#HER VIBES MATCH PANTY ON THE OUTSIDE ONLY THOUGH

[baconcolacan]

I just had a thought…..

[biteofcherry]

A little slice of something sweet&spicy for @alexakeyloveloki on her bithday! 🍰🎉💗

A follow-up to Cherry

soft!dark enforcer Steve Rogers x female reader

warnings: soft!dark Steve; hints of power imbalance; hint of innocence/corruption kink; hint of breeding kink; explicit se*ual situations;

You swallowed nervously as you walked up to the door of an expensive-looking house in the hills. The gate was wide open, two dark cars parked in the driveway. There was no sign of Steve's camaro, but maybe it was hidden in the huge garage in the separate building you passed.

The house looked like a renovated mid-century style and though you couldn't see it, you suspected there was a big swimming pool in the backyard.

The thought of which instantly created an image of Steve emerging from it - water dripping down his sculpted body, shimmering on the colorful ink of his tattoos.

You still haven't seen them, only the glimpse of those stretching up to his wrists and over his neck.

Jesus, you closed your eyes, once again feeling a wave of shame wash over you.

You met Steve two days ago. He was a complete stranger, with an aura of darkness that should make you run away.

Instead, you flew to him like a moth to a flame.

You allowed him to consume you the very first time you met him; hell, you were still trembling at the memory of the way he fucked you in his car, then right outside your apartment.

It could be just an adventure. A crazy one time thing you can brag about to your friends, for once having something really spicy to talk of.

But you kept the little piece of paper with Steve's address and dolled yourself up to meet him on the day he asked you.

Though the voice of reason yelled at you to at least have some doubts, you didn't hesitate for a single second as you put on a cute summer dress, a pair of bow sandals, and pink panties that already had a little wet spot, because you couldn't help thinking about what Steve was going to do to you on your date.

Nothing happened for a long moment after you rang the doorbell, your nervousness heightening in fear of being ignored. But then the door opened and you lifted up your gaze to look at a tall, bulky blonde man in what could be only described as surfer's style attire.

His long, wavy hair matched that vibe as well.

"Well, hello there." He grinned. "Whatever you're selling, I'm buying two of it."

A small laugh escaped your lips, which seemed to make the huge hunk's smile widen.

"I'm- um, I'm supposed to meet Steve," you explained, clenching your fingers tighter around your purse.

"Ah, the five o'clock meeting he wouldn't disclose the details of. Come on in." The guy moved aside to let you pass. "He's finishing a previous meeting, but I'm sure he'll be happy to know you're already waiting."

He led you through the sunny house to an ajar door, through which you could hear scraps of conversation.

Steve's voice you recognized right away.

He spoke firmer than when he was talking to you, giving clipped commands and harsh critique. You'd never want him to use that tone with you.

"Your next meeting is here." Surfer guy simply walked inside the office.

He moved to take a seat in one of the chairs, while you stood there in the open door like a deer caught in headlights.

You felt like that, too.

Because the moment you stepped in the doorway of the office, your eyes landed right on Steve.

He was sitting behind a desk, his dark green shirt unbuttoned halfway and the sleeves rolled up. More tattoos were on display, as well a tiny glint of a golden chain around his neck.

His blue eyes zeroed in on you; his gaze moved up your body slowly, taking every inch as if he was already imagining every single detail of what he was going to do to you and how will you look taking it all.

Then his attention shifted to a group of men sprawled on a couch on the side of the office.

"Your incompetence made me late for my date." He said to them and there wasn't even a slightest hint of playfulness to his tone.

He made it sound as if they did a severe offence to him and he was a step away from making them pay for it.

You had no idea what line of work Steve dabbed in, but it sounded like a serious business with dire consequences. Now you felt like you were an intruder who should leave, or else Steve's annoyance will shift to you.

However, when Steve's eyes returned to you, the steely glint in them morphed into softness.

"Come here, Cherry," he slid his chair back and motioned for you to walk over to him.

Your heartrate quickened as you felt eyes on you when you fully stepped inside. You tried not to glance at any of the other men in the room, instead allowing Steve to hold your gaze and lure you into his flame.

You let out a surprised gasp when Steve pulled you into his lap the moment you rounded the desk.

One of your hands touched his chest as you braced yourself at the sudden change in position. Steve's skin was warm beneath your fingers, dark blonde curls of his chest hair tickling your palm slightly.

You quickly moved your hand away, embarrassed that you touched him so openly while strangers were watching.

Steve didn't seem to mind it. He took your hand and lifted it to his lips to brush a soft kiss on your knuckles. Then he placed your hand back on his chest, while his own landed on your thigh.

Unabashedly high, almost slipping beneath your sundress.

"You're exactly on time, Cherry. You really are a good girl, aren't you?" He mused quietly, squeezing your flesh.

"Yes, Steve," your gaze dropped down and you tucked in your chin.

Steve studied you for a moment longer then turned his attention back to the others in the room.

"You have your orders and you better follow them exactly." Cold edge of his voice made you want to bury your face in the crook of his neck to avoid his wrath.

"Thor, make sure they make no mistakes this time. Now leave. All of you."

You didn't lift your head even after you heard the last footsteps fading away, your gaze lingering on the twirls of ink on Steve's chest as your own heart hammered in your ribcage.

You were acutely aware there was just the two of you now left. And as much as it was what you wanted, your nervousness bloomed.

Steve cupped your chin and made you look up at him.

"I'm sorry for running late on our date, Cherry. I promise that what I have planned should make it up to you."

"But-" suddenly his charming smile twisted into a hungry smirk as both of his hands slid to your hips- "those imbeciles have worked me up and I need to take the edge off before we leave."

In a swift single move he hoisted you up onto his desk.

"With how stiff and shy you are on me now, I think you need to get off, too."

He spread your legs apart - not that you put up much of a fight - and moved his chair closer.

Steve flipped the skirt of your dress up and traced his fingers across the pink cotton of your panties. He pressed his thumb against your clit, right above a small wet spot of your arousal.

"I see you're eager for our date," he chuckled, rubbing your clit harder and watching the wet stain spread.

Your hands clenched on the edge of the desk when Steve pulled the fabric of your panties aside and inched his mouth closer.

"I bet you're sweet all over, sweet Cherry."

He took a taste with a swipe of his tongue, licking between your slick folds and flicking the tip over your clit.

Your hips bucked and your head fell back when he repeated the motion, this time in three rapid strokes. Then his mouth descended on you, biting into your pussy as if it was a juicy fruit.

You weren't sure if you came when his tongue flicked between your opening and your anus, or when Steve's mouth closed around your clit and sucked. Or maybe it was two orgasms melting into one.

Your eyelids were clenched shut and your head swimming when his fingers curled around the front of your neck. With a hand around your throat, Steve pushed you back until you lied down on the desk fully, while he stood up.

A clink of a buckle being undone reached your mushy brain and your eyes fluttered open. Just to see Steve pushing his zipper down.

His cock sprang free; big and thick and veiny.

Your cunt clenched, hungry to feel the stretch of him leave you sore again.

Steve pumped himself a few times before inching forward between your splayed thighs.

"W-wait," your hand reached up as last, barely functioning brain cells reminded you of something important.

Steve paused, as you asked, squeezing his shaft tighter. The sight of it made you drool, your thoughts threatening to melt away. But you managed to stay focused for a second longer.

"Condom. Do you have- can you put one on?" You asked, looking up at Steve with uncertainty.

You wanted him to use one, but you weren't sure if you'd really be able to stop it all if he refused to. You wanted him inside of you too much.

"Condom?" Steve quirked a brow in surprise, studying you.

"Yes, please. I'm not on birth control," you admitted, gulping nervously.

Steve's blue eyes darkened as your words sank in. He stepped closer, bare cock inches from your dripping, unprotected pussy.

"Sweet Cherry, you let me take your pretty, tight pussy raw, even though you could've ended up pregnant?"

His voice was a sinful temptation and his dirty words made your walls clench around nothing.

"Yes," you admitted, ashamed.

"Why, hm?" He resumed slow strokes of his cock as he put his other hand right above your pussy, spreading his fingers wide on your abdomen and dipping his thumb between your folds.

Because I wanted you so bad.

Because I needed you inside me at any cost.

Because I liked that you branded me with your cum.

Because I didn't care what you do to me as long as you kept doing it.

"I don't know." You bit your bottom lip. "I wasn't thinking about the consequences. I wasn't thinking at all. I just- I want to be responsible now."

"What a good, smart girl you are," Steve praised, brushing his thumb along your clit.

He reached into his back pocket and withdrew a short strip of foil packets. He ripped one open and rolled a condom on.

His hand returned to your throat as he pressed the head of his cock against your slick opening.

"We'll be responsible, Cherry," he leaned over you and kissed you softly.

"For now," he added in a dark rasp while thrusting deep into you.

And then he took you, with the same unrelenting force that left you boneless and moaning. Steve praised that you sounded sweet and needy; you thought you sounded more of a whore. You didn't care anyway, because the way he was making you feel was maddening good.

You came around him once, the second climax Steve forced out of you with a hand choking the air out of you and a pinch to your clit.

He finished with a groan; lips parted and face flushed, possessive glint in his eyes as he watched you twitch beneath him.

If he wasn't planning on keeping to his promise and taking you out on a proper, nice date, he wouldn't empty into the condom, but instead withdraw from your sweet cunt and come all over your pretty sundress.

But Steve was a man of his word.

So he tossed the used rubber into the bin, helped you clean yourself up, then readjusted your dress and helped your wobbly legs walk outside.

He could ruin you more when he took you back home later.

[ventingfanfics]

The Wrong Paper (Part 4)

AN: This just keeps going on and on! Thank you for the love xx.

Part 3 Part 2 Part 1

Shuri let you play whatever music you wanted as she drove into the city. She would even sing along to some of the songs. This side of her was rare. She seemed calm and positive. The Shuri you’d come to know had seemed frustrated, overwhelmed, and paranoid. Not to mention her hallucination episode. Panty-gate was real. It wouldn’t be farfetched to say you were driving her crazy. There was also her marriage.  

All of that motivated you to kind of back off. You’d be lying though if you’d said you hadn’t missed her too. Her kisses had made you feel like you were suspended in the air. And her touch was cosmic. Also, she was a passionate lecturer. She cared about her students and lit up when they took an interest in the lessons. 

The newness of the museum made it exciting. Everything looked shiny, polished, and put-together. The service was also on point. You and Shuri took photos of art that stood out to you. Shuri encouraged you to pose in some of the shots, too, and you returned the favor. 

By the time you left, it was raining outside. Shuri purchased an umbrella off the street and held it over your heads as you both hurried to a nearby restaurant. 

“Get whatever you want,” Shuri said, looking at her own menu. 

“Don’t say that, I’ll order half the menu.” 

At that, Shuri looked up at you with a smile. “So you’re a woman with an appetite.”

You matched her expression. “Only for good food.” This resulted into the topic of your favorite and least favorite foods. 

“She’ll have half the menu,” Shuri told the waiter. 

Your mouth opened in shock. “Very funny.”

“You weren’t serious?” 

“No!” 

You gave the waiter who looked entertained your order. When the waiter left having took both of your orders, you addressed Shuri with a shit-eating smile. “What was that?”

She smirked. “It’s not a problem if you wanted half the menu, Y/N.”

“Why’d you have to put me on the spot like that?”

She just laughed.

“This menu is pages long…” You added. 

“I see it.”

Three hours later you were yawning, to which Shuri said, “let’s get you home.” The long day and itis kicked in. She reclined the passenger’s chair so you could rest more comfortably. 

“Wake up, pretty.” Shuri lightly shook you. It was only when she squeezed your nose that you budged. This earned her a protest and glare. Groaning, you stretched and got out of the car. Shuri followed you to your door. “Did you have fun?”

You hummed in the affirmative, unlocking your door. “Thank you, Shuri. Did you?”

She smiled. “Definitely. I’m glad you came.”

“Don’t let wifey hear you say that.”

“You had to kill the vibe.”

You shrugged and looked at her with an “it is what it is” expression. Her mood turned sullen but that didn’t stop her from hugging you. “Good night, entle.” Her embrace was long and comforting. When it ceased, she looked at you deeply. It was like she wanted to say something or do something more. It was sexy, no doubt, but you knew she wouldn’t dare. 

“Go to your car, girl,” You said, playfully pushing her. 

When you went inside, you hopped in the shower, trying to work off the arousal you just experienced. Shuri had these moments where you sensed she wanted to be bold. Those eyes suggested that she wanted to take you. You were positive that if she hadn’t had a wife she would have tried to come inside your home and fuck you expeditiously. 

You didn’t understand her limitations of kissing on you, letting you know that you were affecting her, and now taking you out. She might as well go all the way and get it out of her system. 

Will you wait for me? 

Why did that turn you on? 

~~

You observed that Shuri got her bounce back in the classroom. She was in a good mood during the lesson, which you couldn’t deny was nice to see. She wore this suit that fit her nicely, like it was custom-made—most likely that was the case. She looked so elegant and pretty yet had some masculine tendencies, like how she unabashedly sat with her legs open. 

You noticed quite a few of the girls and women in the class watching her like a hawk. One day you would have to ask Shuri what it was like to stand in front of people every day who had hungry eyes when they looked at you. 

“Okay, now for some exciting news,” the Wakandan professor said. “We will be launching Design clubs, which means you’ll have extra time to work on projects with each other or anyone in your network. I have sign-up sheets for your area of interest…” She went over the details and then arranged it so one row at a time could come up and sign their name.

It all sounded interesting and you knew this would boost your resume and portfolio. When it was your turn, you noticed Shuri smile at you before returning her attention to a student who she was conversing with. 

“Miss Y/L/N,” she called as you proceeded up the aisle to return to your seat. You turned around to look at her inquisitively. She motioned for you to come over to her. “You only put down for one day?” You just looked at her and she continued. “I was hoping you’d be one of the ambassadors.”

“Down the line,” You said honestly. 

She frowned. “This is a big opportunity, Y/N.” 

“I know. Can I ease into it first?”

She looked at you searchingly and nodded. “Of course. I already know you’re going to do amazing.” 

For the rest of the period, Shuri allowed you all to begin to exchange ideas and plans for the clubs. 

Scotty was right there waiting for you patiently as you packed your things. Since you’d been conversing with one of your classmates, you’d gotten a little held up. You started speeding up your ministrations. 

“Take your time, love, ” Scotty said to you. 

You smiled at her and she smiled back. The two of you cutely averted your eyes. Your gaze landed on a brooding Shuri. You furrowed your eyebrows as if silently asking her what’s wrong.

“You okay, professor?” You spoke up.

Scotty followed your gaze, turning her head. You raised your eyebrows with a shit-eating smile when Shuri ignored you. 

“Come on, Scotty, let’s go,” You said a touch louder than necessary. “The pettiness is real.” You heard Scotty let out this surprised little giggle as she walked with you out of the classroom. “Am I lying?”

“No, you’re not lying. That was petty,” Scotty agreed. “I know she heard you.”

“It’s okay, though.” 

“She probably did that ‘cause I was there. I don’t think she likes me much.”

You looked at Scotty, a little taken aback, but not showing it. “Really?” She looked back at you, nodding. “What makes you say that?” 

Scotty chuckled. “Just a hunch.”

You stopped walking and she did the same. You eyed her closely. “She hasn’t said anything to you, has she?”

She shook her head no. “Just mean-mugged me in the cafe.” 

“Wow. For no reason?”

“For no reason. I don’t even know her.”

“I’m sorry, Scotty. You don’t deserve that.”

“No, it’s okay. I don’t care.” She laughed some, spreading out the pockets on either side of her jacket with her hands. 

“You let me know if she says something to you or gives you another look, okay? I mean it, Scotty.”

She gave you her word and the two of you continued on your path. You stopped for lunch and then went to her house where she cared for her mother. After she tended to her mother, who was a kind woman, she joined you in her own room, where you both laid on your backs on her bed, listening to Kendrick Lamar in your ear buds. 

The music was interrupted when your phone notified you that you were receiving an incoming call. “Shit,” you hissed, seeing Shuri’s name pop on the screen. You ended the call and looked at Scotty who was relaxed and staring at you. 

“Everything okay?” She asked. 

“Uh-huh!” You chirped and your phone started ringing and vibrating again.

“You can answer it, it’s okay,” Scotty assured you. 

You nodded. “Let me just see what she wants. Can you put a movie on?”

She agreed and was about to ask which movie you wanted to see but stopped when you answered your phone. 

“What were you going to say?” You asked your companion, putting your phone down. When she somewhat shyly stated her question, you smiled and told her to surprise you. You put your phone to your ear. “Hello?”

“Y/N, how are you?” Shuri said.

“Good, you?” You said dryly.

“Fine. I’m sorry I didn’t answer your question earlier when you were trying to see if I was okay. That was rude of me.”

“It was.”

“Do you forgive me?”

You hadn’t expected that part. 

“I don’t know. What’s with you giving innocent people dirty looks?”

“…Huh? What are you talking about, Y/N?”

Scotty who’d been scanning content on Hulu looked at you with her mouth ajar. You winked at her. 

“My friend Scotty. You’ve been giving her stank looks?” 

“Y/N, it’s okay…” Scotty said, trying to stop you. You shook your head. 

The other end of the line was quiet for what felt like a while.

“Hello?” You pressed. 

“I didn’t mean anything by it,” Shuri finally said. “Since you brought her up, let me ask you this.” She paused. “Is she the reason you don’t want to take advantage of the Design club?”

You twisted your face. “What do you mean?”

“I am asking if you’d rather lallygag with her every day instead of do something productive towards your future.”

Scotty suddenly looked protective, watching your reaction. You were baffled to say the least. “What’d she say?”

You smiled at her and told her you’d be back. She got up to follow you. “No, please, stay there. It’ll only take a minute.” She huffed but complied, calling out a “wait!” and giving you her jacket in case you got cold outside.

“Y/N?” Shuri called as you hadn’t said anything.

“I’m here. Where do you get off saying that to me? Have you lost your mind?”

“It’s a simple question, entle.”

“No, it’s not! You were taking shots, implying that I don’t care about my future—which couldn’t be more false—and then accusing my friend of being a bad influence!”

The line was still quiet, though you didn’t mind continuing anyway. “For why, though? You don’t know what we do, how we spend our time when we’re together and newsflash, your little club is not my only option. Stop being petty and jealous, it’s not a good look on you, and leave Scotty out of it. She doesn’t bother anyone.”

Shuri spoke after another pause, unsure if you were done sticking it to her. “I’m sorry I care about you and your choices, sthandwa.”

“Well, you need a better way to show it! Knowing you, you probably created this club as a way to…you know what? Never mind. It ain’t even worth it.” 

“No, continue. Say what you were going to say, pretty.”

It was annoying how calm she was being and using all these pet names. “No, just forget it. I said what I had to say. Leave Scotty out of it.”

“You keep talking about Scotty, but I want to talk about you…what were you going to say?”

Knowing she wasn’t going to let it go, you exhaled. “Knowing you, you just want me to be in this club so it can cut my time with her.”

“Mmm.” You tried to ignore how sultry that sounded. “So in other words, so I can have you all to myself.”

“Yes,” you grumbled.

“Well, it’s not just you in this club,” she sounded amused. “However, yes, I do like that it would give us more time together. Any Y/N time is good.”

“I’m not doing this with you.”

“Call me when you’re ready, so I can make it up to you.”

“Whatever, Shuri.” 

When you returned to Scotty’s room, her eyes glued to you. 

“Hey,” you said, offering a light smile. 

“Hey,” she repeated.

“I’m sorry about that. I had to set her straight.” You sat next to her and she looked engrossed in thoughts. “You alright, love?”

She nodded lightly.

“I can tell you have something on your mind. Say it.”

She pressed her lips together inwardly before looking at you. “Are you seeing Professor Shuri?” 

Part 5

[yaneyanedaze]

Our Goddess In Love and War

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Yandere! Royal! Pillarmen x Reader

Summary: Reader-Darling is a girl that lives in a village close to the kingdom ruled by the three kings: Esidisi, Whamuu and Kars. She doesn’t see what everyone else sees in them, and keeps away, but one day, she’ll catch their eyes, and they won’t ever leave her.

Warnings: smut later on in this chapter, yandere behavior, obsession, possessiveness, death, mentions of torture, jealously, Kars puts his foot down with disrespectful maids, reader-chan tries to leave because of threats.

A/n: I apologize for how long this took, But i’m glad to be back writing my big series! I hope you guys enjoy this long awaited chapter update!

(Unrelated but i was listening to Montero by Lil Nas X while writing this, and It was giving me Mad Kars vibes lol but I’m gonna put my playlist for this story at the bottom)

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I sighed and plopped down onto my comfy bed and slipped out of the dress and heels, I didn’t care about my hair, I’d just get up and wash in the morning. I snuggled into my pillow, at first I didn’t want to do any of this, but now I can’t help but feel  some type of attraction to the male. I mean he’s going to officially be my husband in a few days, but I still couldn’t shake this feeling that something was wrong..

….And something bad was gonna happen….

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(First Pov)

I was nervous.

I was dressed in a wonderful purple dress, a slit along the side, matching golden heels on my feet. Several maids were running around my room, preparing everything for me. My hair was styled and had many pieces of golden jewelry dangling off my body, I smiled at myself in the mirror. 

“I can’t believe this is happening…” 

A few giggles were heard around me, one maid with blonde hair and baby blue eyes smiled at me. Her name is Liza, she was the maid in charge of making sure that I was perfect for events like this. She was the only other person in charge of my dress besides Stella. Liza speaks up as she places the finishing touches on me,

“Oh Believe it My Queen, We can tell how much his majesty loves you, so we are happy!” She says, giving me a twirl as the other maids clapped. I nod smiling along with the women before a rapid knock was heard at the door. All of us turned towards the door and let out a sigh as it was only Stella at the door. Stella gives a sheepish smile as she walks in.

“I’m sorry to interrupt, but his majesty is asking for his Queen.” She says. Liza and the other maids nod, picking up the end of my dress, I began walking out the door with the girls following close behind me.

As we walked down the hallways, they were decorated with (f/c) flowers, gold and various other precious metals aligned the hall we walked down. I could hear the hustle and bustle of the people outside, nervousness creeping right back up on me. I took a deep breath as two guards opened the door revealing me to the outside world. 

Many cheers were heard, so many people were screaming and yelling. I winced at the bright light, a deep chuckle came from behind me, arms wrapping around my waist. I tensed up a bit, only earning a laugh. “My love there is no need to be afraid, it is just me..” 

I sigh and relax a bit, Kars felt strangely warm and comfortable, i felt his hands move down to my hips as he moves us both forward.

We stood on top of the stairs, both of us waving to the crowd, I giggle at some of the kids that I met in the village yelling to me and holding up signs that said. ‘We are best friends with the Queen’. Kars stepped away from me slightly, and I let out a soft whine before I knew it, I blushed, quite embarrassed but Kars just chuckled again.

“Save your whines for tonight my love, Because I’ll have you saying and thinking nothing but my name.” He whispered in my ear before stepping away to get the crown.

My face went completely red as I tried to regain my composure, I walked down the stairs to greet some of the townspeople. Smiling as a group of kids handed me a pretty bouquet of flowers, “Why thank you all.”

 “Your welcome Miss (y/n)!”  “Will we be able to visit you in the castle?” “Is the king nice?” “Are you gonna have kids of your own?” I laughed at the many questions they asked before getting taken away and scolded lightly by their parents.

“(y/n)!!” “Oh my baby you look wonderful!”

I looked up and had a half smile, My mother and sister walked up to me, both of them with tears in their eyes. I rolled my eyes but took both of them into my arms, allowing some tears down my face. Though I still held some anger towards my mom for just giving me up, but I couldn’t help myself, I was glad to have her in my arms.

“My love, Please come up here, It is time.”

I stand up and turn to walk back up, seeing Kars with the same beautiful crown that I saw when I first arrives, the jewel dangling beautifully from it. A smile graced my lips as I stood right infront Kars, I felt a feeling of Joy in my body, the fear that I had when I first came was slowly going away. Kars returned the look as he turned to face the crowd.

“Ladies and Gentlemen, We are gathered here today to celebrate the arrival of my Beautiful, Wonderful and Lovely Queen.” Kars started, I nod along, watching his every movement, He was beautiful, an absolute masterpiece. I still wondered what he would want with a half baked potato like me. I was pulled out of my trance by a weight on my head, realizing he had placed the crown on top of my head. He looked down at me with a look that I’ve never seen before on him, Care, Love, like he genuinely loved me. He then turned back to the crowd pulling me close to him.

“I do hope that you all will continue to watch over us, and grow alongside us.” He spoke before placing a hand underneath my chin. He lifts it slightly before leaning down to capture my lips in a soft, loving kiss, I was shocked, but only for a bit. I soon wrapped my arms around his neck, pulling him in to deepen the kiss. This must’ve surprised him because he pulled away slightly and whispered. “Oh you little minx~ Just wait until we get behind closed doors..” He placed another quick kiss on my lips before backing away and waving to the cheering crowd. He placed a hand on my lower back as I raised my hand to wave as well, seeing many of the crowd was moved to tears.

I guess seeing one of their own go from literally rags to riches is enough to get anyone crying.

Kars led me back inside, humming to himself softly, his hand firmly placed on my hip. “Kars..may I ask a question?” I ask, making the male let out a soft laugh. “My love, You just did.. But go ahead” He teased, making me puff out my cheeks in tiny annoyance. I sighed and went ahead with asking my question. “Um..Is it okay if my Mom and Sister come and live with us?”

Kars stopped walking, I thought it was because of what I said, but sighed with relief when he was just opening his room, well our room door. He ushered me inside and closed the door behind him. “Of course they can, My Darling…” He started, locking the door, pulling it to make sure it was secured. “But that’s not what I’m worried about right now.” He purrs, a sultry undertone in his voice. I could feel another blush coming on, I went to sit on the bed and just flopped on my back. I let out a groan of satisfaction as to how soft his bed was, making Kars let out a low growl, one that sent shivers down my spine.

“You do not know how hard it was for me to not take you where we stood.”

I let out a squeak as the male was now on top of me, I didn’t notice that he had moved from his place by the door. He placed his face in the crook of my neck as he kept me pinned down, strong hands holding mine against the bed. He let out another low growl as he continued. “It took everything in me to not take you in front of the crowd, Letting them all know that you belong to me now.” He finished, placing kisses on the side of my neck. I could only let out a sigh of content as his kisses moved lower. I watched as he hovered over my chest, which was still covered by the fabric of the dress. He sat up and smirked, I looked at him confused before in one movement he ripped the dress. Going up from the slit until it reached my chest, he then removed the torn fabric from my body, chuckling at my reaction to the coldness of the room.

“I’ll buy you another one, my love, but right now, I need you more than ever.” He said, he then lifted my legs up onto his shoulder, earning another noise of shock from me. He let out another groan of annoyance before ripping my panties from my body. I shuddered at the new cold, but before I could comment, I let out a loud moan. Kars smirked before giving another long teasing lick “Don’t worry about me tonight. It’s all about you Darling, but after tonight, I will not hold back.” He says before he started to tongue fuck me. A completely new feeling that already having me seeing stars and it did not help that Kars was unrelenting either.

He pulled back a bit licking the slick that was left on his lips off before rubbing two fingers against my folds. He looked at me as if asking for permission, and when I gave him a soft nod he smirked once more, slowly pushing two of his fingers into me. He groaned at the sounds that I was making, he picked up the pace quickly, barely giving me anytime to adjust.

“K-kars..” I moaned out, my hands gripping the smooth silk sheets below me. He hummed in response, glancing back over to me. “Hmm? What is it, my love?” He asked teasingly as he increased the speed of his digits, I squirmed underneath him as I struggled to find the words to say. “D-don’t..” I managed to moan, feeling a knot building up, I was close and he seemed to know it. “Say it my love, I know you are enjoying this so much, the way you are clenching around just my fingers. It makes me wonder how you’ll take my cock~” My body automatically reacted to his teasing words, my hips bucking against his fingers, his pace brutal now. “D-don’t hold back..” I couldn’t even believe what I was saying just now. I’ve only had sex once before and it was clumsly to say the least, so for me to practically beg the King not to hold back was surprising.

He must’ve been surprised too because began chuckling before full on laughing, he removed his fingers causing me to let out a whine. 

“My Darling woman, are you sure?” He asked as he stood up off of the bed. I nodded, my head cloudy, still whining from feeling empty. Kars quietly removed his bottoms, kicking them somewhere off to the side of the room, he pull me by my legs to the end of the bed.

I looked at his face, and a different expression was there. Lust. Eyes clouded over as he looked over my body. He teasingly pressed himself up against my folds and I gasped. Looking down this man was probably 9.5 inches with about a 1.5 girth, ‘How in the hell is that supposed to fit in me?!’ I thought.

Kars chuckled at the expression on my face. “I know, i know my love, I’m going to take my time so you can get adjusted.” He says, slowly guiding himself inside me. Just from his head, I already felt like he wouldn’t fit, but as he slowly inched more and more inside, he stretched me out wonderfully. Once he was fully inside of me, he gave a slow experimental thrust, pulling almost all the way out before snapping his hips back. I cried out in pain and pleasure, he set a slow pace, everytime, he snapped his hips in just the right way to hit that spot. The pain was fading fast, and I wanted more than this slow pace he had.

“Kars..Please just fuck me…”

My words must’ve made him snap, soon after those words left my lips he began thrusting at a more violent and fast pace, making me cry out in pleasure. His name was falling off my lips like a mantra, He was hitting just the right spot everytime. I managed to look up at him, his eyes were half open, jaw locked as he let some groans and grunts. One thrust had me seeing stars, I did not care how loud i was being at this point and I’m pretty sure any servant that walked by could hear.

One of Kars hands slowly snaked its was up to my neck and gave it a slight squeeze. “Tell me who’s fucking you this good, Tell me darling.” He growled out. I moaned out his name loud, practically screaming it at this point. He smirked “Louder. I want them to know who you belong to (y/n)”

“You Kars!”

 “Louder!”

 “KARS!” 

I cried out feeling that familiar knot unraveling, I could feel myself clenching around his cock, making him curse and growl.

 “That’s it..That’s it..You’re mine, No one else's..”

 He moans out, feeling his thrust start to get sloppy until that came to a complete halt and he was spilling his seed into me. He stayed in place until he finished before slowly pulling out. He moved to lay beside me and pull me into his chest. I turned to give him a kiss but he just held me in place. “Shh..My Love, You’re tired..Let's just rest, Tomorrow you can relax all day and I’ll have someone come check in on you.” He mumbled, running his hand through my hair, I hummed in response, feeling sleep starting to creep up on me.

“I love you Kars..” I mutter, feeling my eyes getting heavy, I hear him chuckle and place a kiss on my forehead. 

“I love you too My Darling~...”

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When I awoke,it was still dark outside.

I was dressed in a nightgown and Kars was gone, I yawned softly and got up out of bed. I nearly fell because the feeling in my legs was barely there, I blushed remembering the activities. I slowly made my way to the door only to have someone else open the door. 

“Ah Good Hello Stell-”

“Don’t you Hello me you whore.”

I was taken back by her words and angry expression. “Excuse me?” I was confused. She let out a yell of frustration. “It’s your fault! You are the reason I am not Queen! A common bitch like you!” She barked. I was hurt, I thought of Stella as a nice woman, but now she’s showing a totally different side of herself. I moved to push past her and head out the door but her words made me stop.

“Hell You’re just gonna be like the other girl before you!”

I stopped and turned to face her. “Say what?” She laughed at me before crossing her arms. “You thought you were picked out because they thought you were interesting? No, It’s because you look like Kar’s previous wife. He killed her. He only wants someone who is powerful enough to use the stone thats on the crown.” She saunters her way over to my crown and holds it in her hands. “You’re just going to be another dead body.”

I stood horrified, Mom told me that the previous Queen had died of illness, not that she was killed by Kars. “No..No He wouldn’t do that to me. He loves me.” Stella lets out another loud laugh before looking at me with a deadpan look. “He told me that too. He told me he loves me and that I’m special. I was going to be queen if it wasn’t for you.” She growled, marching forward, “So why don’t you do me a favor and run away. Run far from here..So that My King, no my Husband would have to dirty his hand with more blood” She said.

 I could feel tears welling up in my eyes and I ran out of the room, hearing her evil cackles from the room.

I went up to several maids and butlers to ask where Kars and the other kings were, but even they would not talk to me. I could feel even more tears run down my face as I ran through the halls, I burst open a door feeling the coldness of the outside and run down the stairs.

 At the bottom of the stairs stood Kars himself talking to a guard. I turned to take another way around the castle, an exit that I saw earlier when I first arrived. It was cold,I was freezing, but I couldn’t not bring myself to look Kars in the face anymore. What if I was just another body? What if he’ll ditch me and get another woman? Hell, if Stella said was true, was he just using me?

So many thoughts were running through my head, I didn’t even notice that I had bumped into someone. “I’m s-sorry..”

“My Queen, what are you doing out?” It was Esidisi, I gasped and began crying even more as I dropped to my knees. “He doesn’t love me Esi! He..He is..Just using me..” I cried out, my cries loud and echoing off the outside walls. Multiple footsteps could be heard running up to us.”My Darling?” I hear Kars call out, I continue to cry, I should have known that royalty like him wouldn’t love a commoner like me. I might as well give up the crown and just go home.

I could feel someone pick me up and hold me bridal style in their arms. “Esidisi. What is she doing out here?” “I don’t know, She ran into me crying about how you do not truly love her and you are using her.” I heard Kars suck in breath and hold me even tighter. “Who said this to you?” He asked me. I shook my head and kept crying, he shushed me and carried me back inside.

He holds me in his arms continuously telling me how much he loved me and to not listen to those rumors. When he entered the main ballroom where most maids were cleaning. “Excuse me. Who in the world told my Queen that I don’t love her?” he barked. I wiped my eyes, watching as each and everyone of the servants who gave me the cold shoulder. Kars sucked his teeth before moving to carry me like i was a child so he could have a free hand. He gripped one maid by her hair, making her let out an ear piercing scream. “I said tell me.”

“AH One of the Head maids your majesty!! She started spreading rumors, but Stella tried to stop her but she kept going.” I rolled my eyes knowing this fully to be a lie. Kars threw her across the room with his brute strength. “Oh you’ll receive a proper punishment soon. But now I have to deal with my Queen.” He said coldly, moving back to holding me with two arms. I lay my head comfortable on Kars shoulder, my cheeks stained with tears as I ended up falling back asleep in his arms.

“My Queen, don’t you worry..I will find out who did this to you..who lied on my name and made you feel unworthy of my love.”

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To say he was pissed was an understatement. Kars had laid (y/n) back in their shared bed, he then charged in the servant quarters scaring all of them.

Those servants wished that they would have spoken up, or comforted the queen in that moment, they suffered severe beatings, threats and some of them were even sent to the dungeon. 

All while Stella Listened and laughed.

“One step closer...Just one step closer.”

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I hope you enjoyed this chapter! 

My playlist for this entire story is 

Montero By Lil Nas X

Alejandro and Bad Romance by Lady Gaga

Streets By Doja Cat

Paparazzi: Kim Dracula

What songs does this story make you think of?

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[comphersjost]

More Than This ➸ Mikko Rantanen

its 3 am and i couldnt wait to post this. its self indulgent, all of it

You have a thing for bigger guys. And Mikko, well, he takes notice.

word count: 3.9k+

warnings: slight angst? if you squint, reader cant get off, size kink (obviously), smut, thigh riding, mutual pining if you squint, sorta best friend!jt

masterlist

You didn't know how you let JT talk you into letting him swipe through your Bumble account. And you definitely don't know how he managed to get you to let him do it while displaying your phone on his Apple TV. And what you absolutely, totally, completely did not know, was how you let him keep going when Ryan, EJ, Gabe, Mikko, Naz and some of the wives and girlfriends arrived at his and Josty’s shared apartment. 

You'd known JT for years, so your dating life wasn't exactly a new subject for you. Besides, it had seemed fun at the time, the group of you lounging around the living room as JT swipes through Bumble for you.

“Hey what about this guy? He's cute!” Gabe says. JT scrolls through the guy’s profile.

“Wait,” you said, stopping him from scrolling any further. “6’4? Swipe right.”

The group erupts into laughter at your words, though you were being completely serious. JT swipes right anyways without scrolling through the rest of “Andy”’s profile, the group cheering as you match. You lock eyes with Mikko, completely by accident, and the dark look in his eyes tells you he knows something you don't. He stands, announcing he's going to get a drink from the kitchen, but you don't miss the smirk tugging at his lips as you gulp, your eyes travel up his hulking frame. 

Your attention is pulled away by Naz saying something about a guy’s bio being “ultimate douchebag vibes”, and that’s when you decide it's been enough. You snatch your phone back from JT, disconnecting from the screen mirroring despite the protests around you. 

“You guys have snooped into my dating life enough,” you laugh, “All thanks to Comph here, but that’s enough, seriously.”

With a grumble, the group relents, allowing the conversation to progress past “6’4? Swipe right.”

-

You were staring again. 

You knew it too. You also knew that if you didn't stop soon - like, now - you were gonna get caught. Again. Just as a thought goes through your head, you feel an elbow digging into your side. 

“If you want to fuck him, just shoot your shot.” You turn to glare at Ashley, finally tearing your eyes away from the blonde brute on the other side of the bar. You reach over to smack JT with the back of your hand as he starts laughing.

“Fuck off, dude,” you say, rolling your eyes. “Even if I wanted to - which I don't, by the way - I couldn't.”

“Says who?” JT says incredulously. “Besides, don't you have a thing for big dudes?” As your oldest friend of the group (though he wasn't always your friend for as long as you've known him, he was your brother’s friend from college before you moved to Denver), JT had the most shit to talk. 

“Says my contract with your team, Jimothy.” The ginger grimaces at the nickname, but lets it slide, opting out of his usual reaction of punching the guys in the arms when they called him that. Instead he laughs again at your defensive expression and your avoidance of his question, turning to call the rest of the guys back to your table. Your glare intensifies as he gives you a shit-eating grin. 

“Technically you don't know that it says that. What's the worst that could happen, Y/N?” he teases, wiggling his eyebrows in a manner that was so unlike him. Drunk JT was the worst you thought. “I'm sure he’d be down for a -” he pauses dramatically “night of passion.” 

You gag at the way he says it, at the same time you here an accented voice say.

“Who wants a night of passion?” 

You tense, not having realized the rest of the team had actually come back so quickly. You force yourself to relax and paint a playful smile on your face, turning to look at the Fin. 

“Nothing, Jimothy’s just being stupid as usual,” you say dryly, scooting over as Mikko motions for you to move further in the booth. You pretend not to notice Ashley’s shit-eating grin as Naz rolls his eyes at her antics. Luckily no one at the table says anything incriminating before the boys start up a new conversation. 

In the chaos you almost don't notice Mikko stretching, placing an arm behind you on the booth. But you do notice, and it makes you stiffen. Mikko feels your body go rigid, glancing down at you with a confused pout. He leans down for a moment until his mouth is by your ear. 

“Are you okay?” he murmurs as his hand drops to caress your shoulder in what you guessed was supposed to be a comforting manner. 

“I’ve got a lot on my mind,” you lie easily, avoiding his gaze. “Just a little on edge.” 

If it was possible his voice lowers, making you strain to hear him. “Just relax.” And - that really doesn't help, heat settling in your gut at the words. 

“Actually -” you say abruptly, finally meeting his eyes for the first time that night, “I think I’m gonna go home. I’m just not feeling it.” 

You can see Ashley watching you closely from the corner of your eye, but you don't turn to look at her. Instead you raise an eyebrow expectantly, motioning for Mikko to get up out of the booth so you could leave. He looks surprised by your sudden desire to leave - lips parted in confusion and what you thought was a hint of hurt. 

With a reluctant look on his face, Mikko slides out of the booth, stepping aside to let you slip past. You send a quick wave to the table, and after a brief goodbye, head towards the exit to wait for your Uber. You assumed Mikko sat back down as you walked away, so it surprised you when you heard Mikko call after you just as you'd begun to walk towards the curb. 

“Y/N! Wait!” 

Your step falters for a moment as you glance over your shoulder, pausin to let Mikko catch up with you. He reaches for you for a moment, before pulling back. 

“Are you okay? Seriously.” 

And like, you hate the concern in his voice. Stupid you think. Stupid accent and stupid pouty lips and stupid - 

Your thoughts are interrupted by Mikko repeating your name, softer this time, as he takes a step closer to you. Your breath hitches at you stare at him towering over you, trying to force yourself to think of anything other than how his massive hands would feel on your body. 

“Yeah,” you finally choke out, taking a step backwards towards your waiting Uber. “Yeah, I’m good, just - I'm just tired and have a lot on my plate right now.” 

You're reaching for the door before he can respond, barely catching his faint “Text me when you get home safe!” before the door is closed. You pretend not to hear him. The driver glances at you in the mirror quizzically, seemingly wanting to ask how you left Mikko Rantanen outside of a bar without so much as a goodbye, but thinks better of it, turning up the soft music on the radio as he begins the drive towards your apartment. 

You feel drained when you finally get home, showering and changing into more comfortable clothes as quickly as you can before crawling into bed. Your thoughts drift to Mikko as you close your eyes, the heat in your gut from before returning. You consider taking care of yourself, but considering you haven't been able to get off in weeks, the idea seems even more exhausting, so you let sleep overtake you. 

- 

“You didn't text me.” 

You glance up from your laptop to see Mikko standing in the aisle of the plane, his eyebrows furrowed into a slight frown. 

“What?” you say dumbly, you stare up at him, forcing your attention away from one of his enormous hands as it curls around the back of the seat in front of you. You only succeed in noticing his thighs in his basketball shorts, the chiseled muscles making your mouth go dry.

“When you left yesterday,” he clarifies, pulling your gaze away from his thighs. “I told you to text me when you got home safe.” 

“Oh.” 

“Yeah, oh.” 

You're taken aback by irritation in his tone - and slightly offended. Who was he to be annoyed with you? 

“Well, I was really tired, so…” you trail off, eyes falling back to your laptop screen. You hope he takes it as an end to the conversation, and luckily, he does. 

You feel bad for being short with him, but JT and Ashley’s teasing from the night before - and, let’s face it, from months before - was getting to you. You can't help but watch Mikko’s back as he retreats, heading back to the front of the plane where he usually sat. 

You see him slump in his seat, blonde curls barely visible over the backrest, and a pang of guilt shoots through you. It’s gone the moment you catch JT’s eye, flipping him off as he grins knowingly, before shaking your head and focusing on your work. 

You didn't have time to lust over Mikko. Not when you had the job that needed your complete focus. 

The flight is short, and you arrive in Edmonton faster than you thought you would. You try to ignore Mikko’s burning stare as the players and staff exit the plane, trying your best to tune into the animated story Josty was telling JT. 

You breathe a sigh of relief once you close the door to your hotel room, finally relaxing for the first time all day. The game wasn't until tomorrow, so you knew you had time to do what you wanted - which was absolutely nothing. 

And nothing you did, lounging around in your room watching Netflix and declining an offer from JT to go out with, well, everyone. It didn't help that you knew Mikko and Mark’s room was directly next to yours, but as you heard the chaos of a group of 30 grown men, and then some, heading out for the night, you relaxed a little more. 

An idea pops into your head when the noise finally fades, your hands slipping further down your body to rest above your shorts. You were tense, and needed release - desperately. You give in to yourself, slipping your fingers under your shorts and panties, gasping as your fingers slide through your folds. You're already wet, sensitive from not having been able to cum in weeks. 

A soft whimper escapes your lips as your fingertips find your clit, rubbing gently to work yourself up. You can't help the noises that escape your mouth, trying to keep yourself quiet, but easing up when you remembered that everyone had gone out. 

Your breath quickens as you rub tight, fast circles on your cunt, your back arching. Your other hand finds your breast through your thin t-shirt, pulling and pinching at your nipple. The added sensation makes you moan loudly into the empty room. 

Your hand moves faster and faster in your panties as you pinch your nipple roughly, pulling your bottom lip between your teeth to keep yourself quiet - just in case. 

You're so so close, you can feel it. Your orgasm is right there, and it feels endless as you chase it. You move the hand that's playing with your breasts down to slip under your panties, sinking two fingers into your pussy. Your back arches even more at the feeling, whines escaping you now even with your lip between your teeth. You just - you need something to push you over the edge into you euphoria but - 

“Fuck!” you sob, your body collapsing back onto your bed as your hands cease their movements. You draw your hands out of your shorts, repeating “Fuck”, before resigning to the fact that you just can't cum. Tears slip down your cheeks as you attempt to catch your breath. It ached, how bad you needed to cum but you just couldn't. So you give up on, trying to find anything else to focus on. Only hours later did you find yourself falling into a restless sleep. 

- 

The knock on your door makes you jump, the sound echoing in your empty apartment. You frown as you think Who the fuck is here this late? You'd only just gotten home and settled from your trip to Edmonton, finally relaxing on your couch with Netlix already pulled up and ready to browse through. You're so caught up in wondering who could be at your door that another three heavy knocks sound at the door. 

 Impatient much? you think bitterly as you make your way to the door. 

You nearly slam it shut again when you see who's on the other side. 

“Mikko,” you say, a questioning tone to your voice. “What are you-” 

“I heard you.” His words are abrupt, cutting your sentence off. You frown, not understanding what he means. You step aside to let him come in, and he doesn't hesitate before sweeping into your apartment, slipping his shoes off and taking a seat at your couch. 

You raise your eyebrows at Mikko’s boldness as you come to stand in front of him, about to ask him to clarify what exactly it was he heard, before he answers the question for you. 

“Last night. In Edmonton.” 

Your blood runs cold, but his voice lowers, thick with intention. 

“I could hear you, when you couldn't cum.” 

“I - I -” you stutter for a moment, “I thought everyone went out last night.” 

It's not a denial of what Mikko said, and he knows it. 

“I stayed behind,” he says simply, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. His eyes are dark, and you can't bring yourself to look away, no matter how badly you wanted to. 

“I…” You flush under his gaze, somehow both absolutely mortified by him hearing you, and curious to see what he would say. “And you're telling me this because…?” 

Mikko is silent for a few moments, mulling over his words. “Let me help you,” he finally says, his voice low and husky. “Let me help you cum.” 

You can't help the way you gasp, the desperation from the night before flaring up again. 

“Mikko I don't-” 

“Think it's a good idea?” he finishes, his hands coming to rest on your waist, pulling you closer. “I don't care. I want...I want you. I want this. I want to help you.” 

“Mikko…” 

You sound uncertain but he knows you've already made up your mind. You let out a yelp as he tugs you roughly into his lap, smashing his lips into yours. A moan escapes you immediately, god he was incredible. Mikko is big, he's so big that one of his arms wraps itself almost completely around your waist, the other coming up to cup your face, nearly covering half of it. You feel small in his lap, and you love it. 

His tongue darts in and out of your mouth, coaxing small noise from you as you grip his shoulders. It was better than you could have ever imagined, the way he bites your bottom lip and tugs back on it with a smile. You whine again as his giant hand falls to your ass, flexing over the flesh and squeezing. 

He pushes against your ass, guiding you to rock against him. You tear your lips away from him, head falling to his shoulder at the friction. Your brain is fried, unable to think of anything but the behemoth of a man in front of you. 

“God he's so painfully my type” you remember telling your friend when you first moved to Denver. You didn't tell her why. You didn't tell her it was because of his size. You didn't tell her it was because he was over a foot taller than you. And you definitely didn't tell her it was because you wanted him to use that size to his advantage with you. 

And use it he did, moving your body the way he wants against him as you whimper pathetically. Mikko maneuvers you so that you're seated on one of his massive thighs, your leggings doing next to nothing to provide a barrier between your cunt and his thigh. 

“Please,” you find yourself whining before you can stop yourself. The pressure of his leg against your clit makes you giddy, unable to think of anything but more more more. Mikko’s hand on your ass guides you, rocking your hips against him as the other caresses your hair. 

“That's it,” he spurs you on, accent thickening as he moves you, “Just like that, good girl. Feels good doesn't it?” 

You whimper again and nod against his neck, moving your hips even as he guides you. The friction feels delicious against your cunt, and you can already feel your orgasm building up. Mikko murmurs soft words of encouragement as you rut against him, the tent in his sweatpants growing tighter as more noises escape your throat. 

Logically, you knew Mikko’s size would likely match the size of his cock but - nothing could have prepared you for what you felt against your thigh as you rocked harder into him. His cock was straining against his sweats, thick and heavy as you pushed against him. 

Mikko’s hand disappears from your ass for a moment, before coming down again with a rough smack. You jolt at the sting and cry out as it only brings you closer to the edge. Your hand curls around his neck, your face smushed into his shoulder with his other hand cradling the back of your head. 

“Please, Mikko, please!” you sob into his t-shirt, so fucking close to release. You were desperate, strings of curses and his name and “pleasepleaseplease” the only words leaving your mouth. He coos gently at your desperation, bouncing his leg slightly to give you more friction. 

“I've got you, rakas,” (beloved) he murmurs lowly, pressing a kiss to the side of your head. “You're close aren't you?” 

“Mhm.” Your voice comes out whiny, but you could really care less, too caught up in chasing your orgasm to care how you sounded. “Mik - Mikko, please, please.” 

“That’s it,” he repeats, the hand that was cradling your head disappearing, only to come down on your ass sharply. A sob is ripped from your throat as you wind your hand into his hair and pull. “Come on, there you go, are you going to cum for me?” 

“Yes yes yesyesyes,” you babble, frantic as you seek your high. 

“Cum for me, rakas,” Mikko growls. “I want you to cum for me.”

The filthy, commanding tone he uses is enough to send you over the edge, throwing you into white-hot ecstasy as you finally - finally - achieve the release you've been craving. You're faintly aware of the scream you let out, and the tears slipping down your cheeks, but you're too focused on the pleasure you're feeling to be embarrassed - or even care, for that matter. 

Mikko holds you tight to his body as you begin to regain consciousness, rocking you slower and slower against his thigh until he stops, tugging you so that you straddle his lap instead. You're hyper aware of his cock pressing against your thigh, achingly hard. 

“You did so well,” he purrs, peppering your neck with soft, wet kisses. “You did so fucking good, you're so beautiful when you cum for me.” You whine at the words, finally finding the strength to lift your heavy head from his shoulder. 

“Sorry I ruined your shirt,” you snivel, gasping out a sob when another tremor wracks your body. Mikko pulls you back into his chest, chuckling softly. 

“That's alright, suloinen asia. (sweet thing) You did so good for me.” 

Mikko strokes your hair softly as your sobs slow to a stop, holding you tightly to him to build you back up where he shattered you. He whispers sweet nothings in your ear as his fingers caress you, the heat radiating from him lulling you into a daze. 

“Thank you,” you whisper softly, curling your hand around the back of his head. You pull back softly to look at him, and you can't help but revel in what you see. Mikko’s cheeks are pink, his lips swollen and bruised, and his eyes are blown wide with lust. He stares up at you in admiration, smiling almost shyly at your gratitude. 

“Y/N I - fuuuck,” Mikko’s words are cut off when you rock your hips against his aching cock, his hands flying to your waist. “What are you - oh - Y/N - shit -” 

“Please?” you mewl softly, pouting softly at his reprimanding stare. 

“Stop that,” he groans, his head tilting back slightly in pleasure. Whether he's talking about your pout or the way you were grinding on him - who knows. 

“Please?” you repeat, smiling triumphantly when his hands on your waist push you a little harder against his dick. 

“Yeah,” he breathes, “Yeah, yeah, okay, one condition.” 

“Mhm,” you hum, too distracted with roaming your eyes over Mikko’s chest and arms to pay attention. 

“Hey.” Mikko grabs your face between two fingers, squishing your cheeks together as he forces you to look at him. You stop breathing for a moment, his grip on your face unrelenting as you wait for him to tell you his condition. “My condition,” he says, “is that I want more than just this. Let me take you on a date. And no more swiping right on any other big guys on dating apps.” 

His words catch you by surprise, and you laugh loudly. Mikko lets go of your face when you do, watching you throw your head back joyfully. He's confused for a moment, but accepts your kiss, smiling against your mouth as you giggle against his. 

“Is that a yes?” he murmurs between kisses. 

“It's a hell yes,” you smile brightly, leaning into to steal another. 

“Great, now can I fuck you over the back of this couch and make you cum again or what?”

[bisexualcrowley]

Girls do it better

Kinktober day 12: Fingering

Pairing: Donna Sheridan x Fem!Reader

Summary: You meet Donna when she first arrives at the island, and you show her the ropes

Content/warnings: Fluff, smut/nsfw, porn with plot, light cursing, one night stand

Word count: 2,302

Donna’s eyes widened, almost choking on her drink at the sight of the woman who had just entered the little café. You walked with an air of confidence while still giving off a humble vibe, the two balancing each other perfectly to create what Donna could only describe as an angel and she couldn’t stop herself from staring as you made your way into the building.

 Strappy leather sandals clicked quietly against the uneven floorboards as you walked up to the counter and leaned your forearms against it, saying a few words in greek to the woman washing glasses with a warm smile that made the blonde’s chest flutter, now having a proper view of the woman who stood a few table-lengths away.

You were tall, or at least taller than Donna, with h/l h/c hair and warm e/c eyes that reflected the sea outside beautifully, your tanned figure wrapped in a short blue and white dress with golden trim that ended just above your knees. 

Donna must have made a noise, because moments later you had looked over your shoulder to meet Donna’s eyes and she quickly looked back down at her book, blushing madly as the you let out a good natured laugh. 

Donna allowed herself a sheepish glance upward and was surprised to see you nod your head back in her direction, speaking again in greek to the woman behind the counter before turning and making your way over to where Donna sat.

You grinned, leaning a hand on the back of the chair opposite the blushing woman and tilting your head to try and get a look at the novel laid out on the table.

“Whatcha’ readin’ there?”

Your voice was upbeat and friendly, and despite her embarrassment from before Donna found it soothing, looking up to meet you with a shy smile.  “The Hobbit. I know, kinda nerdy, but I've always loved it”

You felt your already content appearance split into a huge smile and Donna felt her face heat up again, nodding towards the empty chair in invitation which you happily accepted, pulling the seat around so you would be directly beside the young woman before dropping smoothly into it.

“I’ve always loved it too! It’s so easy to get roped into the world, isn't it.” You grinned at Donna’s nod of agreement, and after a short pause stuck out a hand, which she shook without hesitation.

“I’m Y/n, glad to meet you!”

You spoke happily, shooting Donna another megawatt smile that had her stomach doing flips all over again. Dammit Sheridan, get it together, she silently cursed as your fingers wrapped around her own.

“Donna Sheridan, good to meet you too!” She returned, breaking off the handshake to mark her page and close the book, her focus now entirely on you.

“Well then Donna, what brings you to a place like this? Or more specifically, what’s a girl like you doing in a place like this?” You winked, leaning forward and resting her forearms on the table the way you had at the counter, and despite her efforts, Donna found her eyes momentarily drawn to them, watching the sun glint off the bracelets lining your wrists. 

You weren’t exactly sure what it was that had given you such a flare of confidence, maybe it was how adorable the woman beside you was, maybe the whole island was intoxicating, or maybe it had just been too long since you had felt attracted to anyone like this.  Either way, it wasn’t important, the only thing that mattered right now was the way Donna grinned at your question, her face burning beet red and eyebrows shooting up as she giggled.

“I wanted a fresh start, to travel, see the world, that kind of thing, y’know?” She replied as she tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “What about you? You seem to fit in well with the crowd, are you from around here?”

“I wish! I’ve just been traveling, been on this island for a month and take off tomorrow. My parents didn’t take too well to my coming out, so what better time to get out and see the world, right?” You chuckled, jokingly striking a pose when you mentioned your sexuality. 

Donna’s ears perked up at your words, and masking her excitement with a giggle, she continued along the topic. “Ha! I feel you, my mother’s already pretty disappointed in my choices, I can’t imagine how she’d feel if she knew I swung both ways.”

You shot a friendly smile to the woman from behind the counter as she set two drinks down in front of you on the table, and without hesitation you raised a glass, winking at Donna who replied with a tip of her head and a raise of her own drink.

“To being a raging homosexual” You toasted with a laugh, bringing your hand forward to clink your glasses together.

“To being a raging homosexual.” Donna replied, pretending not to notice the way your fingers brushed as your cups touched, the way yours lingered briefly overtop of her own.

The two of you laughed, enjoying the moment as your fingers brushed together again as you set your cups down. You didn’t miss the way Donna’s eyes flicked to your lips as you took one between your teeth, and you were sure she didn’t miss it when your eyes did the same to her. 

Donna, immediately flustered, was the first one to look away, clearing her throat sheepishly and smiling at the floor. It made you giggle, it was clear she didn’t have much experience flirting with women, maybe none at all, and you found it adorable.  You didn’t want her to feel uncomfortable though, and hoping to ease her nerves you leaned forward slightly, resting your fingers softly over her own.

“Hey, since you’re new here, why don’t I show you around the island? Lots of hidden treasures you wouldn’t want to miss” You smiled, your voice holding an air of comfort for the other woman. 

To your delight, your proposition had Donna beaming and responding with an enthusiastic nod, leaving you giggling happily once again. Dropping a tip on the table, you stood up and made your way towards the exit, Donna trailing behind happily. 

The hours flew by as the two of you wandered around the island, first to a little shop selling brightly colored jewelry, then to a run down building that Donna climbed up onto, dancing goofily as if it was a stage and leaving you both doubled over in laughter. 

Next you showed her around the little town, introducing her happily to friendly shopkeepers, Donna’s eyes wide with excitement as you wandered between buildings.

Neither of you knew exactly when you had taken each others hand, but there were no questions towards the action. Donna’s fingers threaded between yours and you squeezed, looking to the side to grin at the blonde who’s face was frozen in an enthralled smile.

The sun was just beginning to set when you reached a small dock overlooking the ocean, which was now glistening orange and pink with the colors of the sky. You had seen a lot of wonderful things during your stay on Kalokairi, but you had to admit the sun sinking below the horizon as the waves lapped against the shore was one of the most beautiful. 

It was clear that Donna felt the same way as you looked over to find her staring awestruck at the landscape, her mouth hanging open slightly with a smile ghosting at the corners.

You smiled too, finding yourself unable to tear your eyes away from your new friend. She really was gorgeous, both by personality and by appearance. The light reflected in her eyes like the warm glow of a fire, glinted off her lips like the perfect shade of lipgloss.

You caught yourself staring when Donna turned to face you, but you didn’t turn away the way you normally would. Instead your eyes locked with hers, and you slid your hand from its place clasped with hers and moved upwards, slowly and smoothly until you were brushing a strand of hair out of her eyes, behind her ear.

No words were needed when Donna leaned into the touch, tilted her head towards your own, allowed her lips to land gently on hers. The kiss was warm, sweet, your connection deepening even more as you cupped her jaw in one hand, tangled the other in her loose curls.

Surprisingly to you she was the one to deepen the kiss, sighing against your mouth and pressing her chest against your own before nipping softly at your lower lip. 

Your breath hitched at the action but you didn’t protest. Quite the contrary, you reached down, pulled her hips flush with your own as the two of you made out.

Donna moaned quietly as you moved against her and took the leap again, nudging your thighs open and sliding her leg between, pressing her own thigh against your clothed sex.

You let out a moan of your own at the sudden pressure, allowing yourself to pull out of the kiss, chest heaving as you caught your breath.

“There's... An empty beach house, just past those trees... Wanna move this over there?” You panted, staring at the lust blown eyes of the shorter woman, who nodded rapidly before grabbing your hand.

You took quick steps across the pier back to the beach, the two of you giggling all the way, Donna squealing when you swatted jokingly at her ass.

The moment you were inside the  run down building you had Donna pressed against a wall, hands tangled in her hair again as your mouths smashed together in a heated kiss. There was no hesitation when Donna’s thigh nudged between yours this time, immediately pressing upwards and making you groan against her mouth as you ground against it.

Your head dipped to press butterfly kisses across her jaw, down her neck and settling at the dip where her neck met her shoulders, and Donna let out a pleased sigh at the sensation. Her fingers flew to the ties holding your dress on, undoing the strings in quick motions that left the fabric pooling around your ankles and revealing a lace bralette and matching panties.

You sighed when the cooling air hit your skin, smiling against Donna’s collarbone before pulling off to tug at her own clothes, fingers slipping her loose top over her shoulders and deftly undoing the fastenings on her jeans.

You hadn��t realized until the moment Donna’s clothes dropped to the ground just how desperate you were, and your mouth crashed against hers again, kissing with a newly found fervor that had her gasping against your mouth.

You couldn’t hold yourself off for any longer and reached down, stroking two fingers along the shorter woman’s clothed sex, finding her panties already slick with her arousal. No longer having the self control to be a tease, you nudged the thin fabric to the side and plunged your digits into her dripping cunt, to which Donna let out a wrecked moan.

You smirked at the sounds she made, taking it as an invitation to keep going, so at that you thrust in again. Donna’s lips clashed with your own desperately with each time you impaled her on your fingers, curling to brush her g-spot with each thrust as your thumb rubbed circles on her throbbing clit.

Feeling her release building embarrassingly fast, Donna quickly removed her hands from their clutch on your hips and shoved your panties down, plunging two fingers into you without hesitation

You writhed against her at the intrusion, whimpering softly as you fucked into each other without abandon.

It only took a few more thrusts to push Donna over the edge. One final slam of your fingers into her g spot and a flick of her clit sent her spiraling into an orgasm, her hand tightening and stilling inside you as the pleasure overcame her.

Your motions slowed but didn’t stop as Donna rode out her orgasm, stroking her walls gently as her cunt clenched around your fingers. When she finally pulled back she was panting, face flushed and lips swollen from making out so roughly. 

You were about to open your mouth to speak, but before you could think of what to say Donna had dropped to her knees in front of you and before you realized it, her mouth was attached to your dripping cunt, fingers thrusting rapidly again as her tongue made contact with your clit.

She lapped hungrily at your arousal as she slammed into you, and it took no time at all for you to be thrown into your own orgasm, coming with a cry of Donna’s name as her mouth replaced her fingers, impaling you on her tongue again and again as the waves washed through you.

When she pulled off you were sure you looked as wrecked as she did, with messed hair, smeared makeup and face flushed red. 

For a moment the room was silent aside from the crash of waves from outside, the two of you letting the moment sink in before you started snickering. Nothing about the moment was funny, but it still had the two of you laughing, Donna’s face bright with a smile once again.

“So, are you glad you came here?” You spoke first, biting your lip to hold back a giggle as you gave her a mockingly suggestive look, to which Donna replied with a howl of laughter.

“Yeah, I’m pretty sure I am”

[avengerscompound]

The Tower: Family - 23

The Tower: Family An Avengers Fanfic

Series Masterlist PREVIOUS //

Pairing:  Avengers x OFC, Bruce Banner x Bucky Barnes x Clint Barton x Wanda Maximoff x Steve Rogers x Natasha Romanoff x Tony Stark x Thor x Sam Wilson x OFC (Elly Cooper)

Word Count: 1945

Warnings:  Pregnancy, smut (MFF bisexual threesome, Vaginal fingering, vaginal sex, oral sex, electro stimulation, the use of wanda’s powers in a sexual way)

Synopsis: With new powers, Thor now living on Earth full time, a wedding to plan, and Natasha and Wanda expecting, a lot is changing for Elly and her large and rather unconventional family.  When Elise’s parents try to reestablish connections, Elly questions what being a family actually means.

Chapter 24: The Photoshoot

The baby shower that had been strictly no gifts had ended up with a handful of gifts anyway.  They were mostly clothes - though Sam’s sister bought a breast pump that she had sworn by, while Loki and Angela had brought protective totems from Asgard.  There were a few plush or little wooden toys from people too.  Rhodey had bought all the kids, starting from Riley and Pietro, Cat in the Hat t-shirts.  Riley’s was labeled Thing One, Pietro’s Thing two, and then there were four tiny baby t-shirts labeled things three through six.  Phil got a little bundle of onesies that had funny little round cat-like blobs on them and the slogan ‘I love all my mommies and daddies’.

The party was fun but exhausting and Wanda, Natasha, and I all ended up going to bed early that night and sleeping right through.

Afterward, Wanda was very excited about doing a pregnancy photoshoot.  It wasn’t too hard to convince Natasha to in the end.  Partially because the pregnancy had been going so well for her and she wanted to commemorate the time she finally got past everything the Red Room had done to her.  But mostly it was just because she loved Wanda so much and she wanted her to have anything that made her happy.

We all headed out to the Avengers facility in upstate New York for the photos.  It was surrounded by forest and by the river so that we could give Wanda the full Earth mother vibe that she’d been cultivating.

We had three ideas in mind.  One was outside and two would be in the old house.  We started with the tamest version.  Wanda, Natasha, and I all put on long, flowing georgette gowns, our hair loose, with flower crowns.  Wanda wore magenta with matching roses, Natasha - black with black orchids, dotted with red poppies, and I wore a sky blue with delphinium and sea holly.

We were going with a family shoot to start with so everyone else wore white linen.  The kids both had baby’s breath threaded through their hair and were very excited to be out in the woods with the family and the dogs.  We did photos of them kissing tummies.  Of our whole group walking in a line through the woods with Wanda, Natasha, and I in the middle.  All of us lying in the grass everyone cuddles up to the three pregnant women.  Photos of hoards of hands on bellies.   All the standard pictures you see when you think of pregnancy photoshoot in the woods only there was a gaggle of us.

When the kids seemed to grow bored of the photoshoot we all headed back to the house so Wanda, Natasha, and I could change and they could play with the toys they hadn’t seen for the last month since we’d been back.

Wanda, Natasha, and I changed into lace gowns the same colors as the others.  These weren’t normal lace gowns though.  They were strapless, and while the empire cut bodice was solid the skirt was completely transparent and opened right down the middle exposing our bellies.  We paired the dresses with lace boyleg panties.  Wanda wore black, Natasha red, and I wore white.

We stayed inside for these photos and posed in sexier and more intimate poses with each other.  We would drape ourselves over couches and the bed.  We cuddle up to each other and put our hands on each other’s exposed bellies.  There were photos of us kissing and caressing each other.

Finally, we stripped down to our underwear for the last part of the shoot and hopped in a tub with milky white water together.  The photographer decorated the outside of the tub with flowers and candles and floated flowers around us in the tub, so the three of us were all floating, with our heads on the edge and our bellies poking out of the water towards the middle, our legs tangled together in the water.

By the time we were done, I was pretty tired and hungry.  We changed into sweats and ate with the others before the three of us went to take a nap.

I woke up to a shift of the bed beside me as the whole thing swayed.  I opened my eyes as whoever had climbed into bed with us wrapped his arms around me and turned to see Thor.  Natasha was already gone and Wanda had started to stir beside me.

“Good evening, my queen,” Thor said, kissing my neck.  “I was sent to wake you up.”

“You gonna do it by getting me all worked up?” I complained, backing my ass against him.

“You’re always waking us with kisses and soft touches,” Thor said.  “I was merely returning the favor.”

“You’re not an overly hormonal pregnant woman,” I huffed.

“No, that is true,” he chuckled.  “I am a man though.”

I started giggling and Wanda moved closer to us.  “What’s happening?”

“Dinner will be served shortly,” Thor explained.  “I was sent to come and wake the both of you.”

“By getting me all turned on,” I pouted.

“I can tell,” Wanda teased.  “Which isn’t helping me at all.”

“I am sure I can help both of you with your problem before the meal is served,” Thor said as his fingers traced over Wanda’s nipples.  “Who would like to go first?”

“Elise,” Wanda said, quickly.  “The two of you can bring me close before you touch me.”

“As you wish, my love,” Thor said, leaning over and kissing her deeply.

As the two of them kissed, Thor slipped his hand into my pants and began to slowly roll his hips against my back.  I could feel his erection starting to press into me as he rutted against me, but he took his time, teasing my clit and kissing the side of my neck.

Wanda leaned forward and kissed me, her lips parted as they brushed over mine, and I followed her lead, bringing my tongue out to meet hers.  I moaned softly into the kiss and ran my hand up into her hair.  She hummed and shifted closer, our bellies touching against each other.

She pulled back and lifted my shirt over my head.  As she did thor pushed my pants and panties down in one go.  He shucked off his own clothes and pulled me tighter against him, so his erection sat against my asscrack.  Each time he rolled his hips his shaft moved up and down the crevice.

His hand returned to my cunt as Wanda leaned down and pulled one of my nipples into her mouth.  I mewled and tugged on her hair as my arousal started to seep from within me.  Thor’s fingers worked my clit quickly and with practiced ease, sending shivers running through me and making my whole body vibrate in anticipation of more.  A small spark danced off his fingertips, sparking against my clit.  I gasped and came then and there with no warning, jerking between them as my cunt spasmed.

Thor chuckled.  It was a deep booming sound that made me feel warm right to my core.  “That was quick.”

“You cheated,” I teased playfully.

“I am sorry, let’s see if I can do this properly,” he laughed, and lined his cock up at my entrance.

“Don’t do anything to hurt the babies,” Wanda said, looking over my shoulder at Thor.

“My life,” Thor said.  “I am a fertility god, I know what I’m doing.”

I started giggling but it was cut off by a gasp as Thor thrust into me.  He didn’t allow any time for me to adjust, he just began to thrust into me from behind.  Wanda resumed sucking on one breast and then the other.  She was feeding off both mine and Thor’s pleasure, and as we began to moan with it, so did she.

She flicked her wrist and a small ball of pink light ran down my skin, between my legs, and began to vibrate against my already oversensitive clit.  I mewled and jerked back between them, my legs trembling.  One of my hands tightened in Wanda’s hair and I reached behind me and gripped Thor’s arm with the other, tethering myself to them both.

“Oh god,” I gasped, quivering between them.  “Won’t last.”

“Whenever you want, Elise,” Thor rumbled as he continued to snap his hips into me.

I tried to relax, but my muscles spasmed and clenched.  I dug my fingers into Thor’s arm and he wrapped his hand around my throat and tilted my head back to him, fiercely kissing me.

Things became hazy and I couldn’t focus on anything except the building pressure in my cunt and the tendrils of pleasure that spread out from my breasts.  Wanda increased the buzz from her energy projection and moaned loudly as my cunt suddenly seized up.  I cried out, breaking the kiss with Thor as I came hard, shuddering between them.

Thor slowed his pace, fucking me through my orgasm before slipping out of me and climbing over us both.  He positioned himself behind Wanda so he was spooning her the way he did me, and cradled her carefully.  I kissed my way down her body as helping Thor undress her as Thor rutted slowly against her.  When we’d removed her shirt, I latched on to one of her breasts and sucked on her nipple, drawing a sharp gasp from her.  Thor pushed her pants off and began to slide his cock up and down her soaked folds.

I kissed down lower, over her baby bump where the strings of light only I could see connected me to both her and the twins growing inside her, and down to her cunt.  Thor adjusted her hips back and eased his cock inside her.  She moaned softly and I lifted her leg and began to lap at the place where they joined and up over her clit.

“Oh!”  She gasped and her hands tightened in the sheets.

“Are you okay, my beloved?”  Thor asked.

“Oh yes, Thor,” she mewled.

He began to thrust and I sucked greedily on her clit.  The flavor of her arousal filled my mouth as I lapped up her fluids.  They were musky and sweet and heady in a way that almost made me drunk on her.  Each flick of my tongue made her moan more loudly and she seemed to have trouble controlling her limbs.  She gripped at the sheets pulling them free from the edge and she kicked out, her toes curling.

Her clit began to twitch under my tongue as her breathing became ragged and Thor’s hips started moving faster, stuttering as he came closer to his own release.  I sucked Wanda’s clit into my mouth and flicked my tongue quickly back and forth over it and with a loud cry, Wanda came, her powers flaring out and engulfing us like an embrace.

Thor groaned and jerked up into her, releasing.  I could feel the pulse of his cock at the base against my mouth as he filled her.  Their fluids mixed together and leaked from Wanda down Thor’s shaft.  I licked up the cocktail of their arousal greedily and climbed back up the bed as Thor slipped from Wanda.

“Now, now, my loves,” Thor scolded, sitting up.  “We have to join the others for dinner.  You can’t go back to sleep.”

“Just five more minutes,” I joked, cuddling up to Wanda, making her giggle.

Thor gave my butt a playful spank.  “Come along.  None of that.”

Wanda and I got up, laughing as Thor helped us get redressed and we headed down to join the rest of our family.

// NEXT

[they-call-me-megs]

Strangers - MLQC - Kiro x MC

I don’t know if you’re at all like me, but when I saw Kiro in the latest preview for the upcoming CN chapters on MLQC, I FELT THINGS. He was giving serious Daddy vibes and I. am. not. mad. about. it.

So I felt inspired by it and some dance music I happened to be listening to at the time. I’m certainly not a Kiro stan, but he’s really been growing on me lately.

Warnings: NSFW(18+) smut

_________________________________________

Dating a superstar wasn’t for the faint of heart. While there were times it had its perks, it typically meant you couldn’t have a regular date night. There weren’t casual dinners out. You couldn’t go dancing together on a whim or at any club. There was no going to get drinks at the bar together without someone inevitably coming up to talk to him. Kiro was always gracious--taking pictures, signing autographs, overall just being his kind and charming self. That didn’t change the fact that sometimes you just wish you could go out without someone bothering the two of you.  

When a new exclusive club opened up downtown, it felt like you might get the chance for a night of fun and dancing that you’d both been wanting for so long. VIP access. Heavy security. It was advertised as a place for celebrities and elites to let go without the fear of a watching public eye.

“Weeeellll? What do you think? Wanna check it out?” Kiro asked, giving you suggestive eyes and a sly smile. How could you say no to that face?

“It would be nice to actually be in public with you and feel like we could let loose. Plus, you know I’m always a fan of dancing with you.” You gave him a little bump with your hip and a smile back.

Kiro grabbed you by the hips, pulled you towards him and brought his lips to your ear. “Wanna spice it up a little bit?” 

“What’re you thinking?” you asked with an eyebrow raised questioningly. 

“I don’t know...maybe we meet there as strangers. I look down at the bar and see a mysterious and sexy woman that I just can’t seem to take my eyes off. Well--I guess that’s not much different than I already feel when I look at you, but could be fun, yeah?” he said, sticking his tongue out slightly and giving you a quick wink.

You gave him a smirk and tried to hide your blush before responding. “Ohhh….doing some roleplaying, huh? I could maybe be into that. If you’ll call and get us on the list, we can work out the details. For now, though,” you said, wrapping your arms around his neck and bringing your face to his, “you’re no stranger and I’d very much like to be known by you, if you know what I mean.” With a light kiss, you led him to your bedroom.

_________________________________________

For the night of your date, you decided to buy a new dress and some new heels. If you were really going to play the part of a stranger, then you obviously had to have a dress Kiro had never seen before. You went with a burgundy lip to match your burgundy satin slip dress that fell over your chest showing just enough to give a tease while still leaving something to the imagination.  You looked like a fine glass of wine and couldn’t wait to see Kiro’s reaction.

The plan was for you to arrive before Kiro. You checked in with the bumper  at the door and went inside to find a seat at the bar and get comfortable while you waited. There was something exhilarating about not knowing what the evening would be like. You ordered yourself a whiskey dry and tried to calm the little bit of nerves that you had. It wasn’t long before the bartender came up to you with a second glass that you never ordered. “Compliments of the man down the way,” he said, pointing his head towards a blonde man that looked at you with a sly smirk and gave a quick wink. The nerves you had shaken before ramped back up into a flurry of butterflies in your stomach. He was wearing fitted black pants with a black button up shirt that was undone just enough to show the top of his chest. He had a navy blazer jacket on top, making him look older than he typically looked. He wasn’t dressed like a fun-loving guy. He was dressed like a man. You gave him a small wave of acknowledgment and thanks for the drink before downing your first and picking up the second. You saw someone approach Kiro and start to chat him up. She looked familiar--you were fairly certain you had seen her in a magazine or two. While she at least wasn’t a fan bombarding him, it shouldn’t surprise you that someone would have their eyes on him. His aura was undeniable and he was sexy as hell. You knew you didn’t have anything to worry about with him--that didn’t stop you from wanting to up your game to make sure his eyes were only on you. Your favorite song had just come on, so finishing up your second whiskey, you set your glass down and moved to the dance floor.

Situating yourself in the middle of the dance and making sure you were still in eyesight of Kiro, you closed your eyes and let go, the two whiskeys lowering your inhibitions just enough to not be afraid to feel the music while you moved. You gave quick glances to him, still sitting at the bar and the same woman still talking to him. He had his body leaned back on the bar, arms outstretched and one hand swirling his glass around. While the woman’s attention was completely on him, his attention was completely on you. You made sure to give him a show that he wouldn’t be able to resist. His final breaking point was when a man approached you and tried to dance with you--he stood up and didn’t even acknowledge the woman talking to him as he left the bar and made a beeline for you. You turned towards the unknown man to tell him you weren’t interested when Kiro approached you from behind, whispering lightly in your ear, “Mind if I join you?”

You gave him a small nod over your shoulder and he brought his hands up to your waist, pulling your body flush to his. It was hard to tell where your body started and his body ended the way that he was grinding on you in sync with the music, and you could feel his hardness growing behind you. At the peak of the next song, he quickly flipped you around and brought your body back to his, moving his thigh between your legs as you continued to move to the music. He licked his lips before bringing them to your ear. You could feel his hot breath as he whispered, “God, the way you’re moving on me here makes me think I won’t be able to wait to get home to take you--I’d take you right here on the dance floor if I could.”

His voice made your response sound like a purr. “Mmmmm...awfully bold thing to say to a woman you just met.” He gave a soft chuckle and you found yourself nuzzling into the crook of his neck, still grinding together. “We probably couldn’t get away with it here, but I may have an idea, because I don’t think I can wait either,” you said back, giving the bottom of his ear a light bite. 

Never would you have dared to have sex in such a public place, but the drinks had you feeling fearless and the way Kiro was moving on you and the way he growled in response had you ready to have him pound into you hard and fast. You grabbed his hand and led him to the bathrooms. You had stopped in when you first arrived to check your make-up and realized that they had private bathrooms that were nicer than your regular, gross club bathrooms (leave it to a VIP club to go above and beyond). You pulled him in with you and the moment the door was shut and locked, Kiro was on you, your body flush with the door, hands above your head being held by his. He began sucking on your neck, leaving a red mark before looking up at you to say, “I want to make sure everyone in this place knows you’re taken.” He continued his journey down to your chest and made quick work of the top of your dress before bringing his mouth to your peaked nipple, giving it a light suck before flicking it with his tongue. You tried to hold your moan in, but when Kiro dropped fully to his knees, you knew you were in trouble. He pushed your dress up and slid your panties to the side before sliding his tongue through your folds slowly, eyes up looking at you when you finally let your moan out. It was like his mouth was magic the way he worked your clit, bringing you to your climax in what felt like no time. 

“Oh God, Kiro. I need more. I want more. Now.” Your voice was shaking as you let out your plea, still coming down from your high. He made quick work of his belt and undid his pants, wasting no time lifting you up, pressing your dress up a bit further, and you wrapped your legs around his waist. Kiro’s strength was often underestimated--he was obviously slim and toned, it might be easy for someone to dismiss his ability. Only you got to see the full extent of his strength and stamina in moments like this--moments when his eyes went black with lust and he turned nearly primal. He slid his cock through your wet folds before sheathing himself in you with a quick push, your walls immediately clenching at the pressure. 

“MC...Jesus. You...feel...so good. I...love the way...your pussy feels around...me.”

“I want more, Kiro. Harder. Don’t hold back,” you hissed through clenched teeth, still trying to keep your voice down.

“Then give me more. I want to hear you. All of it. Don’t hold back, baby.” He began thrusting harder, your back pushing more into the wall behind you, one hand wrapped around his neck while you used the other to try and hold yourself steady against the wall. Right when he hit you in your most sensitive spot and let out a loud moan, you heard a knock at the door. You looked at Kiro who didn’t let the disturbance keep him from sliding in and out of you. 

“It’s...Oh...Ahhhh...occupied!” You tried to keep your voice steady in your response, but he was making that nearly impossible. He began thrusting harder and brought one hand between you to rub circles on your sensitive bundle of nerves and gave you a look that was dripping with desire and a smirk that told you he didn’t mind that someone was outside.

“Come for me, MC. And let them hear you.”

The person began knocking again as you were brought to orgasm again, the sound of your pleasure guttural, and most definitely heard on the outside of the door. A few more thrusts and Kiro found his release, riding it out while you came down, wrapping your arms around him. 

Kiro sat you back down and held onto your arm, your legs feeling quite like jello. You brought your dress straps back over your shoulders and went to clean yourself up when Kiro stopped you.

“Leave it. I want them to smell it on you when we leave. I want every guy in this place to see you and wish that they could do with you what we just did.”

Was he trying to get you riled up for a round two before you’ve even left the bathroom? Because if he kept it up, it was definitely going to lead there. You shimmied the bottom of your dress back down and brought your arms back around his neck. You gave him a light kiss before bringing your lips down to his neck and started giving it a strong suck. He gripped your hips hard, groaning as he said, “Are you trying to kill me? I’m not sure the people outside can handle another round.” 

You removed your lips from his neck with a pop, admiring the red mark you left behind, wiping your lip with your thumb. “I had to get even and make sure that everyone out there knows you’re spoken for as well.”

He gave your cheek a quick pinch before pulling you next to him, arm wrapped around your waist, and opening the door. You were met by the woman talking to Kiro earlier, eyes wide and mouth open. 

“Sorry for jetting on the conversation earlier. I had someone I had to take care of. Have a good evening,” he told the woman before walking off and then whispering to you, “I know that we will.”

[shesawriter39049]

|THE PLUG| 4:20|M|

SMUT

(SNEAK PEEK #2 Basically all smut related..I forgot how many “Drug dealer” Jimin little thottys I have lmao so heres something else to tie you over)  ABOUT- Your local plug, aka your weedman..aka you’re kinda sorta, almost-boyfriend…is stressed…so you just need to ease his stress..in any way he sees fit!

There is a lil storyline in the beginning to set up the overall vibe and aesthetic of the one shot. Since it is technically a series now.

Note- This can be read as a stand-alone, and you’ll be good, there may be one or two things that you’ll be curious about but you won’t be lost! I was randomly inspired to add something to my “The Plug” Series so here she is.

WARNINGS:In this part? Recreational drug use (Weed) , Dirty talk, Foreplay....

WC: 6K

Dark haired, tan/tatted/ and tongue pierced JImin…that’s it…that’s the fiC

Have we established that the oc is literally is baby orr!?

FT- A Little Yoongi & Tae

_________________________

Upon pulling up it seems as though Cash has opted to ruin your surprise...Cash was Jimin’s German shepherd, luckily she loves you so that’s not the issue. The issue is at the end of the day, she’s a guard dog, and she barked her damn head off the minute you rolled up the mile-long driveway! However, it seems you didn't even have to go far to see your boy because kiddie corner to an overgrown oak free, sits his Camaro, parked along the grass. Passengers door wide open with a cloud of smoke evaporating up into the air…

All you can see as you approach the spot to his left is his black J’s peeping out from under the door. Jimin’s car is tinted way past the legal hue so it’s pointless to even try and make out anything else! Not even bothering to move from his spot because he already knows your coming straight to him. Greeted by Cash first and foremost as she sprints off the porch never failing to cover you in fur before gently shoeing her in the opposite direction. Sauntering towards him slowly, though you couldn’t physically see him you could already feel his eyes on you, a slight chill running down your spine the closer you got to his car. A smug little smirk playing on those plush pink lips of his as you eased past the passenger door. Only to find the man in question laxed in his seat, looking like a seat his damn self, in a pair of black sweats and a hoodie, hood up, eyes low and full of mischief. Lacing his lips back around the joint as he pats his thigh, as if you planned on going anywhere else...sliding onto his lap with a slow roll of the hips so he can feel you spread apart on top of him. Did I mention you may have opted against wearing panties under your little cotton dress? 

Humming contently at the familiar weight resting flush against his lap inhaling deep, filling his lungs to full capacity. Reclining against the headrest, gazing up at you through hooded lids, flicking his chin upwards, gesturing got you to lean in so he can guide your lips to his. Coaxing them open, slowly letting the smoke drift into your mouth. His opposite hand taking a strong almost possessive hold on the back of your neck, keeping you in place, only easing up enough for you to catch your breath. Well aware your lungs aren’t built anywhere near his, though he doesn’t give you much of a refractory period. The moment he feels you exhale he snatches that breath straight from your lungs, an amused smirk playing along his lips as you gasp and he licks his way into your mouth. Body shivering the minute you feel the metal bar flick at the roof of your mouth, the kiss is insistent, hot, heady. A low whine staggering from the back of his throat as you slowly grind your hips against him, feeling within seconds that he’s also opted against  boxers. Your touges meet easily, it’s natural at this point, the way the two of you move together, slow and languid. Almost matching the rhythm of your hips as you continue grinding down against him. The hand on the back of your neck is so tight it’s almost painful and that only makes you moan even louder, body turning completely pliant on top of him. Holding onto his hoodie as if you needed it to keep you upright, lightheaded from far more than the indica at this point...it’s all Jimin!

“Fuckin missed your fine ass” panted against your lips, with a smile far more innocent than it should be, god this man has you all types of fucked up it’s unreal. Eyes sinking even deeper into his face...you can’t help but smile back at that, not even bothering to hide the giddiness fluttering though your body. Dropping your head down to the crook of his neck, as he laces his lips back around the joint, eyes slightly hazy from the amount of smoke filling the car. Sinking your teeth into the thick juncture of his collarbone, living for the way he literally just falls apart the minute you even touch the area.

“Babyyy-”

Painting a trail upwards until your nibbling at his earlobe, nipping harshly feeling his thighs tense beneath you “I really want you to fuck my throat…” Swirling your tongue around the hoop in his ear “All I could think about at work was you fucking my mouth so hard I that I’ll be able feel you everytime I talk tomorrow…” The words purred straight from your lips and went straight to his dick, you could actually feel him throb beneath you. 

Jimin straight up whimpers at that, low, and breathy a chill running through his body as you slide off his lap dropping to your knees before him. Those big brown eyes are staring down at you with soooo much need yet the fondness is clear as day. Reaching down to run his fingers through your hair, cradling your jaw in his palm, turning your cheek to lace your tongue around his thumb. Sucking it into your mouth rolling your tongue around the digit with a pleased moan, bringing your hands up to gently stroke his thighs. Batting your lashes up at him far too innocently for the moment in question, a pleased little smirk playing on your lips as he spreads his legs instinctively making room for you.

“You want me to fuck you, throat baby? You want me to put my hand in your hair and show you how I want it? Make you take me, all of me, until I come down your throat? Here? Right outside...you need my cock that bad baby?” His tone was almost taunting, slipping effortlessly into his bedroom voice, his tone getting a little lower..breathier... Freeing his thumb from your mouth exchanging the grip for the hair right at your scalp, craning your head back so you have no choice but to look up at him. 

“Yeah, yeah, I do, I want you so fuckin bad, I don’t want you to go easy on me either..I want you to use my mouth until your so fuckin loud your boys can hear you…” Trickling your fingers back up his thighs, pawing at his dick through his sweats “That’s what I want…” 

The glint in his eyes should probably be alarming but it’s not, because you know that means he’s going to give you exactly what you asked for and then some. Lacing his lips around the joint one final time before stomping it out into his ashtray. Leaning down to capture your lips in a bruising kiss, releasing all the smoke back into your lungs, with so much intensity it burns!. Sucking your bottom lip between your lips as he pulls back...

 “It’s all yours baby girl, take it if you want it…”

UPDATE : The full thing is up AS OF 4/23 

[venhedish]

I unleash the Fanfiction Asks upon you!

👻 👀 🖊️ 😈

OMG Tumblr ate my response before I could save the draft. Pulling my hair out jfc.

👻 What is one WIP you think you may never pick back up? @hotgirlsummersam and I started co-writing a fic for Dean's birthday back in January, but we didn't finish in time. Who knows if it'll ever see the light of day. It's a Stanford era fic about Sam getting Bobby to call Dean about a haunting on campus that just so happens to coincide with his birthday. Here's a little snippet from one of my sections (I wrote Sam, Kal wrote Dean):

Sam spent the rest of the night fitful and on edge. He kept sliding out of bed and staring out the window as if Dean might be waiting there on the pavement below. When he did finally sleep, his dreams were gauzy and oppressive, rumbling with the deep bass of the Impala's engine. He’d wake over and over and think the noise was real, like a kid who’d woken up early on Christmas in time to sneak down the stairs and see what Santa left the night before – jangling with an excitement that almost bordered on nausea.

But it wasn’t real; it was just the distant sound of the freeway, or the old radiator kicking into life, or the muffed music from the dorm below shaking through the walls.

He climbed out of bed for the last time around 3am, giving up the ghost. Instead, he sat in silence at his desk in the dark, sweat clinging to his chest, and wondered if what he was waiting for would ever actually come to pass – if he’d feel better or worse when it finally did.

👀 Do you have any WIPs that you would never let see the light of day? If yes, what are they about? Not really, no. I tend to get around to publishing most of the fics I actually start writing, but I do have one that I ended up being really unhappy with that won't ever go anywhere. It's about Sam being wistful about the past while he and Dean investigate a string of cattle mutilations. Here's like the only section that has any redeeming qualities:

Which is the reason why he’s staring through the dusty windshield at the haphazard pile of about ten dead cows just inside the barnyard of Happy Moos Dairy. He’s wearing a suit that’s already making sweat collect in damp patches at his armpits and the small of his back; It’s July in New Mexico and the shitty SUV doesn’t have AC. There’s a laminated ID in his left pocket that identifies him as DVM Michael Aday, bovine specialist, CDC (Dean had snorted as they worked the alias up. “Dude. Get it? It’s Meatloaf!” Sam had tried to explain to him that they were dairy cows, but it didn’t seem to matter). In the right pocket, there's a pair of blue nitrile gloves and a container of Vicks to help with the smell. He frowns in deep dissatisfaction.

🖊 Post a snippet from a current WIP. Sorry in advance for how long this snippet is, but I'm just really vibing with this fic! I have no idea when it'll be done, but I think it might be my favorite thing I've ever written when I finally finish it! (This is a gen/pre-slash story about being an outsider and losing the last shreds of your innocence as the world puts you in terrible situations. And even still, finding love and beauty in the moments in between.)

That night, as he lay awake in his bed listening to the soft sounds of the crickets in the long grass outside, he rolled over to face the shadowy figure of his brother across the room. There were other empty bedrooms in the house, but not a single one of them batted an eyelash when Sam and Dean ended up together in the little loft at the top of the stairs that had an old porthole window overlooking the forest.

“Hey, Dean?” he whispered into the quiet.

Dean didn’t answer at first, but Sam saw him shift, settling back to look up at the ceiling with an arm flung over his head. “Yeah?”

“I found a cool place out in the woods today.”

Dean adjusted his pillow. The breeze rushed in through a missing pane in the window. “Oh, yeah?”

Sam wished he could go down to the store and buy a packet of those little glow-in-the-dark stars. It would give them something to look at when they talked like this. “Yeah,” he said. “A tire swing. Right out by the creek. It gets wide there. We could swim.”

“Sure, kid,” Dean said. Something in the attic moved above them. A squirrel, maybe. “After work, if you want.”

Dean was working at the Blockbuster in town. For thirty hours a week, he was gone – renting Titanic to old ladies and pornos to their husbands. He’d never been away so much before. Last summer, he’d just mowed lawns a couple mornings a week, but now he had a real job, and Sam was left all alone until sunset just about every night. Dad was in the house a lot, banging around under the sink or drinking beer on the porch, but he was also down at the bars just as often. And when he was home, he didn’t want to be bothered unless it was to run drills. Sam never wanted to run drills, so he avoided their father like the plague.

“Yeah.” Sam shifted until his position matched Dean’s, staring up at the ceiling and listening to the animal noises above them. “Or maybe one day when you’re off. So you can see it during the day. We could bring lunch.”

Dean huffed quietly. “Pack a picnic in that little basket on the bike, go for a swim? Sounds real good to me. Not Wednesday, though. Taking Faith into the city to see Blair Witch. She’s gonna need somebody to protect her after, so I won’t be around.”

Sam could hear the husky curl of his brother’s words and rolled his eyes. “You’re so gross, God.”

Dean laughed and turned his head to look in Sam’s direction, even though it was too dark for him to really see. “Just you wait, Sammy. Another six months and you’ll be worse than me. Us Winchester men can’t live without good pussy.”

“Ugh!” Sam grabbed the pillow from behind his head and chucked it straight at his brother. “Quit it, Dean!”

Dean grunted as the pillow hit him in the face. He did this sometimes, grossed Sam out with sex talk, tried to make him blush. Sam hated it almost as much as he hated running drills.

Sam let his head thump back against the hard mattress. “Just another reason I know we can’t be related. I’ll never be gross like you.”

Dean made a show of tucking Sam’s discarded pillow under his own and plumping it up. “Yeah, yeah, purity boy. Don’t get your panties in a twist. I know you'll actually be a virgin for the rest of your natural life, don’t worry.”

Sam sighed so loud the rustling of tiny paws in the attic stopped for a second. “You better quit or I won’t show you the tire swing.”

Dean laughed again. “Okay, okay. I take it back. You’ll get it on at a respectable age and never use the word ‘pussy’ in your life and marry the first girl you kiss just to be safe. That better?”

Sam turned over on the bed, uncomfortable without his pillow, and faced the wall away from Dean. “Just shut up and go to sleep, Dean.”

He could hear his brother adjusting in his own bed before settling down again. “Night, Sammy.”

He closed his eyes tight and let out an exasperated breath. “Night, Dean.”

😈 Is there anything you enjoy doing that you think your readers hate?

Making you cry. 😢😘

[thethoughtsfromthreeam]

The Snake in the Garden

Pairing: Modern!Obyern Martell x Modern!OC (Aliana Tyrell)

Warnings: Smut

A/N: This is a birthday gift for the amazing, loving, beautful @romanticgumchewer .  She has written a beautiful Oberyn fic called Reasons Wicked and Divine and lately, has been writing head canons about a modern version of both.  So, I decided to add to her little AU universe with a little something of my own.  Happy birthday, Ro!

Reminder: I ain’t ever seen Pedro Pascal in FUCK ALL, I’m just coming up with this as I go along, using imdb.com, wiki, and 84,000 tabs I got open to plan out this shit.  I also write soft versions of his characters so if you’re craving asshole vibes, I ain’t got any but my own to offer.

Tag List:

@zeldasayer , @romanticgumchewer, @beskarss , @coolmaybelateruniverse , @the-feckless-wonder , @pascalisthepunkest , @mandoandyodito​ , @randomness501 , @fioccodineveautunnale  [please message me to be added or subtracted]

—***—

“Oberyn!”  Aliana’s voice carried through the first floor of the house as she turned to shut the door.  But when she was met with silence, she stopped.  By now she could hear his voice calling back to her while the dogs nearly collided against her knees in fit of exuberance.  But she stood alone in the foyer, the quiet enveloping her.  Huh.

She began to wander through the house, the sunlight pouring through the windows and bathing the large rooms of her Chappaqua home in a golden haze. As she rounded the couch, a slash of color against the dark floors caught her eye.  She bent to pick it up, noting the teal daisy wasn’t from any of her floral shops.  As she stood, another flash of color caught her eye in the dining room, this one a golden color.  

Soon she found herself frog hopping across the first floor, picking up vividly colored daisies until she held an entire bouquet of them.  She found herself back in the foyer, circling around to see she could find more to add to the veritable rainbow in her hand.  That’s when a beautiful lavender seemed to materialize out of the corner of her eye and she turned, curious.

Aliana was certain that flower hadn’t been on the stairs before, but there it was.  As she climbed the stairs, she saw another and then another and before she knew it, she found herself at the door to the master bedroom.  She began to grin, a shiver running through her belly and settling itself between his legs.  He was home after all.

Oberyn leaned against the headboard, smiling to himself as he heard her heels stop outside the door.  He had tiptoed through the house dropping the flowers like a sneaky Hansel until it led her to the room.  The door slowly opened, and his smile became a face-splitting grin when he saw her eyes widen like saucers.

The entire room was covered in the vibrant daisies as if a fairy-like forest has sprung up in the room.  Aliana slowly wanted into the space, looking around before her eyes settled on the man before her.  He lounged in bed, his orange linen pants hanging off his hips almost roguishly and his white button down complexly open.  The tawny skin beneath amplified the throb between her thighs, and she sauntered over to the table, where an empty vase waited for her bouquet.

She brushed a lock of her blonde hair behind her ear as she fluffed the group of flowers, stretching out the silence until he broke.  He always broke first when it came to her, as if he couldn’t keep his passionate love for her inside.  That it must be said so the whole world know that Aliana Tyrell was his and only his.

As if right on cue, she heard the bed shift and within two strides, he was behind her, his heat radiating off him and seeping into her bones.  She closed her eyes as she leaned back into his chest, letting her head drop to his shoulder.  His hands dropped to her hips and she covered them with her own, the delicacy of her fingers evident against his large ones.  Fingers that have brought her to pleasure time and time again.

“Hello my thorn.”  His breath whispered like a hot desert wind across her skin before his lips brushed against her.  The shivers that had started behind the door were now coursing through her, ripples of pleasure that wetted her thighs and hardened her nipples.  Oberyn continued to kiss lightly across her neck and jaw as one of his hands moved from his hip to her stomach.

“Don’t tease, Oberyn” Aliana hummed as she raised a hand from his wrist and threaded her fingers into his soft hair, the brown locks longer than he normally sported.  She tightened her grip and he groaned, the pleasure sending shockwaves through his body. “You know I don’t like it when you tease me.”

“A little eager my thorn?”  His words danced against her ear before his tongue joined in, pulling a shaky sigh from her.  His smugness was wiped away when her other hand dropped between them and gripped at his aching cock.  “Aliana!”

She smiled as she gripped a little hard, moving her hand just enough to let the silk of his boxers create just enough friction to tease him but offer no relief.    He groaned heavily as he dropped his forehead against her shoulder.  Even this light of a touch made his toes curl into the soft carpet and his even breaths turn into gasping pants.

“No more eager than you, viper.”  The tone was a teasing one as Aliana continued to move her hand just enough to keep the curls of pleasure coursing through him.  She smiled when she felt his hips moving and she wondered if she realized it himself.  She was so sensitive at the moment, that she could almost feel his pleasure within her. Of course, she’d rather have it in her.

He must have though the same thing because suddenly he knocked away her hand and spun her around.  The brown eyes that were normally so soft were pitch black and blazing with lust, matching her own blue eyes which had also gone dark.  As they looked at each other, he grasped her shirt and yanked it open.

“Obyern!”  She yelped before beginning to laugh, shaking the ruined top down her shoulders and to the floor.  She noticed he had discarded his shirt on the bed and his skin was so inviting that she raised her hands to drag them down his chest.  His eyes closed briefly before opening again.  His own hands came up to her bra, flicking open the front clasp. Her breasts spilled out; the silky fabric caught on her hardened nipples.

Suddenly he grabbed her waist and lifted her up, so she sat on the table, legs splayed wide enough that he could see the scrap of silk she called panties so wet, they molded to her core.  The skirt bunched up around her waist as he widened her thighs so he could step between them. She could feel his throbbing erection against her, and she bucked her hips, eliciting a groan from him as he bent his head to kiss her properly.

“My thorn, I can’t wait.  I need you now.”

“Then fuck me, viper.  Make me come.”

Oberyn didn’t need to be told twice as he reached between them to hook the soaked cloth to the side.  As he did that, Aliana pulled at his pants, smirking when she realized he had been going commando underneath.  His heavy cock sprung out, shiny with his pre-come.  She grabbed him again, smoothing the liquid down the length of him before guiding him to her.

They were both so ready that he filled her easily with one thrust and she dipped her head back as she cried out.  Everything about her was heightened and she could feel every ridge of his cock against her as he thrust into her.  She brought her legs up and wrapped them around his waist, while propping herself up with one arm behind her.  The other grabbed at his hair, fisting the strands as if they could anchor her.

Oberyn laid his hands on her hips and drove into her over and over, their pleasure building rapidly.  He dipped his forehead against hers, locking eyes with her.  Behind the lust that had blown out her pupils was the shimmering of the love she had for him.  It excited him to know that every man that she had fucked, that she had been married to saw that love that was never for them and only for him.

The grip she had on his hair tightened further as she felt her climax began to spiral towards its bursting point.  He fucked her harder, determined to make her come until she couldn’t think of anything but his cock in her cunt.  Suddenly, he brushed against her exactly right and the scream she let out as she reached her apex and burst under his touch.

As she clamped down on him, he felt his own climax shatter through him and he trusted once more, letting himself come in her, until she wrung every drop from him.  He dropped his head back to her shoulder, panting heavily as she dropped kisses along his neck and shoulder.  Soon their breathing returned to normal and he withdrew from her, both silently mourning the loss of connection.  He wrapped his arms around her waist and lifted her off the table to carry her to the bed.

After she was situated against the soft pillows, he wandered into the bathroom and brought back a washcloth to clean her with.  He removed the rest of their clothing and crawled into bed next to her, wrapping his arms around her.  They laid together for a long time, the sun shifting until the bedroom was bathed in its early evening light.

Soon, Aliana sat upright and reached over for one of the vases of flowers next to the bed.  She placed it between her legs, shivering as the cold glass touched her skin.  Pulling out the reds and the yellows, she began to weave together a flower crown.  Oberyn turned to his side and propped his head in hand as watched her deft fingers work, always in awe of her ability.  When it was complete, she placed it on his head with a peck of her lips against his forehead.

He smiled as she made another one, picking out blues and yellows for herself, but his smile dropped as she pulled out more flower and made a third crown. When she was done, she placed the vase back on the nightstand and gently sat back, laying the new crown on her stomach.

“Who is that for, my thorn?”  She looked over at him and grinned.

“For our baby, my viper.”

[manawhaat]

Miss Me?

Title: Miss Me?

Characters: Tony Stark x Natasha Romanoff (Natalie Rushman), Pepper Potts, mentions of Happy and Nick Fury.

Warnings: Some dom!Tony vibes, vibrating panties, public orgasms, and some small feels (bc as we know I’m incapable of not throwing feels/angst in the mix).

Word Count: 1.3k

A/N: Set between Iron Man 2 and Avengers. Betad by @abaddonwithyall ;) I’ve never shipped these two until a fun idea popped in my head when I saw the gifs that are placed near the end of the fic. You can find the gif owner and original post here. Thanks <3

“You could wear them when you miss me,” Tony shrugs, all too coy for what he’s proposing.

Nat flashes a dangerous smirk. “I’m not the kind of girl to miss anyone, Mr. Stark.”

He winces at the formality, but claps his hands together and turns on the charm. “Yes, but you see, I’m so happy you’ve changed from that girl you used to be. And I just wish there was a way for you to not be so lonely when I’m not there to-” he sucks in a breath through his nose, lips pursed before an elegant smile fills his face- “entertain you.” His hands gesture to the package in hers and he says, “Now, let’s see them on. We’ve got a party to get to and we’re already running late, so chop chop.”

A tiny shake of her head, that’s all she gives him before she makes her way to the bathroom to slip the delicate pink lace over her body. Examining her form in the mirror, her eyes roll at the cliche of it all. Fucking your boss, even if it is all part of a rouse, is so beneath her, yet, here she is, giving in to the playboy’s whims. Here she is, heart fluttering and enjoying herself.

The fact is, Tony isn’t wrong. As idiodic as she initially thought he was, the Black Widow has finally found her match in him. She’s found a man that’s everything she is, assassin aside. He’s just as broken, just as much chaos and sex and false-hooded eyes. They match in a funny little way that catches her off guard. She doesn’t let anyone close enough to see her, but Tony seems to have a sixth sense with her. He’s her undoing, and as much as she hates to admit it, she will miss him when Fury calls her back and her job here is done.

When she returns Tony perks up, all too business forward as he paints on a serious face as if she’s testing his latest warheads. “They fit? Are they comfortable?” he asks, fiddling with what she can only assume is the remote.

Nodding curtly, she tosses him her old pair of underwear and watches him pocket them before lifting her dress to flash the new lace at him. “Like a glove.”

He suppresses a grin and nods. “Perfect. You can start wearing these from now on. I’m a man of honor, myself, so I’ll trust you to have them on.”

“But, Sir, there’s only one pair…”

With a snap of his fingers, Tony’s face lights up. “Ah, well, I ordered a few extra just in case these did do the trick, so you’ll have more than enough to get you through. And don’t worry, they’ll be off tonight. Wouldn’t want any naughty fiascos ruining the reputation of the new girl...”

A smug grin adorns his lips and Nat has to restrain herself from acting on the urge to slap it, or fuck it,  right off of his face.

Three days later, she's beginning to wonder if the panties are some kind of a joke or if they might possibly be broken. Not a single pair have turned on, with or without Tony around, and there doesn’t seem to be any kind of manual controls on the bullet sewn into the gusset and lace.

“We’ll need Tony down and in the car with Happy at three,” Pepper says, rambling on about the schedule for the day.

On.

Vibrations spark at Natasha’s clit and a faint buzzing sound comes to life between her and Pepper. “I-I’m sorry,” she rushes out when Pepper’s brow arches. “My personal phone broke this morning and the vibration setting is acting up.”

Satisfied with the explanation, Pepper ignores the buzzing and continues on with her itinerary and notes before finally saying, “I’m going to head out to prep the paperwork and leave you to him.”

Natasha nods and takes a folder from Pepper’s hands, waving her off.

“Oh,” Pepper turns around at the door, “you might have Tony to take a look at your phone for you. Could save you the trouble of getting a new one,” she suggests with a smile before making her exit.

Turning down the hall, Nat stops to squeeze her legs together and press her back against the wall to catch her breath.

“Miss me?”

The voice over the speakers in the home should startle her, but she knows better by now. Doing her best to ignore him, and the pleasure blossoming between her legs, she carries on with the things her boss has left her to do.

Nat knows where all the camera’s blind spots are, so she hides herself for every orgasm Tony pulls from her. She’s soaked and will surely have to change her skirt, but she won’t give him the satisfaction of knowing that. White teeth biting into her knuckles, she prepares herself for the sixth orgasm of the day, body shaking against the kitchen island as subtle as she can handle while it rolls through her.

“Oh, good. I wasn’t sure they were working...”

Sea green eyes snap open, mouth parting to let out a gorgeous moan of his name. She’s too far gone to hide it, already toppling over the edge and she cums right there in front of him, thighs shaking and eyes slamming shut.

It becomes their norm, and Natasha is too sly for her own good. Her poker face is incredible and Tony finds a way to make the vibrations nearly silent. He adds insertable vibrators into the mix and at any point in the day, he’s teasing her and working her over. To the outside world, she’s the same calculating and ever-professional personal assistant, but to Tony, she’s a woman who can stand face to face with Nick Fury or Pepper Pots and cum without so much as a blink of her eyes.

When she’s eventually called away, she still wears them. She has enough to limit her laundry days and the panties are comfortable and functional under her suit. They definitely aren’t a way for her to keep some part of Tony close to her...so she tells herself. The vibrations and those feelings Tony managed to stir inside of her never spark back to life. Tony is a playboy, so that doesn’t come as a surprise; what does shock her, though, is that foreign tinge of hurt. She’d intentionally cut that emotion out of her life years and years ago, but every day when she steps into the soft lace, she’s reminded that pleasure and pain go hand in hand.  

The remote still sits in Tony’s pockets and on his bedside dresser. The small square is always within reach and it became a sort of stress ball. Something he can channel a little energy into to keep himself grounded. A wry laugh bubbles in his throat when he hard-wires the controls into his suits, just for kicks. The buttons flick on and off between his fingers, but he never knows if she can feel him thinking about her. There has to be a range on these things, and he can’t be sure if she even wears them anymore. After all, she has no loyalty to a man like him. He was her target. He was just another victim of the Black Widow.

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

“Agent Romanoff, you miss me?”

ACDC fills her ears and her brows furrow as ‘Shoot to Thrill’ plays over the PA system on the quinjet.

On.

Her lips part with a subtle gasp and that familiar buzz settles between her legs and in her heart.

Marvel tags- feel free to share this with anyone you think might enjoy it since I only have like fucking 6 people on this taglist lol.

@sebbytrash @becs-bunker @curlyblondexoxo @ellen-reincarnated1967 @plaidstiel-wormstache @samsexualdeancurious @saxxxology @thing-you-do-with-that-thing​

[emily-charles]

My last nightmare: (January 10th, 2020)

(None of this is well-written or thought-out. There’s probably typos, or errors, but I wrote it out because my nightmares suck, and I was told once to record them. I wrote it out, still half asleep.) So I'm a black woman, with this amazing, springy, short curly hair. Personally, as a white gal, I'm not used to it, and I keep playing with it. It sounds stupid, but I've never been given that opportunity before. I'm beautiful (from my point of view, but 'I'/she doesn't think so as much). She is actually really soul crushing about how mean she is to herself. It hurts me to hear others think that way about themselves. But I know I do it too some days. She's stunning, but she thinks she's plain. 'Nothing much', as 'she' puts it. But that line between reality and the dream fade, and I'm her now. I'm a black, lesbian woman, who's dating and living with a Latina woman, named Marie. She has this beautiful skin. It looks like dark honey and feels like silk, and I know every inch of her body. Her long, straight hair, it almost reaches her waist, and she's been growing it out for years. She told me so. A whole history between us, and I don't know where it came from, but I love her and I know it. I met her at a local bar. Just by a single glance. A 'save me' glance. I'd never been a 'love at first sight' kinda gal, but I fell in love with her the minute she smiled at me, and twisted away from some 'I bet I can make you like dick' dude. I had come up to monitor the issue as it seemed this beautiful chick was getting harassed. I walked over, straightened my shoulders to give off a more powerful vibe, and threw my arm around her, smiled sweetly at her, and said, "Is this idiot being a douche canoe?" She leaned over, and kissed me abruptly. The men hooted and hollered, then she turned around, grabbed his beer from his hand, and poured it over his fucking head. We both got kicked out of the bar, but I'd never laughed so hard. It was worth it. We spent the rest of the night, chatting in some cheap-ass pizza place, sipping from her 'hidden flask' and sharing a slice of pizza that was basically a quarter of a pizza. She's fucking stunning, she smart, with the sharpest wit I'd ever experienced, and I love her. I love her so much. I'm going to marry her, when the law passes in America, and I know it. She works as an RN at our nearest hospital. She'd moved here for the work (I didn't know nurses had to move to find work? Is that true? I'm still weirded out by this after waking) -- so she meets a bunch of new people, and I'm one of the first she meets just by this bar-experience. I remember everything about her. I remember her name was Marie Anne Juarez. She was disowned by her family when she came out of the closet, and things had been tough for her for a long time. She worked two jobs, and occasionally a part-time gig on top when the other two weren't enough. After she saved up, she put the money into school, rented the tiniest room she could find, and found a better full-time job. Somewhere else with 12-hour shifts, and worked her ass off. She'd felt alone for a long time, but she found her relationships with another tight knit group of LGBTQ through me. When we first met, she was quiet at the beginning of the night-- but sassy as fuck. Once she opened up, I knew those small smirks/grins, and smiles led to sass and funny comments. We were both somewhat sarcastic, and we both giggled over a lot of the same things. When she started her RN career, she worked 16-hours straight, but she never complained (do nurses really work that long?? Like holy shit...). I lived with her later on. I remember her panties. How she liked booty shorts, (my favourites were her black with neon orange elastic) and lace thongs specifically (Easter colors always outside of a handful of black pairs). How pink and this mustard yellow were her favourite colours. They matched her skin tone, nearly black eyes, and dark hair. I remember where the window in our bedroom was. Our queen-sized bed. I remember that she always blow-dried her hair straight even though it was wavy to curly. How much she loved the 'natural' look when it came to make-up except for liner and mascara. Maybe that's a nurse thing. No time for anything else. One night I came home from work, made a quickie stupid dinner because I beat her home, and she didn't show. The police called me, and said she was at X-hospital. God forbid I remember what hospital it was in my dream. I went immediately. They wouldn't let me see her, even though I was her 'emergency contact'. They said, "Only family." And I wasn't 'family'. I was her fucking girlfriend. And even if I was her fianceé, I was female, and oh my gosh, the scandal! Even though her family hadn't talked to her in years -- and no 'family' would be coming to visit -- I had to wait outside. I wasn't allowed to see her. When she finally walked out she was wearing hospital clothing -- they'd taken her clothing as 'evidence'. She told me everything then. In a quiet voice, and without seemingly to stop and breathe -- all at once, and just once, she told me everything. All while avoiding my gaze, and refusing my touch -- I can’t hold her hand, I can’t brush too close, or make direct eye contact with her. She had been walking, in her scrubs to her car to the employee parking lot (all under video surveillance), and was sexually assaulted as she was unlocking her car. He raped her between her car, and the car parked next to her. When she tried to resist, he strangled her, and smashed and dragged her face across the concrete. She had bruises around her neck, stitches along her brow and side of her cheek, and butterfly tape across her nose. She told me what happened, and after that -- she refused to speak of it again. She told me that she just needed time. She was given 'leave' from the hospital for 'health reasons' and she stared at the wall or muted television most of the time. I never questioned her, but I begged her to talk to me sometimes. After awhile, when she let me, I held her. I spooned her, and she didn't flinch from my touch; she just clutched me tighter. Enough to leave half-moon marks in the tops of my hand from her nails. And sobbed occasionally. She dry-heaved occasionally, or went on benders trying to clean everything. Anything to dismiss the memory, I suppose.

I would have to stop her at 3AM from doing the dishes. Clutching her to me, and dragging her into my lap to get her to stop, and she would get angry and burst out crying. Or sometimes she just hiccupped and stared at nothing. Sometimes she struggled to get away so she could keep cleaning. I kept us afloat. I knew she was going through bad shit. I was there. I saw it first hand. Tucked in bed with her, fully clothed -- this wasn't the time to ask questions. Just be there for her, and do what I can. I just wanted to glue all the broken pieces back together. I still had to work, and leave her alone all day to keep us afloat, and I hated leaving her. I would text her throughout the day, reminding her how much I loved her. How amazing she was. I came home two months after the assault, and the sink was on. I could hear it through the thin walls of our small house while I was unlocking and pushing open the door of our side entrance. The sink was running full blast, and I was so confused. The sink was overfilling. Did she fall into a depression sleep while doing the dishes? There was water all over the floor. I yelled her name, and stepped forward to turn off the tap but never got to it. Our kitchen was small. A small island of grey/white/black splatters that matched the surrounding counters. But as I stepped in, keeping my sneakers on to avoid the water, I noticed the water had a weird amber/brown rust colour to it the closer to the sink I got. I stepped in further, and saw her. Laying flat. On the ground. She was still in her scrubs even though she hadn’t been to work in months. She said they were comfortable and reminded her of a better time. They were blue. At least... mostly. But the water... the thin layer of water around her was brown. Reddish brown. It was only then, I noticed she was injured. A angry red slice splitting her skin goes from the inside of elbow straight to the palm of her hand. A paring knife was nearby her other hand. The water has collected around her. It must've been hot or warm at one point -- but it's still running now, and absolutely ice cold now, and her lips are a bluish tinge. I pulled myself away from my inner thoughts, scream her name, and fall on my knees in the murky water. My thoughts aren't clear. I shake her -- reach to check for a pulse -- and there's nothing. I can't find a pulse. I see movies all the time where they say to put your fingers, but I can't find it. I scream in her face to wake up. I scream her name. I'm not at all ashamed to say I pimp slapped the hell out of her while screaming, "WAKE UP!" Nothing worked in the first literal ten seconds -- so I ended up calling 9-1-1. No idea how I grabbed, or dialed my cell phone, but it happened. I scream for an ambulance, say someone's dying, and give the address. I shouted her name, leaning over her chest to listen. A rattle, a wheeze.... Anything. I take a breath to try calm myself so I can hear over the sound of my blood rushing in my ears, and try again. I tie the nearest tea towel around her arm as tight as I can. I tell her she’s not allowed to leave. I tell her I love her. I tell her to wake up.  I tell her I won’t let her leave. For some reason the whole experience is as slow as quicksand. Slowly sucking the everything out of you before drowning you. I slap Marie again like she owes me money -- like I'm actually angry and not terrified. Then I straddle her hips and push on her diaphragm, and ribs together. I keep screaming at her, and there's wetness on my face. I think it's either from the floor, or I'm crying. She briefly smiles despite the pain I must be causing her, and even though she tries to open her eyes -- they open sluggishly, and the lower part of her eyes show. White and the dark bluish-grey ring of her dark like night eyes. She mutters, "Love you. Sorry." Then her eyes and lungs close. I have heard the goddamn death rattle, and I've ignored it. The water surrounding us looks like it had been soaking in a bath-bomb made of a brick. I am focused and pressing on her chest, and I hear her exhale with each push, but aside from that, I hear nothing except the sink still running that I’ve forgotten to turn off. I have to breathe into her in order to get her chest to inflate. The EMTs come out of nowhere. I am shoved away abruptly -- I am furious, delerious, fighting them -- trying to keep the rhythm of her heart and lungs -- but I am pulled away by two cops after that. It appears 9-1-1 sends cops with the ambulance no matter where they go. I struggle against them, I yell things like, "She's asthmatic! Allergic to cats, cashews, peanuts, but we don't keep that shit in our house!" The cops take me with them to the hospital in the backseat like some bad guy, clothes and hands still drenched and soaked in her blood and the dirty water. I'm not allowed to ride in the ambulance with her. I'm asked so many questions, but I'm not "family". Even though I'm her emergency contact, I can't do anything. The triage nurses insist on me waiting in the waiting room. No one seems to listen to me. They tell me to wait. I'm not allowed in. I'm not 'family’. I wait. And wait. And wait. And wait. And wait. And wait. And wait. When the doctor comes out, his face gives everything away with a gentle shake of his head. I burst into tears, and I start telling him, "No. NO. No, no, no," before he can say anything. I wake up, and I'm crying in my sleep.

[acklest]

Threesome, Party of Two

Pairing: Sam Winchester x Dean Winchester

Genre/Warnings: Wincest, One shot, Outsider POV, Top!Dean (implied), Bottom!Sam (implied), alcohol use, cursing. Nothing is truly all that smutty.

Words: 6,668

Summary: Whitney Evans meets two very charming and attractive FBI agents at a bar. Dean is intent on taking her home with both of them, but Sam clearly has some reservations. Fortunately for them, she’s a problem-solver by trade, and there’s definitely something up with these two.

Author’s Note: Inspired by an idea from @jbt111886 - thank you! Sorry Not sorry for all the gratuitous movie references. This was mostly an excuse for an outsider POV and some brotherly er, partnerly bickering. I’m hoping that if I officially post this, I’ll be less likely to delete it altogether.

✯✯✯✯

She had no intention of checking anyone out tonight, but his hands caught her attention.

Whitney had a thing for hands and picking up on small details was literally her day job. It wasn’t something she had ever managed to turn off.

He was leaning against the bar right next to her. His left hand was in a semi-relaxed fist that forcefully staked his place at the bar, and his right was palm-down with cash under it. They were broad, rough, and freckled, and three of his knuckles were healing up from bad abrasions. When he absently played a drum solo with the right, she noticed a couple more bruised knuckles and that his nails were short and clean, but cut bluntly across and chewed around the cuticles. No rings on either hand. The matte black watch on his wrist was more special ops than stylish. 

The most intriguing part was that absolutely none of this matched the well-tailored sleeves of his suit, which was a tastefully muted blue-gray. A man with a suit like that should’ve had a manicure and a shiny watch, and a man with hands like that should’ve been in a biker bar with a jukebox, not a busy Irish bar in midtown with polished wood and delusions of grandeur.

Whitney almost turned to look but thought better of it. Nope, not here for that.

Then the pretty redheaded bartender leaned toward him, asking, “What can I get for… you?” That little hesitation should’ve been Whitney’s first warning. She had been here for an hour and a half, and had watched a half-dozen men flirt shamelessly with the bartender, and found her friendly but professional. But this guy, whoever he was, had gotten through.

Then he gave his order and Whitney was momentarily distracted by the sound of him. “I know it’s practically a felony to not order Guinness in a place like this, but I think that tap over there says Murphy’s Irish Stout on it.”

She grinned. “Sure does!”

The right hand flashed two fingers while she still was watching it. “Pints, please. Don’t go easy on the foam.”

The bartender seemed to twinkle up at him, Whitney’s second warning. “One of today’s specials is our bomber size, that’s our 22 ouncer for the same price as the pint.”

“Mmm. Hurt me, Riley,” he half-growled flirtatiously. She could hear his grin without seeing it. She also noted that in her time here, no one had bothered to learn Riley’s name, or if they had, hadn’t bothered to use it.

But his voice is what brought her up short at the moment. He spoke with a lazy, ambiguously accented drawl. His voice was low and rough, in that perfect Johnny Cash sweet spot between Barry White and Tom Waits. If he smoked, he certainly didn’t smell like it.

It was just one more thing that didn’t match the suit and Whitney finally gave in to curiosity and slightly turned to check him out.

Unfortunately, the stunned “oh” that played in her head was simulcast to her mouth.

Turning his head to glance down at her, his face softened from what she imagined was a resting smolder to a knowing half-smile that clearly stated, “I get that a lot.” But he seemed more pleased that she was pleased, rather than pleased with himself, which made the silent acknowledgement endearing rather than insufferable.

He was a few years older than Whitney and, though she was sitting down, seemed like he was about a head taller. In his suit, he looked kind of pleasantly solid all over, his thick torso balancing his broad shoulders. In American football, he’d be a running back, built for power and speed all at once.

Green-gold eyes appraised her with a not terribly subtle once-over. He had a well-defined jaw with maybe three days’ worth of stubble, a strong nose (ah, more freckles) that would’ve overpowered a lesser profile, and a generous, pouty mouth. With his dark hair in a frat boy cut swept up with product and a navy-blue foulard tie done up in a Prince Albert knot tucked neatly into his waistcoat, he was James Dean dressed up like Cary Grant and it shouldn’t have worked. At all.

Attractive men didn’t really impress her. Over the last few years, she had worked with hundreds of powerful, attractive men who wore even nicer suits than his, and had developed something of an immunity. But this guy had something else: Total, unabashed, panty-dropper confidence, earned through – if she dared to guess – years of rigorous study in the discipline. It radiated off of him in waves. She could almost guess that his first act had been to imagine her naked, and that his goal from that point on was to find out what made her tick.

He glanced down at her nearly empty glass. “Martini, huh? Can I get you another one?”

“Sure,” she managed a smile. “Thank you.”

His eyes lit up and he asked silkily. “Do you like ‘em dirty?”

That totally shouldn’t have worked, but he sold it through sheer audacity. She found herself almost as flustered as the time she met Gerard Butler at a party. Well, there was nothing she could do but play through the pain. “Yes, very,” she answered, then waited a couple of beats. “Wait, did you mean the martini?”

The smirk turned into a warm, appreciative smile, complete with the glimpse of teeth, that made little wrinkles fan out at the corners of his eyes. Okay, maybe the Cary Grant thing wasn’t entirely the suit.

He easily got Riley the bartender’s attention again. “Gin martini, stirred, extra dry, straight up, four olives, and —” He cut her a vaguely obscene sideways look. “Very dirty.”

“Wow.” Whitney was legitimately impressed.

She’d been right about the resting smolder, as he lapsed back into it while straightening a tie that didn’t need straightening. Just as she was starting to miss his big, open grin and all the crow’s feet that came with it, it snuck back across his face. “I overheard you orderin’ the first one. But, admit it, I almost had you.”

You had me well before that, she didn’t say. Besides, he clearly already knew, and it was a little late for her to play hard-to-get. Also, this meant he’d noticed her before she noticed him and since he continued to flirt with her, she liked her chances.

“Dean,” he told her, unprompted. Then, almost as an afterthought. “Gillan.”

“Whitney.” She mimicked his pause. “Evans.” 

As the bartender deposited a fresh martini in front of her, Whitney asked, “So, Dean Gillan, what it is you do that you wear such nice suits, but also look like you start fistfights for fun?”

Dean stepped back to examine his suit, hands spread defensively. “A man can’t dress up for a fistfight?”

She was still laughing at this when another man walked up and stood behind Dean, flashing her an apologetic smile. He wore a nice suit as well, in a somber charcoal gray. His tie, she noticed, was the red version of Dean’s blue one, done up in the same knot. 

This man was taller, broader across the shoulders but much narrower in the hips. His suit was cut to flatter both, and he seemed to wear his more comfortably. He had dark hair, too, but his was thick and collar-length and fell slightly into his face when he looked down. His deep-set eyes were either blue or hazel, or possibly neither, and he had a sharper side profile. 

She didn’t get the same dirty “down for anything” vibe from him that she got from Dean. At the moment, she was thankful for that. She didn’t think she could handle two of them. However, the hand that gripped his phone was big, his fingers longer, but with the same blunt nails. No ring on him, either.

With his earnest expression, all he needed was a pair of half-rimmed glasses and a tweed suit, and he’d be that college professor who didn’t understand why so many students sat in the front row. How was it that they hung on to his every word and were still failing the course? 

Without thinking, she asked faintly. “Are the hot guys traveling in pairs tonight?”

She glanced quickly at Dean, expecting him to bristle or look hurt since the two of them had been hitting it off. All he did was give her a small smile that she couldn’t quite interpret.

Dean turned to the other man and fixed part of his shirt collar that had fallen. He theatrically licked a finger and made a move toward the man’s hair, which was only narrowly avoided as he turned back to her with a smile. “Whitney, this is my partner, FBI Agent Sam Blackmore. Sam, Whitney Evans. She thinks you’re hot for some reason, so try to act like it.”

FBI agents. Now the suits and busted knuckles made a little more sense.

Sam briefly glared at his partner, a blink-and-miss sort of thing, before looking down at her to smile, revealing dimples in his cheeks. He turned back to Dean, showing him his phone. “Get this.” 

The two of them stood with their heads almost touching to peer at Sam’s phone, eyes tracking back and forth, Dean’s lips moving slightly. Then the two had the most truncated (and possibly most dude-like) conversation she had ever heard in her life.

Dean leaned in closer to scroll his index finger down the screen as their eyes tracked some more. Dean straightened to look at Sam. “What the hell?”

“I don’t know.”

“Seriously, what the hell?”

“I don’t know,” Sam said, more insistently this time.

“And there were —?”

“Two.”

“They find ‘em both?”

Sam frowned. “Just one.”

Dean turned to Whitney for a moment, smiling apologetically. “Bureau business, sweetheart, don’t go anywhere.”

“Why?” Whitney asked playfully. “Am I being detained, Agents?”

This earned her a shy grin from Sam and a much more suggestive one from Dean.

Besides, two hot guys, and the one coming on strong was apparently secure enough that he didn’t mind that she thought the other one was hot, too? How often did that happen? Why on earth would she go anywhere?

Dean turned back to Sam, their conversation picking back up right where they left off. “If there’s only one —”

The two pulled back from the phone, processed something for a moment, then chorused, “Vernal equinox.”

Whitney laughed. “You guys have been working together too long.”

The two peered at her over the top of the phone and Sam smirked. “You have no idea.”

“When?” Dean asked him.

“Not until March,” Sam answered. “But then –” 

“The other thing.”

“Right.”

“And?”

“Well they —” Sam looked furtively at Whitney and seemed to select his next words carefully. “We probably won’t hear anything back until Friday.”

“Friday?” Dean brightened and happily braced Sam by the shoulders, giving him a firm little shake that made him roll his eyes. “You know what I’m gonna say next, right?”

“No idea,” Sam answered sarcastically. “But I’m guessing ‘something something pick this up tomorrow something something see you in the morning, Sam.’”

“Then you guess wrong.” Dean handed him one of the two big glasses of beer that were waiting next to him on the bar, before ducking his head to look the pretty bartender in the eye as he passed her a tip. “Thank you again, Riley.”

Whitney didn’t think it was the tip that made Riley straighten a bit and smile up at him.

“Why do you always do that?” Sam muttered as they turned away. “Give her a chance to finish her college education, Hef.”

Dean visibly balked at “Hef” but moved one hand palm-up under his chin and along the side of his head as if displaying a game show prize. “This is just my face, dude. It does what it does. I can’t control it.” He turned to look conspiratorially at Whitney, voice mock-mournful. “God knows I’ve tried.”

Whitney didn’t actually know which of them she liked better.

Sam ignored him and looked down at the beer in his hand. “Why’d you get me a beer if I’m just going back to the room?”

“’Cause you’re not going back to the room, you’re coming back to our table with me and Whitney.”

Whitney was as taken aback by this as Sam seemed to be. Not that she was complaining.

“C’mon,” Dean prodded gently, like he was trying to coax a pet back in from the outdoors. “You gotta sit for serious drinking, not as far to the floor.”

Sam shook his head, but followed them to the corner-most table in the back. Whitney noticed that Dean had a sort of hip-rolling strut. Because of course he did. She wondered if it was an affectation for her benefit.

The two both moved to pull a chair out for her, but Sam surrendered the right of way to Dean. After she was seated, Dean squeezed around her to the chair wedged directly in the corner facing the front doors, and turned it around to straddle it and rest his arms on the back. The suit now looked more incongruous than it had back at the bar. She found herself wondering what he wore when he was off-duty. Or maybe he had been a cop before a fed and hadn’t ever shaken it off?

Dean made an abrupt “put it away” gesture at some books and papers that were in Whitney’s place and Sam swept them into an open messenger bag before she could really get a look at any of it, though it didn’t seem like official research materials. Then again, if their case really involved the vernal equinox...

Sinking into his own chair, Sam watched Dean’s face intently.

“What?” Dean wiped at his mouth with his hand. “Do I have foam?”

“Uh... no. You... you got it.” Sam took a big swallow of the beer and leaned back in what she immediately recognized as feigned relaxation.

An attractive blonde server in her thirties stopped to ask them if they needed anything, and Dean jokingly gestured at Sam. “Can we get a double milk for this kid?”

As the server laughed and walked away, Whitney perked up. “Was that a quote from U.S. Marshals?”

Dean grinned. “I knew I liked you. See, Sammy, some people watch fun movies.”

Did he say Sammy? Hmm.

“Wait.” Sam blinked a couple of times. “Are you talking about the sequel to The Fugitive? That’s a terrible movie.” 

“Actually…” Dean paused to take an operatically prissy sip of his beer and raised his chin haughtily. “Since it doesn’t continue, expand, or resolve the story from The Fugitive, but instead moves existing characters to a new story, U.S. Marshals is not a sequel, but... a spin-off.” Dean gave Whitney a wink that should’ve come with some sort of warning and then smugly looked at Sam across the table.

His beer glass stopping halfway to his mouth, Sam asked, “Wait... was that... were you being me?”

Dean nodded his head with a smirk. “Huh? I nailed it, right?” He added, sotto voce to Whitney, “I’ve been practicing.”

Shaking his head as if disappointed in both of them, Sam’s thumbs moved quickly across his phone’s screen and then turned it around so they could see it. “Look, 26% on Rotten Tomatoes.”

“Yeah, you’re right, now I can never watch it again,” Dean said drily. “That’s a solid flick, man. You’ve got Tommy Lee Jones, RDJ, and that cute French chick who played Wesley Snipes’ girlfriend.”

“74% of the world isn’t as easily amused as you.” Sam winced at what he’d just said and looked at Whitney contritely. “Or... you. Sorry.”

Whitney shrugged, feeling like she was a supporting character in a buddy cop movie like Lethal Weapon. Dean probably liked that one. Sam probably pretended he didn’t.

“This kid looks up the reviews for dive bars before he’ll agree to go,” Dean told Whitney incredulously. “Dive bars. What’s the review gonna say? ‘I had seven beers, they were fine, I passed out on the pool table and no one drew a dick on my face, will recommend to my friends’?”

Sam glared. “What if they had a salmonella outbreak or rancid bathrooms? Wouldn’t you want to know in advance?”

“I’m with Sam on this one,” Whitney conceded. “I don’t want to end up at The Titty Twister.”

“First of all, I’ve spent my entire life looking for The Titty Twister like it was El Dorado.” Dean scowled at both of them, but rounded on Sam first. “Also, any respectable dive bar has a rancid bathroom, that’s why it’s a dive bar.”

Sam interrupted to huff in disbelief. “Did you just use the word respectable and --?”

Dean plowed ahead. “And... And, as we’ve been over so many times, you don’t use that bathroom under any circumstances. Not even to hover.” 

He turned to address Whitney now. “And you… you lost a point by agreeing with him.” His forced stern expression faded back into a smile. “But then you got it back by referencing From Dusk Till Dawn. That was a close call.”

Sam groaned and spoke to Whitney with a mischievous air that she liked very much. “We have to change the subject or he will talk about the snake dance and I can’t go through that again. Last time he talked about it for an hour, and it’s only a four-minute dance.”

“Not if you keep replaying it.” Dean fixed his eyes on a point behind his partner’s head, and he must have been watching the video in his own brain because Sam waved a hand in front of his eyes to interrupt.

Whitney ate one of her four olives, looking from one of them to the other. “You guys are fun. I thought feds were supposed to have sticks up their asses.”

“He carries both of our sticks,” Dean said. Was that a little wink he gave his partner? “He won’t admit it, but I think he likes it.”

She didn’t know whether to laugh more at Dean’s proud “yeah, you heard me” expression or the dirty look Sam shot him from across the table. The comment would’ve seemed strangely sexual, but she knew that law enforcement officials had that unvarnished way of trash-talking that civilians didn’t often understand.

“What do you do?” Dean asked as Sam’s dirty look faded in intensity. “When you’re not being picked up by two federal agents?”

“I’m --” Wait. Had he said -- two? Did he mean “picked up” as in...?

It was obvious from his reaction that Sam had the same question, but Dean was looking only at her.

Whitney watched them for a moment and started again. “I’m a high-level intermediary for some of the corporate interests in the area.”

Sam squinted, then laughed under his breath. “So, you’re a fixer.”

Whitney smiled at him demurely, tilting her head slightly. “That term has taken on some unfortunate connotations. But... yes, I pay attention. I solve problems.”

The two of them exchanged a brief look, eyes widening and brows raised. 

“Like Winston Wolfe?” Dean asked, intrigued. 

“Or more like Michael Clayton?” Sam offered. 

Dean had another one. “Madeliene White?”

Sam broke away from Whitney to look at him. “What?”

“Inside Man. You’re the one who wanted to watch it. We watched it.”

“I know the movie, Dean, I just didn’t think you were paying attention, since it didn’t have Salma Hayek dancing with a snake.”

Dean pointedly scratched the corner of his eye using only an extended middle finger, and Sam just as pointedly ignored him.

So, they watched movies together? Was being FBI partners not enough time in each other’s company?

“She was more of a power broker, actually,” Whitney said. 

Dean frowned. “Those aren’t the same thing?” 

“Power brokers are more about politics,” Sam explained. “Influencing things to turn out a certain way rather than trying to fix them. Like Henry Kissinger.” Sam added glibly for Dean’s benefit, “You might not have heard of him, since he’s not from a movie. He’s a real person.”

A nod and an obviously fake smile, all cheeks and no teeth, was his reward from Dean. There was just enough hostility in that look that she thought Sam might pay for this put-down in some small way when they didn’t have a guest.

Whitney took a sip of her martini to forestall laughing. “Well, if we’re sticking with fictional fixers, I guess I’m more like Alec Baldwin’s character in Glengarry Glen Ross. Though I’m much more diplomatic, I’d like to think. Usually.”

Dean leaned back, almost more in the corner than the chair. “Hmm. So when someone needs a fire lit under their ass, they call you.”

“Something like that.” She ate another olive. “When things are broken, they probably call someone else. But before that, they call someone like me to get things moving when they’re stopped, or stalled.” She smiled at Dean. “Not as many corpses to dispose of on that side of things.”

Smiling back, Dean raised his hand to get their server’s attention. “I’m orderin’ another round.”

Sam objected. “Dean, we haven’t even eaten anything.”

“Why do you think I’m ordering stout, dude?” Dean drained what was left in his glass and set it down with a thump. “The steak of beers. I bought you a burrito this morning, it’s not my fault you didn’t finish it like I told you to.”

Whitney sat back to watch them as they continued to bicker. There was no malice in it for them as near as she could tell. It seemed like more of a sport.

It wasn’t that they were excluding her exactly, and Sam especially would turn to her and loop her into it whenever he saw an opportunity, but the person they were trying most to entertain was each other. Which was fine. She usually preferred observing people to actually talking to them anyway.

As the give-and-take continued, she couldn’t help it. She started to notice things.

When she and Sam had started talking between the two of them, Dean would act out in some small way to get Sam’s focus back on him. She was flattered at first, thinking Dean didn’t want to share her. But when it happened the second time, she knew it was Sam he didn’t like sharing.

Dean was possessive then, jealous. Each time she watched it happen, Sam played annoyed but the rest of his body language betrayed that he was pleased. This was theatre.

They struck her as two very different people who shouldn’t have gotten along: Well-spoken vs. blunt, intellect vs. instinct. It was like the president of the chess club had hit it off with the motorcycle bad boy, and the two had bonded over some kind of shared experience, or maybe they had survived some kind of traumatic event. And now they filled in each other’s blanks.

But it was the little flickers of light between them as they argued that struck her the most. It was a little half-smile here, and a fond eye roll there, putting on a show for each other and, to a much lesser extent, her. The jaded, bossy senior partner and the eager, put-upon junior partner, each pretending they didn’t enjoy their roles.

There was more than friendship here. Or partnership. These two had tunnel vision that was only aimed at each other. 

Whitney had guessed wrong: She wasn’t in a buddy cop movie. She was in a rom-com that thought it was buddy cop movie.

After they finished a second round, Sam started to relax, and Whitney was delighted that his cheeks flushed red when he was drunk. Sam touched them self-consciously. “It happens sometimes, I don’t know why.”

“It’s adorable, makes me feel like I just bought him his first beer.” And the little light in Dean’s eyes matched that statement of “adorable” with actual adoration that she wasn’t sure he knew he was showing. “Alright, this needs to be the last round, or we won’t be having fun tonight for very long.”

There it was again, that cryptic “we.”

Sam rose awkwardly, the handle of the messenger bag already in his hand. “I’ll leave you to it.” He turned to glance down at Whitney. “It was nice to m—”

Dean silently pointed his finger from Sam to the chair. After a moment, Sam sat back down. 

The two of them then seemed to go into some silent discussion, somehow conveyed only through facial tics, Dean’s more forceful, Sam’s more uncertain.

If Sam didn’t want to be part of this, why was he? He was a big dude, the bigger of the two. He didn’t have to do what Dean was suggesting. He could’ve just gotten up, said “goodnight” and walked away. But he didn’t.

Did he want to be talked into it? And why did Dean want him there if Sam clearly didn’t want to be?

Oh.

Ohhh.

This was shaping up to be a very interesting evening.

As their secret sign language thing continued, Whitney looked up local hotels on her phone and found one that looked like it was very nice. “Let’s skip another round and just get to the main event.”

Dean beamed at her. “You are singin’ my song.” Absently, he reached over and slid the beer that Sam clearly wasn’t going to finish toward him, picking it up and draining it in one swallow, looking at Sam directly the whole time. Then, with another hand command that indicated Sam and then he and Whitney, Dean went to settle the bill.

Whitney had never made a wager in her life, but she was ready to bet money that these two were in love.

✯✯✯✯

When she got out of the bathroom and walked outside, they were standing together (very close together) against a shiny black muscle car. (She could guess who did most of the driving.) From the body language, it seemed that Dean was giving a pep talk, one hand flat against Sam’s chest. 

She approached only to hear Dean say, “Think I’m gonna poke you in the eye? You’ll be at the other end.”

They didn’t see Whitney yet, so she decided she might as well eavesdrop.

“But it’s --” Sam’s hand was anxiously raking through his hair. “We don’t -- It’s weird, right?”

“Nothin’ you haven’t seen before, puritan boy.”

“Dean, those times weren’t by choice.” Sam protested. “They were usually because you forgot to hang the thing I made on the door.”

Hold up. Hold. The. Hell. Up. 

Did these two... live together?

Dean braced him by the shoulders again. “Look, we only get to play it one day at a time, man.”

Sam stared at him, confused, then rolled his eyes and huffed. “Bull Durham? Right now?”

Dean’s laugh was in no way repentant. “Seriously, you’re good and lubed up and you’re probably feelin’ a little loose so you just have to go with the --”

Sam noticed Whitney standing there and slapped at Dean’s chest quickly in the universal “stop talking” gesture.

The two stepped away from each other slightly. Slightly. Sam was obviously considering the last words Dean had said, and his face flushed as if he was going to try to explain that Dean didn’t mean that kind of “lubed up” or that kind of “loose” but Dean held up a hand to stop this before it started and asked her, “You ready to go?”

“Absolutely, I already picked a place, but I need to make a stop on the way over, won’t be ten minutes.” She pointed at a silver Audi in the adjacent row. “Follow me.”

Dean’s grin was infectious as the prospect of sex grew nearer. Sam smiled, but also looked like he wanted a trapdoor to open beneath him and pull him down into the earth, never to be seen again.

✯✯✯✯

The hotel clerk was a lady in her 60s and, to her credit, when Whitney paid for a luxury suite with one king-sized bed for the three of them, her expression only changed subtly. It was that kind of place, with all the discretion that the rates could provide.

Dean caught the woman’s reaction and grinned back shamelessly, then turned to look at Sam as if sizing him up. Sam seemed to be carefully pretending that none of this was really happening, staring in feigned fascination at the shelf next to the front desk with all the different pamphlets for local tourist attractions. 

“California king,” Dean amended, turning back. “If you have it.”

Whitney wasn’t sure what to expect when they got into the room. More small talk? Not that she hadn’t enjoyed their small talk at the bar. Should she call room service and have them send up more drinks?

The two of them shared a soft “huh” as they walked into the room. Likely, the FBI only paid for the minimum accommodations while they were on the road.

As soon as the door was closed behind Sam, Dean casually took off his jacket and draped it over the armchair next to the door, and she watched as Sam, who seemed to be foundering, followed his lead with their socks and shoes next.

Under his jacket, Dean wore a horizontal shoulder holster in soft brown leather that looked like it was out of the 1940s. Whitney was considering asking him to put it back on once he had taken off everything else.

Next was Dean’s waistcoat. Sam didn’t have one of those, so he went with his button-down next. Just as Dean was deftly removing his tie, Sam tried to do the same and hesitated. He looked at Whitney as if he hoped she wasn’t watching, but she couldn’t not watch this play out.

“Dean?”

“Hmm?”

Sam’s eyes darted back to Dean. “I can’t undo your stupid knot.”

Dean stripped out of his own button-down like he didn’t care if it still had buttons tomorrow or not. He had good, solid biceps. “I’ve shown you like three times, dude. Watch the YouTube video I sent you, and practice.”

“Whenever I try to untie it, it gets worse.”

Sighing wearily, but not at all convincingly, Dean stripped out of his white undershirt. He was just as broad and meaty as she had imagined, but none of it was fat. Given the amount of stout he had just put away, he must’ve had the metabolism of a hummingbird. If she knew him better, she would’ve warned him that metabolism slows down at forty, and she figured he was coming up on that. 

When he turned around to rescue Sam, she could see every ripple and groove of his back. The deep valley down the middle looked more pronounced because of the bulk of muscle on either side. Out of the suit, and from the side, he looked almost svelte compared to how he looked from the front.

Sam raised his chin and exposed his throat so Dean could more easily access the knot. Dean picked at it from where Sam had tightened it and then undid it as effortlessly as he’d undone his own. Whitney wondered if Dean had picked out their ties this morning, and if he had tied Sam’s tie. She was wondering a lot of things.

Dean was unfastening his belt as Sam was still unbuttoning his shirt. When Dean turned, Whitney saw an ornate tattoo with a star at its center, just under his collarbone. She was actually expecting more ink on him than that.

After Sam pulled his undershirt over his head, she gaped at him, stunned. She wouldn’t have known it, but Sam was some kind of Greek god under that suit, his muscle was more structured, more by design, whereas Dean’s seemed more incidental. They were intellect vs. instinct even in this. Dean could’ve posed as Michelangelo’s David (though he was packing considerably more heat, given the outline of his black boxer briefs), but Sam was the Farnese Hercules.

Thank god both types coexisted. She wouldn’t want to live in a world where they didn’t.

As Sam reached up to smooth down his disheveled hair, Dean slapped his hand away. “No, we talked about this. You get that middle part every-thing-behind-the-ears thing, it looks stupid.” Dean stepped closer. “Here, look at me.”

She watched them, open-mouthed, enjoying this unguarded moment.

It wasn’t the way that Dean reached up with both hands to muss his partner’s hair further so that it hung messier around his face. It wasn’t the way that Dean stood back to admire his handiwork, and then stepped forward to make minor adjustments.

It was the few seconds before that, before Dean had made any move at all, where Sam had ducked his head with a good-natured eye roll, waiting patiently for Dean to “fix” his hair.

And then it was a few seconds after where Dean seemed to give his partner a critical assessment that was not only confined to his hair. “There. Looks better that way.”

Was she watching a live gay porno? That’s what this felt like. The “story” part of a porno before it got to the good stuff.

Sam turned to put his pants on the chair and she saw it.

The same tattoo that Dean had, in exactly the same location on his chest.

“Alright, guys, time out,” Whitney said finally, leaning forward.

Both men jerked toward her in unison.

They had literally forgotten she was in the room. 

She smiled. “This is where I get off.”

Their bewildered expressions matched like their damn tattoos, and Dean’s eyebrows were raised, mouth quirked in a half-smile. He had only just realized that she hadn’t removed any of her clothes, not even her shoes.

“The ride,” she expanded. “This is where I get off the ride, now that I’ve got you two where I want you.”

As Dean put himself between her and Sam, he went through an abrupt transformation. Suddenly, he moved with military bearing and every muscle she could see was... not tense, exactly, but ready. There was no more Cary Grant; it had all burned away. There wasn’t even James Dean. 

This, she ventured, was Dean Gillan. The real one, under all the charm and showmanship. She was looking at Mr. Fistfights-for-Fun, in the flesh. In almost all of his flesh, actually. 

“What are you?” He asked, voice stripped of any sultry teasing. 

In that moment, she could see the man who wanted to wrap his fingers in his younger partner’s long hair and fuck hard into him for those little disparaging remarks back at the bar. 

As Sam stood just behind Dean to back him up, puppy face gone hard, she realized she was legitimately frightened of them both.

“I’m a fixer,” she said quietly, hoping to bring down the temperature in the room just a bit. “I get things moving when they’re stopped, or stalled.”

She indicated Dean first. “You want to be here. You want to fuck me. But, more importantly, you want him to see you fucking me. You want to show off, you want him to see how good you are. Because he’ll see what you do to me, and he’ll wish it was him, and you like the thought of that.”

Dean stepped just a little closer, but she continued.

Then Sam. “You do not want to be here. At least, not for me. You want to be with him, and you see sex-by-proxy, even sex you don’t want to have, as a way to get that. Something might accidentally happen between the two of you. That’s your hope. But me?” She smiled. “You don’t want me. You don’t want anyone else but him.”

Dean snorted derisively and glanced at Sam with an unspoken “can you believe this bullshit?”, but drew back slightly when Sam wouldn’t meet his eyes. She couldn’t help but notice that Dean made no specific denials of her assessment of him.

She went back to Dean. “You want him. Maybe more than you’ve ever wanted anything, but you don’t think you can have him.”

Then to Sam. “And the same for you. What is it, FBI regulations about fraternization?” Neither of them would look at her now. “Because I have a newsflash for you: It’s really obvious. You’re not subtle. Any supervising agent you have who hasn’t noticed is either oblivious or looking the other way because you’re good at your jobs. If I hadn’t had three martinis before I saw you at the bar, I would’ve picked up on it a lot faster.” She went back to Dean again. “You gave it away, almost right away, and I missed it at first. When I made the remark about your partner being hot, you didn’t get jealous. You didn’t get angry. You were... honored. Proud. You were gratified that someone else found him hot.”

She could tell by the hard line of his jaw and eyes that looked all but dead that Dean’s temper was barely in check, and even though neither of them could look at the other, Dean held one hand against Sam’s stomach as if holding him back.

“We could all still hook up,” she said calmly. “Or the two of you could hook up, and I could just watch.” To Dean, “You would like that, wouldn’t you? Why is it that when you’re fucking a woman and your partner’s around, you can’t seem to lock a door, or hang a sign? You want him to see you, just like that, in all your glory. All sweaty, red-faced and fucked-out.”

Sam shifted uncomfortably behind Dean.

“And you,” she addressed to Sam. “Your partner doesn’t strike me as being a particularly quiet lover, and I doubt the women he’s with are quiet, either. And you’re a trained FBI agent. You listen at doors before you open them. You already know what’s happening on the other side, so why do you open it? Why are you always so, so shocked by what you see?”

“You’ve got us wrong,” Dean said finally, but even he seemed to realize that this was a weak rebuttal.

“I’m wrong about a lot of things,” Whitney admitted. “But not people. I’m always right about people.” 

Whitney stood now, hands spread placatingly with a plastic bag hanging from one wrist. “You can treat this room like a pocket universe if you want. A place where you can resolve all this tension and want and then, if you don’t feel like talking about it after that, you agree to never speak of it again. But I don’t think your partnership would survive. I think you’ll like what happens in here, if you give it a chance.”

She handed that plastic bag to Dean, who took it only reluctantly, letting it hang from two fingers like it was something foul.

“That’s what I picked up on the stop before we drove here,” Whitney explained. “I don’t think either of you have done this before, so I thought it might ease things along. For your bottom... or that is to say, Sam’s bottom.”

Dean looked a little smug at this appraisal, which Sam caught. As if fully realizing what he was being smug about, Dean’s face went carefully neutral. 

“You’ve got the room until noon tomorrow.” Whitney put her purse on her shoulder. “It’s a luxury suite. There’s room service. You can simply decide that you’re going to sleep here and nothing will happen. But if I were you...” She smiled. “I’d make it memorable. I might even see it as a challenge to break the bed.”

Whitney walked past them, still not entirely unafraid but playing it off. Right before she closed the door, she said, “It was nice being an intermediary for something other than a multinational corporation.” Finally returning the wink Dean had given her earlier, she said. “Good luck.”

[avengerscompound]

Boundaries

Boundaries:  A Black Widow Fanfic

Buy me a coffee  Character Pairing:  Maria Hill x Natasha Romanoff x F!Reader

Word Count:  2122

Warnings:  Smut (FFF threesome, Domme/Sub, BDSM, bondage, anal play, toys, plugs, vibrators, oral sex, face sitting, cropping, pegging).

Synopsis:  Bound to the bed with Natasha and Maria dominating you, you wonder how you get into these situations.

Boundaries

You were never sure how you got yourself into these situations.

Not that you minded exactly.  Far from it.  Bound naked to the bed while you watched Hill and Natasha prepare themselves.  Natasha had dressed in a red corset and was currently tapping a riding crop against her thigh.  While Maria was in a black matching bra and panties set that looked closer to sportswear than lingerie as she lay out toys in order of size.  You had your safe words in place, you always did.  This was what you wanted. This was why you nagged at them to play.

Natasha tapped Maria on the thigh with the crop and Maria spun narrowing her eyes at her.  There was always a definite hierarchy in the bedroom when you decided that taunting them into threeways was a good idea.  A chain of command if you will.  Natasha was firmly at the top, while you were always at the bottom.  Maria did tend to defer to Nat, given outside the bedroom Maria was the one in charge she didn't always take to it naturally.  Natasha got off on testing her limits.  “I think you should plug her,”  Natasha said.

Maria looked like she was about to tell her to do it herself for a moment and you wriggled in your bonds excited to see if she would do it.  It was always fun to get to see Maria punished too.

Instead, she picked up the lube and a steel plug with a synthetic fox tail attached.  She approached the bed slowly and grinned at you.  “You’re in for it tonight you know?”  She said as she slowly applied lube to the plug.

“Mmm… I know.”  You hummed lifting your hips.

“So eager,”  Maria said kneeling between your legs.  She slid a pillow under your ass and began rubbing lube over your asshole.  “Maybe if you’re a good girl I’ll peg your ass too.”

You smirked up at her.  “Maybe if you’re a good girl, Nat will let you.”

“Ohhh…”  She laughed and slapped your thigh.  “Pushing your luck.  Nat’s got the crop out, did you not see that?”

“I saw her use it on you.”  You taunted.

She shook her head and thrust two fingers roughly into your ass.  You yelped at the sudden sting and burn in your ass and bucked your hips up under her.  “Want to keep being a smart mouth?”

You shook your head.  “No.  No, I’ll be good.”

“That’s what I thought.”  She said and eased back, slowly moving them, to stretch you out.

As you began to relax and your ring muscle gave under her fingers she took her fingers away and slowly eased the plug in.  You moaned as your anus stretched and burned taking it in.  She drew it out, holding it at its widest point before pushing it in and wriggling it around.

When it was firmly in place Hill moved away and Natasha took her place.  “Thought you might be a little brat did you?”  She said as she ran he crop down your skin.  It left a wake of goosebumps as it traveled down towards your pussy and sent a shiver running through you.

“Sorry, Natasha.”  You whimpered.

She flicked the crop so it snapped against your hip, stinging, but not as much as it could.

She ran it back over your skin and began teasing her fingers up and down your pussy.  “You will be sorry, Lisichka,”  She said and snapped the crop against one of your nipples.

You cried out at the sudden and hash sting.  Your nipple hardened and added to the pain that had already been inflicted upon it.  She repeated the action on the other nipple and it brought tears to your eyes.  The pain mixed with the tingle that was being created in your cunt and started to become something else.  Something new.  “Tell Hill you’re sorry.”  She said.

“I’m sorry, Hill.”  You whimpered, pushing your hips up against Natasha.

Natasha snapped the crop against your clit and you screamed.  It stung and burned and you wanted to close your legs to relieve it but the bonds kept your legs splayed open.

“Oh, my poor little baby.”  Natasha cooed.  “Did it hurt?”

“Yes, Nat.”  You whimpered as she gently ran her finger in circles over it.

“Did you like it?”  She purred.

You nodded, even as tears leaked from the corner of your eyes.

“Do you want another?”

You nodded again.

“Now, now, Lisichka.  You know you have to do more than that.”

You whimpered and pushed your hips up against her hand.  She took it away and just looked down at you with her eyebrow raised.

“Please, Natalia.”  You begged.  “Please, can I have another.”

She smiled her wicked half smile at you and flicked the crop against your clit again.  The sting was both worse and better.  You cunt felt like it was on fire and you bucked hard against your restraints.

“Good, girl.”  She cooed.  “Now Hill is going to sit on your face and if you do a good job eating her out, I’ll kiss it better for you.”

Hill approached, working her panties down and off.  “What’s your signal?”  She asked as she walked on her knees over the mattress.

You opened and closed your hands in lots of three.

“Good girl.”  She said and straddled your face.

You flattened your tongue and ran it up her folds.  Her fluids coated your tastebuds.  Salty and acidic, sweet and musky.  You swirled your tongue around and sucked and as you did Natasha flicked the tip of her tongue over your sore and sensitive clit.  It was like relief and torture all at once and you moaned and lifted your hips up against her mouth.

Maria rocked her own hips against your face and you pushed your tongue up and flicked it around so she could fuck herself with it.  You sucked, pulling her clit into your mouth and Natasha did the same for you sending you a harsh shudder through you.  Her fingers entered you.  The way she moved them dragging them over your walls, hitting your g-spot and pressing against them, before sliding away, only to return again a moment late sent wave after wave of pleasure through you.  The way it mingled with the throb in your clit that the drew out and added to each suck and nip of it she made, and the dull ache in your ass thanks to the plug made it hard to hold yourself together.  You knew Natasha wouldn’t let you come until Hill had though.  So you doubled down your efforts.

You were at a disadvantage with your hands bound the way they were.  Using only your mouth while both women’s hands were running over you.  Natasha using them on your cunt, while Maria massaged your breasts and pinched your nipples.

Each time you felt your orgasm near, Natasha would pull back and crack the riding crop against your thigh.  Thankfully Maria’s body responded to you perfectly and after the fourth time yours was held back, her legs began to tremble and with a cry she came, shuddering in your mouth.

Hill swung her leg over, climbing off you and pulling her panties back on as Natasha doubled down her efforts.  This time as you felt the familiar press of your orgasm in your gut, bearing down on you, she didn’t ease up.  As your legs began to tremble, Natasha pressed her teeth down on your clit and corkscrewed her wrist so her knuckles dug into your g-spot.

You arched up violently and jerked against your bonds, crying out as you came, gushing on Natasha.

She sat up rubbing your clit through it, smirking at you.  “My beautiful little fox, look at you.”

You relaxed back, panting.  Your head was all floaty.  A mix of endorphins and adrenaline making you feel slightly high.  Warm and fuzzy, so that the little red welts from the crop didn’t even register.

“What color are we, Lisichka?”  Natasha asked.

You hummed.  “Green.”

Natasha put the crop down and stood, taking off her panties.  She bent over as she did it so you got a view of her ass.  You licked your lips, wanting to taste her too.  To have her cum on your face the way Maria did.

She turned back to you and picked up the Hitachi.  You moaned at the mere thought of it being held against your clit.  Making you come and come and come until you couldn’t take it anymore.

“Now, Lisichka,”  She said getting up on the bed and walking on her knees towards her head.  “You get to make me come while Maria fucks your ass.  That’ll be nice won’t it?”

“Yes, Natalia.”  You hummed and looked over at Maria.

The brunette stood beside the bed, harness already in place.  She was slicking the black dildo she had set into it with lube and she raised her eyebrow at you.  “Told you.”

Natasha straddled your face and you ran your tongue up her pussy.  As you swirled it around drinking up all of you that you could, Maria moved between your legs and slowly eased the plug out of your ass.  You groaned into Natasha’s cunt and Maria began moving it in and out holding it at its widest before pushing it back in again.  You moaned again and pulled on your ankle binds.

“Alright, Hill, get on with it.”  Natasha scolded.

Hill flicked at your clit before pulling the plug out.  You squeaked and tried to focus on Natasha, but it slowly became harder and harder to do.  Maria eased the dildo into your ass and even though she took her time entering you, she didn’t give you time to adjust before she started to thrust.  Pain spread through you radiating out from your ass.  It was dull from your endorphin high and blended with the pleasure it was causing too.

Then a loud buzz filled the room and Natasha placed the Magic Wand against your clit and everything fell apart.

It was like your senses were being assaulted and you couldn’t focus anymore.  You had this vague sense that the only way this would end was if you used your signal or Natasha came.  That vague sense was enough to be able to keep focusing on Natasha’s pussy.  The tart taste of her arousal filled your mouth adding to your own burning need.

Maria held your hips still as she fucked your ass relentlessly.  Pleasure and pain mixing together.  Tearing you open and sending shockwaves through you.

It was the vibe that sent you over though.  The intense buzz pressed against your already over sensitive clit made your second orgasm hit quickly.  You screamed out and jerked under them but neither woman eased up on you.  As it faded away another hit.  Then another.  Until you lost count and you weren’t even sure when one started and the other ended.  You tried to focus on Nat but you weren’t even sure how much your mouth was affecting her.  You sucked and bit at her clit but erratically.  Broken by each orgasm.  You started to wonder if this might be how you would die.  Not in a battle against HYDRA but fucked to death by two women you kept nudging into dominating you.

Finally, just when you thought you either needed to signal or you were going to pass out Natasha came.  Her body shuddering above you and her fluids filling your mouth.

You drank them down and as you did Natasha and Maria reacted instantly.  Natasha climbed off you, switching off the vibe and putting it aside.  Maria eased the toy from your ass and started to uncuff your legs.

Together they uncuffed you and began rubbing lotion into your skin and checking to see if you were hurt at all.

“You did so well, Lisichka,”  Natasha praised.  “How do you feel?”

“Mmm…”  You hummed.  The truth was you felt amazing.  Floaty and soft and your skin prickled.

“High as a kite.”  Maria chuckled.  “You want to take a bath with us, ya little space cadet?”

“Mm-hmm… you gotta use a bath bomb.”  You hummed.

She rolled her eyes.  “Yes, ma’am.”  She looked at Natasha and chuckled.  “Do you even have one?”

Natasha shrugged.  “Not sure.  There’s some stuff there.  See what you can find.”

Maria kissed your forehead and got up heading to the bathroom.  It could be a bit of a shock to the system when the two of them switched over to aftercare mode after being so rough with you.  You did like it though.  Sometimes it was the best part.

[notwiththoseteeth]

P A R T  I I

C a s a n o v a

I: Roger Taylor x Reader

Part I

Word Count: 1,913

Warnings: Some mentions of sex but all is good, swearing

I actually made a part two. Genuinely proud of myself. I hope you all enjoyed the last chapter, even though it seemed relatively short. I wanna add some more in this chapter since I’ve been overloading with ideas, please enjoy!

A/N: When italics are mixed in with normal lettering, that means it’s muffled speech. Or thoughts. You’ll work it out.

Currently on, ‘Casanova’:

“And then I said, ‘you’re not getting that donkey anywhere near me!’”

“Darling, we haven’t got a pool.” Freddie pointed out, but still being amused from your crazy antics.

“Fuck pools Freddie!!” You shouted, climbing atop the couch with yet another drink in your hand. “PoOls, are for LoSERs!”

:::::::::::::

“(Y/N)! You’ll never believe–”

“FUCK OFF–Oh it’s Freddie.”

“I haven’t heard those words in a very long time…”

“What? ‘Fuck off?’”

“No, I hear enough of that from Roger,” giving you one of those, ‘bitch-you-don’t-even-know’ looks. “speaking of which– you didn’t have the chance to meet him last night, probably banging it out with another groupie.”

“He seems lovely.” You deadpanned, still trying to ignore the headache.

“This is where he had the sex by the way…” noticing the lingering scent of meshed bodies.

“Freddie you piece of–”

                                                   :::::::::::::

“Morning you two,” Brian greeted.

“Does everyone crash here, or is it just a casual thing? And oh my God, I swear this place was trashed what the hell happened?”

It was very surprising, considering the amount of people that attended the party last night.

“It’s just a casual thing, and you should ask Freddie about that. He has this team of cleaners that are miracles with parties like this.”

“I’m down for more of this…what’s the word…”

“It’s hard to explain, I know.”

“I mean all of the parties I’ve been to have never compared to this, and that’s saying something.”

Brian chuckled, you rolled your eyes at yourself, and he hands you a cup of coffee, mumbling a quick ‘Thank you’.

“Oh! So you do party! I thought you were another one of those really boring fans who lie about going to parties and other shit like that,” he scoffed at his own comment, but you didn’t notice.

“Me? Boring?” Pretending to be surprised, but knowing that it was probably the first impression you’d got out of people who tried to converse with you.

I mean once, a person asked you if it was your first time at a party. So you spilled perfectly good wine onto them. It was worth it though.

It was just your vibe.

Innocent and secluded.

And to be honest, it was getting boring.

“You never let me finish my sentence—“

“Oh sorry,”

“Ah! See what I mean?” Rolling his eyes, Freddie rambled on. “What I meant to say is that I thought you were one those kinds of people until I read the lyrics you’d brought last night. They were stunning, and I was wondering if you could help us by using one of your songs to be part of our new album!”

You were about to say, “Freddie I never agreed to that” when suddenly,

“Freddie, you never told me about this.”

Came out instead.

More manlier too…

All three of you flicked your heads around to see who it was.

Roger Taylor .

It of course, had to be Roger freakin’ Taylor. Drink in hand and leaning against the wall wearing a pair of sunglasses despite the cloudy weather.

“Ah, Roger. Finally come to join us now?”

“Yeah, and who’s this?” Pointing at you lazily. “Another bitch?”

“Go fuck yourself asshole.” You spoke up, leaving your coffee and heading back to the fluffy pillows in that elegant room which you had started to call, ‘My room’ despite it clearly saying ‘Delilah’s Room’”—whoever the hell she was— on the door.

Brian in return snorted and sighed. Roger still being pissed and Freddie being Freddie, gulped down two shots of tequila and lit himself a smoke.

                                                  :::::::::::::

“Who is she Freddie?” Roger asked, still leaning on the doorframe.

“Why should I tell you? If you were here last night you would’ve known.”

“I was here last night! Just…in a different part of the house.”

“The worst excuse,” taking a puff of his smoke. “fine. You know what, I’ll tell you. It’s the fifth fucking time I’ve had to tell you whatever the hell’s happening because you’re out drinking or…keeping your mind away from…Brian what was her name again?”

“Elise.”

“Right, Elise–”

“Shut up Fred. You honestly don’t know what I’ve been going through.”

“What you’ve been going through is denial. You loved her Rog.” Brian responded

“Brian, he’s in denial, you’re not supposed to approach it like that, watch me.”

“Oh fuck off Freddie.”

“Okay,” before he began, he took the extra precaution to clear his throat. “Roger, stop fucking women. Elise is never gonna come back at that rate.” He ended it with a soft tone and a smile, which just pushed Roger past his point.

“Freddie you’re a piece of shit! You’re supposed to answer a simple question as, ‘Who is she’!”

Brian stepped in between them to stop them fighting, and was also yelling at them to shut up.

“Morning everyone..?” It was Deacy.

“Deacy, tell him he’s being an idiot will you?” Freddie shouted.

“You should be telling him! The one who just wouldn’t answer a simple question!”

Deacy raised his arms up, made some sort of , ‘guys-I-literally-don’t-know-what-to-say’ face, and shuffled (groovily) towards the coffee machine.

“Fine! I’ll just go record with (Y/n)! By. My. Self.”

“Fine by me! You can play your own fucking drums.”

“Fine!”

“Fine!”

“Fine!”

“I’m having the last word here Fred.”

“Fine.”

“Jesus, are you two done?” Brian interrupted.

“I said I was going to have the last word, so I’m having the last word.”

“Whatever floats your—“

“FREDDIE MERCURY I SWEAR TO—“

                                               :::::::::::::

“I feel like this part is missing something…” Freddie suggested.

It was the first time you had recorded an album. You realised that he mentioned working with you, but you didn’t think it to be the day after.

“Hmm, maybe some more of Deacy’s bass.” You suggested

“We’ll try it– John, can you listen to this and try match some more of your bass to it?”

He’d already had the headphones on and listened to it a couple of times. Readying his pick, he started playing a short but fast bass line.  Repeating it a couple of times and eventually sticking with it.

You hadn’t noticed the rustling behind you, because you focused deeply with the empty feeling in the song.

As if on cue, you heard a light drumming in the distance. It was Roger, smirking at you behind his kit. Goddamn he looked so sexy. Nope, nope, not today! Innocent thoughts (Y/n), innocent thoughts. Giving your cheeks light slaps (to knock some sense back into yourself), you swiftly turned back to John trying to cover the clear blush on your face.

To your terror, Roger had stopped drumming and made his way over to you. He leaned down to meet your ear and huskily whispered, “You alright there (Y/N)? You seem a bit red…” His arms were rubbing against your shoulders, and you couldn’t help but squeal internally. On the outside, you were sweating, you wanted so badly to push him down and just show him where he belonged, but you couldn’t. He was in control.

“Oi! You two! Stop having verbal sex! It’s disgusting!” Thank God for Brian, if not you would’ve creamed your panties right there.

“We’ll be right out Brian…” Roger replied. You could still feel his eyes on your back, and honestly killing you.

“Yup, sorry…”

Rushing to the door, you passed the still Roger. The best thing to do right now was sleep, after all, it was a long day. So heading back to your room, you opened the door.

You did not expect a cat to be lying on the bed.

Is this a metaphor brain?! Is Roger the cat?! Do I want Roger that much??!

“Ah darling! I see you’ve met Delilah!”

You hadn’t seen Freddie enter the room, but he explained it all right there.

“You see Delilah here–oh you adorable angel, come over here–is one of the many cats I have-sorry, children. I meant to say children.”

“You have cats?”

“Oh dear…you might be as blind as Roger.”

“Don’t…don’t compare me to Roger…”

“Well, I gave my cats these rooms because as I’ve mentioned before, they are my children.”

“From the two days of knowing you in person, I’ve learnt to not question you.”

“And from the two days of knowing YOU!” He exclaimed, taking his pointer finger and shoving it lightly onto your shoulder. “I’ve learnt that someone has taken an interest in you.”

“Roger Taylor is not interested in me. He’s only out for my virginity.”

You both chuckle at the joke.

“You’re a virgin?”

“That’s besides the point–it’s just clearly obvious, that he’s not interested in me, and plus he’s not my kind of guy.”

Freddie put a hand on top of yours, giving you a slight nod,

“Baby blue eyes and long blonde hair, he’s not your type, but he sure is mine.”

You both couldn’t help yourselves–laughing like babies.

“But even with his lack of any consideration…I’ve become attracted to him…”

“Look (Y/n), Roger Taylor... has this way with women. Darling, I’d be surprised if you weren’t attracted to him.”

“I just hate it.”

“Ah, I know what you mean. Like you have this feeling, but your conscience is telling you differently.”

“Exactly.”

There was a really short silence. In those moments, you’d realised that this attraction had grown a billion times bigger ever since he whispered to you in the recording booth.

“And the worst part is, I’ve only known him for a couple of hours!”

“Look darling, it’s late and you should be really getting some sleep. Just stay another night. We’ll be recording tomorrow anyway.”

“Really?”

“Really.”

You gave him a hug. You’d never met anyone so kind in your life. You couldn’t believe what you were getting into. Though you did want to wake up again to fluffy pillows and coffee you didn’t have to make yourself. (If that was going to happen again.)

“Good night Mr. Mercury.” You said, yawning and giving him a small smile, before he too said good night back, and closed the door.

When you spend time with a man who has the personality of at least five people, you feel surrounded in a comfortable space. But when he leaves, you feel an emptiness. But there’s also this feeling, like he’s hiding something.  

But at least you had Delilah.

                                              :::::::::::::

It was another day of recording.

You had gotten used to waking up with hairballs and fluff every time you took a nap. You’d just used the excuse that she was a cat, and didn’t know what she was doing.

Despite the little mess you had with Roger the day before, he acted as if nothing had happened. You had small conversations with him, but he became soft when he spoke to you. More gentleman-like. You realised that this was bound to happen. He’d tried to get lucky with you, and failed. Roger would’ve known when to stop. But you didn’t know him. You didn’t know that he was planning something bigger. You also didn’t know that he passed by Delilah’s room while you were talking with Freddie.

“Right! We’ll just have to record the last verse and then we’re done!”

It was tiring. You’d never thought about it so much but for singing and playing instruments for one day…things could get really spastic.  

“Oh by the way (Y/n),”

“Yeah?” turning your head round

“You haven’t given me a title yet.”

“Oh really?”

“Yes really.”

“Well, you should name it. I am the one who crashed into your limo.”

“One, you did not crash into my limo. The driver–which I fired by the way– ran a red light.”

“And two?”

“Two, you should call it Casanova. It seems to be the feel of this whole song am I not wrong?”

“You’re never wrong Freddie.”

                                             :::::::::::::

Yes! Second chapter done. I’m really getting into reader and Freddie’s relationship. I hope you liked this chapter! And the tag list is still open so y’all can just ask. See ya!