoon blinks wide at his, but doesn’t seem as put off as last week, and his eyes go distant when he sits back down, like he’s already picturing it. Jimin takes two, one for him at one for Taehyung, and the two compare, Taehyung laughing at Jimin’s and Jimin smirking at Taehyung’s, brushing his clean-shaven cheek with the back of his knuckles and murmuring something in his ear.

When Jin gets his, he bites his tongue and shakes his head with a light laugh, and Yoongi’s mouth drops open upon reading his card, eyes darkening with lust. Jungkook winces at first, but thinks on it a moment longer and grins eagerly, taking a second glance and scrunching his nose cutely at it. Hoseok takes his last, calmly reading it with a pleased smirk, sliding it into his front pocket and taking a seat.

Your breath leaves you in a slow stream. You’re back to the not-knowing. Dynamics and roleplay. It could really be anything, you supposed. Naughty schoolgirl, pizza delivery guy. You didn’t watch a lot of porn but you vaguely knew some of the tropes, and it’ll be a rather interesting week indeed.

“That’s not all, of course,” Sejin adds, and you feel like your brain could implode with the information dump that this morning has been. “Would you like to hear the Bangasm Bomb for Week 2?”

“We find out now?” Hoseok questions. “Not at the end?”

“Well, in order to fulfil it you need to know now,” the producer explains. “This week, Y/n may not sleep in her own bed, and she may not sleep in the same bed twice.”

You blink, not expecting it to be directed at you. “I what?” Your mind catches up with the rule, and you let out a light laugh. “So, I’ll have to share with the other guys?”

"Let's not forget the type of show we're on," Yoongi points out, leveling an impressed stare at the producer. "Well-played."

"Thank you," Sejin replies shortly. "Now, that'll be all. Just a reminder, if your scene isn't filmed, it doesn't count, and it's okay if Y/n guesses the prompt, but if you tell her directly then your prompt is void. Seokjin; we ordered you a set of chef's knives that should be here later today. Please stop spamming the company's inquiries email."

He's out of the room before Jin can even react, open-mouthed but smug like the cat that got the cream.

The eight of you sit in silence for a moment or two, still reeling. It's Hoseok in the end that recovers first.

"So we all stay," he muses. "Even if we get voted off, we stay. Why is that both a blessing and a curse?"

"This is reality TV," Jimin points out calmly, "and it's porn on top of it. Tension and drama skyrockets ratings. Well; I'm going to make some coffees if anyone wants one."

Most of the group move back into the kitchen, rifling through cabinets like zombies to make their breakfasts, but Namjoon approaches you hesitantly, biting on his lip.

"Y/n, can I talk to you? Privately?"

You stand up off the coffee table, though still you're lifting your chin to meet his gaze. "Sure," you reply easily, "privately or privately privately?"

"Um," he hesitates, glancing towards the entrance foyer, where across the hall lies the unfilmed rec room. "Just privately is fine for now."

Everyone else distracted with the prospect of food and hot coffee, it's easy enough to just sit on the stairs, side-by-side and thighs touching. Like this, you become aware of how much bigger he is than you. Namjoon's legs sprawl out down to the bottom of the stairs, socked feet slipping slightly on the glossy stone floor, whereas yours are tucked on the step below you. He glances down at you with a nervous disposition, but his eyes are surprisingly steady.

"Hoseok-hyung and I slept in the bunk bed room last night, as you probably know," he explains. "Him and I talked a lot. About a bunch of things, but he helped me realise something. And after I got the prompt today, I was sure."

Your eyes widen as they watch him carefully. The roots of his purple are starting to grow out in a soft brunette that makes him look even younger, his face round yet gently sculpted, chin pressed out in solemnity. "Sure of what?" you question quietly.

Namjoon takes a slow breath, rubbing his palms over his knees. "I think it's better if I don't lose my virginity while doing some cheesy role-play for a porn show, you know? I know I chose to come here knowing what I was walking into, but... Hoseok suggested maybe we could use the rec room for some privacy and then I could just fill my prompt later in the week. Of course, the producers will probably get annoyed at me not losing my virginity on camera, but they never said I had to, and I think I want it to be something just for me, you know? Something that's just you and me, outside of the show. I understand if you don't want to do that, but if you're happy to, I think I'm ready now."

You take a few moments to fully process his words, the gravity of them. "You sure you're ready? If you are, I'm happy to do that, Joonie. I want it to be good for you. You deserve that."

He smiles at that, broadly, but with his head ducked down. "That means a lot," he admits, "but yeah. I'm ready. If you want to...?" He trails off, tipping his head in the direction of the private rec room.

You sit up straight. "Oh! You mean- now now? Yes, I can do that, wow, okay-"

"If that's alright?" he asks hastily, face pinched with worry, but you just stand up, holding out a hand to him. He takes it, letting you lead him to the door.

From the few times you've needed to use this room, it's been pretty empty. It's small; most likely originally intended as extra storage or a home office, and the producers had put a visibly second-hand couch on one wall, a skinny coffee table and a lamp in there.

Generally, it's a glorified staffroom of sorts, a time-out that's more valuable for its lack of cameras than anything actually inside. Today, though, you freeze in the hallway at the sight that greets you.

With the table pushed to one side, boasting two bottles of water, a box of tissues, a bottle of self-heating lube and a small bluetooth speaker, the rest of the room has been converted into a massive bed.

The floor is covered with blankets, sheets and duvets, thick enough to be like a bedroll, with pillows stacked on the edges. They cover most of the floor, roughly the size of a queen size bed. On top of the impressive set-up are a colourful variety of packaged condoms, arranged in a tasteful love-heart.

Namjoon groans at the display, pinching his brow. "Hoseok said he'd set up for me and make it a little more comfortable, I'm sorry."

"It's cute," you say with a laugh, "are you wanting to use condoms?"

Namjoon swallows. "Uh, you- what would you prefer?"

You shrug, collecting them up and flicking through the buffet of options. You chuckle as the majority are L and XL. Unsurprising. "I mean, we don't need one. So if you want to feel everything fully, I say go bare."

"G-go bare, please," he coughs out awkwardly, shutting and locking the door behind him, double-checking the handle. "Can we put some music on? It's really quiet in here."

"Of course." You busy yourself with the music, smiling at the fact that he must have appreciated it last time. By the time you select a nice playlist on your phone and pick a decent volume, Namjoon's surprised you by hastily stripping down to his underwear, shyly rubbing at his knees.

You stand stock-still for a moment, just taking in the gorgeous sight of his body, all understated muscle and bold lines and planes. He must do some form of exercise, because his chest is thick, as are his thighs, and his lower stomach is soft but lean. He's gorgeous, and between your legs you feel your excitement grow.

Hustling to strip your clothes off as a gentle guitar strumming fills the air, you feel the cool cotton of the duvet under your knees as you straddle Namjoon, the man sucking in a breath as your clothed pussy presses flush against his hardness.

"Give me a kiss," you ask softly, a suggestion to let him take control, and a sigh of relief leaves his lungs as he cups your face in his hands, tugging your lips onto his greedily.

The ferocity with which he kisses you takes your breath away. It's powerful, greedy and demanding like he's waited an eon to kiss you again. While he was surprisingly skilful the first time, now it feels like he's come into his own.

You make a noise of surprise in the back of your throat as you feel his tongue slipping between your lips, licking up into your mouth like he's trying to devour you. You're drunk on it, mind feeling hazy, but you manage to pull away for a moment, gasping out a, "how the hell did you get this good?"

Grunting, Namjoon's eyes flutter open and one of his hands slips back to cup the nape of your neck securely, preventing you from backing up further. "Hoseok gave me some tips," he admits. "Now get back here."

You let yourself be pulled in again and eaten alive, muffled groans and sighs of bliss slipping out between swipes of tongue and flashes of teeth, nipping at your bottom lip until it's swollen and aching in the best way.

Without realising, you've begin to grind your hips against him, needing friction, and he pants into your mouth at the feeling. The pleasure makes him sloppy, and you groan as his lips leave yours, veering down to kiss along your jawline, tugging on your earlobe before sucking blossoms of colour down your throat. You tip your head back, arching into his mouth and rocking your hips against him, the friction addictive.

"Gonna fuck you now," you hear him groan against your collarbone, lips on your skin that's slick from his spit. Even in your heightened state of arousal you can sense the slight question in his voice, like he's checking you're still okay with it.

More than okay, you glance down to see the point that joins you, your panties so wet that the grey of his boxers is marred by a dark spot, wet and clinging to the stiff outline of his cock. You curse lowly at the sight of it. "Fuck, please, I need you, Joonie."

He lets out a strangled sigh, hands trembling slightly as he pushes down the waistband of his boxers so that it rests below his balls, cock bobbing up to rest at his stomach. He swallows hard, eyes closed and back resting against the base of the couch. The sheets beneath you have heated up with your body temperature, arousal radiating off the two of you in waves.

When you first reach out to touch him, you keep your eyes on his face, on his reaction. The initial contact makes his brow twitch, eyes clenching shut. So thick your fingers don’t touch around him when you grasp his base, he’s definitely the biggest you’ve seen in the house; a touch of irony that the least experienced member had the biggest genetic advantage. His bottom lip finds his way tucked between his teeth, thighs tensing beneath you.

“Joonie,” you mumble in a mock pout, “are you gonna fuck me now or so I have to do all the work myself?”

His eyes fly open, gaze landing on your widened eyes of innocence, before darting down to where you’re gently stroking him, fingertips catching on the sensitive ridge beneath his head. “Hobi-hyung said you should ride me so you can get used to it.”

You chuckle, tapping your thumb over his weeping slit, making him hiss. “Let’s stop thinking about what Hobi said and start worrying about what you want. Do you want me to ride you? Feel how tight I am for you?”

He curses, brows knitting as he nods shakily, and you can’t hold yourself back any longer. With a low curl of thrill in your stomach, you sit up so you can quickly slip off your panties, before straddling him again. He feels heavy when you brush his length through your sodden folds, readying him for you, and the thought makes you groan lowly.

“Wanted you so bad,” you confess over the music in the background, now a simple drum beat that gives you rhythm as you grind your hips over him, letting his blunt head catch at your entrance. “Fuck.” His fingers are digging into your hips just with the feeling of your pussy clenching over his tip, and you lower yourself painfully slowly, adjusting to the way he stretches you to your limit, dragging inch by inch against your walls.

“H-oh god, it is, it’s so tight,” he comments with a hitch in his voice, and again you feel the muscles of his thighs twitch, like he’s fighting the urge to bury himself in you. Though the thought of it is hot, you’re merciful that he’s giving you time to grow accustomed to the sheer girth of his dick inside you.

“Does it feel good, Joonie?” you ask, the question panted as he takes your breath away, grinning at the quick stuttered nods he gives in reply, fingers flexing on the flesh of your hips and ass. By the time you’re sitting flush against his lap, you can barely breathe, a shaky hand pressing onto your stomach almost expecting to feel him bulging out of you from the inside. He’s not just the biggest on the show, but the biggest you’ve ever had, and you feel like you could cum just from rolling your hips against him.

“You feel so amazing, Y/n,” he praises, arms wrapping around your waist, pulling you in close so that he can press his lips to yours. You whine as he shifts in you, feeling shakier than ever, but appreciate the chance to adjust to him, tongue chasing his and fingers slipping into his hair as you kiss.

You’re content to stay like that for as long as he continues to move his mouth against you, mouth watering at the feeling of cockwarming him and joining your bodies so intimately, but the excitement of new sensation gets to him, and after a while he begins to shift, holding your hips down and grinding his hips.

Your jaw drops open, hands flying out to grip at his shoulders at the feeling. He’s so deep you can barely comprehend it, can barely think with his cock filling you so completely, and find yourself pleading quietly, an unintelligible babble of more, please more, need more. He shifts his posture as you sit on his length, uncrossing his legs and instead bracing them in front of him.

“Want me to fuck you like this?” he asks, nipping at your throat, and you shiver at the husky gravel of his tone. What happened to the shy virgin?

“Please, Joonie,” you gasp, clenching around him, “need you to move.”

His first thrust takes your breath away, punching the air out of your lungs. When he moves inside you it feels monumental, like a core piece of you shifting, and your eyes water with the delicious burn. You whine when he pauses for a moment, hands slipping down to knead at your ass. Namjoon’s eyes are like molten dark chocolate as they focus on you, rich and intense, and when your head tips down to kiss him again it’s so needy your teeth clash, the keening whimper in your throat sign enough that you want more.

It’s only once he begins to fuck you in earnest, bouncing you on his cock, that you see how truly affected he is. Strands of lilac cling to his temples as he sweats, chest heaving and hands trembling even as his fingers dig in hungrily. His lips are slick with spit, but he makes no move to wipe them clean, just biting onto his bottom lip and sucking, hips snapping up with bruising momentum.

You can’t catch your breath, but still you chase his lips like oxygen, needing to be as close as possible. His panting keeps you anchored as you moan shamelessly, toes curling and back arching. Your high approaches quickly enough that it shocks you, but there’s no escaping the pleasure that rushes through you with every snap of his hips.

You lose contact with his mouth, cheek resting limply on his shoulder as he speeds up his pace, the muscles in your legs failing you, twitching uncontrollably.

“No, no, no, fuck,” Namjoon chants lowly, and you feel a hand bury in your hair, holding you to the crook of his neck, “I’m sorry, I’m not gonna last.”

You moan at that, feeling him stiffen impossibly more inside you with every thrust. “Wan’ you to cum,” you promise in his ear, barely more than a gasped breath, “wanna cum with you.” To end the statement, you nuzzle your nose against his throat and nip at his pulse point. To your surprise, he shudders violently, suddenly going stock still.

Your eyes widen as hot ropes of cum fill you, Namjoon clutching you to him helplessly, groaning nonsense as his orgasm hits him out of nowhere. Your own high recedes, but you barely notice it as you sit up tiredly and clench around him, watching the pleasure flicker across his face as he rides the high.

“Fuck,” he breathes, eyes cast towards the ceiling and chest still heaving, “I’m so sorry, I… sensitive neck.”

You grin, running your hands up to gently brush over it, feeling him pulse inside you, spurting the final drops of cum from his spent cock. “Don’t apologise,” you assure, leaning in quickly to nibble at his lips and give him a lazy, indulgent kiss. “That was really fucking hot.”

He laughs, cheeks pinkening slightly, and you feel your heart warm at the return of the shy Namjoon you’d gotten used to. So he’s a lot more dominant and confident in the heat of the moment, you muse as he catches his breath, good to know.

When you find your strength again, slowly sitting up off him, you wince at the rush of cum leaving you, and the uncomfortable feeling of emptiness. That’s only exacerbated by the fact that you haven’t cum yet, but it’s his first time and you don’t want him to feel bad. Collapsing on the sheets beside him, you rest your head on his shoulder, breath still coming in shallow pants. “Good?”

“Good god, Y/n,” he exclaims earnestly, “I think I might be a sex addict now.”

A surprised peal of laughter leaves your lungs, and you shove him playfully before crawling over to the coffee table, cracking open a bottle of water and cleaning yourself up with the available tissues. “Hoseok really did think this through, huh?” you muse, chucking him the box once you’re done.

Namjoon clears up the cum on his cock and thighs, grimacing at the way some of it has stained his boxers, but he sends you a guilty look. “I’m sorry.”

You frown, reaching for your clothes. “What do you mean?”

“You didn’t-”

Whatever Namjoon is about to say is cut off by a sudden thud that gives you both a fright, followed by three polite albeit enthusiastic knocks. You stare in bewilderment at the door, before hastily dressing yourself.

“Is everything alright?” Namjoon calls out, putting his underwear back on properly and hopping into his pants. “Has something happened?”

“I should hope so, young grasshopper!” an enthusiastic voice chirps from the other side of the door, muffled but unmistakably Hoseok. “You’ve popped your cherry, Kim Namjoon!”

The academic winces, reaching out to unlock the door once he’s made sure the two of you are dressed. “Hoseok, what are you doing? Wha-?” He breaks off once he opens the door, and you rush around behind him to see what gave him pause.

In the foyer are Hoseok, Taehyung and Jin, all in matching paper birthday hats, the strings of thin elastic digging into their chins. Hoseok’s holding two more in his hands, and he thrusts them towards you as Taehyung wiggles the weighty bottle of champagne in his grasp. Behind them, Jin calmly holds a kitchen knife.

“What’s going on?” you ask in bewilderment, stepping out into the foyer and wincing at the ache between your legs with each step. “Why the fuck are you holding a knife?”

Jin, his bright blue party hat on at a jaunty angle, stares down at his hands blankly before gasping, tucking it behind his back. “Sometimes I forget I’m still holding it.”

“That’s extremely alarming,” Namjoon says with a frown. “I still don’t understand why you’re all gathered outside the door.”

“It’s time for the party, hyung,” Taehyung explains, “to celebrate you finally getting your dick wet.”

Your cheeks go flaming red as you glance at Namjoon, the poor man spluttering and eyes wide like he didn’t know what to do. “If there’s champagne, I’m there,” you announce calmly. “Come on, Joonie, let’s go celebrate.”

Namjoon visibly relaxes when you aren’t offended, flicking you a warm smile. “Is everyone wearing a hat?” he questions incredulously, taking the thin cone card.

“Mo-mostly everyone,” Hoseok answers suspiciously.

“It’s just you guys, isn’t it?”

“Well, if you both wore one, we’d have the majority.”

You grin, patting Hoseok on the shoulder as you walk past him into the foyer. “Let’s just go,” you call out to the guys behind you, “there better be food.”

As expected, the three that greeted you were the only ones wearing party hats. At the dining table, which has been laden with aromatic dishes, steaming rice and empty champagne flutes, the other three await. Jimin’s is resting beside his plate and chopsticks, untouched. Beside him, Yoongi has his upside down, using it as a bowl for the rice snacks he’s munching happily on. The youngest man in the house hasn’t even noticed you’ve arrived, using it like a very inefficient telescope, one eye scrunched shut and the other focused on the pinhole at the top of the cone. Sitting at the head of the table, he aims it at Jimin, mouth hanging open as he tries to see through the tiny gap.

Giving up, he waves the wide end around the room, desperate to catch a glimpse of something. Once the cone lands on the five of you, he gasps, chucking down the party hat. “You’re back! I didn’t start eating the cake, like you said!”

Jin frowns. “That sounds awfully suspicious.” Knife still in hand, he makes his way to the kitchen island, where you catch a glimpse of a beautifully iced cake with writing on the top that you’re too far away to read.

Jungkook shifts restlessly in his seat, staring worriedly at Jin. “The- um, the birds attacked it.” If you look closely, you think you can see the slightest hint of vanilla icing in the crook of his mouth.

Jin stares at the cake desolately. “The birds?” he deadpans.

“Seagulls, you know,” Jungkook tries to pass off casually, the pink of his tongue dashing out to lick the sugar off his lips. “Absolute vultures.”

Hoseok tsks in disappointment. “Was it seagulls or was it vultures?”

Jungkook stays silent an inexplicably long amount of time, glancing slowly between Hoseok and Jin. His eyes are wide like he’s trying to work out the lie in his head “...It was me.”

Jin’s fingers are pressed to his temple as he sighs. “Right.” Setting down the knife, he picks up the cake and brings it to the table, placing it in the middle of the table. The rest of you all take a seat, filling in the spaces around the table. Taehyung slips in beside Jimin, Hoseok at the end of the table opposite Jungkook, and finally Jin, Namjoon, and you take the last of the seats.

The cake is beautiful, neat and fluffy buttercream all over with swooping cursive written in a thin black stream. Unfortunately, a very delicate but obvious slice has been taken out so you have to focus to work out what the writing says. Once you do, you let out a reluctant chuckle, watching Namjoon blush once more, tucking his hands into the sleeves of his shirt shyly.

“‘Here lies Namjoon’s virginity,’” you recite, “‘1994-2020.’ Who came up with that?”

“That’s not impor-” Jin begins, but Taehyung swiftly cuts him off.

“I did!” he declares proudly. “Everyone agreed mine was funnier than Jin-hyung’s.”

“Obviously not everyone,” Jin replies bitterly, dishing himself up some of the rice closest to him. “Dig in, everyone, Yoongi and I worked hard on this. And congratulations Namjoon,” he adds, though he sends Namjoon a genuine smile, eyes twinkling.

After everyone says their congratulations, the food is dug into and the cork of the bottle is popped, conversation flowing like the champagne.

Over time, Namjoon seems to get used to the chatter about sex, perhaps not feeling so left out of the loop, and his face is more open and relaxed than ever, a dimple poking out when he smiles. You occasionally reach out to shove him playfully or squeeze his arm as the chatter continues, and he no longer freezes or stiffens up. It warms your heart that he feels a little more comfortable amongst you.

You’re happy to tuck into your meal, having worked up an appetite for lunch, but it’s barely more than a second after finishing your first helping that your phone buzzes.

You slip it out casually, frowning when you see it’s a notification that you’ve been added to a group-chat.

After that, you smother a scoff and slip your phone back into your pocket, hoping if your cheeks are red they can safely be attributed to the alcohol.

Glancing up, you see Jungkook stand up suddenly, eyes wide with barely-contained excitement as he picks up his bowl, chopsticks and champagne flute, scurrying over to dump them in the sink before disappearing upstairs. Yoongi stares at his empty seat in confusion, but shrugs and takes another mouthful of cake. You eat yours quickly enough that your stomach flips, or perhaps that’s just the anticipation.

After you’re done it takes you a few moments to build up the courage to look across to Hoseok, feeling his gaze hot on your skin. When you do, your eyes lock immediately, but he just continues to stare, lips pressed in a narrow line.

Your heart leaps for a moment, wondering what that hard gaze means for you later on. Silently, as Taehyung continues to explain something to him with a mouth half-full of food, Hoseok lifts his eyebrow once, gaze darting to the roof. The message is clear. Go upstairs.

Biting your lip, you let Namjoon know you’re heading up, waving off his concern until he’s pulled back into a thread of conversation. You try to ignore the uncertain adrenaline rush that makes your hands tremble and your core throb all the way upstairs, until you’re knocking on Jungkook’s door.

The two of you share a look once he opens the door, one of anticipation and desire, and you let out a breathy chuckle.

“What the fuck have we gotten ourselves into?” you ask rhetorically, stepping in and collapsing onto the bed.

“I’ll take it if it means getting a good fuck,” he states matter-of-factly, sitting himself beside you and tucking his legs up. “Besides; I’ve wanted to see Hobi-hyung in action for a while.”

Sitting up, you think back to that day in the confessional booth, where he had so easily made you fall apart without even taking a single item of clothing off. You wondered if he’d deprive you of his body tonight as well.

“I think he’s angry at me,” you admit, “before I left, he looked… intense.”

“Why would he be angry at you?” Jungkook asks with a frown, his hand slipping under the baggy fabric of his black tee, rubbing at his shoulder like he’s aching to take the item off.

You go to shrug, but then your mind flicks back to this morning. “The elimination,” you realise, dread rising in your stomach just as much as your arousal is. “I think he knows I was going to eliminate him.”

Jungkook’s eyes widen, round enough to be saucers. “Wait, really? Why him?”

You find the words dry up in your throat. “I- God, I don’t know. How am I meant to choose anyone when you’re all amazing? Maybe his had the least impact on me, I suppose.” You eye the door to the walkway warily. “I guess he’s determined to change that now.”

Instead of replying, you’re taken aback when Jungkook throws his arms around you in a tight hug, his long hair brushing at your neck and shoulder as he tucks his chin into the hollow of your collarbone. Hesitantly, you bring your own arms up to hug him back, feeling your tension melt in the warm embrace.

“It must be so hard,” he murmurs, “I don’t think Hobi-hyung is really mad, you know? He probably just feels like he wasn’t good enough for you and wants to prove himself.”

This thought just sends another spike of guilt through you, but you have no time to dwell on it before the door is clicking open, making you and Jungkook instinctively jump apart.

Hoseok stands there, as intimidating as last time in all-black. Though he’s wearing just socks instead of the heavy duty boots he was in that day, there’s no denying the power he holds in the clothes he wears like armour. Leather pants so snug they’re like a second skin and a black long-sleeved shirt, tight but breathable cotton with a harness of thin leather straps providing some structure. His raven hair is swept back, but just a single stray lock hangs low over his brow, drawing your eyes back to his. “Starting without me?” he questions lightly, though his face is devoid of humour.

You swallow hard. “No… Master,” you add, seeing the expectant look on his face. Once he steps further into the room, you notice the black bag that was previously hidden behind his back. The duffel bag from last time. You suck in a breath and clench your thighs before you can even think to stop yourself, and Hoseok’s positively gleam at the sound.

“Both of you have been very naughty today,” he explains, dumping the bag on the bed beside Jungkook, beginning to casually pull a heap of bright red nylon rope out. “Little Jungkookie ate the cake that Jin-hyung worked so hard on, even when he was specifically asked not to. And Y/n… Y/n knows exactly what she did.” Your eyes widen when Hoseok sets the multiple lengths of rope to one side in a neat folded coil and reaches back into the bag to produce a pair of wide, heavy-duty shears.

“Woah, hyung,” Jungkook exclaims in alarm, “I can apologise for the cake, I-”

“Settle, Jungkook, it’s okay,” Hoseok explains softly. “I told you we’re gonna be tying you up, yeah? This is so that we can cut the ropes quickly in case you want out. They aren’t part of the scene.”

You feel a thrill run through your veins at the gentle click of metal resting on the nightstand once Hoseok sets the scissors down. He hadn’t needed them for when your arms were tied. It meant that whatever you were going to do tonight would be more intense. The thought of everyone else downstairs having a good time and hanging out while you and Jungkook were up here getting bound by Hoseok… it somehow feels even more illicit and dirty.

“Let’s do Jungkookie first, hm?” the dom proposes. “I’ve been wanting to see what you’d look like all prettied up for me. Choose red just for you.”

Jungkook positively preens at the compliment, hands tucking into his lap and chest puffing out. “I’m excited, Master!”

Hoseok gestures for Jungkook to remove his clothes with a flat expression. “Don’t be,” he retorts calmly, “this isn’t a reward, it’s discipline. We’re going to learn a lesson about behaving.”

The camboy trembles, hastily shucking off his baggy shirt and pushing his sweatpants down, naked except for a pair of white socks. Your breath is taken away by how easily he bares himself to the cameras and to the two of you, eyes eager and nervous as Hoseok picks up one of the longer lengths of rope.

“I want you to kneel, Jungkookie,” Hoseok instructs, “kneel on the bed for me, arms at your sides.”

Jungkook obeys, breath hitching as Hoseok approaches, passing the coil over his palm. You watch with baited breath as a bright red strand of rope is run around his narrow waist. As the professional dom begins looping, knotting and wrapping the rope around Jungkook’s torso, the boy’s eyes grow lidded, cock twitching as it rests back against his lower abdomen.

It takes a while, but time is as smooth as velvet in the soft silence of the room, just gentle breaths and the whir of nylon rope sliding so beautifully along Jungkook’s skin.

By the time Hoseok is done, Jungkook’s eyes barely open, so content with the feeling of being patiently wrapped up, and he hums lightly as Hoseok rechecks the tightness of each loop, slipping two fingers between rope and skin in several places.

Rather than bondage or restraint, this looks like art. An elaborate harness of red contrasts beautifully against the pale golden flesh below, hardness of his chest and abs softened by the vaguely fishnet pattern, loops that interlock and curve across his body gracefully, the most careful and precise lattice of scarlet ropes.

“Pretty, isn’t he?” Hoseok questions, and a finger comes down to run through the glossy precum that has been smeared onto Jungkook’s lower stomach. The boy hisses, arching his hips up in search of contact, but all it takes is a sharp swat at the head of his cock and Jungkook is whining, thighs flexing with the force of keeping still. “Patience, my little prince,” Hoseok tuts, patting Jungkook’s cheek with a hand still wet with the camboy’s own precum, “we’re gonna teach you how to be patient today.”

Jungkook groans low in his throat, lips parting at the term of endearment, and Hoseok grins at it, tiger-like.

“Oh, do you like that, hm? Wanna be my special prince today?” Hoseok runs his fingers through Jungkook’s long hair, the camboy sucking in a sharp breath when they snag on some knots. Jungkook nods, eyes round and glittering as he looks up at his Master. Hoseok pouts, tapping him once on the end of his button nose. “It’s a shame you weren’t behaving today, then wasn’t it? Maybe if you’re good for me tonight, you can earn it.”

Jungkook’s brows lift pleadingly, looking so small under Hoseok’s harsh stare. “I’ll be good, though, Master.”

“Mm, I’m sure you will,” Hoseok confirms, swiping a thumb over Jungkook’s nipple to make him shiver, before he fixes an iron gaze onto you.

You swallow, slipping out of your clothes as quickly as you can once he gives the same gesture as before, crossing your legs and arms to try and preserve some dignity. Hoseok just tuts, picking up two of the remaining sections of nylon rope, only one still left waiting on the bed.

“Hands at your sides, kneeling,” he instructs sharply, and you feel the way your walls clench at the authority in his voice as you hustle to get into position.

The harness he puts you in is different to Jungkook’s, accentuating your breasts with bands both above and below them, leaving your stomach free but doubling the rope over so that every loop that wraps around you is twice as thick. The final tie is slipped up between your breasts, around the back of your neck and tucking back down to hold it all together, and your breath shallows at the secure feeling of the rope.

It’s peaceful; the warm stripes of friction as he pulls strands through loops, the gentle flicking of the ends against your skin until he folds them away, the way it embraces your chest so snugly, but not too tight. It’s only once he’s done checking the rope like he did with Jungkook that he picks up the second, shorter length of nylon, and by then you already feel the sleepy yet electric haze of subspace seeping throughout your body.

“Hands,” he instructs, and you hold them out for him, watching with heightened arousal as he binds them, the rope wrapping around and between your wrists until they’re locked together. Last time your hands were bound behind your back but like this, you can watch him as he works.

It’s quick - a testament to his expertise - but you spend every moment with your eyes locked onto him. The eyes, gleaming with control and satisfaction, the pink tip of his tongue poking out just slightly as he focuses. His thin fingers, looping and wrapping and knotting with such skill.

His last move, eyes darting up and smirking once he catches you watching him, is to connect the thick cuff-like ropes to the top of your harness, pinning them up to your chest, folded hands resting at the base of your throat. You instinctively tug once he’s done, only to feel the rope around your back tighten and dig in, but no distance made. The feeling of being at his mercy only adds to the slick gathering between your thighs.

Once he steps back, eying the two of you up, your breath catches in your throat. Both you and Jungkook are fully naked, somehow feeling even more vulnerable in the rope, and Hoseok stands across from the bed in all his black leather glory, eyes raking over you like he’s assessing his work.

“Are you gonna touch us, Master?” Jungkook questions in a small voice, fingers clutching at his own thighs, cock flushed and needy between them.

“Not you yet, Jungkookie. Gotta warm Y/n up first.” Your eyes widen - for what? - but Hoseok is moving closer run a hand down Jungkook’s back, fingers jumping over the strands of rope. “Do you wanna help me, baby?”

Jungkook nods, blushing when Hoseok pinches lightly at his cheek.

Hoseok leans over to you, carding his fingers into your hair and curling them in so that he can hold you steady. Like this, kneeling on the bed, you have to tilt your head back to meet his gaze, but he just tuts, holding you face-forward to Jungkook. “You wanna give her a kiss, Kookie?”

You swallow, fingers interlocking together as you look over to the camboy. He looks so needy, blissed out and pretty in his red rope, cock untouched and weeping. Your lips part automatically, tongue darting out to wet your lips and you don’t miss the way Jungkook’s eyes are drawn to it, lids now as he nods.

With your hands pinned to your chest and kneeling, you don’t feel able to meet him halfway so you just wait as Jungkook crawls to you, glancing up at Hoseok for permission before burying your hands in your hair alongside the dom’s. With barely a second to suck in a breath, Jungkook ducks his head, his lips descending onto yours with sweet, unrestrained need.

Unable to touch him back, you let your eyes slip shut with the soft presses of his mouth, taking everything he gives you. Everything about Jungkook in this moment is soft; his lips, his thumbs brushing across your cheekbones, even the subtle scent of vanilla as his hair tickles your face - but the stiff grip in your hair is anything but, reminding you where exactly you are and the hand you’re under.

Your breath hitches as two things happen at once; Jungkook’s tongue presses into your mouth, deepening the kiss, and behind you Hoseok shifts, getting up on the bed behind you. Though you can’t see him, you become even more aware of his commanding presence, through the simple gesture of a fingertip, tracing beside lines of rope with a touch so light you shiver.

“You both look so pretty for me,” Hoseok murmurs warmly, his voice closer than you’d expected him to be, sounding like it’s right beside your air. Jungkook doubles his efforts in response, and your core is alight with excitement when you instinctively go to touch him, only to be reminded of the restraint you’re in.

Jungkook kisses without abandon, not hurried but deep and purposeful. Though you still tremble under Hoseok’s teasing touch, your mind is so enraptured by Jungkook’s tongue in your mouth and teeth on your lips that you lose track of it.

The camboy doesn’t dare venture his hands further than your face, cupping it so tenderly as he delves into you, so your eyes fly open with shock when two fingers are suddenly slipping through your folds, running over your clit for a single delicious moment of pleasure. You moan in shock and pull away to look down.

Between your kneeling legs is the slender but calloused hand of your Master himself, wrapped around your front and slipping inside you without question like you’re his. His to explore, his to ruin. You pant at the intrusion of two fingers, clenching around him, but his only response is to tug suddenly at your hair, pulling your gaze back up again.

Nipping sharply at the bridge of your ear, Hoseok scolds you. “I didn’t tell you to stop,” he growls harshly, “did I?”

“Sorry, Master,” you reply without thinking, barely a moment before you let out a muffled squeak from Jungkook joining you together again, wasting no time to obey.

Hoseok doesn’t stop his motions between your legs; on the contrary, he continues without pause, fingers moving inside you with a steady urgency.

For a while, your brows furrow, hips rocking below him. He keeps missing your g-spot, fingers too straight to press against it on each thrust, and he moves to three fingers without touching your clit at all, hand held foward off of you to avoid friction. You moan brokenly into Jungkook’s mouth as you realise Hoseok’s doing it intentionally, stretching you out almost clinically, without regard or want for your pleasure. You go weak at the thought, sinking forward into Jungkook’s embrace, but soon enough the fingers are removed from you completely. Empty and unsatisfied just like earlier, you huff and begin to kiss the camboy more frantically, desperate for some pleasure to replace it.

But Hoseok clearly isn’t having it. “Stop,” he commands shortly, “hands off.”

Jungkook sits back quickly, making sure you won’t slump over before he presses his hands to his thighs again, cock twitching at the continued neglect. Blinking, he licks his swollen lips and glances behind you to Hoseok in confusion. “Master?”

Your mouth goes dry when you hear the unmistakable sound of a zip being lowered. Hoseok’s hand leaves your hair suddenly, and you feel unmoored between the two men, just you and your hands tucked under your chin. “You tasted her pretty little pussy in Week One, didn’t you, Jungkookie? Would you like her to return the favour?”

Eyes wide, you drop your gaze down to Jungkook’s aching dick, as it twitches and leaks another thin trail of precum, the boy groaning. “Please, Master.” His fingers flex, holding back from touching it. “‘Hurts,” he whines.

You bite your lip, mouth watering. He’s not as big as Namjoon, but you know how fully he filled you just yesterday, and to have him in your mouth… “Please,” you croak out, fingers wiggling in the air as you’re unable to lower yourself to him.

“Good girl,” Hoseok praises, hands strong on your shoulders as he helps you down, elbows propping yourself up awkwardly in the space that Jungkook’s shuffled back from. “Gotta warm Kookie up too, don’t we? Open up, princess.”

Like this, you’re able to keep upright, but barely, craning your neck to look up at Jungkook. His cock is in front of you, and this close you can see just how flushed it is, the tip almost perfect. Hoping your pleading gaze can communicate your desperation, you open your mouth, letting your tongue rest just over your bottom lip.

Jungkook’s brows furrow in wanton need as he glances towards Hoseok. “Can I touch her, Master? Help her?”

“Of course,” Hoseok’s voice allows from behind you, palms running over the flesh of your ass, “but my little prince better not cum.”

Jungkook visibly shivers at the nickname, hips jerking uselessly. “Y-yes, Master,” he allows, before tipping your chin up so gently, gripping himself to guide his length into your waiting mouth.

You moan the moment your lips wrap around his tip, the tang of his precum bursting on your tongue as you flick it over the slit, making Jungkook thrust up again, enough that his cock reaches the back of your mouth. You’re barely able to avoid gagging, but you inhale harshly through your nose, blinking up at him as he brushes your hair back with a shaky apology.

Knowing he can’t orgasm, Jungkook seems happy enough to lazily roll his hips, just enjoying the wet warmth around him as you follow his rhythm, enjoying the slight ache of your jaw around his girth. Hoseok gives you only a few moments to reach this equilibrium before you feel his cock lining up against you.

Eyes widening, you’re given no time to prepare as he slides inside you, slowly but without pause, making your back arch with the intrusion.

You moan, muffled, as Hoseok pulls out and begins to pick up a steady pace, once again sliding right past your g-spot, not fast enough to make your toes curl and not deep enough to make your eyes roll. There’s no denying he’s doing it on purpose, and the thought that he might not let you cum at all has you whining desperately around Jungkook’s cock, loud enough that Hoseok hears.

To your disappointment, he tsks and pulls out, tugging at your hair to pull you off Jungkook. “What the fuck?” you complain bitterly, sucking off the drool that’s accumulated in the corners of your mouth. Equally deprived, Jungkook makes a noise of confusion, but before he can speak up, a commanding voice calls out to you.

“That’s it, on your back,” Hoseok orders, making you jump as he smacks the flesh of your ass. “If you’re gonna be ungrateful you won’t get anything at all.”

You pout, craning your neck to look back at him. “Hobi,” you whine, hoping to appeal to that soft inner that got you what you wanted the last time you were scening with him, but it doesn’t work.

Impatient, his hands find your hips, flipping you around unceremoniously. Your breath is punched out of you as you’re suddenly landing on your back, and you whimper as he hooks a finger in your harness over the top of your breast, using it to tug you higher up the bed so that him and Jungkook are on either side of your waist.

“You’ve been far better behaved,” Hoseok directs at Jungkook casually, reaching into the duffle bag to pull out a square foil packet, “so you’ll get my cock instead.”

Jungkook bites his lip harshly, shuffling on his knees as Hoseok rolls a condom on. “Thank you, Master,” he replies politely, eyes lidded and needy.

“What a good boy,” Hoseok coos, reaching over to brush a fond hand over Jungkook’s cheek. “Do you wanna fuck Y/n too, my little prince?” You let out a low groan at the prospect, at the way Hoseok speaks for you like you’re a toy of his. The thought is more erotic than you’d expect, and your legs part unconsciously.

Jungkook whimpers at the sight, dark hair curling at his temples with perspiration. “Please, Master.”

“Go on, then, baby.” Hoseok gestures for him to straddle you, and you whimper as Jungkook’s form blocks the light from the ceiling, framing him in a silhouette of dark hair.

Your legs part further as he settles between them, cock brushing between your folds lightly until he puts a hand down to line himself up. With one arm bracing himself, Jungkook slowly drives his cock deep inside you, small rocking motions to get you accustomed to him as he bottoms out. The two of you groan in unison, the feeling of being full again like bliss.

Before Jungkook can set a pace, you hear Hoseok’s voice again behind him. “There’s only one thing,” the dom adds in an apologetic tone, “Y/n hasn’t earned an orgasm yet, not like my sweet prince has. If you want to fuck her, Jungkookie, she better not cum.”

You let out a frustrated moan, heel kicking into the mattress. “Fuck,” you whine, hips already rocking against Jungkook’s length inside of you, “are you serious?”

Calmly, Hoseok clicks open a bottle of what must be lube, and you feel Jungkook go lax above you, holding his weight off of your torso but dropping his head onto the bed beside yours, groaning lowly. “Of course I’m serious,” he explains simply as he preps Jungkook with his fingers, “I’m doing you a favour, Y/n. This way you won’t make the same mistake twice.”

You sob, feeling Jungkook twitch inside you from the pleasure he’s receiving from Hoseok. As the dom finally deems Jungkook ready and lines himself up, you realise why Hoseok was so popular at his job. Handling two subs, let alone one who was getting punished and one who was now getting rewarded, was a tough balance, and yet he does it with such cool and professional ease.

Jungkook curses, rocking his hips with stuttered gasps, and you feel the impact of Hoseok’s hips through Jungkook’s body as he thrusts the first time, the camboy hurriedly throwing his other arm up on the other side of your head to prop himself up with more stability. You can feel the rhythm as he gets fucked, and the way his chest heaves, breaths panting over your bare shoulder.

With your hands tied to your chest and lain on your back, you quickly realise there is nothing you can do to chase any pleasure for yourself, and you let out another low sob. You won’t be making the same mistake twice indeed, you muse as Jungkook barely shifts inside you. He feels so good, but it’s just not enough for you to get anywhere close to your own high. The lesson has most certainly been learned; if you want pleasure, you play by Hoseok’s rules.

“Please, Master,” you pipe up desperately, looking past Jungkook’s shoulder to the dom’s face, calm even as his hips rock with the graceful fluidity of a dancer, every stroke making Jungkook cry out. “I’ll do anything, Master, I’m sorry for being bad, just please let me come!”

A grin spreads across his face, satisfied, even as he grunts from exertion, Jungkook trembling above you as he’s brought mercilessly to the edge. “It’s too late for that,” Hoseok pants out with a chuckle, “it’s already time for my little prince to cum.”

Jungkook moans, a high-pitched keen at the pet-name, and the sound is so sinful you can’t help but clench, making him stiffen impossibly inside you.

It only takes a thrust or two more, and a gruff command to cum before Jungkook does just that, spilling inside you with a drawn-out whine, thanking his Master with every breath he can suck into his lungs.

He manages to keep his weight off of you as he rides his high, Hoseok fucking him into oversensitivity before he pulls out, leaving briefly to discard the condom. Jungkook pulls out of you with a wince, but a satisfied one, and rolls over onto his back, running his fingers under the lines of rope lazily as he catches his breath.

Once Hoseok returns, he begins untying you first, and as your wrists are loosened from your chest and promptly released, the cool air on your skin feels like defeat. Your eyes slip shut, a pout no doubt on your lips as you give him nothing but dead weight, forcing the professional to manhandle your torso as he undoes the rope bit by bit.

You open your eyes once he’s done, frowning at him as he releases the rope from Jungkook’s body. Without looking, Hoseok chastises you. “Don’t look at me like that,” he scolds, “I’m sure next time you’ll be behaved like our Jungkookie here.” The boy in question preens softly at the compliment, blinking up at Hoseok as the dom brushes his hair out of his eyes.

The sight warms your heart, and you can’t deny that Hoseok has the right to discipline you, no doubt feeling self-conscious about his place on the show. And the feeling of him playing you so skilfully is something that will stick with you for a good while. You press your thighs together, sighing out at the slick still between them.

After finishing with Jungkook, speaking quietly with him in praise or reassurance, he comes back around to you, rubbing at the few red marks on your chest and wrists that have appeared from your movements. His eyes search your face, and you’re surprised to see the absolute calm in them, clearly switched out of the Master persona and just into a dominant but caring one. “Not hurt?”

You shake your head after taking the time to really think it through, wiggling your fingers and toes.

“Not angry?”

Again, you take a moment to consider, but shake your head.

Hoseok smiles down at you, warm as he squeezes your hands fondly. “Good. Now I know you can’t sleep in your own bed, so Jungkookie has kindly offered for you to stay here with him. Take care of each other, okay? I’m just down the hall.”

By the time Hoseok zips up his pants - you note that even after all that, you hadn’t seen him properly naked - and gathers his bag, Jungkook’s managed to slip his legs under the blankets, snoring away peacefully with the aftermath of a good orgasm.

After the dom leaves, you get under the covers yourself, watching the relaxing cycle of Jungkook’s chest rising and falling, the way his eyes flutter lightly in his sleep, but it doesn’t lull you to unconsciousness.

Instead, the unsatisfied throb between your legs just grows more ferocious than ever. If you could just get yourself off…

Your hand trails down, slipping between your legs naturally, but the first swipe of your index finger against your clit gives you pause. Hoseok had pretty clearly stated that you weren’t to masturbate without permission unless you were in a scene with another contestant and, well…

You grimace as Jungkook snuffles in his sleep, wriggling around to get more comfortable. You can’t exactly wake him up.

Which leaves you with only one option.

Fuck it. As quietly as you can, you slip out of bed, stumbling over to your pile of clothes. After retrieving your phone - still somehow tucked neatly into your pants pocket - you hop back into bed and seek out the one contact who can alleviate your need. Hoseok himself.

You answer the call with shaking fingers, those not still buried inside you. When Hoseok’s voice comes through, it’s thankfully quiet and low, but the words still make you keen.

“Princess couldn’t wait until the morning, hm?” Hoseok chuckles quietly at your whine of response. “That’s okay. Let Master help you.”

You sigh out, sitting the phone so that it lies on the pillow beside you. “Please, Master,” you whisper, “can I touch my clit?”

“Fuck,” he curses under his breath, “such a polite girl now. Baby took her lesson well. You can touch it, princess. Get yourself close for me.”

When you change the angle of the fingers thrusting inside you to make room to rub at your clit, you could cry from the satisfaction, biting your lip to muffle the moan that’s pulled from your lungs.

Glancing quickly beside you to ensure Jungkook’s asleep, the sight of him sleeping so peacefully as you get off right beside him has you clenching down, and your back arches off the bed.

Your high is close, and the faster you strum your clit frantically, the more you pant, desperate to keep quiet. Your mouth drops open as you suddenly feel the orgasm approaching, and you turn to the phone on the pillow, getting close enough that he can hear your whisper. “I’m go-gonna cum, Hoseokie, fuck,” you choke out before quickly pressing your lips together, preventing further noise.

His voice is low velvet on the phone, a calm command. “Cum for Master now, princess.”

You feel your orgasm hit you like a tsunami, crashing so violently that you curl over your hands, shivering and convulsing as pleasure rocks every inch of your body. As it floods you entirely, you feel hot tears stream down your face, ones you didn’t even know you were shedding. Your thighs shake and your chest heaves and you don’t stop your fingers until there’s no more pleasure left to be milked from you.

When you finally cum down from your high, panting, you fumble clumsily for the phone. “Tha-thank you, Master.”

Perhaps it’s the post-orgasm delirium, but you swear you hear the smile in his voice when he murmurs, “you’re most welcome, princess. Now get some rest. You’ve earned it.”

After hanging up, you lock your phone and chuck it down onto the carpet beside the bed carelessly, the wetness between your thighs no longer uncomfortable, now just a satisfying reminder of the pleasure he finally allowed you. Taking one last look at the tranquil face of Jungkook as he slept, you let yourself join him in a blissful unconsciousness.

ELIMINATION GRAPH

No elimination this week ! What a doozy, huh? If you were curious, here are the results of the vote!

It was taken after exactly 48 hours of the poll being open, and required a sign-in with email to prevent spamming so that it was as fair as possible!

In the future, we’ll use this format for both Fan Favourite and Elimination voting. I’ll tell you the top three for audience fan-favourites in the following chapter, and for elimination you’ll find out Y/n’s final decision in the following chapter, plus this graph at the end for the complete results.

Thanks for all your support !

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drawbauchery · 5 years ago

Text

It All Started With A Flower

(fic by cartoons-tothemoon)

It all started with a flower.

The flower wasn’t poisonous to the touch, or venomous, or covered with spikes. It didn’t shoot a toxin, or come with a chainsaw attached, or even have a return address belonging to a frenemy of days long since past.

It was just…A flower. A flower that was found on the kitchen table in a blue vase one morning, that no one had any clue where it could have come from.

Kowalski said it was a bluebell, but that was the extent of his knowledge about it.

Rico said something about Julien placing it there, but Julien rarely left the comfort of his room, and preferred to express his affection for others with more…carnal means.

Skipper ignored it when it was first found within their lair, and seemed to express an indifference towards it ever since.

Private was the only one with anything to say on the matter, and that was a simple “I like it! Ties the room together, don’t ya think?” and moving the vase closer to a window. This would normally implicate him, but, Private’s played the game of double cross and triple cross quite well before, and quite well. He didn’t seem to be lying about this, though, there was a hint of sadness on his features as he moved the flower to follow the sun after lunch.

“It’s kind of sad how it’s probably going to die in a week.” He remarked to Skipper, who got stuck with dish duty after Rico was sent to time-out for being horny on main and Kowalski bolting after lunch to return to his work, claiming a breakthrough. At least Private stuck around to dry. “Without its roots, all it can do is just slowly wither and decay and all I can do is prolong its misery.”

“Well, thank goodness plants don’t have feelings.”

“It’s still alive.” Private shrugged. “I guess it’d feel nice to have something to care for at the base. Something I can sustain outside of myself. I don’t know, does that sound weird.”

Skipper, in all of his benevolent wisdom simply responded with an “I don’t know,” as well. Because really, what does he know? And what was he going to say? Skipper’s always wanted to have a dog on base, like a golden retriever or German shepherd, but only the A-teams at the agency are allowed to have animals on their bases, and, let’s face it; they aren’t the A-team.

Private shrugged. “Well, at least it’ll look nice while it lasts. Maybe I should pick up a cactus or something…” He muttered before leaving a washcloth on the counter, and Skipper to stack the dishes, as both became divided in their own thoughts, and lost among them as they continued to carry on with their days. Skipper glanced towards the bluebell, the meaning not lost on him.

———

Private, like usual, was very close to being right, but not. Thanks to his attention and care, the uprooted plant was able to thrive for 11 days, though those last 3 days certainly seemed to be a losing battle on the plant’s part. It had to be tossed after that, but not before Private had a moment of silence with the fragile thing before throwing it away.

It was a shame, really. He tried hard with that thing, but maybe he didn’t try hard enough? Maybe his prospects were doomed from the start, and it would’ve been quicker to have left well enough alone, but at least he still tried with it, after all, doesn’t that mean something?

He really didn’t know how to take it, but considering nobody else really thought much of it, more likely to be a mix-up in a delivery than anything actually meaningful, he decided to take it for what it was, so to speak.

Until it happened again the next morning.

———

“Kowalski, analysis.”

“I can only type so fast, Skipper, you think I know this stuff at the top of my head? Aha! Acacia blossoms.”

It could be called deja vu, in a way, but it could also be remarked upon as a bit of a remix, as the plant arrived in a pot this time around, a much more sustainable way of growing it and allowing it to flourish, which Private seemed to be excited about, though he tried not to show it.

“Is it poisonous?”

Kowalski snorted. “Only if you ground up the leaves with glycosides could you make SOMETHING like hydrogen cyanide, which I DID know at the top of my head, but, otherwise, the plant poses no harm to us.”

“So, what have you been looking up?”

“Other aspects surrounding the plant, once is a coincidence, twice is happenstance, and if it happens three times, we’ll have a pattern. Both the bluebells and acacia have an interesting history in herbal remedies and flower language, I might have to look into it later…” Kowalski muttered while pulling leaves off the plant.

“Be careful with it!” Private bemoaned, blocking Kowalski’s hands from ripping into more leaves. “It’s fragile.”

“Look, you boys can toss the bouquet around all you want, but I want this table clean before I’m done making breakfast.” Skipper said, breaking the two up on his way into the kitchen, Rico following - probably on his way to burn some toast and discuss a mission they were pulling off that night- leaving Kowalski and Private to their lonesome.

“I…apologize for being so rough with the plant, but, if you’re able to sustain it, being able to branch out in our weapon’s department could be a huge help.”

“I’m ignoring all that other stuff,” Private said, “but are you sure you want me to grow it? Wouldn’t you be better at it, what with all the sciences you’re into?”

“Private. Just because I’m a scientist doesn’t mean I study the entirety of anything scientific. My knowledge of botany and other soft sciences is comparatively lacking compared to my physics and chemistry knowledge, and, well, you’re the softest person I know.” Kowalski ruffled his hair at that, and Private giggled. “I even know a place where you could grow it if we really want to expand this option.”

“Really?

———

“I didn’t even know we had a greenhouse.” Skipper muttered as Private guided him inside after a few hours of work inside. Apparently, Marlene had promised him the apartment next door rent-free if Kowalski could find a way to restore the value that her apartment complex had somewhat lost due to letting the four + Julien and company live there. The task force had no idea what he did, but apparently it brought the value back tenfold, and so, Kowalski had created a doorway between the two apartments, and inside such a place, one room was dedicated to being a green house.

It was an amazing deal for both of them, which, all things considered, was a pretty rare win-win all around for the task force.

“I didn’t either!” Private said, and after practically dragging him inside, Private flitted around the place like an over-eager honeybee. “I set up the acacia plant in an area where it’ll get the most light, but I just finished setting up the sprinkler system, and oh! These are some of the beds I’ve set up, and apparently Kowalski found some soil in the warehouse and-“

Skipper watched fondly as Private babbled on and on about the flowers and the vegetables that could be grown here, and he could practically see the vision that Private himself was so excited about when he felt a tap on the shoulder.

“Skipper, I found a parallel between our deliveries.” Kowalski said, in a sort of tone that read as urgent but also mad? Skipper was at least a little familiar with it, but, he couldn’t really place it. Skipper gestured a vague goodbye to Private as he forced Kowalski back down the hallway which he came.

“What?”

“They’re wildflowers. Not normally bought in flower shops. Both are native to New York.”

“Alright, so whoever’s sending them is right inside our home state, the one with 8 million people in it?” Skipper said. “That narrows it down a LOT.”

“Why didn’t you want me to say this in front of Private?”

“It’s not like I’m psychic, Kowalski, I didn’t know what you were going to say. I half-figured you were going to crush the kid’s spirit.”

“Does that sound like something I’d do?”

“You do a lot of rather strange things rather unintentionally.”

“Sir, this isn’t the kind of thing to be brushed off. If it isn’t from someone we know, then it’s from someone we DON’T, and that means that that someone is capable of getting into our secret base? Isn’t it usually your job to panic about these things?”

“I don’t panic.”

“I’m sorry, sir, you don’t panic, but you don’t seem all that worried about finding out who’s sending them.”

“When we know, we’ll know. At this point, it’s more likely that it’s a flower delivery gone wrong than it is a malicious plot of some sort. And if it is, we’ll handle it.” Skipper shrugged.

“Skipper, are you even listening to me? I just said-“ It was at this point that Skipper just began walking away from the conversation. If Kowalski was so passionate about this conversation, it would be easy for him to continue, but the sea of apathy and disinterest that came off of Skipper in that moment seemed to make the entire effort fruitless.

Skipper wasn’t all that worried about him, though. He’s a smart guy. He’ll figure it out.

If he didn’t find out sooner, he’d find out later.

———

The mission was pulled off without a hitch, and was one completed with ease. Of course, it’s always easier to manage one person than it is three, and not to knock Rico, but he was easier to work with than most as he didn’t ask that many questions. Of course, maybe that made him all the smarter all things considered. Skipper would still have to bribe him to keep quiet after all.

It was 7:00 in the morning, far too early to be up, but going back to sleep only to be woken up incredibly irritable would be rather suspicious considering he was the first one to “fall asleep” that night. Skipper put a special brew of coffee on, one that he made when he needed it especially strong after an especially rough night. Everything had to be accounted for. The men he worked with were always on edge, so if the slightest thing was off, something would be said. Something almost always was a little off, but, whether they caught it or not was always a little up in the air. In a way it made Skipper almost proud, and coming back from these sort of missions was a fun test for him as well as the crew to see if they could figure anything out, and if Skipper could keep them from figuring anything out.

It was all in good fun, surely, Skipper thought as he scrubbed his hands underneath the kitchen sink to remove any excess dirt from his skin and nails. Kowalski would catch something surely if he was sloppy like that. The wildcard in this scenario was the fact that Rico was involved, and Rico did not possess the same kind of urgency as Skipper did in this instance.

Still, he trusted him enough. That’s what made Rico such a valuable ally. Rico was reliable like that.

Eventually, the coffee had finally reached its perfect temperature and Skipper got to pour himself the perfect cup on a quiet morning, where the orange still hadn’t faded from the sky and the moon was still a faint sliver.

Of course, no matter how reliable Rico was, no matter how unsuspicious he seemed, no matter how he dotted every “i” that he feasibly could, there was no stopping someone who was already suspicious.

“Alright, where is it?” Kowalski asked dryly, it looked like he didn’t sleep a wink all night, and given that he was still in his clothes from yesterday, it showed.

“Hmm?” Skipper hummed, taking a sip from his cup, really savoring that bitter flavor.

“Don’t play dumb here, Skipper. Where’s the plant?”

Naturally, Kowalski was expecting him to say “what plant?” next, if he really was so committed to playing dumb. Instead, however, he replied with “which plant?”

“Which plant?” He echoed, and Skipper’s eyes widened slightly in realization at his slip up.

Shit.

“What do you mean by which-?” Kowalski began to say, but was cut off by the sound of frantic running, only to see Private in the doorway in his pajamas moments later.

“You have to see the greenhouse!” He said, with eagerness in his voice.

———

“Alright, so, first thing’s first, I get up, right? And I was going to grab breakfast, but I figured I should go care for the Acacias, right? But when I open up the door, this is what I see!” Private said, opening the door to reveal a few rows of various flowers already planted within the soil, a few flourishing vegetable plants here and there, a few empty rows for Private to with what he wished, and even a section dedicated to poisonous plants.

“Everything’s at the ready! It’s like I have my own little garden fairy looking out for me!” Private beamed. “Isn’t it beautiful?”

Skipper looked at Rico. Rico looked at Kowalski. Kowalski glared at Skipper.

“It looks very nice, Private.” Skipper said, sipping from his mug to keep a smile from showing through. Kowalski raised an eyebrow at him, but seemed to drop it as he took the time to peruse the flowers.

“Acacias, Pink Camellias, Gardenias, Primroses…Very nice selection indeed.” Kowalski murmured, and Private smiled in his direction.

“You know their names?” Private said, heading towards Kowalski to peer at a Daffodil that was peeking a wilting head out of the soil.

“I’ve been doing a lot of research on flowers as of late. We should consider planting some plants that can be used as herbal remedies in here, as well.”

“Oh! That sounds like a great idea! My Uncle Nigel used lavender oil on cuts and bruises all the time!”

Skipper and Rico watched as they tittered away happily.

“Th-This really w-what you w-wanted?”

Skipper shrugged.

“It’s not like I didn’t think this was going to happen.” He stated plainly, though his brows were creased severely. “The first time was a fluke.”

The two stayed silent for a moment.

“F-Fourth time’s a charm?”

“Nah. But, it was nice to do this. Couldn’t do it without you.” Skipper shrugged, giving Rico a fist bump that Kowalski definitely caught sight of, but it’s not like he was going to do anything about it.

———

“So, did you know that all the flowers you were planting mean secret or unrequited love?”

“Flowers mean things?”

(Hey! I’m back. It seemed too late in the month for a mistletoe fic, and although originally I wanted to do something with flowers for Valentine’s day, it just felt like too long of a wait. So, I wanted to do something with flower language, because there’s nothing more romantic than being secretive, until I realized that nobody seriously invests their time in Victorian flower languages except fan fiction romance writers, so…Here we are.)

#cartoons-tothemoon #fics #submission #pom #OKAY is this NOT the cheekiest way to say 'i love you'????#he's is fucking smug about it too #he wasn't just gonna give up #no he had to go ALL IN #and i bet he's still very much denying the reason in his head #all he knows is that he's gonna make this kid happy if it kills him #i love how rico's just along for the ride because he gets it #and kowalski's still extremely done #private my sweet sweet innocent child #you have a flower fairy watching over you #can't believe this #i'm so giggly now nasdfkln #i rushed the drawing so i could post #thank you again for my life #surprise fics are my favorite fics QwQ

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huttons · 5 years ago

Text

Never Really Was Enough, Pt. I

word count: 4.3k

summary: When Eva moves to Raleigh, it wasn't a happy occasion. She needed to get away from her family and moving across the country was the quickest way for her to accomplish that. As she finds her place in Raleigh, she finds a new family with people she never expected to (especially with a certain red-headed hockey player).

warnings: talk of past dealings with homophobia, off-screen character death

author’s note: this was written as part of @fandomtrumpshate 2020! I was lucky enough to write this for @antoineroussel <3

ao3 link

~ ~ ~

“How do we forgive ourselves for all the things we did not become?”

The day Eva packs up and moves to Raleigh isn’t a happy one. Despite having the chance to start an amazing new job, and the chance to start over, she’s bitter about having to do it. The thought of having to make a new start without a support network is terrifying. But if it means that Eva can have a fresh new start, then so be it.

As Eva puts the last box into the U-Haul, she sighs. Moving across the country isn’t exactly how she had planned on getting away from her family, but she also didn’t think that she would be leaving so soon, either. It was a stroke of luck that she had been hired in North Carolina, and it was even better that she had found an apartment she could afford to live in.

Once she starts the long drive, there’s no heartfelt good-byes, and nobody to send her off. Eva has to remind herself that Lucas is long gone now and there’s nothing holding her back anymore. So, she begins what will likely turn into a week-long trip to Raleigh. It’s mostly a mindless drive, with only a few wrong turns. The days blur into each other, and she only stops for gas, food, and the chance to sleep.

By the time she pulls up to her new apartment complex, she feels exhausted and groans at the thought of having to unpack everything by herself. She drags herself to the front office to get checked in. It’s a smooth process, and once she gets the keys, Eva is hoping it doesn’t take all night to get everything moved up to her apartment.

“Hey, are you new here?” someone asks.

Eva turns and there’s a woman, about her age and blonde hair that glows in the sunlight walking over to the U-Haul.

“Yeah, just got in obviously,” Eva answers with a tired smile. “I’m Eva.”

“Samantha, but everyone calls me Sammy,” she introduces. “Are you here by yourself?”

“Yep, it’s just me,” Eva replies. “I couldn’t afford to hire any help, and my family couldn’t make it out, so it’s just me.”

“Ah, so you moved from far away?”

“Across the country,” Eva answers. “I came from Portland. The one in Oregon.”

“Damn, that’s a long-ass drive,” Sammy jokes. “But I think you’ll like it here. The neighbors are good, for the most part.”

“That’s good to hear.”

“I’m guessing this will take you a while, so I should be able to help you once I pick up my boyfriend from the auto shop.”

“Oh, you don’t have to help.”

Sammy snorts. “Please, you’re going to be here for ages. It’ll be no big deal at all. There aren’t a lot of people our age here, so it won’t be too much of a hassle to help out.”

“Well, if it’s not a big deal, then sure, I’d appreciate the help,” Eva replies with a soft smile. “I live in 417 if I’m not down by the truck.”

“See you then, Eva.”

Once Sammy leaves, Eva looks back to everything she has to unpack. She’s thankful that she doesn’t have a bed or couch to worry about, but Eva isn’t happy about having to sleep on the floor until the bed she ordered comes in. Without the help from her family, though, there was no way she was going to be able to get a bed or a couch into the moving vehicle.

Eva loses track of time, and by the time Sammy and her boyfriend, Patrick, come by to help, it’s late afternoon. They don’t talk much, but the silence is easy, which Eva is unfamiliar with. It’s been a long time since she felt comfortable not feeling like she had to fill the quietness. By the time dinner time rolls around, they finally have everything in Eva’s apartment.

“Are you going to want help unpacking things?” Sammy asks.

“Nah, this was already so much help. I probably would have spent the rest of the night bringing things up here,” Eva answers. “But thank you again, I really appreciate this.”

“We couldn’t not help someone moving in by themselves,” Patrick says. “It’s a big step, what you did. I don’t think I could ever move across the country by myself.”

Eva shrugs. “If you have to do it, then you manage.”

Both Sammy and Patrick don’t ask for more details, which Eva is grateful for. She’s not really sure if she feels comfortable talking about how she ended up here quite yet.

“So, are you really going to be fine sleeping on the floor?” Patrick asks, a little bit of worry in his voice. “I’m sure we could find something more comfortable for you.”

“Yeah, it’s only for a couple of nights until the delivery comes in,” Eva replies. “I just wasn’t sure when I would be getting here, so I guess I’ll just have to suffer for getting here early.”

Sammy snorts. “Alright, well, if you ever need company, we’re just one floor up. And you know what, give me your number so I can text you good places for takeout. I’m sure that you won’t want to be cooking for the next few days.”

“Oh, thank you, that would be nice,” Eva replies, who was planning on just living off of pizza for the next day or two. “I honestly don’t even know what there’s to do here since I just moved out here for work, so honestly, I’ll take any recommendations you have.”

Once Sammy and Patrick leave, Eva has a new contact in her phone and a list of places to check out around Raleigh. It’s a comfort knowing that she already has people willing to help her out here. She isn’t sure how well she’ll click with people at work and the thought of randomly introducing herself to her other neighbors isn’t an appealing idea.

The following week is a hectic one, with Eva trying to get her apartment to feel like a home and making sure that she’s ready to start work. She meets up with Sammy and Patrick again for dinner one night at their apartment to take a break from unpacking all of her boxes. It wasn’t until she moved that she realized how much stuff she accumulated.

“So, what do you two do for work?” Eva inquires.

“I work in the front office for the Canes,” Sammy answers. “And Patrick here is a kindergarten teacher, which is why you see glitter everywhere.”

“That was one time,” Patrick protests. “It’s not my fault it never disappears.”

Sammy snorts. “Yeah, it was a mistake he’s thankfully only made once.”

“Uh, not to sound dumb, but am I supposed to know who the Canes are?” Eva asks, a little nervous. “Are they like…a big company or something?”

“Oh, they’re the NHL team here,” Sammy replies. “I keep forgetting not everyone keeps up with hockey.”

“Well…I guess I’m going to have to start watching it if I’m going to be friends with the two of you,” Eva says. “I’ve only watched one game and that was because it was on at a sports bar my brother and I were at.”

“It’s really not that big of a deal,” Sammy says. “Hockey is fun, but it can be kind of messy sometimes. And I hardly understand it despite working there for a couple years now.”

Eva smiles softly. “Well, in that case, I feel a bit better about not knowing anything.”

“So, what brought you all the way across the country? I don’t think we ever asked,” Patrick inquires. “You don’t have to share if you don’t want to, though.”

“I found a good computer engineering job out this way for a small tech company. My other job just wasn’t cutting it,” Eva explains. “And it was time to get away from the family. Things were…not great, to put things lightly. Turns out they weren’t okay with me being bi.”

“We’re glad to have you here then,” Sammy says decisively. “Family can be shit sometimes, and I’m glad that you’ve been able to get away from them.”

Eva smiles sadly. “Thank you. I don’t think it’s really settled in yet, but I’m proud of myself.”

“You deserve to be proud,” Sammy says. “Now, let’s talk about happier things.”

The rest of the night passes easily and Eva can tell that she’s going to really like Sammy and Patrick. They’re good people and take her coming out with ease. She forgot that plenty of people don’t care about her sexuality, but with a minimal support system back home, it was easy to not remember that. By the time Eva leaves that night, her heart feels fuller and happier than it has in a long time.

When Eva gets back to her apartment, she sighs and makes a list of what needs to be accomplished tomorrow. There’s not much left to do, especially since the bed she ordered had come in a few days ago and she had found a decent couch off of craigslist. Her new job starts on the following Monday, which is only four days away now.

To distract herself, Eva decides to finish all the unpacking the following day, then goes shopping for things to decorate with. She sold most of those things before the cross-country drive, not wanting to hold onto any bad memories. Now she has the chance for a fresh start and it makes her feel light.

By the time Monday morning rolls around, she’s extremely nervous. Despite emails saying that people dress casually, Eva decides to go for a more business casual look, wanting to make a good first impression. She does her best to look like she didn’t stay up all night, then makes the drive out to the office.

“You must be Eva!” someone greets cheerily, once Eva walks in the front door.

“Uh, yes, that’s me,” Eva replies, taken aback by their cheery disposition.

“I’m James, and I’ll be helping you settle into the office,” James explains. “I know this is a lot to take in on a Monday, but today and tomorrow will mostly be orientation and HR stuff.”

“I can handle that,” Eva replies.

James proceeds to show Eva where her desk is and let’s her get settled. He gives her login information for her computer, and then lets her work on settling into her space, along with setting things up with HR. The morning passes quickly, then James is treating Eva to lunch, where they end up visiting a local diner.

“They’re open 24/7 and don’t mind if we stay for hours on end in the middle of the night when we’re trying to meet a project deadline,” James explains, when Eva seems a bit confused.

“Sounds like that’s a common experience,” she snorts.

“Don’t want to scare you off, but you wouldn’t be wrong,” James laughs. “How’s it been so far? I know it’s not that exciting, yet.”

Eva shrugs. “Could be worse. It seems like a good place and like there’s good people here. So, I think I can deal with a couple days of boring paperwork.”

“That’s the spirit!” James says happily. “And I promise that this is an amazing place to work. It’s not all that glamourous, especially since we aren’t a big company or anything, but the culture is what makes people stay.”

“Well, that’s good, glad I took a chance on coming out here then.”

The rest of lunch passes easily and Eva proceeds to spend the rest of the day filling out paperwork. Despite the easiness of the day, she feels exhausted by the time she gets back to her apartment. She reheats leftovers, then goes to pass out on her mildly uncomfortable bed.

The summer passes by quicker than Eva can even process. There’s so much to take in and she doesn’t have time to hurt about her family not asking about how she’s doing. It’s mid-August when she’s hanging out with Sammy, while Patrick preps for school to start up again.

“So, how would you feel coming to a company party with me?” Sammy asks, out of the blue. “It’s in a couple of weeks and I want you to come with me. It’d be fun.”

“Shouldn’t you be going with Patrick?” Eva retorts. “The two of you are dating.”

“Yeah, but I always bring him. Besides, I think you would have fun and would get along with everyone,” Sammy explains. “And honestly, Patrick is a bit all over the place this time of year, so I don’t think he’s too keen on going anyways.”

“What’s the vibe like? Is it a stuffy company party where everyone secretly gets drunk to get through the night or one where people actually like each other?”

“People actually enjoy each other there. And it’ll be a barbecue at one of the player’s houses, so it’s a totally chill thing.”

“Oh, well, it’ll be good to meet your coworkers then. I can finally put some names to faces, but I can’t guarantee that I’ll remember anything.”

“Alright, I’ll make sure that you’re on the guest list. Some of the players will be there with their partners, so you’ll have the chance to meet them if you want to.”

“I honestly could not tell you who’s who still, so I probably won’t even know that I met any of them.”

Sammy laughs. “That’ll provide some good chirping material for them.”

“Glad I could be of service,” Eva jokes.

“You’ll fit right in; I promise.”

~ ~ ~

Finally, the day of the barbecue rolls around. It’s still sticky hot, so Eva keeps her outfit simple with a tank top and a pair of shorts. Sammy insisted that the dress code was casual and there’s no need to dress nice. The whole thing is just a chance for everyone to mingle and meet the new people joining the Canes.

Despite still not really knowing any of the players, Sammy tells Eva about a new player that’s coming to the barbecue today. She seems excited to meet whoever the guy is, so Eva tries to remember his name, but forgets it the closer they get to the house where the get-together is being hosted.

Sammy has to park a little bit away, so when the two of them walk up to the house, Eva lets out a small gasp. The house is huge and the backyard looks gigantic. She supposes it has to be, to host an office party. However, it’s still a reminder how lucrative being an athlete and sports management can be.

“It’s fucking ridiculous, isn’t it?” Sammy snorts. “Not that I’m complaining, since it always means good food and alcohol, but still. I’m still honestly not completely used to it and I’ve been coming to these things ever since I started working here.”

“This is…a lot,” Eva comments. “But I’m excited to look around.”

Once they get into the house, Sammy drags Eva out to the backyard and introduces her to a bunch of people. Eva immediately forgets all of their names, but just smiles and nods along. After a little bit however, she decides to split off from the group to go get some food. She lets Sammy know and walks off to the other side of the yard. Once she gets her food, someone walks up to her and introduces himself.

“I don’t think we’ve met yet,” he says. “I’m Dougie.”

“Oh, it’s good to meet you, I’m Eva,” she replies. “I don’t actually work here, I’m with Sammy. I guess that makes you coworkers, right?”

“Um, I think? Technically?” he replies, unsure.

“Do you work in management then? Didn’t take you for the type, but I guess I shouldn’t judge.”

“Um, I mean-” Dougie starts to say.

“Dougie, get over here, we need to show you something!” someone else shouts.

He looks apologetically over at Eva before heading over to the group. Eva obviously wants to know what he was going to say, but shrugs it off and walks over to Sammy. She’s still animatedly talking to the same people as before, but smiles over at Eva when she joins the group again. After a few minutes, they head off to grab food as well.

“So, meet anyone exciting yet?” Sammy asks. “There’s a few players and they’ll introduce themselves to anyone new.”

“I might have met your boss? Or management?” Eva answers, still unsure of what Dougie’s role is.

“Oh, isn’t she amazing?” Sam gushes.

“She? Well, I guess I shouldn’t have assumed her gender,” Eva replies, immediately feeling bad.

Sammy looks confused. “Um…I don’t think we’re talking about the same person. My boss is over there.”

She points to a petite woman, with ebony skin. So, definitely not Dougie then.

“Well…that is definitely not who I met,” Eva whispers. “His name was Dougie.”

“You met Dougie? That’s the new player I was talking about!” Sammy exclaims. “We literally talked about this before we got here.”

“I was nervous! I don’t remember things when I get nervous.”

“Did you say anything embarrassing to him?”

“I mean, I basically told him that he didn’t seem like the management type? Because he said he was only technically a coworker of yours.”

Sammy snorts. “Oh my god, I can’t believe you told him that to his face.”

“How was I supposed to know?” Eva exclaims. “And I wasn’t wrong, was I? He isn’t the management type.”

“God, I can’t wait to tell everyone about this,” Sammy says, laughing.

“I’m making such a bad first impression,” Eva groans.

“No, I promise this will only make everyone love you more.”

“Whatever you say,” Eva replies skeptically.

Fortunately, the day passes in a much less embarrassing fashion for Eva. She manages to avoid Dougie the rest of the time she’s there, not wanting to address how badly she made a fool of herself. Normally, Eva likes to think she’s more put together than this, but something about it just makes her feel awkward.

“So, what did you think?” Sammy asks as they head out.

“It was fun,” Eva answers. “Still can’t believe I made a fool of myself in front of Dougie, though.”

“Honestly, I don’t think it’s really going to be that big of a deal. I don’t think he’s the type of player to get mad about someone not recognizing him.”

“Oh, well, that’s good at least,” Eva jokes. “But then again, I doubt I’ll be seeing him again, so I guess I shouldn’t be too worried.”

“Bold of you to assume I’m not dragging you to another event soon.”

“Seriously? Why would you take me to another one of these?”

Sammy shrugs. “Patrick has never been too much of a fan of going and I don’t like going by myself. So, I’ll keep taking you until you get sick of it.”

Eva snorts. ��Well, at least you’re being honest. It was fun today besides me being an actual idiot, so I guess I can tag along again. When’s the next thing?”

“We usually have something else when the preseason ends, so probably the end of September at some point. It’s much more relaxed since the players are usually off the walls with the energy to finally start the season again.”

“I won’t ever turn down the chance for decent free food, so count me in.”

“What do you need free food for? You earn just as much as Patrick and I combined in one year.”

“You’re not wrong, but it’s also a hold over from the college days. Some things just don’t change.”

Sammy just rolls her eyes in response. Once they get back to the apartment complex, Sammy drags Eva up to her apartment to tell Patrick about meeting Dougie. Eva is blushing out of pure embarrassment the whole time. She has a feeling that she’s not going to ever live it down, but she guesses there’s worse things to be teased about.

“For someone who’s so smart, I can’t believe you did that,” Patrick says, laughing.

“Oh my god, it’s not my fault half of these guys look exactly the same!” Eva exclaims. “And it’s not like it’s my job to know which one is which.”

“Well, you’re going to have to learn if you’re coming with me to more company events,” Sammy points out.

“Ugh, don’t remind me,” Eva groans. “I take back my standing offer of going with you, you don’t deserve it anymore.”

“Sure, whatever you say,” Sammy says. “Besides, what happened to wanting free food?”

“No longer worth it,” Eva replies.

Patrick and Sammy laugh in reply. Eva just rolls her eyes.

“As much fun as I had today, I should probably head out. We have a huge project coming up at work and I know I’m going to be pulling more all-nighters than I want to admit,” Eva says.

“Alright, try to get some rest at least,” Patrick says.

“I’ll do my best,” Eva replies, as she heads out of the apartment.

The weeks pass by in a blur, especially since Eva gets swept up in project deadlines. Before she knows it, it’s the end of September and Sammy is dragging her to the season kickoff party. This time, it’s at a different player’s house, but the place is still as extravagant as the last one. Eva also had made sure to try and memorize a couple of players’ names and faces.

“Hey, it’s…Eva, right?” Dougie says, coming up to her and Sammy.

“Oh yes, that’s right,” Eva replies awkwardly. “And Dougie? Who doesn’t happen to work in management, but is instead a player?”

He snorts. “Yeah, that would be me. The guys still haven’t let me live that one down.”

“Glad I could provide some quality material,” Eva jokes.

“Don’t worry, I’ve made sure that she’s gotten some shit for it as well,” Sammy interjects. “Wanted to make sure the chirping was solid on both sides of it.”

Dougie laughs, and Eva feels herself warming a little at the sound. It’s a good laugh, and she feels a bit odd at admitting the fact. She shoves any thoughts of associating Dougie with being good or cute, not wanting to even go down that road.

“It seems like you’re settling in well,” Sammy says. “Is Raleigh everything you ever dreamed?”

“Ah yes, definitely living out all of my dreams here,” Dougie jokes, good-naturedly. “I do enjoy it here, though. I feel like it’ll be good.”

“Then it seems you and Eva are in the same boat,” Sammy replies. “She’s fairly new in town as well.”

“Oh? What brings you out here?” Dougie inquires.

“If y’all are going to bond over being the newbies, I’m going to go and get some food,” Sammy says, heading off.

Once she’s gone, Eva answers, “I moved out here for work, actually. Moved from Portland, Oregon, so it’s definitely a lot to get used to.”

“You really moved across the country for work?” Dougie says, a bit surprised.

“Yeah, I just…needed a scenery change and Raleigh was the first place that offered a decent job in a place I wasn’t completely opposed to moving to,” Eva explains. “I mean, it wasn’t hard to find computer engineering jobs, so I guess I was able to be a bit picky.”

“Computer engineering? I didn’t take you for the type,” Dougie teases.

“Oh my god, you’re not going to live me that down, are you?”

“The opportunity presented itself, and I didn’t want to pass it up. But seriously, that’s cool, even if I don’t understand what that even means.”

“It’s not much, we just help develop computer hardware and software. Most of the training is in electrical engineering anyways, so it’s not hard to adapt skills across the board.”

Dougie snorts. “It’s not much, she says. That’s still pretty impressive, Eva.”

“Well, thanks, I guess.”

“But I still can’t imagine why you chose Raleigh of all places. Why not New York or Seattle, or whatever? I feel like those places are more known for their tech industries.”

“Seattle was a little close to home for me, and I was also just tired of living in a big city, so moving to an even bigger city was out of the question.”

“That’s understandable, I guess.”

“So, I know you’re a new player here because Sammy mentioned it. But did you sign here or…I honestly have no idea how this works.”

“Nah, I was traded from Calgary.”

“…Is that in Canada?”

“Yeah, that’s in Canada,” Dougie replies, laughing.

“You’re going to chirp me about that too, aren’t you?” Eva groans.

“It’s only fair.”

“Did I miss Eva doing something dumb?” Sammy asks, coming back with a plate of food for herself and Eva.

“Yes, she didn’t know where Calgary is,” Dougie answers.

“Well, I can’t blame her for not knowing. It’s really not that remarkable,” Sammy retorts.

Dougie laughs again, and Eva feels herself blushing a little. He seems like a good person and definitely isn’t hard to look at. She tries to push those thoughts out of her head, knowing that if she manages to develop a crush on him, that it’ll go nowhere. The chances of anything happening between the two of them is slim at best.

“I’ll let the two of you continue enjoying the party, I’m going to go see how everyone else is doing,” Dougie says. “Hopefully I’ll see you later?”

“Oh, you definitely will,” Sammy says, rather ominously.

Dougie smiles, then heads off to where the food is located. Sammy immediately turns to Eva and raises an eyebrow.

“What?” Eva asks. “Do I have something on my face?”

“No, it just seems like the two of you were getting along pretty well.”

“I was just being polite,” Eva says indignantly.

“Uh huh, I’m sure that’s what was going on.”

“Oh my god, you’re the worst.”

“Look, if the two of you become friends, or maybe you know…exclusive, I’m taking all the credit.”

“Nothing is going to happen because we’ll only see each other at these events if I decide to keep coming.”

“Not if I have anything to do with it,” Sammy says, smiling brightly.

“I don’t like where this is going.”

“You’ll be thanking me later, Eva, I promise.”

#dougie hamilton #carolina hurricanes #nhl imagine #hockey imagine #hockey rpf #fic #mine

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sdottkrames · 4 years ago

Text

It Must Be Nice (to have Mrs. Potts on your side)

@comfortember Prompt 3: Nightmare

Summary: Peter is staying at the Starks. While Tony goes to the store one night, he has a nightmare. Luckily, Pepper is there to hold him when Tony isn’t.

Notes: While Iron Dad definitely has, like, half of my heart, I adore the entire Iron Fam. I am a firm believer that Pepper and Peter love each other like mother/son, and I had a blast writing a little of their sweet relationship.

Read on AO3: here

Peter grabbed his deodorant and shoved it into a small duffel bag with his clothes, a nervous excitement filling his stomach. May was called into work all weekend, and Tony had offered to let Peter stay with them so he wouldn’t be alone. Tony hadn’t said anything, but Peter was pretty sure he and May had talked about the nightmares Peter had been having lately, and Tony didn’t want him to be alone at night.

It was rather sweet, even if a little embarrassing to feel like he was being babysat, and Peter wasn’t going to turn down a chance to hang out with the Starks. He loved Morgan and Pepper, and had especially missed lab days with Tony.

“Don’t forget your toothbrush,” May called from down the hall, breaking into Peter’s thoughts.

Peter rolled his eyes but checked to make sure he had actually put it into the bag. Sure enough, he found it sticking out the side. “I got it, May.”

May appeared in the doorway. “Just making sure, honey. You excited?”

Peter laughed. “It’s just a weekend at the Starks. It’s not like I haven’t been there before.”

May gave him a look.

“Yeah, okay. I’m always excited to hang out with Tony, Pepper, and Morgan.”

Peter’s phone rang, Happy’s face lighting up the screen.

“He’s here. I love you May!” Peter grabbed his bag, kissed May’s cheek, and answered the call as he headed out the door. “Hey, Happy. I’m on my way down. See you in a minute!” He chirpped into his phone.

“Okay. See you soon.” Never one for many words, Happy hung up, and Peter flew to the elevator, anxious to get to the lake house.

***

“Underoos!” Tony called as he swept out the front door, his arms open.

Peter willingly ran into them, relishing in his mentor’s warmth and closeness. He never ceased to be amazed that hugs had become an actual thing, and that Tony’s good hand carding through his curls felt like the most natural thing in the world. Despite the warmth of the hug and Peter’s thick sweater, the November air was chilly, and he shivered.

“Alright, let’s go inside. I forget you can’t thermoregulate. How’s the heater in your suit working, by the way? You aren’t getting cold on patrols, are you?”

They headed inside, and Peter melted as soon as he stepped through the door. The warmth of the house, combined with the comforting colors of fall decorations and the scent of a candle Pepper had lit, seeped through the cold to warm his entire soul. It was a magical feeling. Peter smiled and took a deep breath before turning to his mentor.

“No, Tony. It works great. Karen would alert you if it didn’t, right?”

Tony narrowed his eyes. “See, I would normally say yes, but after the stunt you pulled in DC, I don’t really know anymore.”

“Well, then,” Peter scoffed, “you’ll just have to trust me when I say I haven’t, and I won’t, mess with her again.”

“Yeah, that’s the problem. I don’t trust you with that.”

Peter pulled out his most potent puppy-dog eyes.

“Oh, now that’s not fair.” Tony glared as Peter grinned, entirely unrepentant.

“Boys, play nice!” Pepper called from the kitchen, and Peter went over to give her a hug. “Are you hungry, sweetheart? Dinner will be ready in about 15 minutes.”

Tony kissed Pepper’s cheek as he passed to the fridge to grab a water bottle. “Want me to go get her majesty? Have her wash up?”

“No, I’ll go get Morgan. Where’s she at? I was surprised I wasn’t immediately accosted when I walked in,” Peter said, his smile too indulgent and full of love for the comment to hold any real heat.

Pepper nodded her head to the back door. “In her tent, playing with her Spider-Man action figures, actually.”

Peter blushed, trying to hide it as he headed out the back door to get his little sister. He stopped right outside her tent. “Morgan! Guess who!” he called.

“Petey!” Morgan yelled as she flew out of the tent and into Peter’s open arms.

“Hey Momo!” he said, kissing her head. “It’s time for dinner. Your mom wants you to wash up.”

“What’s for dinner?” Morgan asked cautiously, preemptively wrinkling her nose as if she already didn’t like the answer.

“I don’t know, but it looked like spaghetti.”

Deeming the answer to her satisfaction, Morgan allowed Peter to take her inside.

“I hear you have some Spider-Man action figures, Mo,” he said as he moved the stool so she could reach the sink with practiced motions.

“Yeah! I have 5! Daddy got me one for every year you were gone. He’d always tell me stories about you. I made him use my action figures to make it more fun.”

Peter firmly kept the smile on his face, though the mention of his 5-year absence made his stomach squirm annoyingly.

He hated feeling so fragile. Nobody else really talked about it, the feeling of turning into dust, the strange sensation of dread and pain and just….slipping away. It felt so unfair that the very DNA that gave him the ability to help others and to heal himself was the very thing that made coming back so much harder for Peter. Everybody else had just painlessly faded away, but Peter had felt everything.

Peter shook his head, turning his attention back to his sister. He turned off the water and handed her a towel, laughing as water droplets scattered on the wall from her erratic hand drying. The mundane detail made Peter smile, and he took a deep breath to dispel the lingering gloominess.

Dinner was nice. Conversation flowed easily between them all, and the knot of anxiety in Peter’s chest unraveled a little. He felt even better after tinkering in the lab with Tony. With AC/DC softly in the background, they spent hours in the basement lab, working on Peter’s web shooters and Tony’s prosthetic arm, and just generally enjoying each other’s company until Pepper came and made them go to sleep. By the end of the night, Peter felt better than he had in months.

He didn’t have any nightmares that night.

***

The next day was a beautiful, fall day. It passed in a blur of helping Pepper around the house, playing outside with Morgan, and spending hours in the lab with Tony again.

As he helped her, Pepper told him stories of Morgan as a baby, which were adorable, and stories of Tony as a new dad, which were somehow even more adorable. He hadn’t felt like he ever found his place with Pepper, but they talked as easily that day as they had the night before and some of his worries about where he stood with her melted a little.

It had been a similar experience with Tony. While Morgan fit seamlessly into his life, it had taken a lot longer before Peter and Tony had developed their relationship. Months of occasional phone calls had escalated to daily texts which led to lab nights that ended in movies and snuggles. Without even realizing it, they had forged a relationship that was akin to the one Peter had with his dad and Ben. It didn’t replace those relationships; the place in Peter’s heart simply expanded to make space for Tony. He hoped it would eventually be the same with Pepper..

***

“Alright kiddo,” Tony said the next night. “Monopoly? Uno? One of those new fangled games...uh...Cover Your Assets?”

“Ooooh. What’s Cover Your Assets?” Peter asked, walking over from the table, where he was stuffing his face with chips and salsa.

Morgan was asleep, and the adults were settling in for a game night. Popcorn, ice cream, and chips and dip had been procured in copious amounts.

“It's, uh, well you try and steal each other’s cards and get the most ‘money’. Let’s play it. It’s fun, and it’ll make more sense after you actually play a few rounds.”

“Yeah, I like that one. Let’s play it!” Pepper called, bringing a bowl of popcorn to the table. The third one. She’d insisted that she knew her boys and that she wanted to actually eat some popcorn, so they would each get their own bowl.

"Yeah, only because you beat me every game," Tony grumbled, earning him a slap from Pepper. He briefly explained the rules again and then dealt everyone in, and soon they were all engrossed in a very intense game. Peter proved to be a match for even Pepper, but he was pretty sure it was beginners luck.

“Tony, Peter literally has all the silvers in that stack, yet you steal from me! ” Pepper yelled. She turned out to be surprisingly competitive, and it amused Peter to no end.

“Pep, he probably has another silver to block it, I’m just biding my time!”

Peter hid a giggle behind his cards, then smugly stole Pepper’s pile from Tony, covering his stack with all the silvers.

“Son of a-“

Tony was cut off by a small voice. “Daddy?”

Morgan stood in the kitchen entryway with tears in her eyes, holding her iron man plushie in one hand, her Spider-Man blanket in another. She’d never looked younger.

“Yes, baby. What‘s wrong?”

“I had a bad dream,” she sniffled. “You...you died again.”

Peter’s heart dropped and the world fell away, sucked into a tiny pinpoint by his thundering heartbeat and ragged breaths. He desperately tried to bring the world back into focus. He was barely aware of Tony standing to scoop Morgan up into his arms, and forced himself to think of that and not his raging thoughts. Mercifully, it worked.

“Well, don’t you worry about that,” Tony was saying, and Peter clung onto his words like a lifeline and was finally able to suck in a breath of precious air. “Let’s go snuggle until you feel better, and I’ll have a little chat with your dreams, okay? Pete was going to win anyway.”

Morgan giggled as she wiped her eyes, laying her head down on her dad’s shoulder. Peter gasped in another breath, earning him a look from Pepper, but Peter schooled his expression enough to look normal.

“Sorry about that,” she said and squeezed his hand.

Peter managed a smile, steadying his breaths and willing the last vestiges of his panic to go away. “It’s really okay. I’m glad he’s able to help her.”

Soon Tony joined them once again. “She’s back asleep. A few snuggles from dad, and she was fine,” he said, preening just a little.

They continue their game, but Peter found his mind pulled away again, wrenched into a world far, far away where his body was torn apart while desperately trying to hold it together. That, or the horrible moment where he heard Tony’s heart stop on that battlefield.

“Kid, you okay?” Tony’s voice once again broke through the static in his brain, and he looked up to see both Starks staring at him with concerned expressions.

“Yeah. Just tired, I think,” Peter lied; mistake number one. “I think I’ll head to bed after this game.” Mistake number two.

Peter ended up winning, creaming the others and gloating about it like a 5-year-old, and then bid them goodnight. He knew they didn’t believe that he was really okay, but they didn’t press for answers and Peter didn’t give them. Instead, he dragged himself up the stairs to his room and got ready for bed.

He hesitated for a second before closing the door firmly behind him. And that was mistake number three.

***

“Do you think Peter’s okay?” Tony asked, bringing the last of the dishes over to the sink where Pepper was washing them.

She gave him a look full of fond exasperation, one he had become too familiar with, and handed him a washcloth to wipe the table. “You worry too much. Peter will be alright. If he wanted to talk about it, he would. He’ll come to you, and you will be there just like you always are.”

“You’re right as always, Pep.” Tony sighed, trying to shake the worry as he methodically swiped up and down the table, brushing the crumbs into his hand.

“Why don’t you go for a drive, Tony. You’ll feel better,” Pepper suggested. “We’re out of milk and eggs anyway. Peter can drink a whole gallon by himself.”

“Hmmmm. That’s a good idea. I’ll head to the store. Let me know if we need anything else, or if Peter wakes up. He’s been having nightmares, too.”

“We’ll be fine. Go. Clear your head, get some eggs and milk, come back, and let’s go to bed.”

“Fine, I’m going, I’m going.”

Tony rinsed the cloth, then slipped on his shoes and out the back door. Pepper heard the rumble of his favorite car a few seconds later as she put away the last plate. With a quiet moment to herself, she sank into the couch with the book she had been trying to finish for months. She didn’t get far, though.

“Mrs. Potts-Stark,” Friday chirped from the ceiling not even a second after she’d finally sat down, eliciting a loud groan.

“Yes, Friday?”

“Mr. Parker seems to be in distress. I believe he is having a nightmare.”

Pepper was instantly up off the couch, flying to Peter’s room without a second thought. She quietly opened the door, letting the soft light from the hallway illuminate the room. In the dim light, she saw Peter thrashing on the bed, his legs tangling with the sheets, and he was whimpering loud enough for her to hear. It broke her heart.

“Peter,” she called, walking over and kneeling next to the bed. “Peter. Wake up, sweetie. You aren’t alone, I promise. You’re safe, Tony is safe. C’mon. Wake up.” She kept whispering to him until he opened his eyes with a sob. “Oh, Peter,” she said, and before she could register what was happening, she had an armful of teenager. Peter clung to her, sobbing. She could feel the tears through her shirt, and she quietly sniffled back some of her own. The pure kid in her arms deserved so much more than the nightmares and heartache he’d been given.

“S-sorry,” he hiccuped, pulling back once his sobs slowed into sniffles.

Pepper took his warm, tear-stained face in her hands, gently wiping the wetness from his eyes. “Peter, don’t you dare apologize. It’s not your fault, honey. Tony always said that you are the best of us, and he’s right. You are so so good, so brave, and you are not weak.”

Peter sniffled and nodded hesitantly, but the lies he believed were still clearly written in his eyes.

Peter’s emotions, heightened from months of nightmares, brought earlier doubts about his place with Pepper to the surface and he couldn’t keep the doubt out of his words.

“But I’m not a little kid, ya know. I’m not even your kid, and, and I hate that you have to take care of me, that I’m so weak, that I-”

“Peter,” Pepper said firmly. She hadn’t realized he didn’t know, but then, she’d never told him. She paused to make sure he was really listening, holding eye contact. “You’re like a son to me, too. I love you so much, sweetheart.” Peter startled a little, taking in a shaking breath. She could see was still holding onto some doubt, so she whispered it again, pressing the words to his curls with a kiss. “I love you, okay?”

He nodded once before falling back into her arms. “I love you too,” he whispered against her shoulder.

When Tony came back from the store a little while later, Peter was sleeping peacefully, curled up against Pepper’s side. He knew immediately what happened, and his heart ached that he hadn’t been there, but that was overshadowed by the gratitude he felt for his incredible wife and the knowledge that Peter would always have a Stark to help him.

#comfortember #comfortember 2020 #mine #i love my iron dad and spidey son #mom!pepper is life

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myownworldstayout · 5 years ago

Text

New Friends Ch.5

Ch.1 / Ch.4 / Ch.6

(Chapter 5! finally! I hope you guys enjoy it!)

“Do you guys have a specific place you wanna go today?” Marinette asked the group as they walked down the front steps.

Aurore and Wayhem shrugged, while Luka hummed at the thought.

“What about.. Your place?” He then suggested.

“M-my place??” Marinette stuttered.

Wayhem and Aurore were quickly on board with the idea.

“Yeah! I haven’t been to your house yet!”

“And I haven’t been by the bakery in a while.”

“It sounds like a good idea to me.” Kagami spoke up, curious as to what Marinette’s room looked like.

The bluenette hesitated. She knew them coming over wouldn’t be a problem. It was just unexpected.

“Felix?” Marinette then asked, looking up at the blonde who was quietly walking next to her.

Felix glanced down at Marinette, a calculated expression on his features.

“As long as I can read my book.” He finally answered, turning his attention back to the sidewalk.

Aurore clapped her hands together, Wayhem let out a “yes!”, and Kagami smiled.

“I guess that settles it.” Luka smirked, placing his hands on his hips.

Marinette blew out a sigh, but smiled. “Yeah. I guess it does-”

“Marinette!”

She had just gotten the sentence out when Alya called out to her.

The group slowed as Marinette stopped and turned around to see her- former - best friend running up to her.

“Can we talk?” Alya panted once she reached them, her gaze flicking to Luka and the others. “Alone?”

Marinette frowned, turning to Luka and trying to catch his opinion.

The guitarist shrugged, putting his hands in his jacket pockets.

“It’s up to you, Mari”, she gathered, considering the soft yet understanding look in his eyes.

“Five minutes.” Marinette finally agreed.

Alya furrowed her eyebrows at the time limit, but brought her friend aside.

“I wanted to talk to you about-” the reporter cautiously glanced at the group again, before lowering her voice. “-about Felix.”

Marinette let out an exasperated sigh. “Alya-”

“All I’m saying is that he’s not the nicest guy. He doesn’t like anyone and nobody likes him.” Alya lightly grabbed Marinette’s shoulders. “I’m just looking out for you. Even Lila gave him a bad rep when she came to class. If you keep hanging out with him, the class might start to turn on you to-”

“And they haven’t already?” Marinette retorted, sliding Alya’s hands off her shoulders.

The red head startled, hurt flashing through her eyes. “Mari-”

“Look, I’ve gotta go. I’ll see you at school tomorrow.” Marinette cut her off, spinning on her heel towards the group.

“Marinette!” Alya followed her, but stopped when Kagami, Aurore, and Wayhem subtly moved in front of Marinette, Luka putting a comforting hand on Marinette’s shoulder.

“I’m sorry Alya. I’m just not in the mood.” Marinette apologized, before walking away.

In a way, she was glad Alya was worried. Sadly, Alya was worried for the wrong reasons. Figures Alya’d start to “look out for her” when she was with someone Alya didn’t like.

Kagami and Aurore squinted at Alya a moment longer as Marinette left, then followed the rest of the group.

~~~~~~

Alya stared after Marinette, dumbfounded. What did she mean they already turned on her? And why did the others get so defensive when she tried to follow her?

Alya frowned as the group walked out of sight. She was going to have to talk to Marinette again. Soon.

Taking out her phone, Alya dialed in Adrien’s number. If anyone would be able to talk to her, it’d be him.

It took a few rings, but eventually, Adrien answered her.

“Hello?”

“Adrien, it’s Alya. have you talked to Marinette recently? She’s acting pretty weird.”

A pause.

“Did something happen?”

From the hesitance in his tone, Alya assumed he had talked to Marinette recently, and it didn’t sound like it went any better.

“I mean, not really? I just- I tried to talk to her about Felix, but she got upset, and then said something about the class turning on her? I tried to talk to her more, but her friends got all defensive and in front of her so I couldn’t.”

“Her friends”. Alya didn’t like how that sounded out loud. They were supposed to be Marinette’s friends. Since when did she start hanging out with Kagami and Aurore and Wayhem, anyway? Luka, she supposed, was fine, except that he got a little protective of Mari as well.

“... Okay. I’ll try to talk to her.” Adrien gave in, pulling her from her thoughts.

“Oh, thank goodness. Tell me how it goes when you do.” Alya sighed in relief.

They said their goodbyes and hung up.

“Is something wrong, Alya?” Lila suddenly asked from behind her, batting her eyes.

Alya jumped.

“Oh, hi. I didn’t see you there.” She greeted absently. “No- nothing really.. Marinette’s just acting really weird.”

“Marinette?” Lila tilted her head to the side, knitting her eyebrows.

“Yeah, she got all defensive when I tried to warn her about Felix.” Alya continued, putting her phone in her pocket.

“What’s wrong with Felix?” The brunette said innocently.

Alya raised her eyebrows at the comment.

“What isn’t wrong with Felix? He’s a jerk! You said so yourself he threatened you when you were just trying to help him find his way to the library earlier!”

Lila hummed, nodding along thoughtfully. “Well, he only just got here. Maybe he’s just nervous, and isn’t good with people?”

Alya blinked. “Man, Lila, how can you be so innocent?”

Lila simply shrugged, offering a friendly smile.

Alya sighed, though she returned the smile. “I don’t know why Mari has such a problem with you. You’ve got a heart of gold.”

It took genuine effort for Lila not to laugh.

~~~~~~

Upon entry, the group received a warm welcome and some treats on the house from Marinette’s parents. It had been awhile since she’d had some friends over so they were absolutely delighted at the company.

“Marinette, these pastries are delicious.” Luka sighed contentedly, biting into the flaky dessert.

“I know right! Why do you think I come here so often?” Wayhem chirped, his voice muffled from his mouth being full of food.

“Wayhem, why don’t you chew, then talk?” Kagami suggested with a small smile, before taking a bite of her quiche.

The boy eagerly nodded, munching away on his baked goods.

Marinette and Aurore giggled at the exchange, thoroughly enjoying their own treats as well.

“Felix, why aren’t you eating?” Aurore then inquired, turning to the other new member of the group.

His nose was in his book. his pastry? untouched.

“I don’t like sweets.” He said nonchalantly, turning the page in his book.

Everyone stopped eating when they heard his reply, Wayhem dropping his pastry in shock.

Felix glanced up at the unusual silence, meeting their gaze.

“How can you not like sweets??” Luka asked incredulously.

“Easily.” Felix remarked, going back to his book.

“Can I.. can I have you’re pastry then?” Wayhem finally spoke up, already somewhat reaching for it.

Felix shrugged. “Be my guest.”

Wayhem grinned with glee as he swiped the treat, chomping down on it instantly.

~~~~~~~~

Eventually, the conversation fell back into its usual, comfortable state, and soon the group was headed up to Marinette’s room.

“Oh~ I love your room!” Aurore complimented, immediately bouncing around to look at her things.

“It’s so.. Pink..” Kagami commented, looking around the attic room.

“And bright.” Felix added, squinting his eyes slightly from all the sunlight pouring in.

“I think it looks great.” Luka grinned, looking around as well.

Marinette smiled to herself at all of the little opinions of her room. She understood where some people didn’t like it, but she thought it was perfect.

“You guys wanna play some games?” She proposed, holding up a controller.

“Oh yeah! I’ve been practicing!” Wayhem jumped for the other controller, intending to be first.

“Sound fun!”

“I’m in.”

“Sure.”

“I’ll watch.”

Everyone gathered around the TV, except for Felix. He decided to settle in on the chase and continue reading. With that, the match began.

~~~~~~

Chat noir leaped from building to building, feeling the rush of wind through his hair.

He had gotten a call from Alya earlier in the afternoon asking him to check on Marinette. Unfortunately, he had noticed her odd behavior as well, because she wasn’t really talking to him either.

After running out of the classroom when Lila accused her of breaking her phone, Marinette came back differently. She was dazed for the rest of the day. Distracted. Adrien had noticed, he just didn’t mention it.

Ever since then she’s been more closed off than before. It made Adrien nervous, and admittedly a bit frustrated.

Originally, she was reasonable and accepted his talks when things started to get out of hand. She listened, and quieted down like they agreed to, and things went back to normal. Lila was sedated and the class calmed down as well. Everything was fine and peaceful like it was supposed to be.

Now, however, she seemed to be refusing. It didn’t help that Felix was egging her on.

When did they start talking anyway? He hadn’t seen Felix since they were kids. Since when was he around enough to become friends with Marinette?

Adrien couldn’t help, but feel a tinge of jealousy. They were supposed to be in this together, yet she seemed to be turning against everyone lately. Or at least, everyone in their class, except for Felix.

He had to admit, it irked him that she was leaning on his cousin for help when he was right there.

Chat quietly landed on Marinette’s balcony, her family bakery’s light illuminating the night sky. He was about to knock on the trapdoor like usual, but a series of laughter stopped him.

Is someone over? Chat pondered, slipping off the balcony and onto the roof.

Carefully, he balanced himself on the tiles and peered into Marinette’s small, circular window.

He wasn’t sure if what he saw was relieving or aggravating.

Inside, Marinette and the group he assumed Alya was talking about earlier were practically rolling on the floor laughing.

“I swear that’s exactly what the producer said!” Aurore laughed, causing the others to laugh a little harder.

Marinette wrapped her arms around her stomach.

“It- it hurts!” She snorted, tears coming to her eyes from laughing so hard.

Chat Noir’s tail swished from side to side. She looked completely normal from where he was standing. In fact, she looked better than normal, and much happier than when she was in class that morning.

“We’re never going to get our homework done at this rate.”

Chat’s ear twitched as someone interrupted the laughter. His ears then went flat against his head when he turned to see Felix, sitting on the chaise with a text book in hand.

The rest of the group quieted down, though their grins remained.

“We didn’t have that much homework today. We’ll get it done.” Luka assured, picking up his pencil.

“Not if you keep stopping to tell stories.” Felix countered, making Chat nearly growl. Why did he have to be so stiff? They were just having fun.

To his surprise, the others didn’t get mad. They didn’t even show a hint of malice or annoyance towards the comment.

“He’s right, we should keep working.” Kagami actually agreed.

Marinette and the others nodded along, picking up their pencils and focusing on the work. Of course, they would still chuckle or throw in their two cents every now and then, but other than that..

Chat didn’t get it. What did they see in Felix? He was cold, stiff, and all around a jerk in general. He was like that when they were kids too. Why did Marinette hang out with him?

Felix wasn’t the only problem, though. It was all of them. They were good people, sure, but what made Marinette suddenly start talking with them?

Not to mention, she’s been acting.. off.. towards her other classmates, but here, with Luka and Felix and the others, she was her bright and cheery self.

What happened?

~~~~~~~~

It wasn’t until around 9pm. that the new group of friends started to leave. Chat shifted on the roof to get a better look, peering down at the group of teens exiting the building.

“I’ll see you guys tomorrow!” Marinette waved goodbye from the doorway.

“See you later, Mari.”

“Bye, Marinette!”

“Thanks for the macaroons!”

Kagami waved goodbye, while Felix simply nodded in her direction.

“Do you know how to get home from here Felix?” Marinette asked, almost forgetting to do so.

“I believe so. I need to figure out the layout of Paris for future use anyway.” Felix said thoughtfully, before starting the walk home.

Chat intently watched Felix walk away, up until he passed a corner, out of sight.

Just as Marinette started to go inside, he leapt from his hiding place, landing on the sidewalk in front of her. Had the act not been so familiar, she might have screamed.

“Chat! what are you doing here?” She asked curiously, stepping inside the bakery. Smart decision. It probably wasn’t clever to talk out in the open, anyway.

“Why else, princess?” He purred, closing the door of the bakery as he followed her inside. “To see you, of course.”

Marinette smirked and rolled her eyes, walking into the bakery kitchen.

“Is that so? You’re lucky my parents already went up to the house for bed.”

“So early? The night’s only just begun.” He grinned cheekily, sliding up next her.

“They have to open the shop earlier tomorrow for a big delivery.” Marinette explained, moving away from him to get some flour from the cabinet.

“And you?”

“I have to make cookies for the class tomorrow.”

Chat Noir tilted his head to the side curiously. He had heard something about that this morning.

“Have to?” He joked, not intending her to take it seriously.

“Yeah. Lila convinced everyone I owed them treats because my parents own a bakery.”

He didn’t like the bitter tone in her voice when she said Lila’s name.

“Meow-ch. Sounds like there might be a cat fight coming up.” He subtly prodded. Marinette appeared to be more open with Chat Noir than Adrien right now. He’d have to use that to his advantage.

Marinette scoffed, rolling her eyes.

“Oh, there probably would be, if it weren’t for Adrien.”

Now he knows he doesn’t like Marinette’s tone when she says his name. It wasn’t bitter, more of irritated.

“Oh?” Chat raised an eyebrow.

Marinette blew out a sigh, mixing the ingredients with a bit more aggression than necessary.

“No, it’s nothing. He just thinks it’s best that we let Lila lie since it’s ‘not hurting anyone’.”

His ears flicked back when the last statement was made with obvious sarcasm.

“I’m sure that’s not the only reason.” Chat defended, not thinking it through.

Marinette shot him a look, but then it softened.

“He says he doesn’t want her to get akumatized, that it’s not hurting anyone so what’s the big deal?”

Chat didn’t get the chance to reply.

Marinette placed the bowl back on the counter, turning the oven on.

“Well, it’s hurting me..” She whispered, her expression downcast.

This cause Chat to pause. He knew that Lila’s lies had been more directed towards Marinette recently, but he didn’t know it affected her this much.

“Why don’t- why don’t you talk to Adrien about it?” He asked cautiously.

Marinette only shook her head, a sad smile coming to her lips.

“He wouldn’t understand.”

“But he would!” Chat wanted to say. He knew he would! Because he was Adrien! He just needed to convince her.

“Mari-”

“It’s okay, Chat. I’m fine, really.”

“You are?” He found himself asking.

Marinette’s smile brightened. “Yeah. I’m starting to find some new friends anyway.” She informed, unaware of the bomb she had just dropped on him.

Finding new friends? Chat thought to himself, his ears drooping as ice seemed seep into his very veins.

Was Marinette.. Was she replacing them?

“W-well, I’m sure that they don’t actually mean to hurt you. Don’t you- shouldn’t you try to talk to them? At least once?” He stuttered, hoping she would see reason.

Marinette offered him a soft smile, patting him on the head.

“It’s really is alright, kitty. They didn’t believe me then, and they won’t believe me now.”

The comment was heartbreaking. If she was talking about telling them of Lila’s lies, then he supposed she was right. The others most likely wouldn’t believe her... but he did! And he had told her so!

Unfortunately, he couldn’t see himself continuing the conversation without accidentally revealing his identity. So he watched her bake cookies, and started planning how he would talk to her tomorrow without outing his alternate identity.

Tag list: @unabashedbookworm @bluerosette23 @minightrose @im-here-for-the-content @clumsy-owl-4178 @kuroko26 @angstyrastuff @fanboy7794 @choaticneturcl @bigcheeseyboi @burntnugget-tae @ayuchan07 @dargeon-lissa @kristycocopop @alumneia

#Felinette #Felix Culpa #New Friends AU

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