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abovethemists · 5 months ago

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Never Let Me Go - Chapter 4

Summary: Bonded together by tragedy, Lacey and Gold shared an intense relationship that ended when she split town. Lacey has spent the past five years trying to move on, while Gold has been stuck in a town that never seems to change. When Lacey is forced to return to Storybrooke, she is faced with the demons of her past and the fear that she made the wrong choice all those years ago.

A/N: This fic is so old it's from when I still made headers for my stories. It's been years, and I doubt anyone wanted more of this, but here you go.

TW: Minor character death, hospitals, medical stuff in this chapter

(Chapter 1) (Chapter 2) (Chapter 3)

Read it on AO3

Monday Evening

Vascular Dementia.

That was Moe French’s official diagnosis, brought on by a series of mini strokes he hadn’t even realized he’d had.

They’d spent the whole day at the hospital, her poor dad getting poked and prodded. He was lucid enough, but the doctors said his short term memory would continue to degrade. Lacey slumped on to the sagging sofa once her father had gone to bed for the night, feeling an exhaustion that had nothing to do with lack of sleep.

She hadn’t seen Gold since he kicked her out of his house on Friday night. She didn’t expect to see him. But now her stay in Storybrooke was stretching out before her with no end in sight. She would eventually have to go back to her life, but for now she was here. Her father needed her, and probably would for the rest of his life, however long that might be. Gold couldn’t skip town forever. He’d have to come back eventually. She would give him his space, she resolved. He didn’t want to see her and she wouldn’t force her presence on him. She’d done that once already and it had led her to forsake her marriage vows for the first time. Never mind that she had loved Gold long before she married Will. Never mind that they were separated, possibly never to reconcile. He didn’t deserve to be cheated on. He was a good man. She was the villain of this story.

As if on cue, her phone buzzed beside her and she looked down at it, not really having the energy to speak to anyone. But she couldn’t avoid real life forever.

She held the phone up before her, swiping her thumb to answer the FaceTime call.

“Hey, Will,” she said, trying to keep her face neutral. Pretending the sight of him didn’t make her want to cry.

“Hey!” Will’s smiling face appeared on her screen. He was standing in their kitchen, in their apartment. She could see the overly complicated fridge he’d insisted on behind him. Lacey hadn’t had much use for a fridge that could play music and make shopping lists, but it made Will happy, something she just couldn’t do. “Look, I know you said you need space but it’s been days and I’m worried about you, Lace. How’s Moe?”

“Worse than expected,” she admitted. “I didn’t realize…”

She trailed off, feeling the guilt of the last five years weighing so heavily that for a moment she couldn’t breathe. She had left Gold, she had left this town, she had left her own dad, the only family she had left in the world. Things had gotten rough between them, but he didn’t deserve that, to be abandoned by his only child.

She had only thought of what she needed, to put as much space between herself and Storybrooke as possible. She was such a selfish bitch.

“Lace?” Will prompted. She blinked, shaking her head.

“It’s, uh, vascular dementia,” she said. “Probably caused by smoking so let that be a PSA for you.”

“I’m sorry,” he said. He looked it too, all big brown eyes. “Not your fault,” she said with a shrug. “You didn’t force him to smoke a pack a day for decades. But I’m gonna have to be here a bit longer than expected, I think.”

“Yeah, sure,” Will said with a nod. “Take as much time as you need.”

“Thanks,” she said. And she meant it. Will would give her space and time and be there for her at the end of it, if she chose to return to him. Isn’t that what he’d done five years ago? The guilt gnawed in her belly. She never should have chased Gold down on Friday night.

“Um, it’s pretty late here,” she said, glancing at her watch. It was almost 10 in the evening.

“Oh, shit, the time difference,” Will exclaimed. “I’m headed out to dinner with some of the lads from work anyway. Um, when can I talk to you again?”

Lacey bit her lip, looking at the corner of her iPhone screen instead of at Will’s big eyes.

“I don’t know,” she admitted. “I’ll check in in a few days or if anything changes.”

Will looked disappointed but didn’t protest.

“Look, Lace,” he said haltingly. She could see him set his phone down on the kitchen counter, bracing his elbows on the edge and leaning forward to stare at her through the screen. “I’ve been thinking a lot about what you said before you left, about that fight. You’re right. I shouldn’t be trying to force my idea of a perfect family on you. If you’re happy just the two of us, then so am I.”

Lacey smiled ruefully.

“No you’re not.”

He blinked owlishly.

“What are you saying?”

“The same thing I’ve been saying for weeks,” she said. “That you deserve everything you want in life. You deserve the picket fence and the 2.5 kids in the suburbs.”

“But I can’t have that with you,” he returned. “So I don’t need it. I just don’t want to lose you, babe.”

“You haven’t lost me,” she said. You can’t lose what you never really had.

“It kind of feels like I already have,” he said, staring down at his hands clasped together on the kitchen counter. “Enjoy your time back home, Lace. I’ll see you when I see you.”

With that the screen went black, the call ended.

Lacey let out a frustrated groan, letting her head fall back against the couch cushions. What on earth could she possibly do? She’d tried to end things with Will, but he loved her too much to realize it. And it wasn’t as though she had a future with Gold. She’d burned that bridge thoroughly 5 years ago.

A thump came from somewhere down the hall and Lacey sat up, listening. She heard the thump again and shot up, heading down the hall to her parents’ bedroom.

“Dad?” she called, with a knock on the door. “Is everything alright in there?”

The thump came again, sounding like a hammer against the wall. What had he gotten in to?

Fuck! Lacey thought, throwing the door open only to be met with the sight of her dad, still in his pajamas, stooped over his old toolbox and rifling through a box of nails.

“Oh, hello sweetheart,” he said with a smile at her as he stood up. “Your mother’s been on me to hang these photos for weeks so I figured I’d better get on it.” He started hammering a second nail into the wall beside the first.

Lacey glanced at the floor next to his feet where an assortment of framed photos were stacked. The top one was from her high school graduation, Lacey sandwiched between her parents in her cap and gown, both of them beaming with pride.

“It’s the middle of the night, Dad,” she said wearily.

Moe’s eyebrows drew together in confusion.

“Is it?” he asked, turning toward the darkened window. “Well, look at that. The day must have gotten away from me. I’m sorry, darling. I hope I didn’t wake you.”

“It’s alright, Dad. Just get some sleep, okay?”

Moe set the hammer down on the bedside table, moving to climb into bed. Lacey made sure he was all tucked in before leaving the room, closing the door behind her with a gentle click.

She leaned against it for a moment, closing her eyes.

Will, Gold, none of it mattered right now. This was what was important, taking care of her dad and getting him through the day. She owed him that much after what she’d done.

7 years ago

“Miss French,” Lacey jumped, her eyes fixating on the woman in front of her. “Did you hear me?”

Lacey shook her head, completely overwhelmed by the steady stream of medical lingo that had just been thrown at her. She’d been at work at Granny’s when she’d received a call from the hospital. Her mother had flatlined. They’d been able to revive her, but they weren’t certain how much longer she had.

“Um, I’m sorry,” she said, wiping her sweaty palms against the red skirt of her uniform.

“She had a seizure,” the doctor repeated. “We’ve revived her twice already, but we cannot get in touch with your father. It’s putting a lot of stress on her body and I’m not sure how much more she can take. We need you to make a decision.”

Lacey shook her head, feeling completely lost.

“What…what kind of decision?” Lacey asked.

“Your mother doesn’t have a DNR. She doesn’t have a medical power of attorney. You would know best what she wants.”

What she wants. They needed Lacey to tell them whether to pull the plug. To let her mother die with some sort of dignity or keep shocking her back to the half life she’d been lingering in for months.

“I…I need my dad,” she said.

“I know,” the doctor said kindly. “We can try calling him again.”

Lacey nodded as the doctor walked over to the nurses station, speaking quietly to them.

She wandered down the hospital hallway to where her mother’s room was, peeking in through the doorway. Colette didn’t look like herself. She looked small, and frail, and old. She’d been so beautiful, so full of life. Her mother had been gone for months. This shell, this broken husk, it wasn’t Colette French.

She knew what her father’s decision would be. He’d want to keep her with him as long as possible. When she was a child, Lacey had thought her parents had a storybook romance. The way they told it, Moe had fallen head over heels the moment he saw her in a park in Melbourne. Colette had been reading on a park bench and Moe, never much of a reader himself, had sat next to her and asked her about her book. Colette had rambled on for 30 minutes about Dostoyevsky and at the end of it, he was smitten, never mind he had no interest in Russian literature. They’d married 6 months later.

But her father wasn’t here now, when his darling wife needed him most. He’d said he couldn’t see her like this, but he couldn’t let her go either. She was his world.

Lacey wasn’t sure she’d ever feel that kind of love for someone. She didn’t feel it for Will, despite going out with him semi-regularly for the past two months. But if she did find love like that, she’d want to be with them at the end. To hold their hand, to tell them it was okay.

Lacey squeezed her eyes shut, sinking down into a chair outside her mother’s room. She wished someone would tell her everything was going to be okay. But the only person she could think to call at the moment had his own burdens. She couldn’t add to them.

Twenty minutes later, her mother coded again.

Lacey could hear the frenzy from inside the room, the doctors and nurses doing their best to keep her mother technically alive.

She braced herself for the end, breathing steadily through her nose and trying not to succumb to the waves of grief lapping around her ankles.

“Miss French,” the doctor was beside her again.

“Yes?” she returned, though she knew what the doctor would ask.

“We’ve tried to get hold of your father. He’s not answering the home phone or his cell. Do you know where else we could try?”

Lacey shook her head. She had no idea where her father disappeared to these days. He wasn’t at Granny’s or the Rabbit Hole. There weren’t many other places in town open in the late evening.

“Then I’m afraid we’ll need a decision from you.”

Lacey looked up at the doctor with wide eyes, the waves of grief reaching her chest now.

“I’m just a kid,” she gasped out. It wasn’t true. She was 21 years old. She was an adult in every respect. But right now she felt like a frightened child. She wanted her mother. She wanted her Daddy to show up and take care of everything. She wanted the grown ups to make the decisions.

“I’m sorry, Miss French,” the doctor said. “Lacey. I’m so sorry.”

Lacey nodded, swallowing down the bile in her throat and trying to form the words she desperately didn’t want to say.

“She wouldn’t want all this,” she managed to croak out. “She’d want to be at peace.”

The doctor nodded, disappearing inside the room. A moment later she was back at Lacey’s side.

“We removed her intubation tube and other life support,” the doctor said. “She’s on pain medication to make her comfortable. If you’d like to sit with her…” the doctor trailed off, looking at Lacey sadly.

“Yeah,” Lacey nodded. “I want to be with her.”

She felt numb as she entered the room, sitting in the chair next to her mother’s bed. Colette had never been a vain woman, but she’d taken care of herself, presenting a pristine appearance to the world. The dye to cover her grays had grown out, her face gaunt despite the feeding tube. The fine lines around her eyes and mouth, etched there from years of joy and smiles, looked deeper in the fluorescent lighting. Lacey wished she could brush her hair for her, apply her favorite lipstick, do something to make her look like herself.

“Mum,” she said, her voice wavering. “Mum, it’s Lacey.”

She took her mother’s bony hand in her own, her skin feeling dry and cold. “It’s okay, Mum,” Lacey said, the tears streaming down her cheeks. “I don’t know if you can hear me. But if you can, you can rest. I know you’ve fought so hard to stay with us, but…I can’t let them torture you just to keep you here a few more hours or days.”

Lacey closed her eyes, sobs wracking her body.

“I’m here Mum, you’re not alone. I’m here.”

She stroked her thumb against the back of her mother’s hand. The beeping from the machine next to her bed was a slow drone, her mother’s chest rising and falling so shallowly it was almost imperceptible. Lacey sat there, holding her mother’s hand for what felt like ages as the beeping slowed ever more. She talked to her about everything and nothing. Telling her about her dates with Will and her conversations with Mr. Gold. She told her about an article she read in the New Yorker and a movie trailer she’d seen online. She told her that she was the best mother she ever could have asked for. She told her how much she loved her. It could have been minutes or hours later when the sound of the flatline droned out. Lacey squeezed her mother’s hand, feeling like she’d cried too much to ever cry again. Even still the tears came again. She leaned forward, kissing her mother’s forehead as the doctor called time of death. 10:38 PM on January 4th.

After the doctor had shut off the machines, after they’d removed the wires and tubes, Lacey sat with her, her chest hurting from the sobs and her face feeling tight and sticky with dried tears. She wasn’t sure what she was supposed to do now.

“Where is she?” she heard a voice from the hall. A familiar voice. “Where’s my wife!”

A moment later Moe French barrelled into the room, taking in the sight of his wrung out daughter, his wife’s body on the bed.

“What did you do?” he demanded of Lacey. “What the fuck did you do?”

“You didn’t answer the phone,” Lacey’s voice rasped out.

“You did this,” he accused. “You let them kill her!”

“She was already gone, Dad,” Lacey said, tears stinging her eyes once more. “She was gone.”

“Get out!” he shouted at her. “Get away from her!”

Her father stumbled forward, collapsing in tears across the bed.

“Colette,” he moaned out. “Don’t leave me, darling. Please!”

Lacey just sat there frozen. She’d never seen her father cry. He’d never raised his voice to her either.

“Didn’t you hear me!” he cried out viciously, turning to look at Lacey with such blistering hatred in his eyes that it took her breath away. “GET OUT!”

Lacey jumped up from the chair, stumbling backward out of the room.

The Following Friday

There was much to be said for Gold’s little cabin in the woods. It was beautifully situated, right on the edge of a tranquil lake. Neal had swam in the lake in the summers as a boy, and ice skated there in the winters. The inside of the cabin was small and rustic, but cozy, easily warmed by the large stone fireplace in the living room. The one small bedroom had a window out to the lake that framed the sunrise beautifully. The front porch boasted two rocking chairs, the perfect spot for a cup of coffee of a morning or a glass of wine in the evening.

Unfortunately, if one was not inclined toward swimming or ice skating, or meditating over coffee, or birdwatching, or hiking, it could be downright boring.

The internet and cell service were spotty, and despite catching up on his reading, by Friday morning, Gold was growing restless.

In addition, he was running low on provisions. The loaf of bread in the larder had gone stale, he was almost out of coffee beans, and most damningly, he was completely out of whisky.

It was time to head back to Storybrooke.

Besides, she couldn’t possibly still be in town. Last Friday night would be one ill advised indiscretion that he’d never have to think about again. Never mind that he’d thought of it constantly alone at his cabin. He’d had little enough else to occupy his mind. He’d replayed every moment of their last encounter over and over again. The way she’d smelled, the sounds she made, the feel of her soft skin against his own. It was enough to drive a man mad. The last five years of celibacy hadn’t helped in banishing thoughts of her from his mind. Lacey French had opened a dam of feelings and emotions that he’d repressed for half a decade. Suddenly he was wanting things, things he had no right to want again. And he was still so utterly furious with her.

She’d broken his heart. He couldn’t let her do it again.

But Lacey was certainly gone. He’d given her a whole week to look after her father. Hopefully she was on a plane even now back to the other side of the country. He could go back to the carefully crafted stoicism that kept him from feeling anything too keenly. Not his loss, not his lust, certainly not his love.

The drive back into town took no more than half an hour, and Gold decided to stop at the grocery on his way home, certain his coffee and whisky stores at home were just as depleted as the cabin’s.

He was slowly perusing the aisles, in no real hurry to be home, shopping basket in one hand and cane in the other, when he caught a whiff of something achingly familiar. He set his basket down, turning away from the shelf of cooking oils and looking around.

It was the warm scent of cinnamon, spices and jasmine, earthy and beautiful. A scent tied to powerful memories, and one he had reveled in again just one week ago. Lacey .

Just as quickly the scent was gone, and Gold could have believed he’d imagined it. She’d been on his mind enough these days. But something in his gut told him she was here. And the part of him given to self destruction had to see her.

He rounded the next aisle, spotting her a few yards away.

She froze at the end of the aisle, her hand halfway outstretched for a box of cereal. She dropped it quickly, turning and heading off in the other direction.

Something perverse within Gold made him follow her.

“You're still here,” he called at her retreating back.

Lacey stopped, turning to face him, but her blue eyes refused to meet his.

“Yes,” she said, her shoulders sagging. “I’ll stay out of your way.”

“See that you do,” he returned coldly. “How long do you plan to be in town?”

Lacey shrugged. “Indefinitely,” she said.

Gold nodded stiffly. He couldn’t very well hide in his cabin for the foreseeable future. For one, he had a much more comfortable home here in town. Secondly, he had businesses to run, tenants and clients and customers. No, he couldn’t hide like a dog with his tail between his legs. He would have to live with the fact that Lacey could be lurking on any street corner. Perhaps seeing her regularly would numb the pain, would make him immune to her. He could only hope.

“I’m going to help my dad with his shop,” she continued. “Make sure money is coming in. And take him to his doctor’s appointments, make sure he’s taking his medication and eating well, all that stuff.”

Gold just nodded again.

“Like I said, I’ll stay out of your way.”

“It’s a small town,” he observed. “We’re bound to run into each other.”

Lacey licked her lips, and didn’t he just hate that he couldn’t help but look at her mouth, imagine the feel of it on his own. He wanted to kiss her, right here in the middle of the grocery store where any town busy body could see. And he also wanted her to leave and never come back. He wanted her to be as broken hearted as he still was, no matter how much time had passed.

“Daniel,” she said softly, stepping closer to him. “I don’t want to hurt you. I promise you’ll never see me. If you do, we can ignore each other completely, okay? These are the last words you ever have to hear from me.”

“I’m not hurt,” he lied.

She took half a step back, a look of hurt crossing her own face. His hand twitched at his side, wanting to reach for her. He’d always wanted to give her comfort. It’s how they’d wound up here in the first place.

Lacey nodded. “Okay,” she said. “I’ve got to finish the shopping. Goodbye, Mr. Gold.”

She grabbed a box of cereal off the shelf blindly and tossed it into her shopping cart before wheeling it off, not giving him a second glance.

7 Years Ago

She’d never been to his house before, though of course she knew where he lived. Storybrooke was a small enough town and there were few homes as grand as Mr. Gold’s. She stumbled there blindly, her boots slipping in the snow. She was shivering, her teeth chattering from the cold and from grief and from fear. Her father would never forgive her. And she wasn’t sure she could forgive him, for abandoning her, for forcing her to make decisions that never should have been hers.

Before she knew it she was standing in front of the three story pink Victorian she knew to be the Gold home. She trudged up the icy steps, knocking twice on the front door.

It was late, nearly midnight, and if Lacey had been remotely in her right mind she’d never have bothered him. He had lost more than her, a child rather than a parent. He’d been alone for the past five months while she’d still had her mother lingering between life and death. She had no right to seek him out for comfort.

And yet here she was.

A light flickered on behind the stained glass window, a shadow moving in the hall, before the door was thrown open.

He must have been asleep was Lacey’s first reaction. He was wearing a dressing gown over a pair of navy blue pajamas. It was an incongruous sight. She’d never seen him in anything but a buttoned up three piece suit. She’d be willing to bet no one outside of his immediate family had ever seen him as undressed as she was now. A funny thing to think about at a time like this.

“Lacey,” he said with a look of surprise. “It’s freezing out. What are you doing here?”

“You were sleeping,” she blurted out.

Gold’s eyebrows rose imperceptibly.

“No,” he assured her. “Attempting to, but not meeting with much success. You didn’t wake me.”

“Oh,” Lacey said, her teeth chattering. “That’s good.”

“You’re shivering,” he pointed out, ushering her inside. “Come in out of the cold.”

Lacey stepped into his foyer, the door shutting behind her and shutting out the world just as decisively.

It was warm, and not just because of the heated air. Everything about the house was warm and inviting, decorated in shades of burgundy and gold. Even the lighting felt warm, like she was being embraced by the house itself.

Some people probably would have thought Gold’s home would be sterile and cold, but Lacey knew better. He was the only person in the whole damn town who cared about her, a silly 21 year old college drop out with no future.

Gold led her down a short hallway and into a sitting room, two large leather sofas facing each other across an antique coffee table.

“Sit,” he told her, gesturing to one of the sofas. “And tell me what’s wrong.”

Lacey took the offered seat, wrapping her arms around herself. She was still in her Granny’s uniform, her little white puffer jacket the only thing shielding her from the cold night.

“She’s gone,” she croaked out. “My mother.”

“Oh, Lacey,” Gold said, taking a seat next to her. The sofa dipped under his weight and Lacey slid slightly into him. He placed an arm around her, rubbing her shoulder. “I’m so sorry.”

“I didn’t mean to bother you,” she said, staring blankly at the coffee table. “I just didn’t have anywhere else to go.”

“Well, you’re more than welcome,” he said. “But what do you mean nowhere to go? Where is your father?”

Lacey shook her head. “He hates me,” she whispered. She could see the look on his face, the hatred in his eyes, every time she closed her own. Whatever relationship she’d had left with her dad since the accident seemed well and truly destroyed.

“What?”

“It was my fault,” Lacey said, her voice rising in pitch. “I told them to take her off the life support. I’m the reason she’s dead!”

“No,” Gold said fiercely. “None of this is your fault. It was that bloody fucking drunk who took everything from us. It could never be your fault.”

“I didn’t know what to do,” Lacey continued. “She just looked so frail and so tired. I couldn’t let them keep bringing her back. She wanted to go, I know she did.”

“You should never have had to make that choice,” Gold said, rubbing her back.

“He’ll never speak to me again,” she said.

“Of course he will,” Gold said. “He’s your father and he loves you. Grief makes people say and do terrible things. But never doubt a father’s love.”

Lacey shook her head.

“He hates me,” she said again.

Gold didn’t say anything more, just held her until the shaking subsided, her nerves finally calming after the adrenaline left her system. Her head leaned against his chest, nestling under his chin and he readjusted them on the sofa until she was stretched out beside him, his heartbeat thumping reassuringly under her ear.

He’d never touched her like this before, she thought, arms wrapped around her, his big hand rubbing her back in slow, steady strokes. It was intimate, almost like lovers.

Their relationship over the past several months had been friendly, comrades in arms, but there’d been carefully drawn lines between them. He was twice her age, for one. It was something they’d never acknowledged but always seemed unspoken. They were united in their shared grief, but nothing inappropriate ever occurred.

Mr. Gold was a perfect gentleman.

Lacey knew she was attractive. She’d never lacked male attention. But to Mr. Gold she was as sexless as an old running shoe. He’d never shown the slightest interest in her that way. That was one of the reasons she liked him so much.

She moved her head slightly, looking up at his face in the lamplight. His eyes were closed and she wondered if he’d drifted off. It was late after all.

Her eyes traced the line of his nose, his sharp cheekbones, down to his lips. For the first time she wondered what they would taste like, how it would feel to kiss him. The quiet intimacy of snuggling with someone on their sofa suddenly had her thinking all sorts of inappropriate things.

Her heart still hurt so badly, broken by the loss of her mother and her father’s anger. She thought she’d probably never feel happiness again and yet, here she was objectifying Mr. Gold in his sleep.

She wondered what he would do if she pushed him back on the sofa, and straddled his lap. Would he stop her? What if he didn’t?

He really was so handsome. She wasn’t sure when the thought had turned from a detached assessment to a visceral need. He was beautiful and she wanted him. She wanted him now.

She turned her head, pressing her nose into his neck. He smelled so good, warm and clean, like laundry fresh out the dryer. But there was something spicy there too, some hint of aftershave. She could feel his pulse beneath her lips, the steady thrum. The ones they loved were gone, cold and lifeless. But he was so warm and alive.

She didn’t want to feel dead anymore. She’d been sleepwalking through the past few months, in a constant state of mourning her mother. She was exhausted by it. She felt far older than her twenty-one years, haggard and drained. She wanted to feel alive. Even if it was only for one ill-advised night.

She moved her lips against his neck, a soft fluttering kiss just beneath his jaw. She felt him tense beneath her, holding himself deathly still. So not asleep after all.

Lacey leaned up on her elbow, looking down at Gold, his eyes still shut. She could swear he was holding his breath.

She leaned forward, brushing her lips against his. Gold’s dark eyes flew open, wide with shock as Lacey pulled back slightly.

“What are you doing?” he whispered.

“Kissing you,” she said softly. She kissed him again, and this time he kissed her back, his lips warm and soft. It was a short, chaste thing before his hands came up to cup her shoulders, pushing her back gently as he sat them both up.

“Lacey, you’ve had a trying evening,” he pointed out. “You’ve suffered a devastating loss.”

He was pushing her away. She should let him, she should get up and walk away before she fundamentally altered their little friendship. But she had nowhere else to go. She didn’t want anywhere else to go.

“I want this,” she said. “I want you.”

An unfathomable look passed across his brown eyes. Confusion crossed with something like longing. Then he shook his head.

“You’re only saying that because you want to feel something other than the pain.”

Lacey scooted forward, closing the distance between them he’d created.

“Is that so bad?” she asked, running her hands through his long hair. “Don’t you want the same? To forget for a minute and feel something good?”

He caught her hands in his own, holding her wrists lightly in his hands. They were rougher than she would have thought, calloused. She wanted to feel them everywhere. She wanted to see beyond the little triangle of skin exposed by the open neck of his pajamas. She wanted him.

“I’m not asking you to marry me, Mr. Gold,” she said, her voice almost pleading now. “But I think we could help each other.”

“How?” he asked, his voice ragged. His eyes were so large, so vulnerable. “What would it help?”

He still had hold of her wrists, but she chanced reaching for his hair again and he let her. She combed her fingers through it, running her short nails against his scalp. His eyes slipped closed and he let out a little sigh as he let her pet him. She wondered the last time he’d been touched like this. He’d been divorced as long as she could remember. Did he date? Did he have a girlfriend? Did it matter?

“How do you do it?” she asked, her hands slipping through his hair and down to the nape of his neck, rubbing at his tired muscles above the collar of his pajamas. “How do you wake up every morning knowing you’ll never see him again, never hear his voice? How do you get through the day?”

Gold licked his lips, his eyes still closed.

“It’s a bit like being on auto pilot,” he said after a moment. “I wake up, I dress, I go to work. I exist. It’s not living though, Lacey. It’s survival, nothing more.”

“Exactly,” she said. “I feel the same way. These past 5 months have been hell. We deserve to feel good.”

His eyes opened again, fixed on her own. She could see the same weariness, the same pain, the same hurt, reflected back at her.

“We could make each other feel good.”

The air was electric, taut with tension. Lacey was afraid to breathe, to do anything that might break the spell.

A split second later, Gold had her pinned to the sofa, his mouth relentless against her own. His lips pulled at hers, his tongue dipping into her mouth to taste her. Her hands found his hair again and she pulled at it as he grunted, his hips thrusting against hers.

Lacey gasped as he broke away, kissing down her neck, pulling at the buttons of her white button down shirt. It was like she’d opened a dam and she was being carried away by the flood waters. All thought of anything but the man overtop her flew from her head. His hands were on her breasts, between her legs, and she was gasping and writhing with pleasure.

“I’ll make it good,” he whispered against her ear as she clenched around his fingers. “I’ll make it so good, sweetheart.”

And he did. It was one promise he always kept.

#rumbelle #rumbelle fic #raven's fic #golden lace #fic: never let me go

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lenorethequietbookkeeper · 1 year ago

Note

Can't believe this never dawned on me before. Do any of the holders speak another language? Have new languages developed over the eons?

Very excited to talk about this one cause I've always wanted to discuss demon language specifically!

But!! I'm getting ahead of myself! I'll answer the first part quick!

John- Basically nothing outside of English. Knows some individual words, but often mixes up what languages they come from, and even what they mean.

Charles- A bit of Standard Chinese, but not enough to hold a conversation. Some Greed-Variety Demontongue, just enough to handle business contracts.

Ferris- A decent amount of Spanish, although he doesn't use it a whole lot due to lack of opportunities. Basic Demontongue, mostly dumb pickup lines.

Daniel- Literate with French, Egyptian, Standard Chinese, and a decent amount of Basic and Pride-Variety Demontongue, is unable to speak any of these.

Jeagar- Very knowledgeable regarding Hebrew, literate with several ancient dead languages, especially Latin, Sanskrit, Biblical Hebrew, and Akkadian. Also literate with all varieties of Demontongue and Angelchirp. Can speak most of these on an intermediate level.

---

Now!! Regarding languages in the ZoP universe! In general, at least on Earth, I don't imagine humans or undead have really created new languages. That being said, I do imagine the degradation of borders and interactions between undead/humans from other cultures has led to the development of multiple sub-languages all around the world. I won't get into every single one here, it's just something I'm laying out.

There are two languages exclusive to ZoP itself I'd like to discuss; Angelchirp and Demontongue, those being the native tongues of angels and demons of course.

---

NOTE: Just for context, the words from these languages take snippets from other words of whatever speech they're being translated into (ex; "fivfinlim", which takes bits from the words "five", "finger", and "limb", means "hand" in Basic Demontongue). The words in my writing will be based on the English language for my convenience. That being said, Angelchirp and Demontongue are very complicated in their original forms, so they need to be heavily localized for humans to even understand them as languages (and literally not explode while trying to speak them).

TLDR; The translated versions of these languages I use in ZoP are not the only versions that exist.

---

OK WITH THAT IN MIND, Angelchirp is pretty universally similar for all angels. There may be some dialect differences for the higher-ups, but that's about it. When translated, it often uses bits of words related to emotions and the spiritual. It also acts as the base for all languages in the universe, including Demontongue.

Speaking of, Demontongue is far more complex and insane than to Angelchirp. While most basic nouns/verbs are universally the same, a lot of words can be totally different depending on what species of demon is speaking. So uh...yeah...prepare for a beefy ass read lmao.

---

Gluttony/Wrath/Lust-Variety (also called Basic): The first and most common rendition of Demontongue. Quite similar to Angelchirp in its original script due to being a direct descendent from when Hell was first created. Where it differs is that when translated, it uses snippets of words related to the physical, usually regarding nature and flesh.

---

Greed-Variety: A more complicated version than Basic, originally invented by greed demons as a form of code to prevent outsiders (including other demons) from prying into their affairs. Not really spoken in casual conversation, mostly used to encode secret messages. Often rely on the words of numeric systems when translated.

---

Sloth/Envy-Variety (also called Simple): An odd version of the language that predominantly appears in magic-related material written during humanity's Dark Ages. Origins coincide with the era when Sloth and Envy Demons terrorized humanity. Most notably the easiest variety to translate due to being more similar to the Greek alphabet than demonic runes (the progenitor for Basic Demontongue). Because of this, magidemics believe Simple was actually created by early human sorcerers as a tool for what would become spell crafting.

---

Pride-Variety: The most difficult and complicated of all varieties of Demontongue created during the peak of the Pride Demon's culture. Infamous for having some of the most convoluted, long, and difficult to pronounce words, perhaps in all of the universe (ex: "crekmahogoakbireverbarkflorfon", which means board). Hell-based historians argue this is to increase the magic potential of Pride Demon spells, although adept sorcerers believe this was done so the noble class could gatekeep their brand of magic from the "common rabble". Regardless, due to the outbreak of the Affliction, there is the very real possibility that this dialect might become a dead language in the not too distant future, which brings worry to the magic world, but relief to those tasked with translating demonic scripture.

---

-From Biblically Accurate Producer!

#zop #zombiesofpythonel #answered ask #zop lore #the holders #demons #language #fantasy language #worldbuilding #b.a.p.

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13thalcoragent · 10 months ago

Text

My Stepmother and Stepsisters Do Not Pick On Me VI

Cinder: Despite being an orphan, the Glass family has adopted me.

The Characters:

Cinder Fall-Glass – Our Heroine who was adopted

Amanda “Ama” Glass – Older Stepsister with Curly Hair

Lenalee “Lee” Glass – Older Stepsister with Straight Hair

Laura Glass – Stepmother and Madame

Cinder: It’s “était”…No? (Note: “était” is French for “was”)

Lee: No, “était” is past tense. It’s “est”. (Note: “est” is French for “is”)

Cinder: Lately, I have been focusing on my studies to become more cultured.

FLASHBACK

Laura: Should we hire a tutor?

Lee: Allow me, Mom.

PRESENT DAY

Cinder: It’s shameful for the Glass family to have a daughter with such shallow knowledge. Big Sister Lee must be very angry about that.

Lee: Although, your handwriting has become quite pretty.

Cinder: Huh?

Lee: You’ve made a lot of progress! I’m proud of you.

Cinder: Eeehhh?

Ama: The books you’re teaching her seems to be doing her vocabulary a disservice!

Lee: Do you have a problem with your sister’s teaching method?

Cinder: Uh…Hey.

Ama: I do.

Cinder: Wait…Don’t fight.

Lee: You’re always with Cinder, that’s unfair!

Cinder: Eeeehh?~??

Ama: Why don’t you teach her math and science too?

Cinder: Wait…Heyyy!~!!

Lee: She’ll get exhausted if I teach her so much in such a short period of time.

TEA BREAK

Lee: First of all, what was your primary education like?

Cinder: Oh…Emm…Before coming here…I lived in an orphanage ever since I was little. I had to work all day so it was difficult to go to school…

Lee: In other words, you only know the basics.

Cinder: I knew it, now she’s disappointed in me…!

Cinder: Sorry for being a bother…

Lee: Well…You’re my careless little sister!

Cinder: She looks…happy?

Lee: I’ve never had one before! I’ll be the one to take care of you.

Cinder: Eeeehh?~??

Ama: Your big sister wants to feel needed, so use her as you wish.

Cinder: Whaaat?!

Lee: Well, it’s been a long time since… *gets a paper cut* Ouch…I cut myself on the page.

Cinder: Oh no. *holds out a handkerchief* For now, you can use this to stop the bleeding…!

Lee: *takes the handkerchief* Hey, this is really worn out…

Cinder: Oh no, I gave an old thing to my sister.

Cinder: S-Sorry…It was my mother’s.

Lee: Eeh…? It’s a keepsake! Why don’t you treat it better?!

Cinder: Whaaaaaaaaaaaat?!~!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Lee: You have to take good care of it, Sillyyy!

Cinder: Eh…Eeehhh?~????

Lee: Just look at it! Now it’s stained with blood!

Cinder: What the…?

Lee: Eh?! Maybe it can be cleaned by washing it normally?!

Ama: You didn’t hesitate to offer us a handkerchief that was so important to you…What a kind girl…

Cinder: Hmmm…?

Lee: Don’t be discouraged, we’ll think of something.

Ama: I read in a book a long time ago that grated radish juice is effective in removing blood…

Cinder: What amazing knowledge!

Cinder: It’s all right…It’s already to degraded anyways and I was thinking of throwing it away. If in the end I can help Big Sister Lee, then that would be the best use I can put it to.

Laura: You’re lying.

Cinder: Mommy…

Laura: I don’t think you’re telling the truth. I’m sure you would like to keep the handkerchief full of memories of your mother.

Cinder: I mean…To tell you the truth, this holds a very important memory of my mother…I really want to treasure it forever…But the Glass family has been very good to me…Wouldn’t it be rude to drag old memories around forever?

Laura: Is that so? Regardless of how important it is to you, blood stains are easily removed with horseradish. Although, fabric damage cannot be reversed…I got it, I’ll reinforce the fabric with some decorative borders!!! Of course, if you don’t mind!

Cinder: Eeeeeeehh?~??

Ama: It’s clean and looks brand new again.

Cinder: Thank you very much…!

Lee: Mom, teach me how to sew like this, please!!!

Laura: First, you must practice straight stitching.

Cinder: Mother, now I’ll remember you with a nice flower frame.

#rwby #cinder fall #evil stepmother #evil stepsisters #amalee #My Stepmother and Stepsisters Do Not Pick On Me #incorrect quotes

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forays-into-fiction · 2 years ago

Text

Rise and Shine

You and Eddie have been dating for a while now, moved in to your own place, really settled in. You prefer to wear as little clothing as possible, especially in these warmer months, but that might not always be the best idea.

Request fill for Anon, hope you like it.

Minors DNI

Contains: Slight Dom!Eddie/Sub!Reader, Slight Rockstar!Eddie/Reader, Petnames (Babe, Sweetheart), Finger Sucking, Unprotected Sex, Public Sex, Degradation/Name-calling (Slut)

With summer creeping in and the nights getting warmer you had begun to forgo even more of your clothing than usual, not that Eddie had any complaints about it, particularly when it led to most mornings starting with soft, sleepy sex before breakfast.

The freedom of living in your own apartment was a godsend, not that you didn’t like Eddie’s uncle Wayne, but it was beginning to get cramped in that trailer of theirs. Living there also meant donning more clothing than you’d like for the sake of modesty, but all that was a thing of the past.

This morning in particular you had awoken, hands reaching out in search of your boyfriend, but you were met with the empty expanse of cool sheets instead. Groaning and rising bleary-eyed you only just register the faint sounds of a guitar from the living room. Your back pops as you stretch your arms out overhead and make your way to the bedroom door in nothing but your bra and panties.

Trudging past the living room into the kitchen, rubbing sleep from your eyes you mumble, “G’mornin Eds.”

The guitar stops suddenly with an unexpected twang of the strings as you’re filling the kettle.

“Uhhh… babe…” Eddie gasps.

You reply without turning, “Yeah? Want a coffee?”

“No… babe.” He persists, sounding slightly panicked

You continue reaching for your mug, the cannister of coffee, going through the motions, “What’s up?”

“Y/N turn around.” He hisses. You do and spot the rest of his band all sitting around the coffee table.

“Oh fuck…” You scramble to duck behind the counter as they chuckle at you, “… uhhhh good morning, guys.” You call out with a wince.

“Oh no, it is a great morning.” Gareth replies cheekily, only to be met with Eddie’s ringed hand clapping him across the back of the head.

“Oww. Hey, geez watch the hardware, Munson.”

“Watch what you say to my girlfriend, Emerson.” He retorts.

“What? All I said was it’s a great morning.” He feigns innocence.

Eddie sends a glare his way in response.

Peering over the counter you see Eddie shrugging off his shirt, balling it up and tossing it over to you.

“Thank you.” You shout out as you slip his shirt over your head before reappearing.

“So, uh… umm sorry for… interrupting. Has Eddie offered you guys anything to eat or drink?” You try to move past the incident without comment.

“No, he hasn’t. Such terrible host that boyfriend of yours.” Jeff answers for the group as they shake their heads.

“I can make breakfast for all of us if you’re hungry, I can do pancakes, or eggs and bacon or French toast-”

Gareth cuts you off, “I think we all know what Eddie would rather be eating.”

“Jesus Christ dude shut up!” He gives him a shove.

In hopes of dispelling the tension, you try a different topic, “So, uh what brings you fine gentlemen ‘round this time of the morning?”

“Didn’t Eddie tell you?” Clarke speaks up for the first time.

“Shit, no I forgot.” Eddie gasps.

“Yeah, clearly…” You gesture down to your torso.

“Sorry babe.” He replies sheepishly, “Corroded Coffin booked a new gig. We wanted to go over some of our stuff, revise the set list, practice a bit you know.”

“Oh my god babe, that’s amazing!” You move to go to him but falter after the first step, “Pants… I need pants. One sec.”

You scurry back to the bedroom and pull on your own clothes, returning carrying Eddie’s shirt loosely in your hand. You pass it back to him and he pulls it on over his head. You lay a kiss on the crown of his head as his shirt settles over him and plop down on the couch beside him.

“I am so proud of you,” you beam at him before turning to the rest of the guys, “of all of you!”

They mutter a bashful chorus of thanks in response.

“Really though, are you guys hungry or thirsty or anything? ‘Cause I’m making coffee and pancakes for me.” You ask before rising from the couch.

They all mumble various words of assent and you get to work as they return to their earlier discussions and practice.

You lay out everything on the dining table before calling them all over. They tuck in eagerly and you begin, “So, tell me more about this gig, guys.”

“Well, it’s at The Patio, we may be able to get a standing gig if this one goes well.” Eddie answers piling pancakes onto his plate.

“I’m sure it’ll be great. You guys get the setlist figured out?”

“Yep, think we got it all sorted, right?” He looks to the guys and they agree.

“Yep, think we’re good, man” Gareth supplies.

“You want some cream with that babe? We all know how much you love your… cream.” You tease with a smirk, offering Eddie the canister of whipped cream.

Gareth snorts as Eddie reaches out for it, “What?” he asks puzzled.

Jeff tries to hide his smirk behind his coffee as Clarke chuckles, “Cream.”

Eddie looks over at you noticing your smirk, “… oh, not you too babe. They got you teasing me now too? You seemed to quite enjoy my fondness for cream just a couple of nights ago.”

“Oh, I’m not complaining babe, I love how much you love… cream.”

“Shut up…”

“Awww, come on Eds don’t pout. So, when’s the show? Am I invited?” You poke his arm playfully.

“Not if you keep bullying me.” He stabs at his pancakes.

“Oh, don’t listen to ‘im y/n, of course you’re invited.” Jeff adds.

“It’s this Wednesday at seven.” Gareth mumbles swallowing his mouthful of food.

“I will be there.”

Wednesday comes around quickly and you find yourself at The Patio in the perfect spot right by the stage watching Eddie and the guys introduce themselves.

The crowd gives an encouraging little cheer as they begin, you cheer Eddie’s name and he gives you a little grin.

You could watch him performing on a stage like this for the rest of your life. He’s always had a flare for the dramatic, but this is where he truly comes to life, losing himself to the music. His eyes always search out for yours in the crowd and when they meet it’s like electricity surging through you.

The way he looks right now sets your heart racing, his clothing clinging to his sweaty body, hair plastered to his forehead and the back of his neck, eyes sparkling, grinning madly, fingers dancing along the fretboard.

And fuck are you wet, he has you dripping every time he takes the stage and by now, he fucking knows it too. All the times he had you bent over a bathroom sink, in the back of his van, once even over the hood of someone else’s car and all right after a Corroded Coffin performance.

When they all stumble off stage Eddie beelines towards you, sweeping you up in a heated embrace, kissing you sloppily. He pulls back breathlessly, “How’d we do, babe?”

“Amazing as always, come on let’s get some drinks.” You tug on his arm leading him over to the bar.

The two of you find yourselves a little booth, drinks in hand and you plop down beside him. The rest of the band join shortly after with their own drinks and you congratulate them on a wonderful performance.

They’re all chatting, but you can’t focus on what they’re saying, because Eddie’s hand has slipped under the table and is creeping up your thigh. When he reaches the hem of your dress, he pushes it aside and continues until he meets the sodden lace of your panties.

He teases you over them with a little smirk never breaking the flow of conversation. You try your best to remain straight-faced but when he pulls your panties to the side and slips his fingers between your folds you let out a little gasp.

Jeff looks over at you, “You ok, y/n? You’re looking a little sweaty, too warm in here for you?”

You grit your teeth and barely manage an answer, “Yeah, something like that.”

“Why don’t you step out for some fresh air?” He suggests.

“Hmm… oh, yeah that’s a good idea. Eddie, you wanna come with me?” You hiss.

“As the lady wishes.” He replies smugly before ever so slowly removing his hand from your panties.

You stand on shaky legs, assuring them, “Be back in a minute guys.”

Eddie slides out of his seat to stand beside you, holding out his hand for you to take… the same hand he just had rubbing at your cunt, still slick with your juices.

You take his offered hand, face heating even more so, how that was even possible you didn’t know.

He leads you outside down an alley by the bar, you hiss at him “You are an absolute menace, Munson.”

He spins around pushing you against the brick wall, leaning in close, his hand moving to cup the back of your head lest you bump it on the wall, “Oh, am I now little Miss ‘You Want Cream With That’?”

His other hand slips back under your dress as he teases, “See, I don’t think your dripping, little pussy agrees with you. Think she wants my ‘cream’ too. Just look at how you’ve drenched your panties.”

His fingers return to your slick folds and he swirls your wetness around your clit, you whimper in response, “Please Eddie… need more.”

“Yeah, that’s what I thought, sweetheart. What do you want first… my fingers or my dick?”

“Can… can I have both?” You pant desperately.

“Greedy… you want both? Tell me, sweetheart… how d’ya want it?”

“Wan’ your dick inside me and I wanna suck on your fingers… please.”

“Alrigh’, since you asked so nice an’ all. Can you lift up your dress for me?”

You do as he asks, ruching up the fabric of your dress in both hands, holding it above your hips. Hand dropping from behind your head, he unbuckles his belt and pulls down his jeans and boxers ‘til they sit pressed just beneath his balls, heavy with cum.

His weepy, ruddy cock stands proudly, jutting out from his thatch of curls and he rubs a hand along its length spreading his precum. He tugs your panties down to your knees and guides his cock between your folds, running the tip up and down through your arousal.

He eases in inch by inch and when he’s fully seated inside you, his eyes meet your own and he’s darting in for a searing kiss, swallowing up all the little noises you make. He pulls away panting, “You ready for my fingers now too?”

You nod, humming in response.

His hand comes up to your lips, wet with both your slick and his precum as he begins thrusting shallowly. Your tongue drops out laving over his digits before slowly sinking down over his pointer finger, moaning around it pathetically, eyes fluttering shut.

His other hand returns to your head, tugging on your hair lightly. You’re whining and drooling all over his fingers as he adds another, his hips increasing their pace, slamming into you with abandon.

“You like that huh, dirty little slut you are… so fucking wet, just soaking my cock and balls…”

You clamp down around him arousal flooding through you as he continues, “Yeah, you do… you know anyone could walk down here and see us, what would they think of you, slobbering on my fingers, getting split open by my cock against a brick wall…”

His hand drops from your head to flick at your swollen clit and it sends you into orbit, his fingers muffling your cries as your walls flutter around his cock, hips rising to meet his erratically.

His hips stutter, losing their rhythm as he unloads with a cry of his own, coating your slick channel with his seed. He slips out of you, both fingers and cock, leaving you a quivering mess, he pulls your panties back into place giving your thigh a quick squeeze along the way.

You let your crinkled dress fall back into place as he brushes your hair behind your ear, cupping your cheek and leaning in for a gentle kiss.

Pulling away he teases breathily, “So, how’d you like your ‘cream’?”

“Oh, it was quite good actually. You know when it comes to ‘cream’, I am especially fond of creampies.” You tease back.

“Who’s the fucking menace now, huh?” He laughs.

“Should we… should we head back in?” You swipe a hand over your chin, clearing off the drool.

He nods rightening his own clothing, tucking himself away, before leading you back in arm in arm.

#eddie munson fic #eddie munson smut #eddie x reader #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x y/n #eddie x y/n #dom!eddie x sub!reader #rockstar!eddie x reader #rockstar!eddie #anon request #request fill #request

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carolmunson · 2 years ago

Text

satin spats (steddie x reader)

Hi. This is a semi-prequel to the Good Cop x Bad Cop trilogy. Showing that Steve had been slowly becoming more unhinged overtime about his innate need for control when it comes to feeling powerless against his father. A lead up to why Reader calling Eddie 'Daddy’ in GCxBC: Daddy Lessons was the nail in the coffin for him going off the rails. This features a really, like genuinely emotionally mean Steve and this has a big Eddie to the rescue focus towards the end.

warnings: 18+ smut, fem reader, VERYMEAN!STEVE, intense degradation/humiliation, choking/leash play, swearing, fighting, yelling, rough sex, p in v sex, oral (male receiving), really mean name calling, drinking, controlling behavior, etc.

“I really think you’re the perfect fit. You’re never late, you always know what’s happening in the office, you’re always taking on more than you can chew and then chewing it.” “Are you sure, Mr. Harrington? Is this really happening right now?” you asked, beaming. “I think you’ll make a great Executive Assistant – I’m offering you the promotion,” your boss said with a shrug, “You wanna take up the offer?” “Uh, yes!” you replied, your heart soaring after a year and a half of getting coffees and answering phones, “Absolutely yes! And it’s not…like, this isn’t because I’m with Steve, right?”

“My son has no bearing on where I see excellence, Stella,” he said as if he hadn’t just insulted his only son, “This is all you.” Your smile faltered a bit at the dig, but you were so happy that you didn’t want to let it bother you. You had really wanted this promotion in the office. You and Eddie did practice interviews for weeks (’Yeah, baby, show me how bad you want this promotion.’ ‘Ed be serious, please!’), he helped you streamline your resume, he made you French toast this morning on homemade brioche because he wanted you to ‘get promoted on a full stomach’. (’Ed I’m so nervous, I can’t.’ ‘You have to, sweet thing, you’ll feel so much better – and it took me forever to make that brioche so if you don’t eat it I’ll be really sad.’) “Mr. Harrington, I’m –” you were at a loss for words, “I don’t know what to say. I’m so honored! I promise I won’t let you down.” “I know you won’t. We’ll get you started in a week or so, while we get a new secretary on board,” he explained. “Okay! Great!” you squealed, “It’s really happening!”

“It really is,” he smiled back at you, “Give my son a call, we should celebrate later. We’ll do D’archenzo.” “I will, I will,” you said, getting up from the chair across from his desk, “Thank you so much Mr. Harrington.” “Stel, please, just call me Bill,” he pleaded. “Sorry – ugh, thank you so much Bill,” you said, at the door frame. You left his office, shutting the door behind you. Your face hurt from smiling. You scurried back to your desk and immediately called the boy who would be the most excited to hear from you. “Thanks for calling Danger Records. This is the guy who runs it,” Eddie’s bored voice rang through the phone, “How can I help you?” “Ed.” “Oh shit!” you could hear through his words he was beaming, “You got it. Holy shit, you got it!” “I got it!” you tried not to scream, bouncing up and down in your desk chair. “Oh babe, I am so proud of you. I knew you had it in the bag,” he cheered, “I’m so happy for you. How do you feel? Are you excited? You really earned it, sweet thing.” “I’m so excited, and I’m so nervous. I don’t know, it’s so many feelings,” you explained, jittery with enthusiasm.

“I’m so sad I’m closing, sweetheart,” he moped, “I would’ve had something put together for you for when you got home. Let me take my little Exec out this weekend.” You blushed at his new nickname, “Little Exec makes it sound silly.” “It’s not silly, it could never be silly, it’s you,” he said, adoration pouring through his words like honey. “But baby, I’m so sorry, I have to go. We got a couple people in here that need specifics – collectors. I’ll see you at home, okay?” “Yeah, yeah, okay! Um, Bill wants to take me and Steve out for a drink to celebrate at D’archenzo. But we’ll probably be back before you get home,” you said, sweat prickling under your dress at the thought of calling Steve. “Oooh, D’archenzo? My little miss money bags over here. Ugh, I can’t wait to see you and give you a big fat kiss. I love you,” Eddie’s smile was infectious, even if you couldn’t see it. “Love you too! I’ll see you tonight!”

You heaved a dreamy sigh at the praise and excitement. Sometimes it was nice to be cheered for, instead of the cheer leader. You picked up the phone off the receiver again and dialed Family Video slowly. Steve’s shift ended at 4 and it was 3:55, but you couldn’t will yourself to get the to conversation faster. “Family Video, this is Steve,” his voice was cheery, and accommodating.

“Hi Stevie, I’m sorry to call so close to the end of your shift,” you said. “That’s okay, baby, is everything okay at work?” he asked, concern lacing his tone. “No, no, it’s fine! It’s great!” you said, “I um – I got the job!”

“Oh…” he said, his voice still light but distant, “Was that today?” “Yeah, it was um, it was today,” you said, disappointment creeping into your chest.

“Well hey, congrats baby,” he said, his voice lacking the luster it had when he answered the phone. “Uh, your dad wants to know if you wanted to come meet us for celebratory drinks at 5. Do you wanna come?” you chewed on your lower lip, bouncing your leg anxiously. “And hang out with Bill?” he scoffed, “Oh yeah. That’s how I love spending my Friday nights off.” “Please?” you asked, your voice getting smaller. You heard him sigh, the kind he does when he runs his hand over his face, “Yeah honey, I’ll come. You going to Salvatore’s?” “D’archenzo,” you corrected. “Psht, of course he wants to do D’archenzo,” he muttered, taking a pause, “Yeah baby, I’ll see you there. Might be a little late, have to go home and change.” “That’s okay,” you said, a little breathily, “I’m excited to see you.”

“Me too, princess,” his tone made it sound otherwise. “Love you,” you said, meeker than you expected. “Love you, see you later.” Dial tone. You wished you had called Eddie second. –

You shifted nervously in the half circle booth at D’archenzo, eyes snapping from the door to your boss — nodding and smiling every now and again to pretend you were paying attention. The not so great thing about Bill is that he loved to hear himself talk, so it gave you a lot more time to think about how this night might go.

Steve didn’t like his father, that much was true. It was the grandstanding he did whenever he was around him that frustrated you — needing so desperately to be the King Steve he felt like his father wanted him to be. Cool, confident, a provider: all qualities his dad ingrained in him since he was a kid. The same kind of man he was, coasting through life with a winning smile and a law degree. But instead, Steve didn’t get the grades for college, much less a chance at Harvard. Now he was a Senior Manager at Family Video. Disappointed was the understatement of the century.

Your heart raced as you saw him come in and you sucked in a hard breath of air. He looked stunning, always making sure to look his best when it came to being around Bill. His brown and black sports jacket hugged him expertly over a patterned shirt, the collar undone just a bit so you could see the small gold Mary Magdalene pendant he wore on a chain that his grandmother gave him before she died. His matching pants were perfectly pressed, you could tell he was late because he went to go get them done at the cleaners. His leather shoes shining in the low light of the bar.

There was a mirror at the entrance and he nervously looked at himself in it, running his hands through his hair. You could tell he was tense but trying to appear to not be, trying to appear as cool, calm, and collected as he was when he came home ready to turn your ass bright red. After a final breath, he greeted the host with a stunning Harrington smile, nodding over to you and your dad’s booth.

“Hi, Stevie,” you said, plastering a big smile on your face.

“There’s my girl,” he said, his voice slightly lower than normal. He slid into the booth next to you and immediately put his hand on your thigh under the table. His thumb skittered over the hem of your work skirt, smoothing over your nylons. The touch made you feel safe, but you knew he was grounding himself – you were what was safe here. You wanted to fucking eat him alive on that table.

After a soft kiss on the lips, he turned his attention to his father.

“Bill.”

“Steven.”

You closed your eyes and let a breath out of your nose, trying to ease the tension by just existing between them. “Hi, are you folks dining or just– Oh, hey Mr. Harrington, good to see you again!” your eyes opened to the waiter at the edge of the table. Of course the waiters knew Bill, he came here all the time.

“Just drinks, Marco,” Bill replied, “Thanks.”

“Ladies first, what can I get started for you?” Marco turned his right smile to you.

“I’ll get–”

“She’ll have a margarita on the rocks, no salt. Patron, please,” Steve responded without a beat. Your cheeks burned, you didn’t think he’d order for you in front of his father, but that was always how it was. Steve craved control around him, and you were the easiest tool. You were embarrassed, even though the the order wasn’t wrong – you could do it yourself – your thighs tightened at the gesture, the edge on his voice just right.

“And for you?” the waiter asked, patiently.

“Do you have Maker’s Gold Label?” he asked, his posture broadening.

“We do, sir,” Marco responded.

“I’ll take a double,” he said, “Thanks.”

“Steve,” you warned while Bill was distracted ordering, “Not tonight.”

He squeezed your thigh hard to remind you who you were talking to. He got in close to your ear, his Paco Rabanne cologne hitting your nose, practically growling, “Watch who you’re talking to.”

You nodded, your eyes falling to the dark walnut table in front of you, “Sorry.”

Steve always got bourbon when he was with Bill, because Bill always got bourbon. But just like Bill, Steve was a mean drunk when he spent the night with Maker’s. Eddie didn’t even allow it in the house anymore.

“Not even a bouquet Steve?” Bill asked after Marco walked away, “Your girl just got a big promotion and you didn’t get her a present?”

You could’ve just died, it was already starting.

“Bill, I don’t need—” you started.

“It’s at the house,” Steve replied coolly, “Not something I want to keep in my pocket in this part of town.”

You kept your eyes on the table, knowing there wasn’t a gift or flowers. You were more surprised he even agreed to come around. He was doing his best, this was always hard for him.

The drinks arrived with a beautiful cocktail waitress that Bill eyed hungrily, you caught her blush. Steve huffed, “Mom couldn’t make it, tonight?”

“Your mom’s at the Miami house,” Bill said with a wink. He picked up his drink.

“A toast,” Bill started, you raised your glass, Steve half raised his, “To Steve’s girl becoming the breadwinner.”

He let out a hearty laugh. Steve didn’t even clink his glass, just downed the double and slammed it back down on the table. Your heart sunk, you knew it stung him.

“Oh, come on Steven, don’t be a sore sport. House husbands are gonna be all the rage in the 90s,” Bill smirked, taking a slow sip of his whiskey. Steve looked dead behind the eyes, only moving to signal to a waiter he’d like another bourbon.

“Speaking of house husbands, your friend Ed, how’s he doing?” Bill asked.

“Eddie’s fine,” you said, “At the record store tonight, closing up shop.”

“And it’s not weird for you? Living there with Steve’s roommate?” he asked.

You shook your head no, heat bubbling in your chest. Steve’s roommate. Not the man who plowed into you on the couch after playing 'interview’ last night, the scratches down his back still bright red the next day. 'Means I did my job right, baby girl,’ he said when you apologized.

“No, no, we’re all really good friends. It works out nicely!” you enthused. Steve had checked out, nursing the new bourbon that was slipped in front of him, his hand still cupped on your thigh.

The next 30 minutes had been grueling. Between the men sitting on either side of you bickering and continuing to drink, to Steve telling the waiter, “She’s had enough,” when you went to order a second margarita, your head was swimming. Then the check came…

Steve reached for it, snatching the waiter wallet and taking out his own.

“Steven–” Bill started.

“I got it, dad, I got it,” he said, not looking up.

“I don’t think Family Video can cover this bill, sport,” Bill said with a chuckle.

“I have the money, it’s fine,” he said, slotting the bills into the folder and putting his leather wallet back in his jacket’s inside pocket.

“You have the money, because I have the money,” Bill’s voice became fatherly, in that know-it-all way. Calm and smooth, but with an air of authority. A waiter came by to collect the check.

“Mr. Harrington, please let Steve cover it,” you cooed, “He’s just trying to be like you.” Steve’s postured straightened, he pinched the inside of your thigh and you stifled a yelp.

“Can’t blame him,” Bill smirked, and down the rest of his whiskey and standing up, “Alright kids, guess it’s time to be heading out. Next time, Stel get’s the check. She’s making more than both of you boys.”

“I’ll be right back, just heading the rest room,” you whispered to Steve, scooting over to get past him out of the booth.

“I’ll meet you in the fucking car,” Steve hissed, slamming his hands on the table to get up. The glasses shook on the table and you flinched, following out of the booth behind him and heading to the bathroom.

“Woah, woah, Steve, you good to drive…” you heard Bill say, and a semblance of a frustrated, ’Jesus Christ dad, I’m fine,’ as you moved further to the back of the bar.

—

The car ride was silent, Steve wasn’t drunk but you could tell he was feeling the bourbon. He was morose, leaning back in his seat with one hand on the wheel and the other on his lap. He cast a few glances over at you while you leaned your head on your hand, elbow propped up on the ledge the car door window. You weren’t necessarily pouty, but annoyed that this whole day had become about Steve. You started it off so happy, and now you just wanted to take a shower and go to bed.

He pulled into the drive way and swiftly got out of the car, slamming the door behind him. You followed suit, taking small steps in your patent leather work heels, your hands jammed into your trench coat pockets in the cold fall air. You both met in the front hall, shedding yourself of layers, Steve tossing his keys noisily into the bowl on the cabinet by the door.

“Okay, that’s enough,” you said, your brows furrowing, “You had your little melt down, grow up Steve.”

He let out a dark chuckle, “Yeah, okay. Thanks big shot.”

“What is your problem?” you asked, incredulous.

“I am so sick of you coming to the rescue for me around him. You always do this. You embarrass me every, single, time,” he said, his voice raising, his hands animated while he spoke.

“I think you were embarrassing enough on your own! Slamming your hands down, shouting – what, are you a fucking child?” you asked, “And don’t get me started on ordering for me and telling me when I’ve had enough. We were with your fucking dad, Steve. I’m a big girl, I think I got it.”

“Oh yeah, my big girl and her big new job, how could I fucking forget? Remind me again how much fucking better you think you are than me,” he hissed. He slung his suit jacket over the coat rack and huffed into the kitchen, wrenching open the fridge and taking out a beer, slamming it closed.

Fine, two could play at this game.

“Sure,” you shrilled, following him into the kitchen. You reached into your purse, grabbing a wad of $20s, “Here’s your fucking money back.”

The bills showered over him, some hitting him in the face. He leaned his lower back against the counter. Nodding slowly, his face stoic and cold.

“I asked the waiter to put it on my card, instead,” you said, your eyes boring into him, “Because I knew it was too much for you until you got paid again.”

“Hm,” he said, his jaw tense. Still nodding slowly while he put his beer down behind him and rolled up his sleeves. He pushed himself off the counter, and walked through the archway into the living room, placing himself on his favorite arm chair. You looked at him with your arms crossed, walking through the living room to the stairs.

“Don’t forget, you’re still free use this week,” Steve asked, his voice low and menacing. Your back straightened hearing the quiet anger in his voice. Fuck, you were free use this week.

“C'mere, big shot,” he said. You obeyed with a huff, walking over the to arm chair and looking down at him.

“What? What do you want?” you asked haughtily.

“Get on those knees before I make you,” he said, pointing at the ground between his feet. You began to kneel before he stopped you.

“Take this working girl shit off, first,” he said, tugging at your skirt and blazer. You stripped while he watched, blankness behind his eyes, it made you nervous. Maybe you went too far. No, fuck it, he went too far. He was being ridiculous.

You got down on your knees, naked, in front of him. Sure he’d make you suck his cock and then you go take a shower and go to bed.

He let a finger trace over your lower lip, pulled it back, and unbuckled his belt, slipping it around your neck. Not too tight, but just enough. You understood now that this was punishment, not funishment. He needed to feel in control again.

“Does he know?” he asked, pushing your hair out of your face. “Does who know what, Steve?” you asked, annoyed. He pulled at your make shift leash, gagging you in the process. “Does Bill know that you come home from being a know-it-all at work and call his loser son, 'Daddy’?” his voice boarding the line between salacious and scary.

“Does he know that you get punished when you don’t follow my rules? That Daddy makes you do chores and behave just like he wants?” he leaned forward in his seat resting his forearms on his knees. The leather of the belt hanging loosely between his legs in front of you.

“That you like getting put over my knee and spanked like a little girl?” he got right in your face, you whimpered as the pressure on your throat tightened.

“Big shot, huh?” he said, “What, can’t take it?”

“Steve, the last t-time you–” he pulled tighter, your face reddened as you choked.

“Don’t fucking call me Steve when you’re in my fuckin’ house,” he hissed, “I own this fuckin’ house.”

He loosened the pull of the belt, “Sorry, Daddy,” you whisper softly.

“Good, that’s what I wanna hear,” he said, tapping your cheek with his fingers. He stood up, leaving some slack in the leather he held in his hands. You followed suit.

“Sit on the couch,” he said. You gingerly sat on the center cushion, your hands on your lap, waiting for your next instruction. Steve stood in front of you parting your legs with his knee, he undid his pants parting his own legs so his slacks and underwear would rest on his thighs.

“So, big league exec assistant. Show Daddy how sorry you are,” he said.

Your eyes brimmed with tears. So this is what he thought of your accomplishment. You took his cock in your hands, silky and smooth to the touch, achingly hard – you were almost scared of it. You let your flattened tongue glide from the base to the tip, sucking softly on his head, then mid shaft, and back to his head. Your tongue gliding expertly in your mouth, sucking in your cheeks just tightly enough, but not all the way. Not until you pulled him all the way into your mouth, his tip dipping down the back of your throat. You opened up your throat to accommodate him, groaning as you did, looking up begging him to make eye contact with you, to tell you that you were doing so good. He didn’t.

“Shit, that’s it. That’s how you got that promotion, hm?” he groaned, gripping your hair, “Suckin’ all the guys at the office like this? So they’ll all report to my dad how good you are?”

You moved your head back, taking him out of your mouth, you wanted to cry, “That’s not…That’s not how I got the job…”

“Must be, how else you get so good at putting dick that far down your throat?” his glare down at you was brutal, “I see those little outfits you wear to work, of course you’re the office whore.”

“I’m not,” you said, tears starting to spill down your cheeks. He tightened his pull on the belt again, you gagged out of your cry.

“You don’t get to tell me what you are,” he said, a chill whipped through your chest. “I do,” he said, pulling at the belt so you stood up. He hoisted up his pants, leaving them undone. He walked you over to the credenza, leaning you over it so you looked in the big ornate mirror on the wall, seeing him behind you. You watched him in the reflection tug his pants down again. He didn’t check if you were wet or not, just slammed himself into you, looking down at your ass, leaving a hard smack on it to watch it bounce back against his hips and hand.

“You know what you are, big shot?” he asked, looking at you in the mirror, “You’re a worthless fucking whore. C'mon, I wanna hear you say it, look at me in the mirror and say it.” “I’m a…I’m a worthless fucking whore,” you whimpered. “That’s right,” he grumbled, rutting mindlessly into you, “A stupid fucking slut.”

“Steve…” you said, hurt from his words paining your face. You watched the belt tighten on you neck in the mirror. You watched your face bloom red.

“Respect me in my fuckin’ house,” he said.

“Daddy, that’s…you’re being really mean,” you choked out.

“Really mean? Yeah?” he mocked, a sly grin pulling up his lips, “You wanna hear really mean, baby doll?”

His pace quickened while he held the pressure on the belt around your neck.

“You got that fuckin’ job because of me. You didn’t get all obedient without Daddy telling you what to do all the time. You didn’t work harder without me telling you what you needed to do. You didn’t get all that extra work done at home without me staying up and helping you figure out the fuckin’ budget books. I made you, you ungrateful bitch,” his voice getting more ragged with every sentence. The belt getting pulled a little tighter with every thrust.

“Talked you up to my mom so she’d talk you up to my dad. You didn’t do shit for that job,” he spat, “All you’re good for is being Daddy’s toy.” You tapped out.

Unable to speak, barely able to breathe, you slammed your hand down three times on the cradenza to get him to stop. He let go, gently taking the belt off and sliding out of you, you winced at the burn.

“Baby…” he said, his voice soft, “Baby, I didn’t mean…” You turned around, sobbing, “Yes you did, you did mean it.” “No, no,” he wrapped his arms around you, “I was just…you know how I get after I see Bill.” “You weren’t playing the p-p-part St-steve, that’s-that’s-s-s what you really th-thiiiiink,” your last words drawn out as another sob poured out of your body. “Oh baby girl, no, I promise,” he said, pulling back, “Hey, hey, let me look at your neck, okay?” “No, no,” you said, squirming out of his touch, “I don’t want you right now. I–” The front door opened, Eddie pushing it open with his hip, his hands full with a big bouquet of roses and a couple of records, “Where’s my little exeeeeccccc!” he sang out, a smile on his face. As he turned to kick off his shoes, he saw you both standing in the living room. His smile fell. “What’s going on in here?” he asked, gently placing the roses and records down on the cabinet. He slid his sneakers off and padded into the living room, his eyes filled with concern at you crying, naked in the mirror. “Oh sweet thing, what happened?” he asked, wrapping you up in his arms. You fell apart in his chest. 'Is she okay?’ he mouthed to Steve over your shoulder. Steve walked away and laced his fingers over his forehead, his head leaning back slightly. “What happened, baby?” he asked, pulling you a little away from his chest to look you over, “Were you playing and it was too much?” “She tapped out, Ed,” Steve said from the kitchen, in the same position. “He said I only got this job because I’m a whore,” you cried, “He said he made me. He–he leashed me with his b-belt again.” Eddie looked up at Steve, he was pissed. This was supposed to be your day. Eddie pressed a kiss to your temple, “Go upstairs, sweet girl. I’ll come make it better in a minute.” “I’m gonna take a shower,” you said. You felt dirty and degraded. The day was ruined, you padded up the stairs, stopping when you heard Eddie talking again. “That’s the third time in a week and a half that she’s safe’d out with you, Steve,” Eddie was livid, “What the fuck is wrong with you?” “Nothing, Ed, we’re just trying new things,” Steve muttered, he was quiet. “Bullshit, Harrington! Don’t lie to my face, come on!” Ed was full on yelling, “I saw her fucking neck, man. You know she hates that shit. She fucking hates it.”

“She was breaking my r–” Steve’s voice cracked. “I don’t care man. I don’t CARE what rules she was breaking. She doesn’t like the belt around her neck, so we don’t do it. Why can’t you just–Is this–wait is this all cause of Bill? Was tonight about Bill?” Ed’s voice shrilled up through the hall way and through the stairs. “Tell me this shit tonight isn’t about drinks with your dad,” You could tell by the sound of his voice that Eddie got to the point of being so mad he was smiling. If you were a betting woman, you’d guess he’d punch Steve next. Steve didn’t say anything for a minute, “She just…every time she just makes it worse.” “Steve, whatever shit you have going on with your dad is YOUR PROBLEM! She’s not the PROBLEM! She is a PERSON!” he yelled, “You can’t come home and beat on her just because you’re mad at your dad, that’s not how this shit works! She’s not your fucking punching bag when your feelings get hurt, Harrington! She’s your girl. She’s our girl.”

“This was such a big fucking day for her and I come home to her crying?! Cause her boyfriend said she’s an office whore? What’s wrong with you, man?” Ed’s voice was high and angry. “Go take a walk, man. Go figure it out,” he said, you could hear him heading over to the stairs. You scurried to the bathroom to shower before Ed could catch you listening. When you got out of the shower and into the bedroom, Ed was sitting on the bed in his boxers re-reading The Two Towers (for the millionth time). The bouquet of roses in a vase on on the dresser. He looked up from his book at you, “Angel vanimelda.” “Beautiful Angel?,” you asked, wrapped in your towel at the door. “See, the more elvish I speak to you, the quicker you’re learning it,” he said, closing the book and putting it on the side table. He got up, getting chest to chest with you and without a word pulled you into a deep kiss. One hand resting gently on your face, the other snaking around your waist. When he pulled away, he looked at you sweetly, “Congratulations, baby. I’m so proud of you.” Tears filled your eyes again, that’s all you really wanted to hear. “Thanks, Ed, thank you,” you said with a quick sniffle, wiping them away. “I don’t think Steve meant what he said, I think he’s just – I don’t – figuring his shit out. But I’m here,” he pointed to himself, “And I’m saying fuck that guy, and you’re the most badass girl I know, aside from Nancy Wheeler because she has guns, and you earned that job.” You laughed, and let him kiss you again, he broke away and tilted your chin up, “Just checking out your neck, baby. I think it’s okay. Definitely gonna be red tomorrow, but I’ll make sure it doesn’t bruise up.” “Better not bruise up, I have to go be an executive assistant next week,” you smiled, the cry from earlier settling down in your chest. “That’s my girl! My little exec!” he cheered, pulling a bit at your towel so that it dropped to the floor, putting his hands on the smallest part of your waist. He looked you over and bit his bottom lip, his stare made you squeeze your thighs together. “So, since you got the job, can we not play 'interview practice’ anymore?” he asked, “Cause I really liked that game.” “We can play, on one condition,” you smirked, pulling him in, feeling his warm chest against yours. You pushed up on your tip toes and got in his face, “I get to be the boss this time.” Eddie became stupid almost immediately, barely containing his excitement, “Oh fuck yes, baby. Yes. Fuck. Oh my god, fuck. Be my fuckin’ boss any day, Jesus Christ.” — You had fallen asleep long before Steve had gotten back in the house. The forty minutes you spent sitting on Eddie’s face while he devoured you into, and you counted, seven orgasms, really tired you out. He definitely would’ve gotten the promotion if you were the boss. You slept soundly while the front door opened, the moonlight shining into the front hall. Steve closing it gently behind him, and taking his shoes off. You didn’t hear him sniffling or see him wiping his eyes with the heel of his hand while he sat in the dark in the living room. Cradling his head in his hands. Looking over at the money on the floor in the kitchen, his belt still on the cradenza, wracking his body with another flurry of breathy silent cries. “Pull it together, Harrington,” he whispered, the grogginess of his sobbing staining his voice, “Pull it together for her.” He got up, tears still pooled in his eyes, and reached into the inside pocket of the sports jacket he slung over the coat rack earlier that night. Fishing past his wallet, he pulled out a card and a little velvet box that had been there the whole night. He trudged into the kitchen and put them on the kitchen table, popping the box open to reveal the contents, leaving the card next to it with the note open. He picked up the money and neatly organized it, shoving it into his pants pocket. He slid his belt into his pants and trudged up the stairs, resigning himself to the man-cave couch that night. There was a reason Steve couldn’t totally afford to buy drinks tonight, but it wasn’t because he wasn’t making enough money. On the kitchen table, in the velvet box, sat a pair of ruby stud earrings you saw at the jewelers a month ago when Steve stopped in to get his watch cleaned. He watched you coo over them and knew you had to have them, he bought them two weeks later when you said you were going up for the Exec job. He knew you’d get it, you were too good. Next to the box, a simple note: To my best girl, You never fail to impress me. Love, Steve

#steddie x reader #steve harrington x reader #eddie munson x reader #steddie smut #steddie x reader smut #strangering things fan fiction #eddie munson x you #steve harrington x you #steve harrington fan fiction #eddie munson fan fiction #the steddieverse

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neonovember · 2 years ago

Text

All of you

mafia!au

summary; you didn’t mean to get them that angry, or get one of their men killed, but they’ll let you blame it on your insatiablity anyway.

warnings; smut, piv, asphyxiation, degradation, over stimulation, steve gets really rough, pet names, dumbification, mean steve, steve and bucky even being together in the same room, violence and mentions of death

a/n; I didn’t want to post part 1 without posting part 2. That’s it. Bucky and especially Steve are a little deranged in this, heed the warnings, please. Your media is your consumption, you have been warned!

It takes a while, takes you putting on one of Bucky’s favourite vinyls, twirling around in this useless big chair until your head was spinning before Ferguson showed up for his court-appointed presence.

You begin your silent seduction, like prey to a predator, you drop the bait and count on the man to be dumb enough to take it. And boy does he lead himself into it all on his own.

You compliment his stature, gush over his muscles, and beg him to flex them, all while you fiend innocence. As if this man ever would compare to your boys.

You hear the rev of an engine nearby, the sound of it so familiar to you that it fills you with warmth. They were home, or at least on the gravel road that lead to it.

You realised you had to amp it up if you wanted not only Bucky, but Steve, to be mad, really mad, not just the forgery they’d act with you, they had to believe this man truly thought he had a chance with you.

You slowly unbutton the back of your top, letting it hang loosely to display the red ink that trailed down your spine. You waited for the French doors to open, hearing the familiar footsteps run up the stairs and for a moment a feeling of guilt washed over you, they wanted to see you, and here you were playing mind games.

The flutter of the white curtains streaming in the moonlight reminds you however of the endless nights you’d stare through those same window panes, waiting, wishing your boys were home if not safe.

This was simply karmic justice.

“Would you mind buttoning up my shirt, it seemed to come undone somehow” You giggle, pushing your coils to the side.

He isn’t able to reach the second button before you hear the door bang open, bouncing back from the wall.

“What the fuck do you think you're doing” Bucky growls, his chest heaving up and down, the crisp white shirt is rolled to his elbows, and suspicious red splotches scatter the collar of it.

Thomas fumbles, his fingers latching back from your shit as if you were poison, he gulps loudly, the wrath of Bucky's rage that he knew all too well, now directed at him.

“Uh, she asked-” Thomas begins, poor little Thomas, too stupid to know when to keep his hands to himself and even more stupid to know when to keep his mouth shut

Bucky doesn't let him finish, the last of his composure crumbling and he reaches for Thomas, ribbing him for being you and dragging him out of the room. There is a scurry, one Bucky has conveniently muffled through the shut office doors, but you hear the anguished screams nonetheless before he appears again in front of you.

His dark strands fall in front of his eyes, but they do little to hinder the fire burning within them, deep embers of navy blue that seem almost silver under the low light. You know when a job has been particularly bad by Bucky’s hair, and with the way it was falling apart from the haphazard bun at the back, told you it was worse than bad.

You can practically see his body vibrating, mixed with the lasting adrenaline of what you believed Sam was dealing with right now and the anger of seeing another man be near those same tattoos Steve has inked onto your skin.

He slowly walks towards you, the same boots splattered with blood now pressing into the carpet floor, black copper orbs stare down at you, unblinking as they took you in, and sucked you into their depth.

“I’m giving you the opportunity to explain yourself, doll, and explain yourself good because I don’t have time for fucking jokes right now” He growls, gripping your waist and pulling you into him.

You stare at him blankly, displaying a hoax of ignorance and confusion as you furrow your brows.

“I’m not sure I know what you’re talking about Bucky, he was simply helping me button my shirt” You reply huskily, his grip of your waist tightens and his strands fall in front of his eyes. He shakes his head, nodding, understanding what this now was.

“So we’re doing this now huh?, After I just told you the day we’ve had?” bucky scoffs, eyes falling to your outfit, nodding appreciably at the lack of underwear.

“Okay, it’s your call baby doll, this is all you, you just wait, I’m sure Steve is finished with Ferguson right about now” Bucky smiles, licking his lips as he turns from you, leaning onto the desk. His eyes flicker to the glass of half-drunk bourbon and his eyes darken impossibly more.

The excitement, you were giddy with it. It poured into your stomach and fluttered around like butterflies, burning greater than the bourbon ever did. You could practically feel yourself tingling, at the tips of your fingers, the electrostatic heat and pulse of pleasure. All you needed was the final push.

And just like clockwork, Steve strolls into the room, his knuckles bloodied and his collar splattered with red. It takes one glance between Steve and Bucky to know what you were doing, their eyes communicating in the way words never could. They both nod towards you, before Steve slowly walks towards where you’re standing.

“What were you thinking, hm doll?” Steve asks silently, eyes calculating as they racked over your body.

“Answer me when I speak to you,” He says hushedly. The fear fills you, Steve isn’t scary when he’s enraged when he’s red with frustration. He’s scary when he’s silent. When he masks his face so that it remains like unmoulded clay. His eyes smiling, fucking smiling because he can smell the fear on you and he loves it, he craves the skin of yours shivering under the moonlight.

“I was just, talking to him, it’s not my fault! You both left me alone and the only man that was capable was him” You reply, friending innocence as you fluttered your eyes at him.

He smiles at that, pulling his white button sleeves to his elbows. Unfastening his tie so it lay lazily around his neck. He carefully paced his suit jacket on the coach. Before turning towards you again.

“Bucky, today wasn’t a good day was it?” He says staring directly at you.

“No, I don’t believe it was” Bucky grunts arms crossed as he grinned

“You see darling, some of our men got hurt, important men, men I needed to be alive. It caused us a real headache, a lot of blood on our hands and necks, a lot of inefficiencies that clogged up our production. Filth, and greed, just ruining our goddamn night.”

“And image our surprise, when the one thing we counted on, the one thing that would make it even a little better, made it fucking worse.” Steve grins, pulling your hair into a bun, his hands gliding down the slope of your face before pushing into your mouth.

You suck on them gleefully, looking towards him in pleasured relief. Whilst it seems impossible, his eyes darken even more than Bucky’s. Darken to a colour you’ve never seen before, a colour and depth reserved for his night dealings and empire.

You could practically feel it glide down your thighs. Steve’s hand twitches, and you know he can sense it too, your amounting pleasure building up to the tip of release with just his words.

He’s resisting, and you don’t want him to.

“I didn’t wait hours on the both of you, for you to just scold me” You begin to cross your arms against your chest, head back as you looked up into Steve’s.

“Sit down” He whispers, the words barely leaving his lips

You snort, swaying your hips like the tail of a temptress, reaching for the door handle to leave.

“If you won't satisfy me, I’ll find someone who will” You preen, eaging them on further.

It’s futile, you can feel the heat of Steve’s grip before his thick fingers even wrap around your waist.

“What the fuck did I just say?” Steve barks, annoyance lacing his tone. You can tell with the clench of his jaw that his anger is simmering just beneath the surface.

“You don’t want us angry baby doll, you remember last time?” Bucky grins, canines glinting in the moonlight, a wolf-life expression shines over his features.

Oh you remember last time, a mere rarity of sheer fucking that was nowhere near the sensual agonising heat you were used to. A rarity that came only when a particularly bad night had occurred, where they had almost lost you. Filled with betrayal and loss, that night had bled through both Steve and Bucky, until it was stained all over you, your thighs, your neck, your pussy.

“What if I want it like last time?” You whisper, looking at both of them in defiance. Your candour causes Steve to stiffen behind you, a momentary pause in his brain, a short circuit, a daunting realisation before a final knowing.

You hear a grunt pass through Steve’s lips, a silent “fuck” from Bucky’s.

He knows they both did, eyes shining towards each other, faces unreadable as they caught glimpses of their sweet girl for who she really was.

Steve hands you to Bucky as if your thick thighs and hips merely weighed nothing, Bucky moves towards the large armchair that’s positioned across the sofa. Steve sits across from you, legs spread apart as he rests his outstretched hands across the spine of the leather. Bucky sits you down between his legs, before repositioning you to straddle one of his thighs. You look up in bewilderment, and you know confusion covers your features when Steve grins, nodding.

“You want to get yourself off so bad with these wolves, why don’t you take some initiative. Show us how bad you want this, show us how bad you’ve been needing” Steve smirks leaning back.

“Go on, pretty girl, I’m all yours” Bucky whispers into the shell of your ear. Pressed kisses down the slope of your neck before biting your ear lip, causing you to yelp, indirectly causing a delicious friction against Bucky’s bludge that has both of you groaning.

Bucky rests his hands on your waist, not applying any pressure yet, as you begin to drag your hips against his pantsuit. You throw your head back against Bucky’s curls, gripping his thighs as you speed up your ministrations.

The folds of the fabric create friction that rubs against your pulsing clit, and the sticky need of your arousal leaks from the sides of your inner thighs, dampening Bucky’s pants and creating the perfect slick for you to go faster.

“Just like that doll, get yourself off on Bucky’s thigh, I know you can do it, fucking show me” Groans Steve, hes eyes never leaving your own.

The scent of you has Bucky groaning with his head back, and as you begin moving your hips into Bucky’s leg, he tenses the muscle causing you to squeeze your eyes shut, the building of pleasure reaching a cliff.

“Open your eyes doll, I want to see every single expression you make” Steve growls from the sofa, through your bounds of pleasure you had almost forgotten he was there, watching.

The scene that opens to you almost has you climaxing itself, there he was, looking through hooded eyes into the junction of your thighs as they grounded against Bucky's.

His hands had slipped into his pants, and you watch him pump himself to your pleasure, his thick fingers gripping the shaft, rolling the pearl of premium against his head and squeezing tight.

“P-Please” You groan, head tilted back, you were so close, the motion of your hips now almost mechanical, moving unconsciously as the waves of pleasure washed over you.

“Please what baby? You’re gonna have to be a bit clearer than that, I want to hear exactly what you want” Bucky smirks into your skin.

“Harder, faster, fuck just I need it, I need you Bucky!” You cry out, reaching for his thick finger to give you the roughness you need.

“That's all you’ve got to say” Bucky whispers as he circles his hands across your hips, gripping them, bringing them down, hard against his thigh.

You moan out pleas of gratitude, the pleasure taking you into a wordless heap of gurgles “yes yes yes”.

Bucky drags your pussy against him, unrelenting even as you squirm against his hold, thighs attempting to close but to no avail, Steve grips them open, making you take everything.

You hold onto Bucky's broad shoulders, anchoring you to this world, all you could do now was take it, drink down the waves of pleasure that seemed unrelenting, pleasure as deep as the pacific.

Steves moves closer, slipping his thick hands between your thighs, dragging his ring-encrusted digits across your folds, collecting your arousal before bringing it to his lips, he looks you dead in the eye as he sucks, hard.

“Fuckin delicious” He moans, eyes half-lidded. You watch, mouth agape, and it takes one more rough glide from Bucky before your falling apart in front of them.

Your eyes squeeze shut, gripping Buck’s locks as he grunts into you, white-hot saccharine pleasure engulfs your vision, blinding you temporarily. You don't speak, you don’t move, you simply sway against the current, you hear the murmur of Steves's voice calling your name, coaxing you back to the ground.

“You all there baby girl? Hm?” Steve hushes, and your head hits something plush and velvet, nothing like the broad expanse of Bucky’s chest. They seemed to have moved you while you were recovering, you hadn't even noticed.

“Haven't even put my fingers in you and you're already a puddle in my hands, what happened to the fiery girl before, you give up already?” Steve smirks, instigating you.

“Hmph, iss only cause it was me, you think your small dicks can make me cum?” You giggle, high off of the smell of sex and desperation permeating the air.

“Is that right baby? Hm? How about we prove it” Bucky smirks before he roughly reaches for you, dragging you to the edge of the mahogany desk, before tossing ypu to Steve.

Steve picks you up, flipping you acorss his shoulder as he begins to make his way from the offcie and into the darkned hallway.

“Where are we going” You groan, hyour thighs are still shaking from the orgasm Bucky had given you, surely they didnt want another round?

Steves hand comes down, hard againts your basckside, the sound vibrates across the house, and shoots directly to your core. Steve had never touched you like this, with a sliver of pain mixed and folded into pleasure, but you liked it, hell you fucking loved it

“Don’t you fucking open that slutty mouth of yours, what? you thought we were done?” Steve laughs palm coming down again, cereminously.

“We’ve got the whole night to open you right up doll, have your pussy fuckiing weeping after were done” Steve promises, hands sqeezing the curve your ass, the heat spreading up your back.

The only vision you have is the back of Steves dress shoes, the encrusted signange at the heel, the silver metal snake glinting againts the mostly dark surroundings. Buckys shoes follow, you can make ut his hands, glistening with your pleasure, the veins runnings long his arms pressing into the pockets of his pants.

Before long Steve drops you onot the plush covers of your bed, but before you are able to bury yourself into the soft quilt, Bucky rougly turns your around, before pressing tinot rh mattress, thighs between your closed legs, that Steve grips open.

His glistenign fingers reach up to yoiur pants, ripping them open and he drags them down your thighs

“Tsk, tsk tsk, no panties? It's like she knew what was going to happen” Bucky smirks towards Steve, your back againts his chest as he leaves brusiing kissses along the slope of your neck.

Steve hums in response, “Our girl? Our sweet, innocent girl? she would never”

“That's right, this isn't our sweet girl, isn't that right?” Bucky whispers into the skin of your thighs, gliding his tongue along the curve of it, before begining to bite and suck at the skin right near your quivering folds.

God why couldt he just move a little bit further?

You golt forward, into Bucky as Steve lands a slap against your pussy, hand reaching between your body, doing it again and again and again until you were weeping, eeys squeezed shut and head hanigng againts Steves warm chest.

“Answer Bucky when he speaks to you” He growls, dipping a thick digit into your folds, swirling your slick around clit, before circling his fingers. You moan anabasdhedly, unaware of how goddamn loud you were being in the ince quiet house.

“Do we need to teach you some manners doll? Hm? Stuff that pretty hole full so we can get some respect?” Steve whispers into your ear, adding a second digit, the cool metal of his rings pressing againts the opening of your hole, you preen, so fucking close you can taste the orgasm and your tongue.

Steve curls his fingers, gliding them againts your velvet walls, and Bucky moves closer, hes faint breath againts your clit that has you gustling againts both their bodies. Bucky holds you still, his hands gripping your waist, pushing your arched back into the mattress and he sucks on your clit.

He groans in appreciaiton, the sound vibrating through your core and it has you screaming his name is earnest. Steve continues to assault your folds, pressing further until he finds the spong spot that has you prrssing your fingers into his arm, trying and failing, to shove his fingers away from you. Tears begin to blur your vision, the cwnterpiece chandilier know but a muffle of lights, but god does it feel good. It burns you, it brands you, this aching pleasure, the overstimualtion of Steevs, his stumble ctaches most of it, the rough hairs scratching againts the softness of your thighs.

Your juices leak between Steves fingers, dripping down and spearing across Buckys chinpressing his hands into your thighs.

A muffled moan escapes your mouth as you try and suppress the growing need spreading beginning to uncurl. The blinding hot pleasure begins to build, and just as you feel it slding againts your back, Steve retracts his fingrs from your pussy, and Bucky lets go of your clit with a pop.

The ahce of emptiness hurts you more than their overstimualtion, and yur reaching for thier fingers and face quickly, whines leaving your mouth as your cheeks trail with tears.

Bucky pushes your hands away, into steves grip who lift them over your shoulder, holding them together in one hand.

“You wont be cumming on anything other than our dicks tonight sweetheart”Bucky smiles, his smirk widens, as your greddily oush your hips into his crotch, neded any friction.

Bucky pushes his cothed cock againts your pussy, the outline of his hard cock pushing againts your clit.

“God look at her Bucky, so fucking needy” Steve groans, watching your hips begin to move, aagin againts Bucky’s boner.

“If I’d known this would keep your mouth shut and preseting, well, doll, i wouldve done this ages ago”. Bucky replies, eyes never leaving your lidden ones.

Buckdoesnt waste a second ripping his suit pants off, pulling his hardened cock out as it smacks againts his stomach. For a moment you froget how thick he is, the angry red tip of it leaking with precum, dripping along thr slides that were ripled with distinct veins that followed to the cut of his obliques.

As if reading your mind Bucky softly smirks, lfitng your chin, pressing a soft kiss to your lips

“Oh baby, ill make sure it fits, il make sure you get every fucking inch and then some” Bucky replies, the juxtaposition of his soft tocuh and his hrds words has you dripping.

Gripping your knees within his grasp, Steve contours your body impossibly wider, giving Bucky enough room to press his entire body against you. His head nudges against your folds, collecting the slick cum dripping from your core, before roughly pushing in, leaving no room to get adjusted.

You both groan, as your pussy welcomes him, the flutter of your walls squeezing his dick. Bucky’s eyes are screwed shut, and you force yours to stay open as you watch, mesmerized as he pressed his canines into redded lips.

“God, shit, every time we open your pretty little pussy up it just never gets used to us huh? So fucking tight, she’s gripping me like a fucking vice Stevie” Bucky groans loudly, jaw clenched and fingers pressed into the underside of your thighs.

It was no surprise that Bucky and Steve were.. big, to say the least. They’d always known that needed to give you a few seconds to get used to their sheer size, but no, as bucky begins to pound against your slick walls, groaning at your warmth and softness you understand they have abandoned all traditions.

Every rough glide of Bucky's cock through your folds has you moaning in ecstasy, as the burn of his thick shaft presses against your walls. You smash into Steve’s back with every thrust, shoving every inch of himself even deeper into you, Steves's rough fingers come to squeeze your nipples, rolling them between his patted fingers, pulling hard, before letting go.

“Nnnph” You cry out, hands resisting against Steve’s grip, you attempt to close your legs, but it pulls Bucky even deeper, leaving him groaning and sheathing his cock so it circled your walls.

“Don’t go running away now bunny, Bucky’s filling you right up, you should say thank you”. Steve replies cocking his head to the aide, grinning before sneaking his hand to grip your cheeks, squeezing them hard between his fingers.

You cant reply, you cant even speak, the pleasure overwheling you as Bucky rougly shoves his fat cock up to the hilt, your arousal creaming around the base, so fucking wet and messy that it has him almost slipping out.

A hard burn erupts on your cheek, the stinging sensation going straight to your core, Steve slaps you, again, this time harsher as he berates you loudly.

“You dumb bunny, what did i say about repeating myswelf, go on, say thank you to Bucky”

You struggle to keep your eyes open, the thin lids seem to heavy now, Steve squeezes your cheeks again, the rings on his fingers pressing imprints onto your cheekbone, and yu somehow manage to cry out.

“T-thank you, Thank you, thank you!” You moan, the words fallling out of your mouth mechanically.

The mere words leave you echausted, and you slump againts Steve’s broad chest, the only help of his arms holding your knees up. You’ve given up countign how many times Bucky has left you wailing, the sleek of your orgasm just edging him on.

Holding your knees up to your chest bucky presses his cok in a new direction, pressing rougly againts the soft spongy spot

“Oh God!, oh, oh, Bucky please, I can't do anymore- mh” You yelp as Bucky bites into your thigh, grinning as he sucks onto the skin.

“You just feel so good doll, so fucking good, can you give me another one? hm? can you please? I need it, fuck I need you to milk me with those creamy fucking walls” Bucky groans, refusing to falter his movements, harsh thrust bumping the head of cock against your g-spot, your thighs quiver violently, and it isn't soon before your cumming again, milking his cock, your walls tightening around him.

“That's right, milk my fucking cock you slut, got you so dumb and full you can't even form words, you've learnt your place haven't you, doll? Bucky questions his hands coming to push your hair out of your face. You are way in out of your mind to even reply, drool dripping from the corner f your mouth, shaking in a heap of cum and spit.

“So good, baby, so fucking good, I outa give you something back aren't I?” Bucky smiles, eyes falling to the nudge of his cock against your soft stomach. The greys of his pupils darken as he watches, and his curls begin to fall across his face, sticking to his forehead.

“You gonna let me cum in you? Huh? Let me feed this greedy little hole who has been crying for it all night?” Bucky sneers, and your pussy tightens around him in return, leaving him to grip your thighs, red crevices forming into your skin.

Moaning in approval, Bucky fastens his pace, shoving himself in and out without much less than a second, you tighten your walls again, causing obscenities to leave buckys mouth.

“Please Bucky, give it to me, fill me up, I want it, I want to need it”You cry out. It doesn't take long before Bucky empties into you, thick ropes of cum shooting into your pussy, coating your walls, before oozing out of the sides of his fat cock. Bucky watches intently as the mix of both of your arousal slides down your fluttering folds, damping the dark sheets below.

Lost in your pleasure you don’t recognise when Steve had pulled you down to the edge of the bed, your face between his large hands. He looks down intently at you, a blown out expression over his features as he takes in your shallow breaths and test stricken face tracked with dirty mascara.

Steve begins to push your hair back from your face, brushing your tears from your cheeks with his thumb, you think this is a hidden gesture, to show his un wielding desire to care for you. You feel him begin to grip your hair however, pulling you down onto your knees on the cold hardwood floor with one hand.

He sits on the edge of the bed, his unwiedling grip at the back of your head as you look up at him on your knees. It’s a sight to behold, one Bucky not so subtlety captures on a point and shoot. You sit patiently, looking up at Steve through hooded eyes, lazy and dumb from Bucky’s cock.

Steve hums silently, before softly speaking with a grin crarcking thigh his features unnaturally

“Do you think you can fit this cock down that pretty little throat?” Steve smirks, pumping his cock at your salvating expression.

You nod quickly beginning to reach towards him, eager to feel his heavy weight againts your tongue, to trail the long vein along its side and choke againts its girth.

Steve pulls you back violently, corsding his head disapprovingly

“No touching, I’m in control now baby doll, do you understand me? If I even see you begin to move shove your panties in that mouth and lock you in a room for 2 weeks” Steve warns, a dark expression overcoming his face as he cocks his head to the side.

You look over his broad shoulders to see Bucky fucking up into your panties, he catches your eyes with a smirk, winking at your open mouth shock.

“Does your dumb brain understand? Or are you too fucked out of your own mind to even listen” Steve growls at you silence, his grip tightening, shooting a pain down your skull.

You nodded quickly, hands behind your back for emphasis, you needed his cock, you needed so fucking badly.

“Use your big words, cmon you can do it” Steve teases cruelly, smirking down at your needy face, you’ve begun to rock against your palm, Steve’s degradation causes your to shudder in response, clenching against your own hand.

“Yes I unders-“ You let out before Steve slams his cock down your throat, groaning loudly at the feel of your wet mouth.

“Fucking shit babygirl, felt like the first fucking time” Steve groans, looking down as he thrusts into your throat, a paced motion that only went deeper.

You resist the gag threatening to come out at the intrusion, forcing yourself to breathe though your nose, you grip your thigh tightly as your nose begins to brush against the soft hairs at the base.

Your tongue glides against the ridges and veins of his cock, Steve allows you to wrap a hand around whatever you can’t fit, circling your tou hue around his shaft before gliding your way to his tip, he grips your hair tightly as you flatten your tongue against the head, and as you look up at him you find him already staring intently down at you.

Steve quickly takes control wrapping your hair into a makeshift pony tail before angling his hips do that he drove his entire length down further, hitting the back your throat. Muffled groans and scattered half words, leave his mouth, the beginnings of your name and curses filling the room.

Steve speeds up his pace, do that you had no choice but to hold your breathe as he drove deeper and deeper, it was as if all restraint had left him as he lost himself in pleasure, using your throat as merely a hole to fill his cum with.

Ragged breathes from above are all you can here as tears begin to stream down your face, you gag violently but Steve continued his rough thrusts, growling as he sees the tears staining your cheeks, as he sees what his cock has done to you.

You feel rough fingers reach for your throat, gripping it harshly as they squeeze, leaving you with shallow breathes in between the few seconds in which Steve’s cock is not down your throat.

“Holy shit Steve” Moans Bucky as he looks over at your appearance, mascara trucking down your throat, your hair sticking to your forehead, lips spread wide open, and forehead practically kissing Steve’s abdomen.

The lack of air begins to consume you, but you find it impossibly to let of of his heavy weight against your tongue, a strangled moan vibrates against his cock and it has Steve curse your name loudly, gripping your scalp to the point or breakage.

“You’re just a fucking hole aren’t you baby? Huh? Only thing your good for is taking by dick down that tight fucking throat and letting me use you however I fucking want” Steve growls above you, pushing the fallen strands back into his tight grip as he continued to drive into you.

“Talking so much fucking shit, pulling that little stunt you thought up in that dumb brain of yours. Thought you were so smart with that huh? You’re embarrassing, the only thing you did was waste a perfectly good soldier of ours” Steve continued, tutting as if he were talking about the weather.

“Couldn’t have him think he had a chance right Bucky?” Steve says, wrapping his palms around your face now, hitting the back of your throat with little abandon, the dazed expression turning him on as you choke on him. Steve doesn’t wait for him to reply before he continues.

“Now you know your rightful place, on your fucking knees taking me in your mouth, barely able to breathe with your own fingers shoved into your pussy” Steve remarks growning at your soft rocking against your hand.

You moan loudly against him, unable to keep your noises within, the sound vibrates across Steve’s cock, and he drives you violently down his length, your wet hot mouth causing him to growl loudly.

His thrust become sloppy as he glides against your tongue, and without warning, he shoots down your throat, your nose against his stomach as he forced you to take all of it, his full shooting down your abused throat.

He continues to thrust into you slowly, allowing you to breathe finally, as he eases his thick cock from your mouth, cum and spit dribbling down your mouth and down your neck.

You feel yourself falling onto your back before Steve quickly catches you, collecting you into his arms and he guided you onto the bed. Collecting the cum from your stomach and mouth, licking it clean, Steve looks at you intently, an unreadable expression over taking his features and his furrows his eyebrows.

He reached for you before you flinch quickly, causing Steve to quickly retract his hand.

“Hey, hey, you all there? We good” Steve says concern lacing his tone, as he takes in you heaving chest.

Bucky immediately looks down at you, the same concern mirrored on his features.

“M fine, just overstimulated, s’good Steve” You groan licking your lips, causing Steve and Bucky to clench their jaws unconsciously, the wood splintering under their grip.

“Good, because we’re not stopping anytime soon” Steve replies darkly

“Remember we’ve got all night baby doll, and we were just getting started” Bucky grins. Their cocks already getting hard, pressing against your stomach, and their eyes seemed to remain on the cum oozing from between your closed legs, dark grey’s and blue’s watching you, like wolves to the prey.

And you would have no choice but to surrender.

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athanasius-symposium-of-writings · 2 years ago

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Running Up That Hill (A Deal With God)

Chapter Nine

Rated: M

Warnings: heavy making out, talking about kinks, term 'partner' is used for reader

Chapter Eight | Chapter Ten

Summer in London! Sounds like a title to a romance movie. Those cheesy inaccurate places ones with hot leads and tons of sex and drama. Or another godforsaken Mamma Mia movie! Damn thing gonna have as many films as there are final fantasy games. Jokes aside, it's summer break! Meaning tons of paperwork dad has you doing so you can live with him, part-time job as a busser at the diner, and Steven has asked to be exclusive!

Boyfriend and partner.

You still feel giggy looking at Steven’s new contact name on your phone. Boyfriend with a 'v'. You love your sense of humor. Jake congratulated you by giving you a free ride and advice to use protection.

Jake has the Spanish uncle vibes, ya know, the one who is into shady novella level shit but always makes time to be at the family dinner. He said he gave Steven a pack of flavored condoms. If he wasn't driving at the time, you would have kicked the back of his seat so hard.

Annoyed when you think about it.

Though that annoyance has long since gone by, next time you are in Steven's flat, two people on the couch, the TV on is fairly high enough to hide the sounds between Steven and yourself. You on top of him and him under you keeping you close, the kisses are messy and inexperienced between you both, hands seeking to touch every inch of skin exposed.

Your friend was right: mood will come naturally.

It surprised you how little work it was to get to this point, to where you both are helplessly enamored and you make up for the inexperienced with enthusiasm. Steven learns fast (rather Marc is giving pointers) finding spots that has you squirming on top of him, his hands whispers in an erotic way you never knew you could sound like, oh way his eyes stare up at you pulips completely blown out drowning you in dark pools of lust.

"Wait, wait," He closes his eyes, taking a breath. He had to stop before you unbuckled his pants.

"Did I do something wrong?" You weren't scared, just curious. He knows you never have done this, neither has he so both of you are figuring this out.

"No, no, you are doing amazing," He sits up with you still on his lap, "It's uh… I uh…"

You wait giving him your attention.

"I want to do this properly. To be completely open with you about things."

"I don't mind you trying to choke me or I choke you. Degradation is a maybe but you have to praise me after. I'm cool with switching."

Steven stares as he processes your words, "Oh… OH! God, no, I mean– Choking?"

"Not really choking just a hand around my throat." Showing him what you mean by using your own hand placing it around your throat. "See?"

He nods, "Okay." Jake is saying something in Spanish and Steven doesn't have the brain power to translate it.

"What about you?"

He points at himself as if unsure you are speaking to him specifically.

"Yeah," Silly him, "Anything in particular you want me to do to you?"

There are a ton of things and most are him to you, but he likes the idea of you painting him. A playful moment between you both when he visited your campus and found he likes the way you talk about his appearance. Paint on your hands staining every spot you touched with your handprint. Then there is having you speaking French, repeating after him…

"Darling, care to share with the class," Kissing his cheek then his neck, hips rocking as you can feel his cock hardening against the restrictions of his pants. "Or shall I guess?" Because you can guess a lot of ideas and one of them is bound to knock those pants right off of him. He lets out the sweetest moan when you kiss a certain spot of neck (grateful for the thin v-neck shirt is sporting). Your fingers run through those dark curls, massaging his scalp, he buries his face in your chest breathing hard as you overwhelm him.

In the best of ways though not at the best moment.

It's a risk to talk about the conditions they have. Steven had considered the consequences to dating in general. The pros and cons, weight and discussing it with Marc and Jake; none truthful thought the day or person would come where they made have either let someone in completely or keep them in the dark. Leaving you in the dark would be wrong, is the conclusion your boyfriend said. Marc prefers you stay in the dark. Jake agree with Marc, however he is the protector of the two and they come first. It is two against one, the majority should overrule. It meant nothing to him. You have proven to be trustworthy, to be genuine, and open minded throughout the time Steven has been with you.

Call it infatuation but Steven knows he loves you and how safe he feels with you. How they all feel with you. To deny it is to lie.

"(Name)," He moves to switch the position, grabbing you by the upper part of your arms and rolling over. Which would've gone well if you both were on the bed and not on the couch.

It ended as much as one would expect with you on the floor and Steven apologizing profusely as you rub the back of your head. You gaze up at him seeing his worried mournful expression.

Then laugh. A vibrant laugh as suddenly the pain is magically gone and joy overtakes your body.

So happy and full of life, the love you have in your heart easily capturing Steven, your dearest boyfriend lips taes yours. A sweet kiss in between giggles.

"Steven, truthfuly what is it you want to tell me?"

He holds your head as he rests his forehead against yours, "Tomorrow," Spoken with the utmost gentleness, "Please… Keep an open mind for me."

You hum as you nod.

#moon knight #reader insert #fanfiction #ao3 fanfic #jake lockley #marc spector #steven grant #steven with a v #moon knight fanfic #moon knight fanfiction #marc spector x reader #marc spector x you #steven grant x reader #steven grant x you #jake lockley x reader #jake lockley x you #moon knight x you #moon knight reader insert #moon knight x reader

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dienamights · 3 years ago

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Not Your Best Man | D.Kaminari

✎ Denki Kaminari was resentful of all the things Katsuki Bakugou has, the high hero ranks, the fame despite his demeaning behavior, his intelligence, and most importantly, you.

✎ Protagonists: Denki Kaminari x Fem!Reader

✎ Word count: 5.2K

✎ Category: Smut MDNI, angst

✎ Caution(!): Smut MDNI, swearing, denki is jealous, bakuhoe is an asshole, mommy kink, loss of control of quirk during sex, degradation, praise, oral (male!receiving), unprotected sex, orgasm denial to a certain point, mention of puking, doing denki dirty in so many ways and I’m sorry but I’m also… not sorry.

✎ Author’s notes: Hello! Hope everyone’s well! I’m here with @forrest-fern’s Seven Deadly Sins server Collab! I snatched Denki and chose Envy! I wasn’t able to get bakugou but you know damn well I’m squeezing his ass in there lmao (peep the banner you can see the boom boom boy) (shut up im not late shush)

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Her hair is piled up and back, showing more of her delicate yet strong features. Skin so flawless his hands feel bound when he wants to touch it, afraid of staining it with his fingertips, not deeming himself worthy to taint it. Eyes brought out beautifully with makeup products she knew how to work to make her look even more gorgeous than she already is. Lips perfectly coated in lipstick, always formed in the littlest smile, and he feels compelled to kiss the product off of them.

The dress is perfect, it sits on her body as if it has been made just for her. Its fabric folds hugging her figure, following her curves. It’s color is gorgeous against her skin with long sleeves that cover her arms, the backless dress shows skin that begs him, taunts him to touch it and to guide her along with him. The collar exposes enough shoulders that teases him to bite and mark up. It's tight skirt pooled till the floor with a slit up to her left thigh. She looks stunning and he couldn't stop but linger his eyes on her.

She looks as though she is an angel, in the form of the most beautiful girl on earth. Mesmerising eyes, so crystal clear that he could see rivers, oceans, the whole world through them. No flower, no goddess, not even Aphrodite could ever compare to her beauty. She has the body of a dancer, lithe, supple and oh so beautiful. With every step she takes, it looks as though she’s floating, and Denki only became more convinced that he had been around an angel for the majority of his life and he -regretfully- only was able to realize it a bit too late.

Regretfully, because she wasn’t his, isn’t his, will never be his. Not the measly unimportant groomsman. No, she is the best man’s, Katsuki Bakugou’s, meant to be his forever.

Bakugou’s BakugousBakugousBakugous… Dammit

“I do.”

An adorable little boy dressed in a black tuxedo walks up and hands Kirishima a ring. He slips it on Mina's finger. The pastor smiles and turns to Mina. She wears a strapless wedding gown with embroidery on her bodice. Rhinestones and pearl beads sewn on her gown. She wears a two-tier veil, with a matching crystal head-piece. She holds a French rose silk bouquet. Kirishima is stunning. He wears a black, single-breasted, satin tuxedo with a white-wing collar shirt.

The pastor repeats the question and receives the same reply. You watch her take his ring from a small girl dressed in pink and place it on his finger. "By the power vested in me, I now pronounce you husband and wife."

"You may now kiss your bride." He does so, placing his hands on her shoulders and pressing his lips against hers. The pastor holds up his hands, bringing the cheering crowd to their feet.

Kirishima and Mina leave the gazebo, arms linked, with huge smiles on their faces. The best man, maid of honor, and the groomsmen and bridesmaids follow suit, falling in behind them. They stop near the end of the walk, forming the start of the receiving line.

The family and guests file down, pausing for hugs and kisses and congratulating the young couple. Mina then turns around and throws her bouquet of flowers behind her. The women collide with each other as they try to catch it.

She cheers loud when the bouquet falls in your hands, and you giggle and wave it around, the women’s disappointed groans muffled in your ears when you catch the beautiful vermillions of your partner, oblivious to the golden specks that have been eyeing your every move since you stepped foot into the wedding.

“You could’ve been more obvious about wantin’ me to put a ring on your finger.” Katsuki chuckles against your ear, standing behind you with his hands on your hips, both of you looking at the newlyweds as they enter the reception with everyone awwing at them as they did their first dance as husband and wife.

The sun has set long ago, the full moon hanging and illuminating the area beautifully, the fairy lights and lamps circling the area, making the happy couple look absolutely glowing, and you smile at the scene from outside the dance floor.

“They fell in my hands ‘Suki.” you giggle, lacing your fingers between his, “Besides, you already did, didn’t you?”

“Hmm,” his breath tickles your ear, fingers twisting your engagement ring around your ring finger, “was forced to, after all that whinin’ ‘bout wantin’ to settle down and not knowin’ when we’ll see each other when we’re goin’ on missions, and cherishin’ the lives-” he fakes a snore and rests his full weight on your back, both of you laughing as you tip forward and he catches you in time, placing his hand on your waist again and swaying with you as you see your friends happier than they ever were.

You look perfect, standing there holding each other, absolutely and utterly disgusting. Denki stares at you, fire spreading in his abdominal, his lungs constricting with every breath he takes the longer he looks at you. Swaying together, Katsuki’s lips pressing against your temple and you letting out the most beautiful laugh, Denki can’t help but clench the front of his shirt at the sight, wishing, hoping for nothing more than to be in his shoes, being the one lucky enough to be able to hold you that close, the one that has the privilege to hear your laugh, the one to make you laugh.

“Hey Denki,” He is snapped back to reality when Kirishima stands in front of him, blocking his view from the flawless couple. “H-hey Eiji! Congratulations bro, you’re finally a married man!” They hug, Denki’s eyes never leaving you while Katsuki twirls you to face him and peppers kisses across your face. “Thanks man! Hey sorry, could you get Bakugou for me real quick, we’re taking a few pictures with the best man and the maid of honor.”

“Right away, man of the hour.”

Oh God, oh God, he isn’t ready to face you yet. You look too pretty, he doesn’t feel worthy to be in your presence, driven to bow down and ask for forgiveness for even breathing the same as yours. And yet, you smile upon his arrival, even letting go of Bakugou’s hand to wave him over, and you’re blessing him with your smile, giggles sounding like the singing of angels when he waves back excitedly.

“Hi!” you beam up at him the minute he’s close enough to be graced with your voice, “Where have you been, it’s like you were avoiding me all this time,” you pout for a second and Denki could swear he felt his heart skip multiple beats when your lips wobble and a smile makes it way back up at him.

“H-hey, ummm, Baku- uh.” he laughs at himself, trying to collect whatever dignity he has left. “Uh, Eiji is lookin’ for ya bro, something about a photoshoot with the maid of honor?” The groan Bakugou lets out is enough of a confirmation.

“Fuckin’ pain in my fuckin’ ass bitch” he grumbles, pressing his lips against your temple again, promising to come back after the ‘Motherfuckin’ bitch shoot’ is done. You only reply by squeezing his arm, a silent reassurance that you’ll be waiting for him when he gets back.

It's so revolting, the way he swears up and down, having the filthiest mouth with his words, not even respecting the beautiful goddess that tries to calm his nasty self down, he should be more considerate of you and your feelings, God he loathes the way he treats you. The way he mistreats you.

You deserve to be treated so much better than that, the way Denki would, he’d downright kiss the ground you walk on, remind you every day that you’re the best thing that ever happened to him, the best goddamn thing to ever grace this earth.

Okay, you’re staring. God, has she been staring too? Denki, people always say you never shut up, use it to your advantage for once in your life.

Denki extends his arm to you, curses under his breath, wipes his sweaty palm against his pant leg before extending it again. "Would you like to dance?" You raise your eyebrows. "Would you like to dance?"

"Well, dancing is what a charming gentleman like myself would do.” He beames at the chuckle you let out. “Besides, you're beautiful and I want to show you off.” He pauses. “You know, while Bakugou is busy with his best man duties and all."

You smile, your pretty lips letting out a little giggle at his posture as he starts wiggling his fingers persuasively, and shake your head. "You know what? Yeah, I would like to dance."

Arm-in-arm, you and Denki head into the dance floor and step onto the wooden ground. You felt him move easily with you, agile and confident with the music as he takes the lead. His hands slowly yet surely reach to your lower back, but you shrug it off.

"Ah, expect tango music after this," he says. Eyes gleaming as they shift over to the DJ that nods in acknowledgement to him. He frowns when he sees your averted face, shifting your eyes away from his, observing, searching for him, your fiance, the person he wishes he could be, someone he could never be.

Denki trips over his words in an effort to regain your attention, “A-anyway, uh, um. Hey! Did you know that uh, t-tango is banned in other places of the world?" you raise your eyebrows.

“Is it?”

“Yeah, wanna know why?”

“Didn’t expect you to know honestly.” He smiles as you laugh lightly, but something tugs at his heartstrings, its because you think of him as nothing but stupid brainless dunce face, depsite him entering and graduating one of the best hero courses in all of Japan, alongside you of all people, despite his hero work, the people he saves, the villains he captures, fuck.

You don’t miss the way his face falls after your remark, an almost sour expression passing through before he clears his throat and looks behind your shoulder at basically nothing. “S-so,” you start, “Why was it banned?”

The blond’s eyes flicker over to you and soften at the way you’re cocking your head and smiling at him, despite him getting upset with you. What is he doing? He’s experiencing something straight out of his fantasies, having you pressed so close to him, dancing with him and smiling at him. No one else.

“Oh, okay okay, so. It was considered the dance of the low-lifes at the worst places of society when it first emerged, and so the church banned it, because they said it had the music of the “immoral” factions of society”

“Oh? Why’s that.”

“It was considered an oversexualized dance. Portraying the sin and seduction of the Devil. It represents the Devil's nostalgia, his unrequited aspirations, loneliness, rejection, and misery. The longing of someone who will never fit in, who has never had love nor passion.” He takes a deep breath.

“It's like sex, except with clothes on.”

In a failed attempt to seduce you, he stumbles and steps on your heels. Earning a weak yelp from you as you back up from him.

It's okay, it's okay, he can fix this. Oh God the music stopped. Okay he gets to dance tango with you now and press you even more against him and hold you even closer, okay. God, are his hands always this sweaty?

The silence that follows the stopping of the music makes him panic, you’re so close, he just needs to reach out and hold you against him again. Press your tender body against his, let him pretend you’re his, pretend that he’s lucky enough to take you home with him. Help you take off your dress, press kisses against the curves of your body, make love to you all night.

Put all of that is cut short when he feels a daunting presence behind him, and he doesn’t need to turn around to know who it is. Because the way your face lights up at that presence is enough to stop his blood from pumping, enough for him to see only red, for him to dig his nails into the palm of his hands until he feels it piercing his skin.

“Hey,” the taunting voice of Katsuki Bakugou reminds him how beneath him he really is. “Yer havin fun with my girl.” it wasn’t a question. Despite that, in a desperate attempt to feel your touch one more time before you’re swept away by your big strong hero, that he would never be able to match to.

With trembling fingers, Denki grasps your hand and brings your knuckles close to his lips, eyes boring into each other while he kisses them, and you only grin in appreciation at his manners, doing the most adorable courtesy he has ever seen in his life, almost forgetting the looming presence of his former classmate.

Bakugou moves around Denki to reach you, and Kaminari knows at this point all hope is lost for you to dance with him, or better yet, have any interaction with him again for the entirety of the night. Katsuki held your hand with surprising firmness, caramel scent wafting through as you feel how sweaty his hands really are.

“Are you warm?” You mumble, lacing your fingers through his when his reaction is to pull his hands away to wipe them at his pants.

“No.” It's firm and it's rough, yet it isn’t directed at you. It’s directed to the other blond that surprisingly still hasn’t backed down and is still standing straight, eyeing how you two act as a couple, how he wishes you would hold his hand, ask him if he was warm, embrace all his insecurities.

As your fiance leads you back to the center of the dance floor. Hand starting at your waist but quickly slipping to grab a handful of your ass, chuckling when you squeal and slap his chest. Something wicked gleams in his eyes when the first tune of the violin starts playing, drifting with the harmony of the accordion.

“You and I both know that my knowledge of tango is as much as my knowledge for knitting, that’s right, nonexistent.”

“You know my body, don’t you?” he doesn’t wait for an answer. “Follow my lead, let your body do the talking.”

“You’re crazy.” yet you still laugh, pressing a chaste kiss to his lips as he pulls you impossibly close to him, raveling in the feeling of your chest pressed to his. You’re rolling your eyes a little at the way his smirk stretches when he pinches your butt, but you instantly shiver when he places his warm calloused hand within the cutout of your dress on your lower back, skin to skin. And just like your body is made to be molded against his, you place your arm over his shoulder while the other is engulfed in his.

He steps close, too close, scandalously close. Pressing his cheek against your temple and only then meeting the eyes of Denki, that's when his smile drops, every playful act with you is gone. His magma filled eyes staring into the soul of the electrical hero.

Mine MineMineMine

Neither were stupid, Katsuki knows what Denki is doing, and Denki is well aware of Katsuki’s ability to piece shit together.

Denki is left lonesomely standing by the DJ, watching the way you two dance, the way Bakugou steps forward in your space and you stepping back to accommodate him. He seethes in his stance as you two rock on your feet, the way Bakugou handles your body with firmness and strength, yet softly watching you when you giggle at the way he spins your body effortlessly. Kaminari sees the way you let yourself be led, the way you trust Bakugou to handle you, hold you, care for you, in ways he could only hope for you to see him.

You are perfectly synchronized, almost fluid like, an extension of each other, like you had done this a million times before, practised day and night to perfect it. Bakugou takes his time twirling you across the room, seductively slow. Thighs brushing against each other with every stupid turn.

His body whispering commands to yours, daring it to misbehave, you step and lean and sway, every movement perfect and precise, like an intricate choreography that you have never learned, but your bodies remembering them. He dances with you the way he has sex—with exquisite control, infinite patience, and aggressive moves.

Huh, that's what Denki must have meant.

At that moment, your eyes catch him standing outside the dance floor, and you almost don’t recognize the man alone, filled by ugly emotions they couldn’t help but spill and show on his expression. Sour and hateful and just plain cruel looking.

Katsuki’s mouth curves in a lazy smile at how your brows furrow, spinning you in a vigorous turn so he’s the one facing him instead. You aren’t dense, you feel the eyes on you, well aware who they belong to as they burn through your back. He lowers his head, forcing you to look back up at him, your lips grazing against his, too close.

“Yer puttin’ on a show for your boy?”

“A show- no you ass, weren’t you the one that wanted to dance?” you try to lean away to scold him -yes, middance- but the blond lowers further, until you think he’s trying to get you to shut up by kissing you. Suddenly he’s dipping you low, his face stays only a few inches away from yours, your back arching beautifully.

A static sound dwells on you, followed by the buzzing of electricity. The lights flicker and you instinctively grab at Katsuki, tightening your hold against his bicep, your eyes searching his when he doesn’t lift you back up, only to find him not even looking at you.

His fingers are tingling, tips wiggling as they shoot little sparks at the sight in front of him, his golden eyes illuminating in the momentary darkness as they clash with the magma filled rubies, challenging him, taunting him, mocking him.

MineMineMine

And when Denki accidentally short circuits the entire DJ booth, the dance hall instantly quiets, a blanket of silence weighing them down and daring someone to break it. And yet, Bakugou has other plans, of course.

Sneakily, he slides his hand down from your back to your knee, firmly grabbing your leg as his eyes meet yours before lifting it to his hip. Fingers slipping under your dress and grazing your upper thighs, sending goosebumps racing across your skin, not having the courage to break eye contact until you hear the gasp of a few of the attendees. Only then does he close the gap between to press his lips against yours, the little audience you collected clapping and cheering you along.

The whistling and cheering is loud enough for you to miss the sound of Denki’s fist slam against the table and the sobs wrecking him as he drags his feet away from the scene.

BakugousBakugousBakugous

Sero grunts as he struggles to push the hotel room door open with Denki leaning his full weight on him. It takes him a couple of tries to finally get the drunk man on the bed, slapping his hands away as Denki tries to grab at and kiss the man.

“C’moooon, Hantaaaaa, s’not like you don’ wanna, look atchu, you’re takin’ off m’clothes but you don’ wanna kiss me?”

“You ass, I’m taking off your shoes because you stepped in your own vomit.”

The man gags, chugging the shoes in the trash can and helping his friend ease off of his suit jacket. “Yer a good man Hanta, say, you wanna be m’best man?” Sero laughs, shaking his head as he tries to help him lay on his stomach, “y’know, when I marry y/n.”

The silence that follows is deafening, Sero not having the heart to talk when he catches the sound of Denki sniffing and burying his head in his pillow.

“I- “

“Jus’ leave me alone, Sero.”

And he does, the only confirmation of his solitude is the echoing click of the door’s lock as Sero leaves Denki to brew in his own self loathing.

It takes Denki a few minutes to collect himself, the nausea forcing him to take off his shirt and pants, lying down on his back to feel the cool air on his chest. He doesn’t realize he has his eyes closed until he snaps them open when he hears his door click close.

There you are, radiating, mesmerizing, you’re practically glowing, standing there by his door, adorned by your… nightgown?

God, please don’t say you’re in the wrong room, please don’t say you’re in the wrong room.

“You sure you’re in the right room y/n?”

You don’t answer, you just simply, untie your robe. And Denki’s eyes practically bulge out when the silk robe slips right off of your shoulder and drops in a pile on the floor by your feet. He can’t look you in the eyes, he’s looking at every inch of exposed skin he can muster, committing every curve, every dip, every contour, every fucking thing to memory.

“You’re here, aren’t you?” that’s when he looks back up at your eyes -after shamelessly staring at your peaking nipples for a second too long - blinking twice at your words. He sits up with a struggle, “W-wait, what about Bakugou?”

“What about him?”

And honestly, that alone almost made him bust a nut.

You’re pushing at his chest until he lays back down, throwing your leg over his figure and straddling him. Instantly, he feels your warmth pressing against his strained length and his body shivers at the thumbing against it.

“You’re so good to me Denki,” you breathe, fingers combing through his hair before you take a fistful of it and lightly tug, rolling your hips against his and relishing in the whines he lets out, slender fingers reaching for your thighs and grabbing handfuls, his eyes begging for you to do it again, and when you do, he throws his head back and moans.

“You treat me so well,” you pout, nails tracing his sweaty flushed chest, peppering kisses along it, moving up until you reach his ear, biting at it and giggling when he ruts his hips up against you. Feeling your slick dampen the front of his boxers as his leaky cock does the same. “So pretty for me” he whines again, eyes blown out and chest heaving at the feeling of being kissed by you, held by you, touched by you, hell, looked at by you.

“Fuck, again, ah- d-don’t stop, pleaseplease-”

“Use your words baby, wadda you want?” he thrashes against the bed when you grind your hips against his again, the tips of his fingers buzzing and twitching when you’re lowering yourself to press your chest against his face.

“Fuck, wanna feel your pretty pussy, feel you squeeze my cock, please, just -ah, put it in.” it's all muffled from the spit collecting on tongue and the way he’s smothered by your tits but honestly he wouldn’t have it any other way.

His body refuses to move as you scoot lower, straddling his thigh and grinding your hips against it, wickedly smiling as he whines ‘nonono’ when you do, “m-my cock, my cock, please stop teasin’.” the tip of your finger traces the elastic of his boxers, giggling at the way his body jerks up and at the gasp he lets out when you snap it against his hip. Before gliding your finger against his strained cock, enjoying the way it twitches under your touch, feeling it harden against you.

You coo at him as you pull off his boxers, when you see that there is no initiation from him to move. The sight of his pretty cock with its fiery head welcoming you and you can’t help but grab at it. “Pretty boy all needy for me, hmm?” You give it a lick from the base to the tip, sucking on the head of his cock and feeling it twitch inside of your mouth, hollowing out your cheek and looking up to see the way his face flushes, his body illuminating with the crackling of the thunders around him, twitching his body before he breathes out a few times to calm himself down.

How is he so lucky? How is he blessed with having your lips wrapped around his cock, just looking at you is tightening a knot in his belly, and he can’t help but throw his head back and close his eyes in an effort to prolong his orgasm to feel even more of you.

He doesn't open his eyes until he feels a looming shadow on him, and that's when he catches sight of you again, the moon hitting your face, your glistening precum-covered lips smiling down at him.

“Want me to take care of you?” You tease, chuckling breathlessly as Denki feels your pussy on his cock, your slick covering it as you roll your hips and feel your pussy gush at the way his body shivers in ecstasy at your touch. “Yes! Please mommy ye-”

“Mommy?” Did he just say it out loud? “No, ah- fuck, no-no I didn’t say that I-” you don’t even let him talk, gyrating your hips again, covering his dick with your slick, without having your walls flutter around him just yet.

It takes a few teasing grinds of you against him to have him sobbing at this point, “m-mommy please just please! I wanna, ah” he thrashes when the tip of his leaky cock catches your clit, the lightnings he’s producing passing by his eyes and obscuring his blurry vision for a while, before he’s blessed with the sight of you beautifully arched on top of him. “In, in, wanna feel the pretty pussy, please please lemme feel the pretty pussy.” it's just meaningless babbling at this point, anything to get your walls tightening around his cock, all sensitive from being rubbed against you for god knows how long.

And when his head catches your cunt, he all but cries out at the way it clenches at the head, bucking his hips up to feel more of you. Wanting you to swallow him whole, take him all the way in. “Y’gonna just fuck into my pussy like that, hmm? Is that how you’re treatin’ mommy now?” “n-no! Ah, m’sorry pleaseplease, I just, you feel s’good, you’re s’tight aaah, wanna feel more, please I want more more more,” and he does. So, without a warning, you drop your hips and impale yourself on his cock, and for fuck’s sake all of what Denki saw what white for a few seconds, he could’ve sworn he heard a few angels singing, even.

“That what you want, hmm? Want her to take care of her pretty boy?” you pout mockingly, bouncing yourself on his lap as he tries to grab hold of your hips to guide you, but the way you’re jerking his body has his head dizzy and his sight swimming, the low buzzing of his quirk muffled by the wet slaps of your skin against his, your ass clapping against his thighs and he doesn’t think he’ll ever forget that sound, and he just settles for letting you please yourself with his cock, because if you’re gonna use him as a fucking dildo, then he wouldn’t fucking have it any other way.

Weakly snapping his hips upwards with the drops of your hips, Denki’s leg shake and it takes a few more times for his cock to fully seath itself in your tight walls for him to let go, feeling your pussy squeeze his cock for all his worth as your pants turn into whines, suddenly they’re very afar, almost like you’re underwater. Yet he’s the one feeling like his lungs are constricted when he hears the name you’re calling, and it isn’t his. “Ka- ahh- suki…”

Only then does Denki realize that you aren’t in his room, your discarded rope isn’t thrown haphazardly on the floor by the door, your slick isn’t covering his thigh or coating his dick, and the worst of all, your pussy isn’t the one that has been squeezing his cock, oh no.

It was his hand, those slender fingers wrapping around his softening cock, smeared with his cum. He lifts his hand in horror, disgust and shame eating him up, especially when his ears perk up at your sound.

“Fuck, Katsu- yesyesyes, right there, yes!” Whatever nausea he felt subsiding is coming back tenfold, burning his throat as he slaps his hand over his mouth, anything to stop himself from puking on himself.

“Ha, that what you want? Getting dicked down after havin’ fun with that fuckin’ dunce face.” The wet sounds of Bakugou’s hips slapping yours is almost making his ears bleed. “Havin’ that prick touchin’ ya like that. Fuckin’ slut, all of that to rile me up so I can fuck that tight lil pussy, that what you want?”

Denki doesn’t know what’s the last nail on the coffin, the absolute filth being spewed to you, tainting your angelic ears, that aren’t meant to hear anything but praises and confessions of love and gratitude, the fact that you’re squealing and moaning for him to fuck you even harder, or the fact that he’s listening to every squealching sound, every creak the bed made, every slam of the headboard against your shared wall, every breath, every moan, every scream, everything.

That's when Denki flings himself off of the bed and empties his stomach, right on the floor next to his bed, tears stinging his eyes as he tries to trick himself that it's because of the way his throat is burning and not because of the way his heart is shattering, feeling it wrenched from his chest and thrown on the floor, stepped on and spat on and just beaten to the point of no return.

Sniffing and lifting his head up, Denki can’t help but see red, his whole body crackling with newfound vigor, his whole body is numb, like his quirk is taking the lead, putting his consciousness on the back burner. He chuckles, despite you moaning out Katsuki’s name when you find your release, despite him calling yours as he finds his, despite hearing your giggles and the kisses he’s pressing against god knows where on your body, despite the tears streaming down his face.

The last thing Denki remembers before he lets his quirk take complete control over him, is the humming of energy, the fleeting blinding brightness, the shattering of the light bulbs all around him, the loud deafening bangs, almost like music to his ears and finally, the sound of you screeching in horror.

Hope you like it! Kithes kithes

#im not even sorry #bnhacity #denki smut #kaminari smut #denki kaminari smut #denki x reader smut #denki x reader #kaminari x reader smut #kaminari x reader #denki angst #denki x female reader #kaminari x fem!reader #nami writes

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lag1995-fics · 4 years ago

Note

Hi!! May I request a dadneto fic of them calling each other dad and son for the first time? 🥰

Of course my love I’m a total sucker for dadneto. ❤️❤️❤️ I hope you enjoy

Dad.

Summary: Peter didn’t need a dad and he was sure Erik didn’t want a loser like him for a son. His father had already had the perfect family and had them snatched from him. Peter like he usually is was wrong.

Warnings: Peter has low self worth and anxiety. There’s a bit of angst but nothing heart wrenching. I don’t even think I cursed this time but I might have.

Pairing: there isn’t one just some good old fashioned father, son bonding. Maybe Cherik if you squint and turn your head to the left.

Words: 1408

Masterlist

Rules

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Peter had been avoiding Erik like the plague since the older mutant had moved into the school to help with construction. Peter may be twenty seven but telling someone they missed out on twenty seven years of their child’s life wasn’t an easy thing to do. Peter knew if he couldn’t tell the man at the end of the world then it probably wasn’t going to happen.

His issue was he had already opened his fat mouth to Raven who kept trying to trap them in a room alone together. She had even gotten Charles in on it. Sure Erik had a right to know he had another child but it shouldn’t be Peter's responsibility to inform the man he had a child much less adult twins. His mother had really dropped the ball on that one.

Peter was content to just continue living his life as if everything was the same as always. He didn’t need a dad, he was a grown ass man at this point. He was afraid the information would only make Erik even more depressed. He had seen a picture of Nina in his snooping and he had determined that the tiny girl was everything he wasn’t.

She was beautiful with a tiny freckled nose and big blue eyes. She couldn’t be a loser like her big brother who up until a couple of months ago had still been living in his mother’s basement. Why would Erik want someone like him in his life much less as a son.

“Peter you’re spiraling” The professor's voice echoed through his head and Peter groaned frustrated. He pounded on his ear like he had water caught inside.

“Peter you should tell him I can be there with you if you’d like” The professor's meddling voice came again causing Peter to lose that round of Ms. Pac-Man.

“You see Professor, I would do that but I know he doesn’t want a loser basement dweller for a kid.” Peter shot back turning up his music even louder letting the voice of his generation sweep over him. David Bowie was a king and nobody could tell him otherwise.

“Peter, you aren’t a loser, you took on Apocalypse by yourself and lived to tell about it, rather loudly I might add. You also are starting a teaching position here in the fall. You are such a good kind hearted person don’t degrade yourself that way.” Charles scolded. This was an ongoing argument between the two men and it never seemed to change his mind.

“I mean, is a P.E. Teacher even a real teacher Professor?” Peter asked.

“Physical Education is a very important role in children’s lives”Charles retorted to the unconvinced twenty-something. Peter could feel the frustration bubbling up inside him. He jerked in surprise when his watch that was laying on the side table forgotten began to vibrate. He snatched it clasping it around his wrist taking deep even breaths just trying to calm down.

So he inherited more than just the x-gene from his father. He had a secondary mutation, that was just great. He would have to be even more cautious than he already was. He knew Raven would try to trigger this in front of Erik if she found out. Which she would with her brother being a freaking mind reader.

***

“I need all staff members to my office for a staff meeting” Charles' voice echoed loudly in his head. He zipped to the office finding that Charles and Erik were already there. He should have taken his time and the tension could be cut with a knife.

“Peter, how are you? I haven’t seen you around much” Erik greeted the silver haired mutant politely.

“Oh you know I’ve just been around” Peter waved him off and he could feel the professor’s eyes burning into him like Scott’s lasers.

“Peter did you know that Erik will be staying on a our new foreign language professor?” Charles asked and Peter could once again feel the frustration start to bubble up.

“Really? I thought the government gave you an island or something?” Peter asked pointedly, ignoring the professor’s smug grin.

“Well I decided that I should stay, one thing apocalypse was right about was mutants needing to stick together” Erik explained and Peter was suddenly regretting taking this job.

“Isn’t it delightful Erik is fluent in so many languages German, Russian, French, Spanish, and even Polish. Peter isn’t your mother originally from the Ukraine?” Peter wanted to glare at the older man but couldn’t...not without giving himself away at least.

“No she’s originally from Poland she moved to the Ukraine after being liberated with my ciotka” Peter bit out unknowingly feeding Erik valuable information.

“You are Jewish?” Peter wanted to run, he supposed he had Jewish blood he had known his father was Jewish.

“Romani” Peter answered shortly, trying to hint that he didn’t want to talk about it. He also wasn’t technically lying to be Jewish your mother technically had to be Jewish.

“And your last name is Maximoff?” Peter could feel the anxiety build up in his throat cursing his seventeen year old self for dropping the fact that his mother quote “knew someone who could control metal”.

Erik began staring hard at the boy taking in his features. He began to see a resemblance to Magda, his ex wife. He tried to explain it away he was probably Marya’s child, but how likely was it that Marya would give birth to a child with a mutation. He knew that Django and her husband didn’t have any mutation that he knew about.

Erik’s calculating gaze only served to push Peter that much closer to an anxiety attack. He could feel his already swift heart rate pick up even faster with his emotions. He could feel the cool metal of the watch hum and he fought the anxiety. The last thing Peter needed was to give Erik another clue. Controlling metal would be like a neon sign yelling I’m your son.

“Your mother was her name Marya or Magda?” Erik asked, still studying the nervous man. With his mother’s name all the metal in the professor’s office began to hum and vibrate. Peter began internally cussing as Erik’s eyes went wide. He started to bolt out the door but was held in place by his watch and the zipper on his jacket.

“Peter” was all Erik could say and suddenly Peter began to wonder if the professor hadn’t called the staff meeting and only let him and Erik know. That was something he should have expected from Raven not the professor. It seemed being a meddling meddler ran in their family.

“Uh yeah?” He nervously rubbed the back of his neck trying to get the metal in the room to stop vibrating.

“Your mother, her name was Magda” Erik remarked, it was a statement not a question. He couldn’t help but wish the Wanda was here with him. She had always been the smarter twin.

“Ummm yeah” he confessed. Erik’s face looked like a cross between anguish and pure joy. Anguish that he had missed so much of his child’s life and joy that he had been reunited with said child. This was Anya’s baby brother and Nina’s elder brother. Erik knew that he would protect Peter with all of his might from now on. Erik would not waste another moment.

“My son” Erik’s voice was thick with emotion as he started down his adult child. Peter went to look at Charles for help but cursed when he saw that the wheelchair bound man had excused himself without Peter or Erik noticing.

Erik staggered forward wrapping his arms around the man and Peter melted. Peter may not have needed a father but that wasn’t to say he didn’t want one. He had always craved male companionship, he had always looked forward to visiting his aunt and uncle as a child. This was different though this man was his father, something his uncle Django tried to be for him but never really could. Erik’s hug was warm and safe and strong and he suddenly felt like he was fifteen years old again.

“Dad,” he muttered, finally squeezing the older man back fighting back tears. He had thought Erik would be angry, that he would think that Peter was trying to replace Nina. Erik wasn’t angry though, Erik was relieved he had his family. His family might not be whole but at least he had part of it.

“You have my mother’s eyes” Erik informed him, as he pulled back to further examine Peter’s face. Peter had always thought that his eyes were a dull brown, he had always wished they were bright like his mother and sister’s were. He supposed this was better, if he had his grandmother's eyes that meant that a part of her lived on.

Peter knew that he needed to inform Erik of Wanda, but that could wait a few more moments. For now all Peter wanted to do was soak in his father’s acceptance and love at least for a moment

Thank you please feel free to request.

#evan peters #dadneto #peter maximoff #quicksilver #ralph bohner #wanda and pietro #xmen #fanfiction #xmen apocalypse #x men fanfiction #dadneto fanfic #erik lehnsherr #erik Lehnsherr fanfiction #peter maximoff fanfiction #metallokinetic!peter maximoff #request

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filterjeons · 4 years ago

Text

only you | kth

✦ pairing: kim taehyung x reader

✦ summary: you didn’t like getting jealous but it was hard not to, especially since taehyung is the man of every girl’s dreams. luckily, he convinces you that he has his eyes for only you

✦ rating: M, not suitable for minors

✦ genre: smut

✦ word count: 10.4k

✦ warnings: hard dom!tae, dirty talk, rough sex, degradation, spanking w paddle, orgasm denial, usage of toys (vibrator and anal beads), oral (m and f receiving), handcuffs, daddy kink, sadism/masochism, cumplay??, hand kink, aftercare 🥰, poor y/n acting bratty 😔, slight slight angst (nearly non-existent), yeri and joy being my spirit animals, and cute ending <3 (tf was that warnings list….n e ways)

You scoff at your boyfriend talking excitedly with your co-worker Irene about an art museum that opened up downtown. As you swirl your straw into the whipped cream of your strawberry milkshake, you mentally kick yourself at your look for a hang-out with your friends. The light blue dress was no match for Irene’s more mature pantsuit which suited her body well. What’s worse was you wore your iconic pigtails, instantly making you look like a child compared to everyone else’s more sophisticated clothes. Even Taehyung, who was just wearing a black T-shirt that fits his form well and beige pants, looked ten times better than you.

You typically have a lot of self-confidence because after years of being bullied for looking like an elementary schooler, you didn’t have time to mope about yourself and you slowly started to not care anymore but today you feel it all goes down the drain.

“I think Van Gogh’s art is one of my favorites because…” you drown out their conversation and place your head on your hands with annoyance etched all over your face.

“What’s wrong, Y/N~?” Yeri teases, shaking you affectionately. You only grunt in response, which made your close friend giggle. “Is it that time of the month again?” You nod (although it was a lie) as you keep staring at Taehyung and Irene, feeling your stomach do somersaults whenever you see them laugh. Although Taehyung had an intimidating demeanor, he was very sweet and made friends easily. Good for him, since he could make friends with the entire town if he tried. Unfortunately for you, he was prone to many girls being drawn to him like a moth to light and constantly asking for his number, only to give you looks of disgust once they found out that you were his girlfriend.

Why is he dating some girl who looks like a high school freshman?

Are you sure she’s 20? She looks like a 14 year old!

You absolutely hated that you were treated as a child. The looks you received whenever you walked down the street with Tae already made you feel uncomfortable. You knew you were never good enough and you were terrified that he’ll leave you for someone else, causing your jealous tendencies to kick in. There were plenty of fish in the sea and yet he chose you. You were surprised that he hasn’t broken up with you for your much hotter senior Irene.

Irene and you just strictly had a professional relationship, especially since she was above you in the workplace, and the only person she had a crush on is Kang Seulgi, the founder of a local dance studio near the building where you work. After your work shifts, you would sometimes stop by and watch kids train to be artists, reminding you of the dreams you once had when you were young.

Although you would give anything to be on a stage performing for millions of fans, you were content with your job as a fashion designer and be with your boyfriend who’s such a big flirt.

“Did anyone tell you that you look like a 6th grader because you’re short and have no boobs?” your other friend Joy cackles, finding your annoyed reactions a source of comedy. Yeri chimes in with the harassment as they continuously made fun of your stature. You immediately throw French fries from Taehyung’s plate at them, embarrassment and anger bubbling inside you from the all-too-familiar teasing. It was different because you were close to Joy and Yeri but it still hurts as they were much more beautiful than you. You couldn’t compare to any of the sexier and mature girls and you didn’t like that way.

“Aww, don’t say that! She’s still very gorgeous to me and trust me, her boobs are nice,” Taehyung smiled, placing your head on your shoulder. You relished in his praise before realizing that you were mad at him as you immediately pull your head up and look away from him. He looks back at you with confusion on why you were acting that way. Maybe something happened at work or you’re just having a bad day, but he wants to help you in the best way that he can.

“TMI, man!” Yeri gagged dramatically, Joy following suit as they started to goof around. You would join them but you were still upset. Irene liked girls and Taehyung only had eyes for you so why were you so jealous? Despite your constant second-guessing, your heart was set that you were mad at him, even though the reason was extremely childish. Irene softly chuckled at you three before turning Taehyung’s attention back on her.

“So, would you like to go to the museum with me sometime?” Irene asked calmly, somehow acting like nothing’s going on. Your insides were fuming, knowing that he’ll say yes because of how sweet he was. You grip Taehyung’s hand, trying to signal him to refuse but when his head bobbed up and down, you knew it was no use.

“Yeah sure, let me know what time you’d like to go!” he smiled politely to which Irene returned the same

Oh no he didn’t. Not only will the town gossip think that your boyfriend dumped you for Irene but what if he starts to have feelings for her and throw you away? If there was one thing you loved the most in the world, it was Taehyung and you just weren’t ready to let him go.

You’re acting so stupid. It’s just a normal friendly hangout- Despite your head’s protest, you got up dramatically and glared at the two of them.

“Uh y’know what, I’m going to go home now. Irene, I’ll email you the designs for the future lineup and Taehyung, I hope you have fun hanging out at the museum or whatever. If you ever need me, I’ll be in my room by myself and I don’t want you near me,” you spat, immediately getting up and storming out of the diner. You knew you were acting extremely immature and some part of you regret it but how come he doesn’t like it when you interact with your guy friends but it doesn’t work the other way around?

“Y/N sweetie-” he tried to go after you but you were already out of the door. He sighed with frustration, annoyed that he didn’t get to explain his side.

“I think we should cancel since your girlfriend’s upset. I’m sorry, it was wrong for me to ask you to hang out and I know that we see each other as friends only. I just wanted to ask you because I was thinking about taking Seulgi there and she really likes art plus I figured Y/N would enjoy that kind of date,” Irene sighed, regret forming in her eyes.

“It’s okay, it’s not your fault. I’ll talk to her, she’ll understand once she hears the full story.” Taehyung bids the girls farewell and runs after you. Irene gives him a nod as Joy and Yeri sit uncomfortably.

“Well, who’s gonna pay the bill?” Yeri shrugged and all eyes were immediately on Irene, who only replied with an eye roll.

You refused to come out of your room for the rest of the day, still holding onto that grudge. Taehyung was getting annoyed at your lack of communication, he initially tried to get in by baking your favorite cookies but you didn't budge. You didn’t like ignoring Taehyung as well and you would rather be in his arms instead of sewing dresses for work but your petty heart didn’t want to let go.

You tried reasoning with yourself but once you’re set on something, you can’t get yourself to go the other way. As you stitch pieces of fabric together, the temptation grows even more.

Eventually, you couldn’t be cooped up in your room forever so as you sneakily made your way down to your kitchen to get some of Taehyung’s cookies (although he didn’t know how to put on an apron, he was an amazing baker), you felt a pair of arms wrap around your waist and his body behind yours. You gasped at the shock as his low chuckle vibrated against your back.

“Got you baby!” he grinned, hugging you tightly. You wanted to melt yourself into his embrace and beg for his forgiveness but a part of you wanted to prolong the chase and continue to be a brat because inside that sweetheart is a scary hard dom, and you wanted to see him turn aggressive. His duality always kills you and as much as you love being sweet and soft with him, his dominant aura is always your favorite.

“Leave me alone,” you grumbled, trying to push him off but he still kept on, even when you’re trying to go back to your room.

“I’m not going to let you go~,” he said in a sing-song voice, clinging onto your back like a koala. You debated to yourself if you wanted to do this and on a whim, you did what would be one of the scariest things in your life.

“Leave me the fuck alone! Go away, I-” you growled, using your force to push him out and that’s when you immediately knew you fucked up.

“Go on, repeat those fucking words,” Taehyung’s voice suddenly dropped extremely low, thanks to him being a baritone as he turned your shoulders around to face him. His eyes were now filled with anger and lust and you felt sweat dripping down your back, you knew you were in trouble.

“I-I-” you couldn’t find the courage to talk, your heart was pounding against your chest and you knew that you can’t make a comeback so you immediately got into your submissive position on your knees, fear evident in your face.

“I’m sorry, Daddy! I-I didn’t mean it-” you blubbered, knowing that he’s not going to go easy on you tonight and you were terrified of what was to come.

Taehyung only scoffed and pulled you up, dragging you into your shared bedroom by your hair and manhandling you onto your bed on all fours. You felt your heartbeat a billion times faster and you tried sticking your ass out to feel him but to your dismay, there wasn’t his familiar warmth. He was on the other side of the room, going through the black box in his closet that kept all of your toys. You tried decorating it to at least make the outside look cute but it still looks intimidating inside and out.

“You’ve been such a brat today and it made Daddy so fucking angry. Now tell me baby girl, why am I mad at you?”

“U-um, I was jealous towards Irene, I was overreacting, I didn’t talk to you about it, and I was a meanie bitch and ignoring you.” “Do you wanna know why Irene asked me out that time? She wanted to go because she was thinking about taking Seulgi on her first date there and she asked me to visit it with her to see if you might be interested in going with me sometime. I assume you already know that Irene liked girls but you were jealous for what? Do you not believe me when I say I love you everyday?” You felt your heart drop to your chest as you started to cry with embarrassment and shame on how you acted. You definitely shouldn’t have stormed out without an explanation and here you are paying the price for it.

“I-I’m sor-” “I’m not accepting any apology from you tonight because it’s my turn to be mad. Don’t think you’re getting a break tonight because the only way to make up for what you did today is to take everything that I give you. Are you going to obey or be the naughty slut that you’re always are?” he suddenly appeared next to you and growled deep into your ear, nibbling your earlobe. You nodded quickly, your panties slowly becoming wet as butterflies started to fill your stomach.

He felt your panties underneath your dress and scoffed at the slick coming out. “Stupid fuckslut likes that? Of course she does because she’ll do anything just to get a cock stuffed inside her. What a shame, I thought you were a good girl but I guess I was wrong. You’re just a dumb little baby.” You mewled quietly at his degradation, his voice was cold and cruel but it was such a turn on.

“What’s the safe word, honey?” “S-star-” “Alright then, fifty slaps with no exceptions. Don’t think you can bargain with me baby because I’m not going any lower,” he snarled, tearing your flimsy panties off and massaging your ass cheeks to prepare you for what’s going to come, a small act of kindness in comparison to his terrifying aura. “Count bitch.”

You braced yourself for the sharp hit but instead of his familiar calloused hand, your ass was met with a harder sting that immediately turned your flesh red. You widen your eyes as you piece together what’s happening. Although Taehyung bought a paddle long ago, he never had any reason to use it but today was the day because of your bratty behavior.

After that slap, it was hard for you to talk due to how sudden the hit was. Tears were threatening to fall down your face as you tried to take in the spank.

“Did I fucking stutter? I said count,” he said sternly, hitting you again and snapping you out of your daze.

“O-oh, one!” you cried, your ass hurting from the force of the paddle. What’s worse is that it’s a wooden one, leaving your marks and bruises for the next day. Although it’s the weekend, you were sure that you’re not going to sit properly for a whole week. Then again, have you ever sat normally whenever Taehyung fucks you? Meanwhile, Taehyung is completely enjoying the red and purple bruises that are forming in your skin as he hits all of his frustration at your behavior to your ass. It sounds completely wrong but the way your body reacts to the paddle and your choked moans and whimpers of pain is just a turn on to him. He never knew he liked having you act like this until he put you in this position, giving him all of the control. His pants started to tighten as he thinks about you attempting to walk or sit down after he’s done with you.

You stifle in sobs as you called out numbers following the hits you received. Despite the absolute pain you felt, you could feel even more slick coming down your thighs as he continues to smack the back of your thighs and your ass. Even though a part of you is chiding you for finding some pleasure in being hurt like this, you liked the pain nonetheless.

Apparently, your arousal couldn’t be more obvious because as he reached the halfway point of his 50 spanks, he started to notice how wet your pussy was.

“Wow, you fucking slut, you seem to be enjoying this huh? Does it turn you on? Does being in pain get you off?” he mocked, your heart taking his words sensitively. You let out a shaky moan, nodding with pleasure flowing through your body.

“Well lucky for you because I like this as well. Honestly, I like it too much if I’m being completely honest.” You were shocked at his confession, trying to consume the fact that your sweetheart boyfriend actually liked hurting you. It was definitely a surprise but for some sick reason, it was such a turn on. Hey, maybe you two were truly meant for each other because you liked the pain that he gave you. However, that statement was a distraction from your current situation at hand. He started to slam the paddle faster, the pain hurting 10 times more and you swore that there will be splinters by tomorrow. You let out screams and higher-pitched moans from the impact, covering your face with your pillow to somehow relieve you from his actions.

“Did you want to piss me off? Were you that much of a horny bitch that you’ll do anything to have my big cock stuffed inside you? No, I don’t have to ask that because I know you do. You’re aching in that tight little pussy from my words, huh? Even though you’re lowkey scared of it, you’re getting wet from the spanking. Stupid little cockwhore.” You could nearly cum from his cruel words, his deep and raspy voice talking to you as if you’re inferior to him. You could barely form words now as you just drooled and babbled on the pillow.

He landed the last two hits on the back of your thighs and the top of your ass respectively. Just for the fun and pleasure for him, he gave you an additional slap with his hand and giggled at your sobs from the surprise.

“Jesus, that was so hot. I nearly jizzed in my pants thanks to you. Seeing you in pain is such a turn on,” Taehyung muttered, sitting next to you on the bed and facing you towards him. He mockingly pouted at your sniffling face, wiping away the tears that were splattered around your cheeks.

“Are you okay? Did I go too hard?” he asked with concern, a complete 180 from what he was before as he gave you small kisses on your face. You found it so sweet how as much as he likes punishing you, he still cares so much about your safety because he is your boyfriend after all. Although the spanking was intense, you weren’t in danger and everything was consented.

“Daddy...I’m okay,” you croaked, trying to nuzzle your face in the crook of your neck and although his eyes showed some warmth, his face turned expressionless after a minute of checking up on you.

“Did you learn your lesson yet?”

You knew that this was like child’s play to him and he can go longer. Even though you were kind of nervous, you wanted him to snap and show his scarier side. You shook your head in response to his question, starting to revert back to your bratty self. “Well, that was nothing. I don’t know if you can handle me but it didn’t work.” Taehyung obviously didn't believe you, judging from the look in your eyes and your quick movements that you were clearly affected by the spanking. He also knew that you were lying right out of your teeth and you want him to put you in your place. Obviously, it’s what he’s going to do. He’s going to make you learn your lesson no matter how much you’re going to act up because a fact that Kim Taehyung knows is that there’s no better brat-tamer than him.

“Hmm, I don’t think I can forgive you yet because you’re still lying like dumb little girls do when they want something. How sad, I guess you’re going to need more punishments until I get that attitude out of you,” he says, feigning disappointment in his tone.

You felt your heart dance at his words before realizing that he has more in mind than the spanking. You whimper at his words and he rolled his eyes at you, knowing how much you’re enjoying this.

All of a sudden, he ripped off your dress like it was nothing, the now ruined fabric fluttering lifelessly towards the ground. How was he able to tear it apart like that? Has he been working out?, you thought, especially since you swore that the dress was hard to tear. You whined at what he did, especially since it was a staple part of your wardrobe and one of your favorites. However, he didn’t care about your reactions as he easily snapped your bra into two pieces, throwing the destroyed material in some corner of the room.

A wave of embarrassment ran through your body at the fact that you were completely bare and he was still clothed. You tried to cover your chest but it was no use as he forcefully pulled your arms away, exposing your breasts to him.

“Your body is so beautiful, don’t be shy,” he crooned, playing with your nipples and flicking the sensitive bud. Taehyung’s face went up to your neck, kissing your sensitive spots and sucking on it to make hickeys. “But they’d look more gorgeous with my marks, huh?” You let out a shaky moan, already turned on by his ministrations and the ache between your legs growing worse but to your dismay, he ended there and got off of the bed. Disappointed at his sudden stop, you started to whine and thrash among the sheets but a sharp glare from him had you obey instantly.

“Stay there baby girl, you’re definitely not off the hook,” he sighed, walking back to the black box to retrieve some of the toys. You inhaled a shaky breath, nervous on what’s going to happen. You tried to peer behind his broad back to see what he picked up but you could only hear his sinister chuckle instead.

“D-daddy, what are we gonna be using?” you squeaked, hating the obvious fear in your voice because he knows that you’re nervous about what he’s going to do and use it to your advantage. Your boyfriend comes back and throws a bunch of toys on the bed, each one somehow being more intense than the previous. The handcuffs and vibrator were easily familiar to you as you’ve used them before but the last toy was what caught your attention the most.

Anal beads?! He’s absolutely insane!, you internally screamed, staring at him with wide eyes while he brought a bottle of strawberry lube on the nightstand. It wasn’t like you were scared of it or anything, it was just so surprising that he’s going to use it on you now. You’ve heard about them from Joy who said that although the feeling was strange at first, it felt good later on and you took her word in mind. Now that the toy was out in the open, it reminded you of when you saw it in the box while you were searching for your sewing kit and talked to Taehyung about it. While you both decided that you’ll wait a bit until there was a time where it’ll be used, you never thought it would happen now (but you sort of understand as you are getting punished now).

“Are you ready honey? Is this okay?” he asked gently, rubbing your back to calm you down. You nodded, slowly feeling your nerves go away after some reassurance.

“What about you? Do you think you’re ready?” you sassed back, the all-too familiar bratty attitude showing. “Oh, you wanna play that game? I’m just worried because you can barely take my dick but since you’ve been too naughty, you’re gonna take it like a good girl,” he teased, a blush forming in your cheeks as he settled you down on all fours. Compared to your height and Taehyung’s, he was obviously huge under his pants and although you liked getting dicked down until the next day, the aftermath is definitely not that pleasurable.

You instructed yourself to take deep breaths, bracing yourself for the toy.

“You ready, kitten?” he called out from behind and you nodded rapidly, wanting to get it over with as soon as possible. All of a sudden you felt the first bead ram inside you, making you feel sparks of pleasure. “That’s my good girl.”

Luckily, there were a total of three beads for a start since it was your first time but the first one already felt huge. Maybe it’s due to your inability to take big stuff well but you were terrified on the other two that are twice as big.

“O-oh my god...I-“ you gasped out, trying to accommodate the small sphere into your hole.

“Why are you acting like it’s too much for you? Come on, I know you can take more than that,” he chided playfully, lubing the second bead to insert it inside you.

“I-I- don’t know if I can!”

“Shh, you want Daddy to forgive you right? You’re my big girl, it’ll be alright.”

You let out a whine as the second was inserted, making you feel full already. Taehyung thumbs at your hole soothingly to try to make you less worried and to make the bead more comfortable in you.

He observes your state right now: your face red from the stimulation and smothered on the plush pillows, your body was bent to display your gaping hole, and your walls fluttering around the pink bead to accommodate the intrusion. Your position was just enough to make his pants feel increasingly tight and uncomfortable.

“Damn, you look so sexy,” he murmured, his praise making you feel good and embarrassed at the same time.

“One more sweetie, one more.” That was the sentence that had you in fear. Surely two beads was enough for you, it’s gonna be hard for you to take the full thing!

“Daddy, i-it’s too much! I don’t think I can handle it!” you cried but the pillow muffled your words.

“You got this, you’ve been a good girl so far,” Taehyung coos, tapping the end of the bead that was currently in you to tease you. With his praise in mind, you decided to go through it as you tried to spread your legs and push your ass out even more to make the last bead more comfortable in you.

Luckily, he was kind enough to add a large amount of lube to make it less painful while toying with the end of the previous one inside you.

You focused on relaxing yourself so that you’re not tense and reveled in his gentle motions against you. After one more, it’ll all be over, right?

“Good girl, you’ve been such a good girl for me. One more, okay?”

He slowly inserted the last bead, watching your hole attempt to expand and take it in. You let out a squeal, trying to fit it inside. Your boyfriend watches your fluttering walls straining around the pink toy as it stretches to fit it in alongside the other beads. Eventually, you made it fit with the aftermath of being completely plugged up in your behind.

“Hah~ oh, s-so big,” you moaned, trying so hard to fit the beads inside you. Your nerves were on fire, the toy giving you new sensations you never knew you could feel. It didn’t hurt but you felt full despite only being three spheres.

“That’s my good girl,” Taehyung sighed with content, tapping the end of the last bead to slowly push it inside you by centimeter.

“Daddy, it’s too much! I-I-I don’t think I can do it, it’s too big-“

With one quick motion, Taehyung flipped you on your back and you felt the beads push deeper in your hole, hitting your spots.

“Aww, my little slut can’t take it? Is she too sensitive? Such a little baby, you look so cute in this position, especially since you’re so sensitive!” Taehyung cooed as you let out broken moans due to the overwhelming pleasure. “You’re lucky that I’m not that mad as I was before. Keep those beads in you until I decide when I want to take them out.”

You nodded blankly, his words barely registering in your hazy mind. You didn’t know how much longer you can to, especially since Taehyung sounds like he wants to fuck you stupid.

“Hey, you okay?” he asked softly, waving a hand over your face. Quickly snapping out of your daze, you nodded and tried to snuggle up towards him. He laughed at the cute action, playing along with the simple moment until he brought out a pair of handcuffs in front of your face. Yup, you’re still in trouble, you sighed to yourself, forgetting about why he’s acting that way.

“It’s not the furry ones?” you pouted, blatantly swallowing at the hard metal.

“You’ve done too much to even think about getting the soft ones. It’s okay, you won’t feel the pain once I make you feel good.” Obediently, you brought out your wrists without him asking and he attached the cuffs within a second. Surprisingly, he gave you a kiss on the cheek and patted your head affectionately, your all-too familiar kind boyfriend emerging for a split-second.

“You’ve been a good girl so far, keep it up and maybe your punishment will end quickly,” he murmured, massaging your sides and spreading your legs apart. You felt him kiss the inside of your thighs and kitty-licking your slit, the teasing immediately turning you on even more.

“T-tae,” Although he was barely doing anything, you already felt even more sensitive especially with the anal beads inside you. You wanted to tug on his dark black locks, at least clutching onto a part of his body, but the handcuffs made it impossible to. It wasn’t even chained to the bed but it was no use fighting against it.

Taehyung could sense how impatient you were, your hips thrusting up uncontrollably to try to at least have some more movement inside your aching pussy. He chuckled to himself at how he made you instantly want him but since he’s in charge, he gets to decide whether or not to pleasure you.

“Shh, only patient little girls get what they want. What’s the magic word?”

Is he seriously doing this right now?, you thought but you immediately answered the question, desperate to at least have something. It must’ve been obvious how needy you’ve gotten because Taehyung’s long slender fingers were inserted in you with no warning.

You let out a shaky moan, your cunt immediately clenching around his fingers as he pushed them in and out at a quick pace. Your brain was completely fried as you couldn’t think or say anything except the feeling of euphoria you were in. Despite having his fingers inside you before, it felt more sensitive and pleasurable this time and you were ready to cum.

Unfortunately for you, he pulled his hand away from your needy pussy despite your attempts to trap it with your thighs. You started to whine and kick from the denial, upset that you didn’t get to finish.

“Calm down, we haven’t gotten to the real fun yet. You’ll be my good girl, right?” he said calmly, reaching over for the vibrator and inserting the batteries in. Normally, the pink toy didn’t have an effect on you because you used it numerous times while Tae was gone but for some reason, you felt nervous as if it was your first time using toys. You absolutely knew he was going to edge the hell out of you and although it was not that pleasurable for you, the build-up to your orgasm only for it to be cut away is a source of entertainment for him.

But since you’ve been consistently good ever since he put in the anal beads, you were hoping that he’d let you come this time.

You felt the head of the vibrator rub against your folds, the moisture slowly gathering onto the tip and the sheets. It was currently at the lowest speed and you were aching for it to be filled inside you. The buzzing of the toy was the only sound that rang out in the room and Taehyung didn’t say a word but his expression told you about what he’s going to do.

All of a sudden, he suddenly inserted the vibrator inside you, the sudden intrusion igniting a small fire inside your body as it tries to take in the sensation. Even though the feeling shouldn’t be completely new to you, you felt overly sensitive like it was your first time.

“T-tae, oh my god. I-i, oh...” you moaned lightly, wanting to feel a part of him but he prevented that from happening. Knowing the effect that he had on you, Taehyung slowly started to peel off his shirt due to the increasing temperature in the bedroom. With his tanned skin and toned stomach on display, the temptation of wanting to break free from the handcuffs was just too much.

“Da..daddy...please…”

“Yeah? Does it feel good? Are you glad you finally had something in that slutty cunt?” he taunted, turning the vibration up to the highest. The switch in level made you clench around the toy tightly, slick coming out of your system rapidly. He aimed the head to your clit, making the sensation feeling even better and getting you near your orgasm.

Your body felt like it was on fire as you didn’t know where to focus yourself on. Since Taehyung restricted you from grabbing onto something to settle yourself, it just felt like you were in a different headspace. The amount of pullings you did onto the handcuffs are going to leave marks on your wrists but honestly, it was the least of your concerns at this point.

He suddenly removes the wand from your clenching pussy, hovering it around your folds as you leave more slick from the slight movement the vibrator had on you despite not completely being inside you. Your juices were drenching onto the bedsheets and his hand and a part of you felt embarrassed but if Taehyung had no shame, neither then you.

“Do you want something inside you? Does your cute little pussy want to be filled up?” he said darkly, waving his long and slender fingers in front of your face. He absolutely knows how much you love his fingers, at least 3 of them filling you up well.

“Y-yes daddy, mmph, p-please fill me up with your long, oh god, fingers…” you purred, your eyes drooping from how much pleasure you’re receiving.

“Keep your eyes up babygirl, I want you to stare at me while I make you feel good.” Taehyung aligns the head against your clit again as he inserted one of his fingers inside. The action caused you to let out a small scream, your body starting to shake on how much he’s doing to you.

“T-Taehyung-” “Is that my name?” “I’m sorry, D-daddy! I-i-it’s so much, I don’t know if I can take it!” you whimpered, your juices coming out of you at an increasingly fast rate and your hands pathetically thrashing onto the restrains.

“Yeah? My little baby can take it, this is nothing isn’t it?” he smirks, adding two more fingers to completely stretch your walls out. You felt yourself jolt from the increased action, tears starting to form at the corner of your eyes.

“Da..daddy, shit, shit, oh, it’s so much, I, I,” you mewled, your body in cloud nine as you try to form sentences in your brain. Although you didn’t talk much, your moans and whimpers were music to his ears as Taehyung was satisfied with himself that he got you in this way.

“Aww, it’s too much? Too bad, you know you want more than a vibrator. I know you’re dying for me to pound this tiny little pussy with my big fat cock. You want to feel my dick deep inside your stomach and try to keep my cum inside you, huh? Do you want that, you little fucktoy?”

You didn’t know how he could read you like a book but it was what you wanted nonetheless. A flash of pink flew across the room before hitting against the wall, the identity being the vibrator that Taehyung was using on you a few minutes ago. Although you could still feel his fingers pump inside you, your clit was instead covered by his mouth.

“Ahh! Oh my god, oh my god! Daddy!” you shrieked, your attention being directed on him. He swirls the bud with the flat of his tongue and occasionally flicked it to help send you off. Surprisingly, his fingers were still moving as well and you felt them hit the spongy texture of your g-spot, your body reacting to the sensation sensitively.

You felt the all-too familiar knot in your stomach, signalling your orgasm. With the insane amount of pleasure, he would be too cruel to deny it. With your mind becoming absolutely hazy, the last thought you had was to finally release.

Unfortunately, your thoughts weren’t answered because after a few more pumps, he immediately pulled his fingers out and his mouth was nowhere to be found on your clit.

“Do you think I’m gonna let you cum? I don’t think so,” he mocked, sucking off the liquids and watching your body thrash against the bed from the denial.

“Wh-what? Why? Why?” you whined loudly, the build-up fading away and your mind was back to the present. Of course he wasn’t going to let you cum right away despite how good you were because it was still a punishment.

“Because I said so,” he stated in a matter-of-fact way, mesmerized at your body’s reactions.

“But I’ve been good! I obeyed when you put in the anal beads-” “That’s not enough though.”

“What the actual hell? You’re such a dick!” you muttered angrily, trying to catch yourself from the denial. Although it was pretty quiet, Taehyung’s ears picked it up and he was definitely not happy with what you said.

“What the fuck did you say?” he growled, placing himself next to you and choking your throat with just enough force that was typical whenever you were acting up. You gasped at the lack of oxygen as you tried to form an excuse.

“I-I’m sorry-” “Shut up. I thought I fucked the attitude out of you but I guess you still need to be taught a lesson. You’ve been using your bratty mouth too much, perhaps you’ll learn how to silence yourself with my cock inside it,” he snarled, standing up to remove his pants and boxers, the outline of his dick already making you hot and bothered.

Although you’ve been living with your boyfriend for a long time now, his dick size never fails to impress you. Unfortunately, it means that he’s not going to have mercy on you, especially since you pissed him off.

“I thought you were going to be a good girl but you just love acting up, do you? Do you like being a stupid slut? Did my little girl grow up to be a dumb brat?” he scoffed, pulling down his undergarments to reveal his huge cock, the tip hitting his belly button area before standing up proudly. You felt your mouth water at his size, wanting to take the whole thing inside you.

“Well, what are you waiting for? Are you going to obey like a good baby or are you going to keep on talking with that bratty little voice?” he snapped, taking you out of your gazing. You nodded obediently, not saying a word otherwise you would get in even more trouble. Taehyung stroked his cock for a bit, the pre-cum acting as lube to make it easier for you to swallow.

Once his tip was placed in front of your lips, you immediately opened and took his length inside you, trying to fit as much as you can. Normally, you could suck a good half but since you’re on thin ice from your behavior, he’s definitely going to make you take the whole thing. Hearing his low husky moans made you feel better, knowing that you’re at least doing it right.

You could feel him inch deeper inside you until you were nose deep between his balls. Taehyung’s head was thrown back and sweat was dripping down his face as his tip went past your gag reflex, the warm and wet sensation making the feeling extremely sensational.

“D-addy, do you want me to-” you garbled, trying to form words but they came out as mostly gibberish due to the amount in your throat.

“Choke on it, slut.” He starts to thrust forwards and backwards at a fast pace, one that you’re not accustomed to. Due to his length being too much for you to handle, you felt a long stream of tears flow down your cheeks as you try to hollow your throat to accommodate him.

“God, that feels so good. Finally my little baby is using her mouth for something good,” he grunts, placing his hands on your shoulders to thrust quicker. The low moans and growls he makes while you suck his dick turns you on, the all-too familiar ache between your legs building up again. “Do you like gagging on my cock baby girl?” You let out a nod which only made your breathing harder so you instructed yourself to breathe through your nose. Taehyung wasn’t looking empathetic for now as he smiled sadistically while chasing his own high.

With your face being near the base of his cock and your jaw slacked to attempt to take him and make it easier for you, you truly thought he was cruel for making you take him whole. Hearing your little gags and garbles starts to make him go faster as he thrusts in and out of your mouth at an inhuman-like pace while you try to suck on him better to get more of his reactions.

“God, you look so fucking hot like this. Your mouth feels so so good, I’m gonna cum,” he gasps, your little whimpers vibrating against the underside of his shaft. You felt a line of saliva flow down the corner of your mouth as your throat starts to close around his dick.

“Gonna cum, yeah fuck baby, I’m gonna cum,” he chants, his thrusts slowing down and after a loud moan of your name, his hot and sticky liquid spurted down your throat. You decided to take it down your throat, slowly sucking on it to clean his seed from his dick as he gently took it out from your mouth. With the length removed, you let out a deep gasp of breath as you struggled to breathe properly.

“Whoa, baby, are you okay?” he asked, patting your back gently in an attempt to help you breathe. After a few minutes of clearing your throat, you nodded while wincing from the ache from the back of your throat.

“Y-yeah, I’m fine. I’ll be okay,” you gasped, slowly breathing in and out.

“Good,” he beamed before turning back into his dominant self. However, instead of the coldness that he showed you before, his eyes are more playful and loving. “Did you learn your lesson?” You nodded weakly, cuddling your face against his chest. “I did, I’m extremely sorry Daddy! I didn’t mean to say that.” He pretended to think deeply as if he wanted to accept your apology or not. You prayed that he does because you’ve already been punished enough.

“It’s okay baby, I forgive you,” he smiled, his iconic box smile popping up on his sunshine-like face. “But know that I’ll always be yours, no matter what and I hope the same for you.” “Duh, now shut up and kiss me,” you snarked and although he rolled his eyes at your abrasive personality, he complied anyways.

“Hold on, let me take your toys off,” he sighed, unlocking the handcuffs and bending you over to remove the anal beads. You moan from the movement as you’ve gotten accustomed to the toy inside you. You watch intently as he carefully places them on the nightstand to disinfect later and carries you to the bed. “You ready for my dick, baby girl?” His tip was placed against your folds, teasing you slowly. You let out a shaky moan, wanting this just as much as he does. Taehyung took it as a yes as he slowly entered inside you, grunting from the inclusion. “Damn, you’ve gotten so much tighter, huh?” You just let out shaky moans and whimpers in response as you feel him completely enter you and fill you up. Your walls were fluttering around his length as you tried to take as much as him in, causing him to let out a low groan.

“Jesus fuck…” he grunted, as he immediately took his cock out, hovered it above your cunt, and slammed it inside you with such force. You let out a scream from the action, catching you off guard as you try to match up with his quick pace.

Like it was nothing, Taehyung snapped his hips quickly like it was child’s play as he fucks you deeper and harder, more intense than all of your previous rounds. He touches his bulge that’s deep inside your stomach, causing you to let out a whimper from his smirking face upon you.

“Yeah, does my little baby like being filled up and having my cock be deep inside her?” he asks while fucking you like no tomorrow.

“O-oh my god, yea, yes Daddy,” you purred, your half-droopy eyes interlocking with his, a simple but cherished action he likes during sex. It can be intense and a bit awkward at times, especially since he has a look that could make anyone fall on their knees on a normal day, but his dark starry eyes were to die for. After a minute, you look away with embarrassment but Taehyung cups your cheek and continues to stare for a moment longer.

“Don’t look away from me baby, I wish you can see how much your cute face looks while you’re getting your pussy pounded.” You were getting close to your orgasm again, your pussy clenching and fluttering around his dick. He could sense it too as he starts to pick up the pace and hit against your g-spot more often. “Shit, kitten, are you going to cum now? F-fuck yeah, cum for me now. I wanna see your cute face while you cream around my big dick.” His words were like the tipping point for you to orgasm as the knot that was building up finally lets out. You let out a scream as you felt your liquids gush around him, your mind having no thoughts in the world other than the feeling you have right now and your body is shaking violently from the pleasure. But instead of your usual intensity of an orgasm, you felt yourself squirt everywhere. Not only were your juices splattered onto your boyfriend’s cock but you felt the area around you feel drenched and some of them got onto Taehyung’s stomach and arms.

He stared at you with wide eyes and an open mouth as he started to thrust sloppily, chasing after his high as well due to the sight. “Fucking shit, you squirted all over me baby. Damn that was so hot.” You whimpered from the sensitivity as he continued, his grunts and moans increasing in volume. “Jesus fuck, holy shit, the things you do to me baby girl.” After letting out a guttural grunt, his dick started to inflate and shoot out thick loads of his seed into your battered cunt. Taehyung slowly exited himself out of you and flopped down on the bed next to you while pushing his long fingers inside to keep his cum in there. You let out a squeal from the intrusion as he slowly brought some of his load in front of your face and tapped on your lips, slightly coating them.

“Can I have them Daddy?” you whispered and he gave you a nod in response. Like there was no tomorrow, you immediately inserted his fingers into your mouth and wantonly sucked on them, savoring the salty taste of his cum. He raised an eyebrow at your behavior and pushed them deeper, the flat of his fingers feeling the back of your mouth. This caused you to gag, the action reminding you when you were sucking on his dick a while ago.

“O-okay baby that’s enough unless you want to go for another round, but I assume you’re too tired from that,” Taehyung laughed softly, slowly pulling them out to which you whined from the loss. “Are you okay, did I go too far? You did so well.” “Y-yeah, I’m okay,” you mumbled but he still wasn’t completely convinced. His duality always kills you but you were here for it anyways.

“No, I must’ve gone too far. At any moment, did you feel like you wanted to use the safe word? Remember that if-” “Taehyungie, you were okay! I’m okay and I didn’t want to use it. Besides, you were really hot dominating me like that,” you tried to assure him, rubbing his arms (which have gotten buffer) gently. “You took care of me well too.” “I’m glad to hear that! Hold on babe, I’m going to clean you up and get you some clothes.” He already left to go to the bathroom and during that, it gave you some time to think over your thoughts. Taehyung was truly a marvelous person: his looks were to die for, his personality was sweeter than honey but he can truly dominate someone the next second. You truly were thankful that he appeared in your life but a part of you didn’t understand why.

He comes out dressed in his old vintage T-shirts and shorts with another oversized T-shirt and a damp towel in his hands.

“Alright honey, can you lay down on your back for me? I must’ve made a mess.” “Dude, I literally squirted on not only you but the bed as well,” you dead-panned, causing him to laugh. He gently wiped the excess seed that laid on your inner thighs and the top of your private area before slipping a pair of your comfortable panties onto you. You quickly pulled on the shirt, the hem reaching the middle of your thighs and shyly gave him a hug (which was considerably rare for you to start them but with Taehyung, you would do it no matter what). He returned the hug back and laid you down on the bed with him cuddling you, being the big spoon within your relationship.

You like how his bigger body can easily make you feel warm and you could hear the sound of his heartbeat, the soft feeling making you drowsy.

“Do you want to sleep now, baby?” he rasps, rubbing the back of your neck and finding the particular spot where it was relieving for you. You nodded back in return as you turned over to face him, completely relishing his warm embrace.

“Can I ask you something, Y/N? I hope you don’t feel uncomfortable,” he asked slowly, breaking the silence that lingered around the room.

You nodded, slowly breaking out of his cuddle to face him with wide eyes. Although he didn’t want to break the hug either, he sat up to look at you as well.

“Y/N, you know that I’m dating you and when I date someone, my attention is on them and because I’m with you, I only see you. My eyes will always be looking at you, I breathe and bathe in your presence daily, and I’ll even shout out to the world that I love you if you ever asked me. I’m completely yours honey and I’m curious on why do you get so jealous whenever a woman talks to me? It might sound insensitive but today you acted different when I talked to Irene. Why is that?” You let out a ragged sigh, unsure if you truly want to tell Taehyung. Of course you knew that Taehyung loved you until the end of time and you obviously feel the same way, but that was the problem. You would completely drop everything just to be with him forever but is it possible for a man like him to agree to that? Taehyung was an obvious romantic and if he had to choose between the world and you, he would choose you but why? Why were you so special that he’s dating you? There were plenty of other fish in the sea but his eyes were set on you.

You were just another girl who’s trying to survive in the cutthroat fashion world, constantly thinking to yourself on how much of a disappointment you were. Being an idol was a dream you were dead-set on ever since you were a child but you were too chicken to go to an actual audition and spent the early stages of your adult life fighting with your mom to go on a fashion major: a second choice you didn’t really care for but it was a second choice nonetheless.

Taehyung was a successful photographer with many deals and collaborations from multiple people, some even for famous magazines. His visuals were good enough to even be a Gucci model! He’s good with children and elderly people, he’s an amazing baker, he can play the saxophone, and he could even sing! He shouldn’t be dating some girl who acts like a little kid and has a personality that is absolutely intolerable to most people.

“Taehyung, why are you dating me? If Irene asked you out on a date, would you go on it while you’re in a relationship with me?” “Of course not, I only have-” “But Irene’s ten times more gorgeous than me, it’s like comparing a swan to a baby duck! What kind of man would turn down a sexier woman for a toddler look alike?” you cried, your emotions showing out as you sobbed onto the comforter. He looked at you with sad eyes, rubbing your arms in an attempt to soothe you but your tears didn’t stop running.

“Taehyung, you’re literally every girl’s dream boyfriend! Yet you chose me out of all of those girls who I can’t compare to! Why?! I’m literally nothing compared to them; all of my life I’ve been bullied by my stature, my dreams didn’t come true, everyone thinks I’m annoying, and it fucking hurts to hear gossip from the people in this town on why I’m dating you! I’m just not good enough and I’ll never be-” Your ranting was stopped by a kiss, a romantic and passionate one. You started to whimper inside his mouth as he didn’t break away. His lips were quickly detached from yours to kiss away the tears that were slowly dripping down your face.

“Don’t say another word. I don’t understand why you don’t see yourself the same way I see you,” he said sternly, cupping your face gently.

“Wh-what? I’m not-” “Never say you’re not something because you’re such a beautiful, smart, funny, creative, and witty person. I know it’s hard to not compare yourself to other women but out of all of them, I only see you. Even though you hate that you’re short and you look young, I promise you it’s one of the things I love the most about you. You’re so cute and it makes me so happy whenever I’m cuddling you and I love taking care of you. And it’s okay if your dreams didn’t come true, everything happens for a reason and if you were an idol, would you’ve met me?” “Not really-” “Exactly, it’s like fate did something and we were always meant to be with each other! Besides, I have some friends who are idols and they absolutely hate it.” “Wow, Taehyung, way to make me feel better,” you said sarcastically, a low chuckle vibrating against you.

“Plus, I don’t find your personality annoying. It highlights you really well and I think it’s okay to have that kind of humor but if you act too bratty, I’m always there to punish you-” “God, you’re so perverted and this was supposed to be wholesome!” you barked, pushing him off while watching him with disgust as he tries to catch his breath from laughing too hard.

“Sorry, sorry, the main point is that I love you no matter what and I’ll always think, dream, and bathe in you. You’re my girl and it’s always going to be that way,” he said, giving you another kiss before pulling you back down on the bed and cuddling you again.

“Th-thank you Taehyung,” you said softly, wrapping an arm around his waist and pulling yourself closer to his chest. It’s so warm and familiar, just the way you like it. You shift around until you’re more comfortable as you melt yourself into him. It was hard to not feel jealous of other girls but you felt better after talking it out and hearing his words.

“I love you,” he mumbled softly, slowly starting to fall asleep.

“I love you too.” You moved around for a bit but a sudden pain in your lower area stopped you from wiggling too much. Of course you forgot that you were getting railed a while ago and it’s now the aftermath.

“Yo Taehyung, why the fuck did you go hard on me? Now it hurts and I don’t think I can walk normally. Hell, I don’t think I can sit down because you spanked me as well!” you snapped, the all too familiar tsundere personality coming out.

He only had a smirk etched out on his face, pulling you close to stuff your face within his chest. “Sorry, I guess,” he replied sarcastically, chuckling on how you grumbled and complained in response.

“What does that mean, ‘I guess’? It’s always the doms with the biggest dicks.”

Your ringtone blasted across the room, waking you up from your comfortable and warm sleep with Taehyung. You grumbled to yourself as you groggily stared at the caller ID. Sure enough, it was Irene. Your heart dropped to your stomach as there was no other reason why she was calling you unless to fire you for your behavior at the diner yesterday.

“Hello?” you answer timidly, praying that you won’t get kicked out today.

“Hello, Y/N. I hope you’re having a lovely morning today.” “You too. Listen Irene, I’m really sorry on how I acted during the diner that time. It was extremely immature of me to have that attitude and not listen to your side of the story, I guess jealousy got the better of me. I-I promise there won’t be any more instances like this and I’m sorry for causing such inconvenience,” you rambled, sweat dripping down your back as your fate was determined on the other line.

Silence filled the room and you waited impatiently, tapping your fingers along the headboard of your bed. Suddenly, laughter rang out from Irene’s side and you sighed in a breath of relief that you’re off the hook.

“It’s okay, I completely understand why you acted that way and I apologize if it may seem like I’m making moves on your boyfriend. Although I would like it if you listened to my side, I’m hoping he did at least.” You stared at his sleeping figure and softly rubbed his bread-like cheeks with affection. “Y-yeah, he did. So, what did you want to call me about?” “Oh, do you know the dress designs that you submitted to me a few months ago?” Your mind went back to you staying overnight at the studio, scrapping pages and pages of different designs to find the perfect one to turn in. Although you were extremely proud, at that time Irene didn’t spend a second to even look at them which lowered your spirits.

“Yeah, what about them? Did I do something wrong?” “No, you didn’t. In fact they were really lovely and I’m sorry it took me a long time to review them. Actually, I really liked it so much that I turned it into some big name fashion companies and they are deciding to feature them in their latest runway for a fashion week.” Your eyes widened, shock filling your brain as you tried to comprehend what was going on. There was no way, the design that you spent hours perfecting was able to go on the runway?! You let out a high-pitched shriek, instantly waking up Taehyung as he slowly opened his eyes.

“Oh my god, thank you thank you thank you! I-I can’t believe this is happening!” you squealed, your excitement radiating the room like sunshine on a bright morning.

“You’re welcome honey, I hope you’re coming up with more designs to possibly submit in the future.” “Of course! Thank you so much, have a great day!” you grinned as the call ended. You started babbling to yourself while Taehyung watched you with admiration surrounding his face.

“Congratulations baby,” he grinned, giving you a kiss on your lips.

“Hey, how did you know?” “I heard you screaming ever since the phone rang.” “I mean, I guess you would’ve found out that way. Anyways I’m so excited and happy since this is such a huge opportunity for me! Also, thank you for the support and love you gave me last night,” you said, pecking his cheeks.

“Anytime baby girl. How about I make some of those fluffy pancakes you like for celebration,” he smiled, walking out of the bed and into the brown slippers you got him for his birthday once.

“Alright, I’ll be-” Unfortunately for you, your legs stopped working and you tumbled out of the bed. Taehyung only laughed at your fall before carrying you bridal style, much to your embarrassment.

“Thanks a lot Tae, you really ruined me last night,” you pouted as you made yourself comfortable in his arms.

“You know you love me right,” he cooed, flicking your cheeks which turned into an embarrassingly bright red. As much as you don’t show it that much, you’re definitely in love with him no matter what.

Just as Taehyung was about to head off for his photoshoot consisting of a beauty model, he slipped his hand underneath his drawer and beneath the ties hides a velvet red box. And inside the box was a wedding ring that was passed onto from generations of his family.

You have been dating him for a few years now and although you never admitted it, you were hoping that one day he’ll propose to you.

Taehyung smiled at the box before closing the drawer to head out his way. There was a legend throughout the Kim family that the ring fits the person who's the perfect wife for the son. The ring was quite small which meant most girls couldn’t fit it but since you have small hands, he checked the size of your fingers and it fit perfectly.

Many people would ask him why he would choose a short abrasive girl like you as his girlfriend and some may judge but frankly, he didn’t care about what everyone else thought.

Because he was lucky that destiny allowed him to be with you and the person that he set his mind and future on was only you.

a/n: this was initially a drabble but i liked the idea sm that i decided to write a whole ff on it lol. thanks for reading, i hope you enjoy and let me know what you think! <3

taglist: @cherrykocho, @knjkitten

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problematicfavesareproblematic · 4 years ago

Text

Into My Body, You Just Fold

Floyd Talbert x Reader

Warnings: FLUFF, optional!smut (poorly written dirty talk, lite name calling/degradation), OOC Tabbykins, mutual pining, drunken love confessions, Reader has an unfaithful husband (but OMC isn’t the worst), period-typical restrictions of women’s rights, not vv good writing tbh, and no-no words (per usual)

As terrible a person it made you to admit as much- you didn’t think you could imagine life without Floyd Talbert.

You’d promised yourself at a young age that you’d never be one of those women who needed a man to complete them, far too disenchanted by the sight of your friends losing their fire and spark upon marrying their husbands. Your father had raised you with the same permissive encouragement as he had your brothers, something that horrified your mother so much that she eventually stopped inviting you to her happy home with her new husband altogether.

Now that you were older you realized that marrying Frederick had been your desperate attempt to win back your mother’s love and approval, much more than your marriage had been for any sort of actual love towards your husband.

You’d tried, though.

Frederick was funny and charming and could get along with anyone. He was driven and supportive, and he always made sure that you knew how much you meant to him. You should’ve been able to love him easily and completely.

But you didn’t- You couldn’t when, more often than not, he came home smelling of liquor and another woman.

Sometimes several other women.

It became abundantly clear to you that, as much as you meant to him, you clearly weren’t enough to keep him from straying.

Which is why you found your love for someone like Floyd so….unexpected.

Upon first meeting him you’d hated him, obviously. He was just like Fred, no- he was worse than Fred because at least Frederick made some effort to hide his infidelities from the world.

If anything, Tab flaunted his conquests like a badge of honor. It made your skin crawl.

Not that your dislike for him did anything to deter him, of course.

On the contrary, he seemed to take it as a challenge.

It also didn’t seem to matter much that you were married. The ring you wore on the same chain as your dog tags seemed to deter any other potential suitors- and if for some reason that didn’t dissuade any overly-confident troopers, your marksmanship and reputation nipped any nonsense in the bud.

Not Floyd Talbert, though.

It didn’t matter where you two were- Tab made it his personal mission to win you over. He flirted with you on the boat ride to England, in the plane as it soared towards Normandy, in the middle of a gunfight on the way to Eindhoven. Hell, he’d even tried to charm you while recovering from a stab to his gut.

The boy was shameless.

If you had to narrow it down on a timeline, things had become more sincere and less childish in Eindhoven- when you’d gotten mobbed by a group of drunk and curious men who’d wanted to see more of the lone woman sniper of the 506th.

Floyd had appeared from nowhere and helped you wrestle your gun away from one of the idiots who’d attempted to divest you of it. He’d wasted no time in taking his own helmet from his head and placing it onto your own upon realizing that yours had been taken, wrapping a strong arm around your waist and guiding you from the throngs of people while you shook from leftover adrenaline.

He’d kissed you that day after he had been unable to get you to refocus on him and stop you from hyperventilating.

You’d stood stock still for a few seconds, mind scrambling to process the gentle feeling of his lips on yours as well as the fact that you were no longer tossing in the sea of people you’d been lost in moments ago.

When he’d pulled back, you could only gape at him like an idiot.

“W-why did you—?”

Floyd’s rough hands had come up to hold your face, taking a deep breath of his own before replying.

“I, uh…” he had stammered for a moment before shaking his head quickly and clearing his throat. “I was trying to get you to snap out of...just trying to get you back.”

After that, things had progressed pretty quickly.

He’d stopped seeking out any female company other than yours- not that you’d noticed at the time- spending the few nights of freedom he was afforded with you while you would ritually take apart and clean your rifle, talking with you about anything and everything. He had a knack for making you laugh harder than anyone ever had before.

Sometimes you’d talk about serious things, like your families or past loves or the foolish hopes you both had had before the war.

Every so often, he’d ask you about Frederick.

Thinking about Fred made you uncomfortable. Unhappy.

But because Floyd had been so honest with you, you tried to be honest with him as well.

No matter how innocently the questions began, they always ended with Floyd furrowing his brows and saying your name softly enough that you couldn’t help but hesitantly meet his imploring gaze. He’d always ask some variation of the same question:

“Why did you marry him?”

Most nights you didn’t answer. Some nights you were able to deflect the question well enough that eventually you both fell into a different conversation altogether. One night you’d been in a bad mood and snappily asked him an uncomfortable question of your own.

“Why do you have such a hard time keeping it in your pants whenever a pretty girl is around?”

That always shut him up. And, despite the fact that you could feel the upset rolling from Tab in waves, he never left.

That night, you had taken his fist between your hands and uncurled his fingers. You had felt his eyes on you as you purposefully dug your thumbs into his palm to ease the tension you found, eventually turning his hand over so you could carefully trace your fingertips over his war-calloused knuckles.

“That was unkind,” you had whispered, guilt churning your stomach when at the hurt you knew you had caused. His grey-blue eyes were curious as you hesitantly looked up at him, and once you had met his gaze you’d almost lost your train of thought. “I’m sorry, Tab.”

You hadn’t been expecting him to kiss you again, but even as he had you didn’t immediately stop him.

It was only when he had started to pull you closer that you quickly pulled away. Your breathing had become heavy, and while you didn’t let go of his hand you still said his name admonishingly under your breath.

“You shouldn’t do that,” you’d whispered, unable to look at him and electing to look at your feet as you brought your hand up to press your fingertips against your still-tingling lips. “You- you know I’m….you know why I can’t—”

“I know,” Floyd’s voice was low, and despite the fact that you weren’t looking at him you’d been able to see the grimace on his face. “I just….I know. I’m sorry, Y/N”

You’d cleared your throat, pulling your hand away from his and giving him a tight smile.

“No need to apologize. Let’s just forget about it, yeah?”

Without waiting for his response, you’d gone back to the table where you had been working on your gun, desperate for a distraction.

“So, uh, what was it that you were saying about your brother? He’s graduating high school soon?”

Despite Floyd’s willingness to play along, you had been unable to stop thinking about the feeling of his lips on yours. You wondered if this was what happened to Frederick- if this rush of adrenaline after doing something you shouldn’t was what he was chasing each time he went home with someone else.

You’d never known guilt could be so heady. In that moment, you’d started to realize just how dangerous this friendship with Tab could be.

But even then, you’d also had a sinking feeling that you weren’t going to be able to give him up, That you were no better than Frederick.

Taking your oiled rag back into your hands, you’d scrubbed the metal o-ring of your piston and tried not to think too hard about what this revelation said about you.

It had been during a 48-hour pass that he’d asked the question about Fred for the very last time, after you’d each finished a bottle of sweet French wine while sitting on the floor between two beds of the hotel room.

That night, you’d given him a sad smile and gestured half-heartedly with your canteen as you brought it to your lips.

“Because I thought it was what I was supposed to do. Because…. I didn't think I was allowed to say no.”

He’d stared at you sadly, clenching his jaw a few times before clearing his throat and letting his head loll back to rest against the side of the bed.

“Ask me again.”

You’d frowned at him, confused as to what he was asking you to say. Your silence must’ve given away your lack of understanding, because he laughed humorlessly before closing his eyes.

“

Ask me why I can’t keep it in my pants….'round pretty girls….”

“Oh-kay…?” you’d said slowly, leaning back and stretching your legs out in front of you. “Why can’t you keep it in your pants?”

With a bit more effort than it probably should’ve taken, Tab twisted his body so the back of his head was resting in your lap, the strands of his hair ticking the skin of your thighs where your sleep shorts had bunched up.

“Same fuckin’ reasons.”

In the dim light of the hotel room, you’d been the one to kiss him, your lips trembling with heartbreak on his behalf and complex (if not unbidden) emotion. Floyd sat up so you weren’t having to hunch your body over to reach him, carefully wrapping an arm around your waist as he shifted your bodies so neither of you had to strain to reach the other. Despite Floyd being Floyd- he didn’t kiss you greedily, the plush of his mouth soft as it followed your gentle rhythm without any sign of wanting more than you were willing to give.

Once he’d realized that you had begun to cry, Tab broke the kiss carefully, and he had reached a gentle hand up to brush your tears away, a sad smile crossing his face.

“Now, isn’t that a sight?” he’d whispered. “Never had a girl cry for me before. Don’t think I like it much…’specially when that girl’s you.”

He’d allowed you to cry for him, allowed you to cry for yourself and all of the hurt and pain you’d been holding inside of your chest for what felt like decades. You didn’t remember falling asleep, but when you had woken up the next morning you felt his fingers combing through your clean hair as you both lay sprawled out together on the floor. At some point, one or both of you had pulled the bedding from the bed’s mattresses and tangled yourselves in the soft fabric.

“Is it bad that I wish I’d met you first?” Floyd had asked, his voice a warm rumble as you rested your head on his chest.

“Yeah,” you’d admitted, scratching your nails lightly across his shirt-covered stomach. “But I’m much worse for agreeing with you.”

As he turned his body so he was leaning over you, his hand came up to rest on your collarbone while his eyes danced across your face.

“You’re beautiful….too beautiful to be ruined by someone like me, I think.”

You’d frowned, bringing one of your hands up to trace his mouth with your fingertips.

“Oh, Floyd- you can’t ruin what was already spoiled.”

Tab then lowered himself so his nose brushed against yours, his lips brushing yours as he spoke.

“Can’t I?”

Even thinking about it now broke your heart.

Now, nearly two years after the war had ended.

Now, living in the house you’d once shared with Frederick.

Now, as you lay in bed and watched Floyd brush his teeth in the bathroom of the home you shared.

Fred had last written to you five months ago, telling you that he was probably going to be in Japan for at least another six months before he could even apply to come back to the states.

Despite the fact that he claimed his senior ranking in the Navy and his responsibilities to oversee prisoner exchanges were the ‘sole reason for his prolonged absence, you knew that it was probably more a case of him not wanting to return to a life of expected monogamy that kept him away.

Not that you minded one bit.

Not when you had Floyd.

You hadn’t expected him to want to stay with you, in the literal sense or in the more metaphorical sense of commitment, yet he’d barely let you finish your offer before he agreed emphatically.

If you were truly being honest with yourself, you hadn’t imagined that he’d even want to stay after you’d slept with him the first time, shortly after returning to the states.

But he had. He had stayed.

You’re ripped from your thoughts when you realize that the sound of Floyd brushing his teeth has stopped, and when you shook yourself from your trance you realized that he had caught you staring at him. Judging by the smug look on his face, he’d finished getting ready for bed a while ago, and when you begin to blush he crosses his arms across his chest and leans against the doorframe.

“You know, ma’am,” he smirks as you clear your throat and pick at your nails embarrassedly. “It’s not wise to stare at a man like that unless you’re willing to face the consequences….”

You snort a laugh despite yourself, furrowing your brows and looking back to him with a dumb grin on your face. “Oh yeah? And what consequences would those be, Sir?”

His eyes darken with a flash, having made it very clear long ago how much he liked it when you called him that. You cannot help but smirk at his clear shift in arousal.

He pinches his bottom lip as he considers you- something that you couldn’t deny made your heart race with dark promise. Wetting your own lips, you lean back onto your elbows and watch him watch you.

Quirking his brow, he tilts his head and pushes himself from the doorframe to stalk to the foot of the bed and brace his arms against the mattress so he’s nearly leering at you.

“Oh Lovely, I think I’m gonna have to show rather than tell.”

~Smut interlude, doodiLEEdedoo~

You shook your head in amusement, a smile breaking across your lips as he crawled his way up your body- his softening hands smoothing your silky nightgown up your thighs and stomach as he did so. A low, pleased curse rumbled low in his throat at your lack of underwear, smiling against your skin as he ducked down to kiss your hips and soft stomach while completing his journey.

“I knew it was only a matter of time before I convinced you to stop wearing underwear to bed,” he says warmly, encouraging your thighs over his own while he kneels between your legs.

You can’t help but scoff at the wording of his observation.

“Yeah, if that’s what you’re calling ruining all of my expensive undergarments with your impatience, then yes Floyd, you’ve thoroughly convinced me to forgo underwear.”

With an easy familiarity, Tab slips his hands under your nightdress and ghosts his blunt fingernails over the swell of your breasts, smirking at the goosebumps his touch elicits across your bare skin.

You lift your shoulders off of the bed enough to bring the bunched-up nightdress up and over your head before tossing it somewhere on the floor beside you, allowing your eyes to drift shut as he bows his head to kiss at your nipples in near-reverence. His hands map the rest of your body in a cycle that only he can predict, the sound of his skin brushing against yours paired with the warmth of his palms and mouth relaxing you in a way that no hot bath or soft bed ever could.

Floyd groans as you rake your fingers through his hair, allowing you to guide his face up to yours for a slow, imploring kiss before one of his hands slips in between your legs and massages at the lips of your sex.

“Was I taking too long, Sweetheart?” he asks against your lips, his voice growing rough with need. “How long have you been this wet?”

You don’t answer, choosing rather to roll your hips into his touch. Your breath catches in your throat at the first swirl of his middle finger over your clit, something that he does again with a smug hum against your lips.

“Don’t worry, Y/N,” he reassures you as he wets his cock with your arousal. “I’ll take care of it. I’ll make it all better.”

Whoever said that slow sex couldn’t also be filthy had clearly never met Floyd Talbert.

By the time he’s flipping you onto your stomach, you’ve been brought to the teetering precipice of release three times- his mouth and fingers and cock working you up while he kissed the sweetest admonishments into your skin. Tab called you needy, cockhungry, and wicked- all while kissing across your skin with such a sweet contrast to his words that it made your head spin.

When he finally, finally pulls your hips up and begins to piston into you, you’re already so delirious for him that you are pleading for him to let you cum- something that only serves to make him grip your hips harder and groan in anticipation.

“Dirty girl,” he grits out as he bends enough that his forehead can rest between your bunched shoulder blades, the line between admonishment and praise blurring headily as you feel that familiar flutter building in your lower belly. “Are you going to come for me? Can feel you shaking for me like a good little whore….”

You barely have to ask for more before he grips your sex possessively with one of his hands, your orgasm tearing through you and stealing your breath as well as your capabilities for speech.

Floyd, whose curse is drowned out by the rush of blood to your ears, follows you quickly over the edge- grinding out as much of his own release as he can in between your legs before collapsing atop you.

Almost as an afterthought, Tab slips himself from your body, rolling to lay beside you as you both come down from your highs.

“So good,” you’re barely aware of him panting out. “You’re so fucking good, Y/N….”

You blindly reach out to drape your arm across his waist, incapable of returning the praise just yet.

He knows, though. You know he does by the way he sighs happily beside you.

~End of smut interlude, doodiLEEdedoo~

“Y/N?”

You look down your body to where Floyd's head rests in the valley between your ribs, your fingers having been lazily combing through his overgrown hair for the past twenty minutes.

“Hm?” you reply, your other hand snapping out to grab one of the pillows near the top of the bed and folding it beneath your head so you can watch him.

Turning his head to press a kiss on your skin, he looks up at you lazily. When you smile down at him, he returns with a content grin of his own.

“Can I ask you something?”

Raising an eyebrow, you narrow your eyes teasingly. “I don’t know, Floyd….can you?”

You nearly shriek when his fingers dig into your sides, rolling your lips together in an attempt to quiet your laughter as Floyd bestows biting kisses up your sternum while you wriggle beneath him.

“You’re such a brat sometimes,” he grumbles as he takes your face in his hands, unable to keep the smirk from his lips. “Lucky for you that you’re a good lay….”

Rolling your eyes, you nod your chin at him.

“Just ask me already, you jerk.”

His wicked expression softens, eyes scanning your face as you look up at him. The beginnings of a knot start to twist in your stomach, feeling the first drops of anxiety begin to stain your blood.

“Floyd…..what’s wrong?” you ask, not liking the way he suddenly electing to look at your mouth rather than into your eyes. “Is everything—?”

“Would you ever marry me?”

Your eyes widen at that. That had certainly not been what you were expecting him to ask you.

Taking in a deep breath, you consider his words for a bit before answering immediately.

It wasn’t that you didn’t love him, because you did. No, what gave you pause was all that marrying him would entail- the greatest obstacle being that you were already married, and unless more things had changed in post-war America than you realized, polyandry was still illegal. Not to mention the fact that, upon marrying Fred, anything you had once been able to call your own was now- at least legally speaking- his.

You didn’t even have any right to the house you and Floyd had been living in. It, along with everything inside of it including you, was Frederick’s in both name and law.

And that was what scared you the most- the idea that, should you divorce Fred, you’d be penniless. Homeless. Destitute. You would have nothing.

But, as you looked into the blue eyes of the man you loved more than anything in this world, you realized that you wouldn’t mind any of that at all.

Because you’d have Floyd Talbert.

With a heavy sigh, you sit up so he doesn’t have to lean over you any more- taking his face in your hands and giving him a smile.

“I’d have nothing to offer you, you know.” You grin a little wider at the confusion on his face, brushing your fingertips over his bottom lip as you continued. “No savings or car or house for you to come home to at the end of a long day?”

As the wrinkle in his brow smooths, you know that he knows what you’re really asking him. Bringing his own hand up to mess with the ends of your loose hair, he pouts for a moment.

“Hmm, that’s a tough call, Y/N,” he says with a faux seriousness, tilting his head consideringly and narrowing his eyes at you. “I really like this bed frame—”

You nod, biting the insides of your cheeks to keep from laughing. “It’s a nice bed frame-”

“And the mattress? Best thing I’ve ever slept on.”

“I’m sure. All that built-in lumbar support cost a pretty penny, too.”

Smirking openly now, Tab brushes his nose against yours. “Still not the best thing in the house, though. I’ve gotta say, the pretty girl who lives in it takes the cake in that regard.”

Cupping your hands around the back of his neck, you pull him in for a deep kiss, the both of you almost clicking your teeth together several times because of the stupid smiles on your faces. When you pull back, you peck a quick kiss on the tip of his nose before sitting back enough to look him full in the face.

“If I could, I’d have married you already.”

The smile he gives you is nothing short of breathtaking.

“Yeah?” he presses, biting his bottom lip like an excited kid.

“Yeah, Floyd. I really would.”

“Good,” he says simply, carefully slipping from your grip enough to shift back down so he’s resting his head on your stomach. “Maybe I’ll ask you one of these days.”

Looking down at him fondly, you let yourself lay back so you can grin up at the ceiling.

“Who knows, Floyd Talbert,” you say quietly, heart feeling so full it could burst. “Maybe I’ll even say yes.”

“Good.” he grumbles.

“Good.” you agree.

~ ~ ~

(HELLO YIKES AND SORRY MY DUDES I’M PMSING AND DEEP IN MY FEELS BUT THANKS FOR SOLDIERING THROUGH THIS PILE OF YUCK!)

Taglist: @mrseasycompany @itswormtrain @mrsalwayswrite @happyveday @sunsetmando @ricksmorty @liebgotttme

#band of brothers imagines #band of brothers x reader #floyd talbert x reader #floyd talbert imagines #problematicfavesareproblematic

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johnismyreason · 4 years ago

Text

Hell on Earth (TWO) // KOH!TOMHOLLAND X HUMAN!READER

Summary: Tom, Prince of Hell and only heir to the throne, is sent to Earth by his parents as a punishment. He ends up in an odd city full of the worst humans, except one, who, despite not knowing who he truly is, decides to help him.

Note: Well, well, well... It’s been a while. I’m sorry but a lot of things happen and honestly I wasn’t in the mood to write anything. Anyways, I hope I didn’t loose everyone was reading the first part of this Koh!Tom series. Let me know what you thought and if you have ideas for next chapters. And send me an ask to be added to the taglist :) Love you !

words: 2.3k

Warnings: panic attack, cursing, fluff-ish?, bad english bc im french

First part

Tom was so nervous. How the hell was he going to tell you where he is from. He doesn’t have much time to think about it, since you seat in front of him. “Here you go” you said, placing the tuna sandwich and a cup of coffee before his hands. Seating down, you create a slight draft, giving Tom the chance to breath your smell. Honey and apple. Not too sugary, not too strong but present enough to be under your spell for a spilt second.

“Thank you” Tom said taking a bite in the sandwich. The taste of tuna on his tongue repulses him but he fakes a smile “’S really good” he lied his mouth full, before swallowing with a hard gulp.

“I’m glad you like it” you smile back laying down a bit, your elbow on the table and your hand in a fist holding your chin. “So... what’s going on, Tom ?” the sound of his name on your lips makes it hard for him to concentrate. It almost sounds like a prayer or a blessing, instead of the curse he always heard when his father called him.

“Right,” closing his eyes and shaking his head, Tom tried to regain his composure “Um, here’s the thing. I don’t have anywhere to go. My parents kind of kicked me out” You blinked a few times trying to process what he just said. You’re surprised and shocked, you didn’t expect that at all.

“What ? W-why ?” you let your hand that was supporting your head, fall on the table, a few inches from his.

“Uh...” now is the tricky part. Tom has to think fast but coherent. "I was not the best son” he confessed. By the confused look on your face, the prince of Hell understood that it wasn’t enough of an explanation “I- uh. I didn’t take my responsibilities seriously and partied too much. So I fucked up everything.” Tom felt shame thinking about the look on his parents’ faces before being banned. “Basically, if I want to come back home, I have to change. Like, everything about me must be changed” Tom let his head fall forward, to avoid your gaze.

His head snapped back up when he felt your reassuring hand on his wrist, the veins of his heart loosened at the sight of your compassionate smile.

“I’m sure not everything is good to put in the bin” you said softly.

“How would you know ?” Tom almost whispered. “You don’t know me”

“I can see it. The good.” you replied pointing at his heart. “You’re just lost. You’ve done some mistakes, what about it ? A few of them doesn’t make you a bad person. We're not perfect. We’re just humans after all.”

“I’m not-” Tom cut himself from dropping his secret. But it hit him. We’re all humans. He’s human now. The loss of his powers, the bangs in his head after drinking the whole night away,... His parents made him human. Suddenly, Tom feels a rush of panic invading him. He starts looking around nervously, his palms become clammy and his madness takes control. Fuck, is what being human feels like ? Feeling weak and pathetic ? Succumbing to the unreasonable and to our every perfidious feelings ?

“Tom ?” you brung him back, your eyebrows furrowed. “Is everything ok ?”

The young boy’s wide opened eyes stare at you, scrutinising every detail of your face. Every stain, every barely formed line and indentation, every curve. Everything and anything that makes you... human.

“No.” he blurbed out, by freeing himself from your hand, which until now had reassured him but now made him feel like a prisoner. “I gotta go...” and with that, Tom stood up abruptly and left the coffee shop.

“Tom wait !” you tried to stop him, but he’s fast.

Tom sets off into the city, looking for a way home at all costs, even though he knows it's impossible. He bumps into things and people who then insult him for not paying attention without apologizing. He wants to cross the street and run away. He gets off the pavement and takes two steps when a van runs into him. Surprised, Tom holds still until a hand grabs his arm and pulls him back, causing him to fall with the person who saved him. It was you. Is she always going to save my life like that ?

Lying next to each other and trying to come to your senses, your breasts rise and fall in rhythm with your twin breaths. You turn your head towards him, the asphalt slightly scratching your scalp. His face is still tense but it hasn't changed. He is still beautiful, elegant, almost mischievous. His curls fall backwards against the ground and you notice the touch of red in his reflections. My God, how beautiful he is.

“Do you often have panic attacks ?” Tom's face gradually relaxes at the sound of your voice. But what frees him from the anxiety monster inside of him, is your laughter. Your sweet giggle. He almost killed you both, but you're laughing. Lying on the floor in the filthy street next to him.

“I’m so sorry...”

“Don’t be” you replied getting up. You then hold your hand for him to take it. “Come on, let’s go home” you smiled, putting the almost tragic incident that just happened behind you. Tom takes your hand and pushes himself off the ground with your help.

“Home ?” he asked confused without letting your hand go.

“Yeah, I mean at my place. You’re going to live there until you... um... change.” you pressed your lips in a tight but friendly smile accompanied by a small puff. That’s when he doesn’t understand anymore.

“Why are you doing this for me ?” he asks sinking in the back of his chair. “You don’t know me, I could be a sociopath !” or the prince of Hell.

“Well, First of all I don’t think that sociopaths know they are socipaths. And when they do, I also don’t think it’s something they want to scream everywhere.” you replied standing in front of him, your fists of your hips. “And two: It’s you who came to my shop and ask for my help. And it’s not like you have somewhere to crash, don’t you ?” you titled your head to the side as if you were playfully challenging him. Tom grinned a little, trying to hide his hint of embarrassment “But if you prefer, we can always find you a piece of cardboard that we will set you up in a not too badly famed alleyway, you'll love it, it’s-”

“Ok, alright you won !” Tom cut you placing his palms in defeat. “Hell, are you always like that ?” he chuckled. You just smiled cheekily and shrugged your shoulders. You took his arm and started walking.

You didn’t live far from the bakery, only 10 minutes walking, which was very pratical since, before going to the bakery, you followed classes at university and had to go change at your place before going to work. You led Tom to your appartment. The building was far from the ivory towers in which Tom had grown up. Yours was much more dilapidated, with a cold cigarette smell in the stairwell that you asked him not to pay attention to. Ms. McDougall had never learned good manners, and enjoyed smoking in the small lobby.

After going up the three floors without a lift, of course, you stop in front of the door of your flat to open it. “I wasn’t expecting someone today, so please forgive me for the old tea cups in the kitchen... and the living. And probably in the bathroom.”

“The bathroom ?” repeated Tom.

“Yeah. Don’t ask. I don’t have any excuse” you chuckled finding your keays at the bottom of your bag. “Ok. Here you go !” you invited him in with your arm extended so he can enter first. Tom thanked you before walking in, discovering your small but cozy place.

There was a main room which served as kitchen, dining room and living room. The black sofa in front of the television looked comfortable and could be folded out to make a bed. There was also a coffee table with books for the university, the remote control, chocolates, a cherry blossom scented candle and two mugs. A garland of light framed the window overlooking the street. The neighbourhood was not pretty, but at least it was quiet. Just like the flat which was very cozy. Tom already felt good there.

You took off your jacket and your bag and started to tidy up the room quickly. Tom looked at you with an amused smile. He looked how a few strands of hair fell on your face as you pick up the mugs out of the table and put them in the sink; and how your hands worked quickly to collect your books.

“What do you study ?” Tom asked pointing to your books that you held close to your chest.

“I am studying to become a nurse” you responded with a soft smile. “My finals are in three weeks.”

“Oh, that’s a noble job” said Tom, immediatly regreting sounding condescendin. “I mean, it’s a great one ! Better than selling sandwiches and croissants.” When he saw your lips thightening and your eyes squinting, he held his hands in front of you, trying to catch back his mistake “No, I mean, working in a bakery is great, it’s just... being a nurse is better for you !”

“How would you know what’s better for me ?” you teased. Tom felt his palms sweating and his cheeks redenning. You got him.

Why does he react like that ? He was prince of Hell, and soon - hopefully - king, for fuck’s sake ! He’s used to people being affraid of him and his powers. Used to spill his venom on any creature, human or not, using harsh, insulting and degrading names, without the shadow of an ounce of embarrassment. That's what he did. To be the cursed prince of Hell. The beloved child of death and eternal torture.

But with you it’s different. You are different. He feels deeply in his soul, that he would never use these words on you. You had a force on him that he couldn’t explain.

“I-I... I don’t, yeah you’re right. Sorry, I didn’t want to-” he stopped when he heard your light giggle.

“Tom, I was joking. I understood what you meant, I just wanted to mess you with. Selling sandwiches is great but it isn’t my professional perspective. Sorry for making you uncomfortable, that was dumb.”

“No, no, no ! It’s fine. It’s just a joke.” he puffed. What ?! In Hell, he would have sent the fool who dared messing up with him, in the worst session of torture of his entire eternity.

You smiled to him before heading to your bedroom, throwing your books on your bed. You came back with a blanket and a very soft looking pillow. You then walked to the bathroom with a new toothbrush and clean towel.

“My brother lived here for a while a couple of years ago and left clothes. You can take whatever you want, he’s not gonna come back.”

“Where is he now ?” you felt a hiver running through your body at the thought of him.

“I don’t know. Aaron never felt like he belongged in this society, that he had nothing to bring to the community. So he wanted to join the army. They know how to talk to kids who feel like him. Telling them that their lives will save thousands of others. I told him it would be the biggest mistake of his life, that he’s smart and talented but he didn’t want to hear anything. So he left one day, and I never saw him again.” It was the first time you talked about your brother in two years. You felt tears threatening to fall. “I don’t even know if he’s still alive.” you choked on the last word, unable to bear the very idea that he may no longer be of this world.

Tom looked at you not knowing what to do. He tried to remember an Aaron who would have gone to hell. The Prince has the ability to know all the deaths that fall and the division of souls between heaven and hell. This means that he knows every name, story and sin that enters his kingdom. Unfortunately, without his powers on Earth, he cannot know whether his brother is alive or not.

“Y/N, I’m sorry,” he murmured before clearing his throat. “I’m sure he’ll come back one day.” You raised your head with a heart-rending smile, trying hard to hide your pain.

“He’s in the past now. Let’s talk about something else.” You entered the kitchen, looking for something to eat, but you forgot to go to the grocery store today. Well, you didn’t really forgot, your plans just... changed a bit. “Um... I have nothing in my fridge and clearly I don’t want to grocery shopping right now, so is chinese take away is fine with you ?”

“Perfect !” He never ate chinese food.

“Great ! I’ll just call my favorite place after taking a shower” you said walking backwards to your bathroom.

When Tom heard the water running, he fell on the couch dramtically. His legs spread and his right hand on his forhand he stared into the void, trying to process what happened those two last days. Him being banned from Hell for an indefinite period almost dead two times on the road, loosing his powers, and ending up living in an girl’s appartment. Tom sighed loudly, wondering how all of this could happen to the fucking prince of Hell.

And now what ?

________________________________________________________________

taglist: @theamuz @shayminisshiny @lovewolfspirit @mybabyboytony @justamessandahalf @kenzieee000 @maybemona @bailey8211 @smallheathgangsters @skymoonandstardust @fangirlfree @geesquariid @tcf1 @mycomealongpond11 @osterfieldnholland @seutarose @sailingintothenight @peterbparkerth @hollanddolanfangirl

send me an ask to be added to the taglist :)

#tom holland #tom holland imagine #tom holland x reader #tom holland au #tom holland x y/n #tom holland fluff #koh!tom #koh!tom x reader #spiderman #peter parker #Peter Parker Imagine #mcufam #mcu imagine #koh!tomholland

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peachyteabuck · 5 years ago

Text

nothing ever lasts forever ~ act iii, “if we ruled the world”

summary: a sort-of non-avengers au where everyone has their powers and absolutely no one is in a highly powerful mob (or, at least, that’s what the feds think).

or, a commission in three parts for anonymous, who asked for a series about wanda x natasha x reader.

pairing: wanda maximoff x natasha romanoff x reader

words: 3,501

trigger warnings: switch!nat, sub!wanda, dom!reader, strap ons, degradation, bratty wanda, brat taming

ask box / masterlist / commission info / ko-fi

READ ACT I, ACT II

Wanda gets the text that night, just as you’ve fallen asleep and Wanda was about to follow suit. Your light snores fill the room, Wanda listens for them as her too-bright phone screen burns her eyes.

Office. Tomorrow morning. 10.

And then a knife emoji. Sharp. Natasha Romanoff does not tolerate a lot of things, including tardiness.

Wanda goes to bed afraid and wakes up even worse – the churning in her gut only intensifying as she walked up the concrete path that lead into Natasha’s house. She’s never been more terrified in her life. Is she about to be fired? Are you dead? Is she dead? Is Wanda a ghost? Has Natasha been convincing Wanda that she’s been alive this whole time and now it’s time to break the façade and have Wanda move onto the ghost realm?

Being called into Natasha’s office and being asked to sit in the center chair is nothing short of demoralizing, intimidating. She’s seen it happen before, clients or employees Natasha has to deliver terrible news to – they never take it well, always crying and sobbing and wailing. They always have to be carried away by the guards stationed outside Natasha’s office and into their cars.

Will that have to happen to her? Will two giant-ass dudes have to carry her outside so she can have an emotional breakdown on the impeccably well-kept grass? What if someone sees her having said emotional breakdown on the impeccably well-kept grass? What if Wanda Maximoff gets caught by the many institutions of which she is running and hiding from?

The chair has a heavy dent in it from the other shameful citizens (and non-citizens, and those not defined as people) of whom have sat in the chair before her. Natasha doesn’t meet Wanda’s gaze, keeping her eyes focused on the bare desk in front of her.

Both of them can barely breathe, each having an equally silent crisis. Neither speaks until the door has been long shut, the sounds outside the room blocked out by the heavy doors.

“I once had sex with your girlfriend,” Natasha says, so quick the words mesh into one.

Wanda shakes her head, running her hands through her hair. “What the fuck are you talking about?”

Natasha exhales deeply, clenching her eyes shut before speaking again. “I had sex with your girlfriend.”

Wanda eyes go wide with sadness – worried her worst nightmare is true. “She…you…she chea-“

Natasha holds out her hands, only now realizing her mistake in phrasing. “NO! No! Absolutely not. No, that’s not what happened. That’s not…No, Wanda, she didn’t cheat on you with me, that’s not what I’m saying.”

Wanda – still wringing her hands – breathes deeply. “Then what…what…”

Natasha sighs, trying to find the right words. “Do you remember when Bucky got hurt? Like, when his arm got,” she wiggles the same arm Bucky lost in the accident – the one Natasha inadvertently caused.

Wanda looks confused but answers anyway. “Yeah, like a year ago.”

“I got, I got super drunk that night. And it was, uh, the woman is now your girlfriend, she uh…she helped me that night – she uh, she got me back to her apartment. Made sure I slept and didn’t die choking on my own vomit. And took care of me the next morning…” Natasha sighs, worried about what she’s going to say. “The next morning, we had sex.” Natasha whispers the last sentence sadly, wringing her hands. “We haven’t talked since.”

Wanda, stunned, says nothing. Each time she believes she’s found the words they fail to capture the whirlwind of emotions and thoughts flashing in front of her eyes. Blood pounds in her ears and her hands shake and her heart pounds – nevertheless, the two of them continue to converse even as Wanda’s eyes water. Everything’s a blur – the only clarity when Wanda thumps her way up the several flight of stairs that lead into her, your apartment.

She opens the door hastily, hands shaking near-violently as she finds the right key and turns it in the lock. If this were any other day, she’d step in as quietly as possible – try to be a voyeur in her own home to try and catch even a second of you cooking peacefully. You’re in one of her shirts, a large one that hits your thighs and rides up when you bent down or stand on your tip-toes or bend forward over a pot.

Whatever you’re cooking smells delicious, enough to distract from the matter at hand – to stop Wanda in her tracks as thick spices and hearty herbs fills her nostrils.

Still, it only allows her a few seconds of peace before she’s stepping into the kitchen, fists clenched at her sides and breathing quick and shallow. The wrath, the dread, it blinds and deafens her – the only thing Wanda hears being the only words she could hope would leave your lips.

“I mean, I know what you did, what you do. You’ve told me enough I just…” you sigh. “I had no idea. I like, sort of knew what Nat did. I just didn’t have any idea that you two knew each other. Or that she, uh, was your boss.”

Wanda looks as if she’s about to cry, her chest heaving. “Are you sure?”

You nod, moving toward her but not touching her. “Wanda, I’d tell you if I fucked your boss the second I would’ve found out – but, babe,” you try to calm your beating heart by digging your nails into your palms. It doesn’t work. “Even if I knew, you have to understand. This was over a year ago, I haven’t seen her since, and I love you. We’ve built a home together. Me having sex with her doesn’t change that.”

There’s silence, then, the thick kind that comes from a fight without resolve. You’re worried she’ll storm out, only to return when she decides – or, worse, tell you to pack your things and leave. Wanda does neither of those things, though, instead silently moving to the stir the pot before tasting at the wooden spoon.

You know everything will be fine when she makes a comment about needing more salt – the special kind you bought a long while ago from the farmer’s market that somehow hadn’t run out. Your mother once told you that the kitchen could end all disagreements, all squabbles and verbal throwdowns. You never really believed you until now, as you both silently cook, and then eat, and then clean up together.

Not a word is exchanged until you’re both in bed, you curled around her on your side as she lays flat on her back. It’s then, after the sun has long set and the last scents of food had gone up though the vents, that one of you speaks.

Wanda swallows, mumbling something that, whether or not is her intention, only she can hear. “Natasha says she wants to see you.”

Your eyes narrow, brows furrowed as you pick up your head to look at her. “What?”

Wanda doesn’t meet your gaze as she speaks. “I talked to Natasha this morning about it. About you. That’s why, uh. I came home like that. It’s not that I don’t trust you, I just…wanted to talk about it…”

You nudge closer to her as she trails off, trying to reassure her. “It’s okay, babe, you don’t have…I trust you. It’s okay.”

Wanda nods before continuing. “She and I were talking, and she asked to see you after. Wanted my permission, though. Wanted to make sure I was okay with it.”

“Are you?” you whisper as your heart rate picks back up – though, this time, for a much different reason.urus

She nods. “I mean, I’m not some overprotective Dad on prom night – I’m never gonna stop you from seeing someone. Told her it was up to you.”

You exhale deeply, still silent. It takes a long while for you to say anything, and even then it doesn’t do much to dissolve the thick tension in the room. “I do want to see her again,” Wanda clears her throat but you continue speaking before she can begin. “But I want you there, too.”

That’s how, two weeks later, you find yourself intoxicated in a way you can’t describe, standing next to your bed as both women kneel before you.

You’re not drunk. Drunk is too extreme. Drunk makes you seem rash, impulsive – like you don’t know what you’re doing, why you’re doing it. Makes it seems like you don’t want to remember this, want to be able to blame all

You’re not drunk, you’re bold. You’re two sips into some old-as-balls bourbon you got when you graduated college – gifted to you by a professor who thought it meant he’d let you get into his pants. Fool. You’re a woman with fire resting on your skin and the world teetering at your fingertips. You control everything. And today, “everything” is defined as two of the most beautiful women you’ve ever seen on their knees in front you.

It’s natural, wonderful – the feeling of looking down at them with their big eyes and hair pulled back into French braids and dark collars on their milky skin. Neither of them has leashes – yet…but judging by the glint in Natasha’s eyes and the smirk playing at her lips that you’ll need to get it from its resting place on her desk very soon.

“I think this is the stuff dreams are made of,” you say to no one and both of them. “Two sluts at my feet for me to use. Two perfect little toys at my disposable. I wonder what I should have you do first…”

At the foot of the best is a loveseat, draped upon the loveseat is a towel covered in sex toys – placed carefully with even amounts of space between them. A few empty spots mark where toys used to be – most notably the collars and the baby pink butt plug Wanda’s wearing.

It’s the double-ended dildo that ends up catching your eye. It’s half baby blue and half black, mixing in the middle; thick, long, girthy. Wanda bought it for you awhile back – a gift after she had to leave for a last-minute business trip with little explanation but a lot of apology. You didn’t mind, her explanation for her job had been quite believable and you did not worry. Still, you didn’t refuse the gifts she showered you with when she got back eight days later.

You smile at the memory, but also from the anticipation. You turn back to the two women on the floor, snapping in each of their faces before pointing to opposite walls. Despite this, they wait for your verbal command before moving a muscle.

Such good girls, the both of them.

“Now,” you tell them calmly. Obediently and without hesitation, they do as they’re told. It’s then that you can admire their matching lingerie sets. They were expensive (you hesitate to spend that much on rent, let alone four pieces of skimpy, see-through fabric), you can’t deny it. But the crotchless panties, framing each of their wet pussies perfectly? The matching bras are just as frilly as the panties and the deep maroon contrasts both of their pale skin tones. Intricate lace is almost, almost distracting from their pert nipples and skin you want to bite and bruise and mark. “Face opposite walls so I can watch you fuck yourself properly.”

They’re both so beautiful, so desperate. Through the chorus of their moans and whimpers you can hear their wet cunts fucking back on the thick double-ended dildo.

Wanda, as usual, is already making those noises that mean she’s about to come – her hips making tighter movements and wide eyes screwed shut.

“Aw, does my baby wanna come?” you coo, moving the sweaty hair away from her reddened face.

Wanda whines high in her throat, fucking back on the dildo with vigor. “Yes, yes yes please lemme come I wanna come Mommy please!”

Natasha, the quieter of the two, nods furiously as her face scrunches up in concentration. Her moans are low and breathy, hips driving backwards in target hits against Wanda.

Part of you wants to deny them, watch them with cry and choke on their own tears as they focus on following orders, on being good, on not coming. Another part of you wants to watch them fall apart, watch their thighs shake and legs give out and blissful faces find their way long their faces and listen to them moan and cry and thank you with hushed, raspy voices.

It doesn’t take much deliberating for the latter side of you to win out – to give them permission and instruct them to rub their clits as you take another sip of alcohol. Small sparks dance along Wanda’s fingers as they move over her pussy, control over her powers ceding to that over her pleasure. Some of the small swirls of red-orange-yellow-blue seem to dance between their bodies, affecting Natasha as well, who cries out an especially pained noise as each spark touches and subsequently dissipates against her skin. The thrusts of their hips become even more erratic as the waves of their orgasms come crashing down on them, their breathing only steadying as you began to speak once more.

“Natasha,” you snap once in her direction, waiting for her body to jerk as a signal she’s paying attention. “Get atop Wanda…” you pause, then laugh. “I mean, straddle her to keep her hips pined to the ground.”

Wanda, normally incredibly mousy, seems to be drinking from the same fire-filled cup you’ve been sipping.

“Yeah, as if Natasha could top anybody,” she snorts. You and Natasha both snap your heads towards her, yours crooking to the side.

“You want to say that again?” you more command than ask.

Wanda, voice back to usual smallness, swallows loudly. “Uh, I, uh. I said. I said Natasha,” she coughs, tries to save herself. It doesn’t work. “I said, ‘as if Natasha could dom anybody,’ Mommy.”

Silence – a heavy one – falls over the room. You turn around, slowly, meeting Wanda’s eyes first and then Natasha’s. The latter woman looks to you for permission.

With one, small nod, she stands and looms over the other woman.

“You’re going to regret that,” you say – mostly to yourself. The wicked smile, though, is for the both of them.

“Do you want to test me?” Natasha hisses. She loops her forefinger in the stainless-steel O-ring and jerks Wanda forward so their lips are barely touching. Wanda takes it as an invitation, but pouts as Natasha pulls away. “You think you’re getting anything but a punishment after what you pulled?”

Wanda’s large eyes drain of mischief with every passing second that she studies the woman in front of her – realizing her mistake. It’s not long until she’s looking at her for assistance from you, her pleading eyes and cat-like features so cute you almost give in to her silent prayers.

Keyword: almost.

“Answer your Daddy,” you say plainly. You press your thighs together, desperate for friction but not wanting to give in just yet.

“N-no,” Wanda stutters. “No, Daddy.”

Natasha pulls at Wanda’s collar once more, hissing through her teeth. “I’ll give you one more chance to correct yourself.”

You can practically hear Wanda’s petrified gulp and you relish the fear in her wide eyes. “No, Daddy. I understand I deserve a punishment.”

“Good,” she says, letting the collar go. “now go lay on the bed.”

Wanda does as she’s told – resting her head in your lap. It gives you the perfect view of her face as she prepares to get fucked out of her mind.

Natasha grabs the fake cock and harness from the toy collection and pulls it on easily, the jingling of the individual straps like music to her hears. You pet at her hair, cupping her chin and cooing down at her.

“You gonna be a good girl for Daddy?” you ask.

She nods, lip pulled between her teeth. “Yes, Mommy.”

“Are you gonna be a dirty slut for Daddy while Mommy watches?”

“Yes Mommy.”

Natasha’s ready, then, and announces it by backing up against a wall with the fake cock bobbing against her stomach. “Good girl, now come prep Daddy’s cock.”

Wanda moves to stand, but immediately drops to her knees when Natasha glares at her and hisses, “Don’t you dare.”

She crawls across the room, head hung in shame and pussy soaked with anticipation. Wanda only looks up to wrap her lips around the silicon head, one of Natasha’s hands cradling the back of her neck with the other tangled in her hair. “I’m going to have so much fun with you,” you hear Natasha mumble as Wanda gags for the first time. “Can’t wait to make you come over and over, watch you not know whether to beg me to stop or keeping going. You’d like that, wouldn’t you?”

Wanda nods, never breaking eye contact with Natasha.

“You better not be touching yourself, you needy little thing,” you tsk from across the room as your fingers rub at your own clit. “Dirty sluts don’t get to come, do they.”

Wanda does her best to shake her head as Natasha continues to fuck her throat.

Sloppy, wet sounds punctuate Natasha’s words. “You like that, don’t you, baby girl? You like taking this big cock down your throat like this?”

Before Wanda can nod, Natasha’s pulling her head away suddenly, the woman on the floor gasping for air. She barely has time to catch her breath before Natasha’s picking her up and slamming her back against the wall, Wanda’s legs instinctively wrapping around Natasha’s waist.

Wanda moans, loud and unabashed, as Natasha fucks into her. You grab an unused vibrator from the end of the bed and begin to fuck yourself with it, the thrusts of the toy timed with Natasha’s. It’s good – it’s all so good – and your vision begins to cloud around the edges as you and Wanda both come together one, two times.

You’re breathing heavy when Natasha decides Wanda’s had enough, laughing as Wanda’s eyes remain unfocused and her breath comes out in pants.

“Pathetic,” Natasha mumbles just loud enough for you to hear. She lets go of Wanda’s hips, the woman collapsing onto the floor with weak knees. Still, that harsh exterior melts away as Wanda lays there, motionless and covered in a thin sheen of sweat. Natasha crouches down, then sits next to her, face softening. “Aw,” she coos, pulling Wanda into her so that she’s sitting on Natasha’s lap on the floor. “Such a good little girl for me. For us.”

Natasha rocks Wanda back and forth, giving her the occasional kiss to her temple or cheek or wherever else she can reach. You watch them for a minute or two, watch your two favorite people in the whole world mold themselves to each other, oblivious to whatever happened to go on around them. Eventually you go to the bathroom to dampen a cloth with warm water and get a glass of water (or, in this case, a mug you’d been meaning to take back to the kitchen for about a week. It only held water before, anyway, so you don’t feel that bad when you give it to Natasha to hold for your exhausted girlfriend to drink out of).

Wanda whimpers when you wipe down her pussy, flinching away and trapping your hand between her thighs. Before you can comfort her, though, Natasha does.

“Shh libchen,” she coos into her sweaty hairline. “Let Daddy care for you alright?”

Wanda makes a noise high in her throat to signal how much she really doesn’t want the terry cloth against her center, but nonetheless allows Natasha to hold her thighs open as you clean her up. It’s awhile before Wanda full returns to reality – awhile before her breathing goes back to normal, her pupils becoming smaller, her legs not shaking.

“You wanna go to bed or get something to eat?” you ask.

Wanda doesn’t respond, but her droopy eyes and limp body answer the question for you.

“Let’s put her to bed and order food in few hours,” you tell Natasha. “The diner down the street is 24-hour, menu’s on the fridge. One of us can call later.”

Natasha whispers an “okay,” careful not to wake Wanda. She lifts the sleeping woman into the bed you share with her, watching her for a moment before beckoning you over. You oblige, because of course you do. Noiselessly, you and Natasha lay on either side of Wanda, your hands touching ever so lightly as fatigue acts as a fire blanket – putting the previous actions of the night to rest.

You all fall asleep like that, sweaty limbs tangled and chests heaving in sync. In truth, you never could’ve asked for anything better – this, being with the both of them, is bliss. Hopefully, you never have to be without either of them ever again.

#wanda x nat x reader #wanda maximoff x natasha romanoff x reader #wandanat #lukis does commissions #lukis writes stuff

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copias-thrall · 5 years ago

Text

Now What?

Our heroes thought they smoothed out the bumps to What They Were, but as it turns out, being in a relationship means *gulp* intimacy …

(Part 1; Part 2; Interlude 0)

You lean into the mirror—creating your favored doll eye—as the tinny noise of your Bitches Night Out playlist sounds from your phone. You and Mary are going out for some beers at O’Reilly’s since both of you have the night free and nothing to do the next day. Mary sits on the toilet seat going through your makeup bag. Every so often, he takes an item out, opens it, and does a smudge on the back of his hand.

You tsk at yourself when your hand wobbles and you fuck up a line. Mary looks up at you—then his eyes travel down to your derrière. You’re wearing your denim mini over thigh-length lace leggings, and it’s struggling to cover your ample ass, bent over as you are.

*public sex; dirty talk; brief homophobic language; consensual degradation; mentions of past emotional manipulation*

“Eyes up top, mister,” you say as you lick your finger to erase the wiggly bit under your eye. You already had to institute a “no-touching” rule, otherwise the two of you would never make it out of here. Mary loves the feel of you unrestricted though cotton—his band tees, hoodies, loungewear—and on any given night his roving hands are apt to start something. But you dressed up in what he calls your “fancy shit” seems to incite his lust on a very different level—so you wouldn’t put it past his roving eyes to spark something as well.

“You’re so hot when you want to be,” he says

You turn on the faucet to wet your hand, then flick it in Mary’s face. He sputters and ducks before he remembers he doesn’t care. He’s not in his stage cake, but he still wears a light dusting of white face powder and his skull accents. Instead of the blood dripping down his whole face, he has it tipping his forelock.

He grumps at you, but you just cackle. “I swear you’re half cat.”

“Whatever. Are you almost done? We’re gonna miss $5 Buds.”

“Yeah,” you say as you turn your head to-and-fro to assess the symmetry. “Just gotta put my lips on.” You hold out your hand for your makeup bag, but Mary hands you the burgundy tube.

“This one.”

“Mmm, isn’t this a little 90′s?”

His eyes sweep over you again and his hand indicates the NIN’s Downward Spiral shirt you’re wearing that you altered to tie in front.

“Aren’t you a little 90′s?”

“Point.” You take the tube and apply a dab on the center of each lip. Then you smear the color to each side with your finger. Through the mirror, your eyes linger on Mary’s plump lips filled in with a dull red instead of his usual black.

“Fuck, I’d kill for your lips.”

He mashes them together. “Is that why you’re always trying to bite them off?”

It’s true: you tend to fixate wholly on his lips sometimes when you’re making out. You give an exaggerated, dreamy sigh.

“They’re just so nice. Full, plump, well defined …”

“Weirdo.”

You shuffle over toward him and straddle his lap. Thumbing his bottom lip, you say, “I don’t usually hear you complaining.”

Mary leans back into the tank, his arms draping over it casually. “You’re breaking your own rule.”

Leaning in close you say, “I said you weren’t allowed to touch me.”

You slide a hand under his t-shirt—the skin of his torso warm and smooth—and tilt your head as if to kiss him. His eyes flutter shut, and that’s when you tilt your head back up.

“Hey, can we play?”

Mary’s eyes snap back open, and he lets out a sigh of exasperation.

“You’re a fucking tease, you know that?”

You grab his jaw.

“Can. We. Play.”

His eyes cast down.

“I don’t know, Suey. I really don’t feel like spending the whole night wondering if my dick’s gonna explode.”

You pat his cheek. “That’s ok, Mare Bear. Thank you for telling me.”

He turns to nip at your palm. “Some other night, k?”

You lean back in and actually kiss him—a short and sweet thing.

“I was thinking about something else, anyway.” You thumb his lip again. “Wanna see your lips all full and puffy. Wanna paint them with my lip gloss—have you wear it all night.”

“Is that … it?”

“Well—you can’t wipe it off, and if it gets smudged, I reapply.”

“And what do I get?” he asks as he gives a small roll of his hips. “Thought I was gonna get lucky later anyway.”

You straighten up. “What you’ll get is knowing that you’re my very good boy and that you have pleased me very much.” You smooth at a blackened eyebrow of his. “Don’t you like it when you’ve followed the rules and done a good job?”

Mary’s eyes are round and his pupils dilated. “Yeah. Yeah, ok.”

“Mmm,” you hum as you lightly sweep your hand over his stiff hair. “So good already. What a good job you’ve done keeping your hands to yourself.”

His eyes shine, and he says, “It’s easy being good for you.”

Mary and his inexplicable softness.

“Yeah, well. Let’s get that lipstick on you.”

After gently wiping off his matte with a square of toilet paper, you rummage through your makeup bag for the ridiculous gloss you got as a sample with the purchase of something or other. It’s wet and shiny with a glittery sheen to it—and some kind of chemical that supposedly plumps your lips. The first and only time you’d worn it, your friend told you that it made your mouth look like a wet vagina. It makes Mary’s lips look like a delicacy you want to consume as an entrée at a ridiculously expensive French restaurant. With a white wine pairing or some shit.

He rubs them together experimentally. “Sticky.”

“Yeah, it’s not the kiss-proof kind, so don’t wipe at it.”

You admire you work for another beat, then have an idea.

“Wait—hold on …”

You reach for your phone, then start poking through the apps. He’s assessing his lips in one of your small compacts when you finally have your camera app ready.

“Uh …” he says.

“You have your porn, I have mine.”

“Whatever. I’m pretty sure my cum lips look better.”

You don’t really notice anyone on the street that looks twice at Mary—but then again, he’s in full demonsona, and most passersby try not to look directly at him. (Apparently he gets fewer freakouts when you’re on his arm, but that’s just because they don’t know I’m the one keeping you in line, Suey.)

It’s embarrassing the amount of ownership you feel over Mary when the two of you go anywhere—like he’s a feather in your cap and not your autonomous boyfriend. But there’s just something about having this dramatic boy—in his makeup and leather jacket—on your arm and deferring to you that makes you feel powerful. It doesn’t help that he enjoys playing the part of your attack dog, happy to wait patiently until you tap him in—but a lurking, menacing presence all the same.

Of course, O’Reilly’s is really Mary’s bar—a place he and his bandmates have been frequenting for years (even if it’s a place you’ve been known to hit up on a bar crawl or for late-night eats)—so the staff and regulars obviously don’t buy the dark & mysterious routine from a dude who once sang “Paradise City” shitfaced while trying to Coyote Ugly on the bar. It doesn’t stop them from acting like you have some sort of … control over him—which, ok: you do—now that’s it clear you’re pretty solidly in the picture.

The barstaurant is what Mary calls a “Pop” dive bar. It’s dim enough and cheap enough to attract the college kids and the punks, but it’s clean and serves decent food all night so that the yuppies flock there too. The regulars don’t think too much of the dynamic (and Mary’s known to get into drinking games with the finance guys), but that doesn’t mean there aren’t … clashes. The bouncers visibly eye roll with their entire bodies whenever they see Mary in line.

“Goore. It amazes me you haven’t been banned yet,” says ‘Bruiser’ (what Mary affectionately calls him—his real name is Rodney or something) as he haphazardly marks at X on the back of Mary’s hand.

“I’m pretty sure that’s because my friends and I single handedly keep this place afloat when there’s not a game.”

When you thrust out your hand, Bruiser hums at you, like you’re guilty by association (not that he’s wrong), and swipes at your hand too.

“You should be keeping him in line.”

You give him a wolfish smile. “Where’s the fun in that for me?”

Bruiser rubs his eyes.

“Just … try to stay out of trouble?”

Mary slings his arm heavily across your shoulders as you enter the bar, set upon his own claim. It’s not so much about keeping guys from approaching you (“I mean, they can try. It funny watching you turn them down.”) than it is a warning that anyone who starts shit with you will finish it with him (“Or maybe I just want to show off the pretty piece on my arm—ow, fuck”).

As the two of you make your way to the bar, a few people call out, and Mary tilts his head at them. “Thursday is the new Friday” is apparently in full swing here. It’s crowded enough that you two have to squeeze into an opening at the bar, but not so much that you can’t carve out a space for yourselves.

You order the two of you a round of shots and a lite beer as a chaser. Mary knocks the whiskey back like it’s sugar water while you push through the burn. You immediately take a swig of the beer; some of it dribbles down your chin, and you wipe it away with the back of your hand. Mary tracks your movement.

“Oh—you want some?” you say licking your lips.

“Yeah.”

You crook your finger at him, and he leans down.

“Open.”

His glossy lips part, eyes fixed on yours. You bring up the beer bottle and carefully tip it into his mouth. He closes his lips around the mouth of it as you pour, but easily lets go when you incrementally pull it away. Some of the gloss comes away with it, so you tell Mary to hold up. You dig into your bra to produce the tube of gloss, then reapply to his lips.

“Disgusting,” comes a voice that startles the both of you out of your bubble. You turn to see a neckbeard in a hoodie scowling at the two of you. “You really going to let your bitch put that shit on you?”

Mary’s face darkens, and he straightens to much taller than his height.

“The fuck you just say?”

Mary lets a lot go—he’s a skinny goth boy who wears horrorface—but he hates it when men talk shit to you. Things that don’t even penetrate you seem to make his blood boil (“How can you not know this is just a thing?” “I did, I just … didn’t know how often it was a thing.”).

“You really gonna let some bitch dress you like a faggot?”

Mary tenses at the same time as you spit, “I’m sorry about your small penis.”

Neckbeard sputters at you, and Mary steps in front of you.

“Call my girl a bitch again and I’ll tear the veins out of your neck.”

“Fucking snowflake faggot, like you could.”

“Is that supposed to be an insult?”

“You’re ok with looking like a fairy?”

“The fae are fearsome creatures, so yeah.”

“Don’t be a fucking smartass, freak. You know what I meant”

“If you mean the colloquial meaning of ‘gay man’, then yeah—I am.”

“That’s fucking disgusting.”

“I’ve found sex with men quite pleasant.”

��What the fuck, dude,” says Neckbeard, recoiling.

Out of nowhere, Bruiser materializes.

“Problem?”

At the same time as Neckbeard says Not at all, Mary is gearing up.

“Yeah. He’s harassing Suey and spouting homophobic language.”

Bruiser is—as it happens—a gay man, and his face darkens.

“I’m sorry, sir. We don’t tolerate that kind of hate speech here.”

“Don’t tell me they got you toeing the party line?”

“Management reserves the right to remove any patrons they feel contribute to an unsafe environment.”

Neckbeard sputters. “Y-you will let this, this freak stay here, and kick out a red-blooded man?”

“He’s a pain in the ass, but hardly a public menace.”

“I’m touched, Bruiser.”

“Shut the fuck up, Mary.”

“Yes, sir.”

“I’d like to speak to the manager. I want him to know what kind of Yelp review I’m going to leave.”

“Of course, sir. This way …”

Bruiser leads Neckbeard away. Mary gives him a thumbs up, but Bruiser just glowers at him.

You consider Mary.

“You like to fuck men?”

Mary looks at you, brows furrowed. “Well, yeah. I’m in a punk band.”

You squint at him. “What does that have to do …”

His features school. “You … you do know that we’ve all fucked each other?”

Oh.

You didn’t.

“That—that makes a lot more sense.”

No wonder his bandmates resent you. You took Mary from them.

“Is … that a problem?” says Mary, his face impassive.

“No,” you say quickly. “I just—didn’t know. I’ve never seen you make googly eyes at a dude.”

He crowds into your space, placing his hands on your waist.

“I don’t make eyes at anyone’s who’s not you.”

You burst out into laughing that turns into stifled giggles.

Mary scowls at you. “Don’t be a bitch. I’m being sincere.”

“No, it’s just … Mare—you’re the biggest flirt whoever made his family ridiculous. No, don’t shake your head at me—you are. I’m not the jealous type, but that doesn’t mean I don’t watch you play up your Evil Lothario persona when it suits you.”

He grumbles non-verbally at you, then deflects.

“Don’t you fuck women?”

“Oh,” you say, surprised. “Um. No? Not really.”

He tilts his head at you. “Not really?”

You shrug. “I mean, college … but no. I’m not sexually attracted to women.”

“Well, damn,” he says as he runs his hand through your hair. “I guess there goes all my hopes of a threesome.”

You smirk at him. “Does it?”

He stills when he gets your meaning.

“What?” you ask.

“I … I can’t tell if I hate that idea or not.”

“A devil’s threesome?”

Mary shudders. “I’m equal parts repulsed and turned on by that.”

You lean away from him. “Ok, wait. You have orgies with your band, but you’re stymied by a threesome with another dude?”

“I’m gonna sound like an asshole, but it’s different with a random groupie.”

“How so?”

His eyebrows twist.

“That was just fun. I never cared for them. Not like …”

He runs a finger lightly down your face, and you shy away from it.

“Gross.”

Mary narrows his eyes at you, then grabs you by the hips to pull you into him.

“But: I’ll admit that the idea of watching some dick that’s not mine fuck you is … appealing.”

You feel the growing bulge in his jeans. He leans down to murmur into your ear.

“Fucking into your pussy, like he has the right.”

He hikes your one leg over his hip and presses his erection into your crotch. You make a pleased noise.

“Watching your face contort with the pleasure he gives you. Watching you moan as he makes you cum.”

He ruts into you, and you wonder if he can feel your growing wetness. He presses his nose into your neck.

“Fuck. That makes you hot, too. I can smell you.”

“Fuck, Mary.”

“God, what a little cock slut you’d be. Could I punish you after?”

You’re throbbing now between your legs, and you let out a soft moan.

“Yeah, you’d like that. Being punished for fucking a cock that wasn’t mine.”

You grind into him, and he slips a thigh further in between your legs, resting his foot on the rail under the bar. Immediately you grasp at him as you rock yourself back and forth on his thigh in little movements.

“How would you like to be punished? Should I take you over my knee?”

A thrill runs through you, and your back arches as you let out an Uhhn.

“Yeah,” Mary rumbles. “Take you over my knee and make sure to cherry that ass of yours.”

He reaches his hand around to press at you from behind, and the feeling goes straight to your clit. Your head lolls as your eye roll back. You’re sure some of the people in the crowd must be aware of what’s happening, but right now all thought is between your legs.

They’re welcome.

“Would you fuck me?” you breathe.

Mary growls. “Of course I’d fuck you. Gotta make you remember why you like my cock best. But only after I spanked you red. I’d want you to feel the sting every time I fucked into you.”

You rock hard into Mary’s thigh, and he pulsates the fingers pressing into you, ratcheting up your arousal.

“Oh god, Mary.”

“Yeah, that’s right. Cry out my name. You know who owns your pleasure.”

You’re riding his thigh hard, your movements no longer discreet. You know Mary’s hard, but he’s just looking down at you with hooded, intense eyes as his clever fingers manipulate you. You rub your clit forward into his thigh, then rock back onto his fingers—your hips circling sinuously. You’re terribly close to climaxing if you could just …. You grip hard at his arms as you speed up.

“Fuck, I want it. I want to cum.”

Mary’s other hand grips you harder, and he leans in so close you can feel his lips on the shell of your ear.

“I’d fuck your cunt hard to wipe away the feel of that other dick. Fill you up with my cum so you’d smell like me. I’d hold you down so I could cum into you again and again. Make you my cum dumpster. Would you like that? To have my jizz dripping down your thighs? So that everyone knew who you belonged to.”

“I’m such a slut! I don’t deserve it!” you gasp, your movements now jerky as you chase your orgasm.

“No you don’t,” he growls. “You’re so lucky to have my dick in you. If I could, I‘d always have you on my dick. That’s all you’re good for. Milking my cock. A fucking warm body. And you can’t even do that right. I should let that other dick have you, you worthless—”

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” you cry out as the throb between your thighs crests, hovers, then pulsates through your cunt from front to back. You press down hard into Mary’s leg as your pussy spasms, mouth open and drooling.

“Yeah, that’s it. There you go. Ride it out.” He pets at your hair.

Once you’re done, you slump forward into his shoulder, panting, and Mary wraps an arm around your waist. He extracts his hand from under you and brings it to his face. He closes his eyes as he brings his fingers to his nose and inhales. Then he slides them down over his lips and tongue.

A throat clears.

Mary jerks around as you sluggishly raise your head. Bruiser is standing behind you two, eyebrows raised.

“You two are fucking nasty, you know that?

You just press further into Mary—mashing your face into his chest—not up to confrontation so soon after your orgasm.

“You think this is Amsterdam or some shit? Uh-huh. You need to get your asses out of here.”

You feel Mary shrug at him.

“What’s a guy to do when his girl’s this hot?”

“All right, love birds. C’mon.”

Mary grumpily readjusts himself as you ooze down to gather your things. Bruiser escorts you both out the back door and shakes his head, laughing, as he closes the door in your faces.

You press Mary into the alley wall and rub your tits on him.

“I thank you for the use of your shapely thigh, good sir,” you all but slur as you look up at him with a happy smile.

He licks his lips. “I can think of a better way to thank me.” He grabs your hand and guides it to the bulge in his jeans. You give it a squeeze and Mary growls in response.

“I swear to god if you’re going to tease me—”

“I’m not,” you say as you pet his dick, “but not right here. C’mere …”

You grab his hand, yanking him as he stumbles behind you. You lead him down another side alley and into an overflow backlot. A quick assessment has you saying Over there as you lead him to a walled corner with an SUV parked adjacently. He lets you maneuver him in between the car and the brick wall, his eyes predatory. You push him up against the wall with both hands, and he bounces a little; you press the line of your body into him and let your hands wander slowly down the plane of his torso.

You’re looking up at him, gaze full of intent, as your fingertips slip under the waistband of his jeans. His stomach contract as he inhales sharply. You’re just grazing the tip of his cock when Mary’s hand shoots up to your head.

“I want your mouth,” he rumbles as he applies a gentle pressure to your crown

You grin up at him as you sink down to a squat. “You have been a good boy.”

He lets out a Fuck and tips his head back into the wall. You reach up for his belt, but his fingers reach it first. “Put the lip gloss on, I want to see how it looks stretched around my cock.”

Mary fumbles with getting out his cock as you dig the gloss out of your bra. You hastily swipe the wand across your lips before shoving it back into your cleavage. Mary’s holding his dick at the base—it’s flushed and the tip is shiny with precum—but with his other hand he chucks you under the chin.

“You’re beautiful you know that.”

You roll your eyes. “You’re only saying that because I’m about to suck your cock.”

His grip tightens on your chin.

“And I’m going to ruin that pretty little face of yours.”

Then he pushes his dick into your mouth whether you’re ready or not—his hand slipping to the back of your head to keep you in place. Your own hand reaches out to steady yourself on his leg as he holds you like that. He lets out a sigh of relief, then his hand is gone.

“I want to watch you,” he says.

So you bob forward down the length of his shaft, then back up, trying to get him as wet as possible with your spit. You curl your free hand around the base to use in tandem with your mouth. When you reach his cockhead, you close your eyes as you suckle at it, twisting your lips around it as you tongue at his sweet spot.

“Yeah. Yeah, just like that. Fuck.”

You remove it from your mouth so you can tap the tip on your tongue. Mary lets out a breathy grunt, and you run your tongue around the ridge before lapping around his cockhead a few times.

“Uhn, yeah.”

You suck it down to the hilt in one swallow, and Mary gasps, his hand slamming into the wall. You deep throat him for a bob or two, then pull off with a sucking sound so you can take a breath, making sure to keep jacking him with your hand.

Mary lets out a half whine.

After repeating that combo a few times, you settle in to work at sucking him off for really reals. It’s a good thing it’s a tight fight in the corner, since you’re able to use the car to help redistribute your weight—you probably can’t squat for long.

Mary’s earlier guttural noises have turned into something high and breathy. If you could spare a hand, you could probably cum again just from the noises he’s making.

There’s a tense moment when you hear footsteps in the gravel and you freeze, Mary letting out a soft moan of frustration and his cock throbbing against your tongue. But then the steps get closer, and you feel him tense. He puts a hand on the side of your head—whether to shield you from view or keep you from popping off, who’s to say?

The sound finally does round the corner of the car, and your hand tightens on Mary’s thigh. He feels like a coiled spring. There's a clink of a belt that cuts off suddenly.

“Whoops … sorry,” slurs a male voice.

Then a pause.

“Girl, you ok?”

Mouth still full of Mary’s dick, you give a thumb’s up in the voice’s direction with the hand not occupied.

“Ah. Have fun.”

Then the footsteps stumble and recede, and you do pull off his dick. Mary spits out a Fuck and slams a fist into the wall.

“Stupid fucking drunk. I was enjoying that,” he says looking down at you.

You’re feeling the burn in your leg muscles, which are starting to tremble.

“Wait—just let me …” you say as you try to shift around to a better position. You’re about to fold your knees under you when Mary says, “Wait. The gravel.”

He shrugs out of his leather jacket and hands it down to you. You lay it down in front of you before kneeling on it.

“Why, Goore—you’re such a gentleman.”

His hand is behind your head again, tangling into your hair. “Shut up and suck my cock.”

You acquiesce, sinking back down and getting right to it. He’s by no means soft, but he’s not as hard as he was before the unfortunate interlude, so you deep throat him a couple times to coax the blood back in.

“Hhhghh, how are you so good at that.”

You hollow your cheeks for a long suck.

“Fuck.”

You start bobbing on him again when he says, “Look up at me.” You flick your eyes to him. “Yeah, just like that. Keep your eyes on me.” His own eyes are glazed and his mouth is parted. “Yeah, keep going. Faster.”

Speeding up, you try to keep the hand at his base in time with your mouth.

“Yeah, yeah. Don’t stop, don’t stop.”

You bob faster on his cock, and you see Mary’s body tense, then release.

Tense.

Release.

He swallows audibly, the telltale stiffening obvious against your tongue, then he breathes out: “Keepyouhandgoing.” The grip in your hair tightens, and then he yanks you off his dick.

Your pace slightly stutters, but then you start jacking him as fast as you can as you squeeze your eyes shut. Almost immediately you’re hit in the face with the splash of his cum, and Mary makes this soft-moan thing in the back of his throat. He must really have been worked up, because he splatters across your face again and again. And again.

You ease up with your hand only when you hear him whine, but he just pushes your head forward as he presses back into your mouth, making a pleased rumble as he rubs against your tongue. He rocks into your mouth a little bit, and then the hold in your hair disappears and he withdrawals from your mouth. You feel him lean away from you and into the wall.

“Oh wow. Fuck,” he says laughing, then lets out a pleased hum.

You’re still kneeling on the ground, eyes closed and arms out for balance.

“Mare?”

“What? Oh—yeah, fuck. Hold on.”

There’s a rustling of clothes and a zipper, and then you sense him getting on his knees in front of you. He chuckles.

“Wow—I really got you everywhere.”

“Mary.”

“All right, all right,” he says still chuckling. “Um … ok.”

You feel what can only be his t-shirt wiping at your face. And your ear. And under your chin. And at your hair.

“Just a few more …” he says as you feel him wipe at your eyes with his thumb. “Ok … you’re a little smudgy, but—ok.”

When you open your eyes, he’s right in your face.

“You’re right—that lipstick is amazing,” he says, and then he kisses you hard and rough with an open mouth, his tongue going straight for your tonsils.

Despite being crunched between a car and a brick wall with the sharp gravel digging into your legs, you and Mary makeout sloppily with too much tongue and a lot of spit. His hands have found your face again and yours are braced on his chest.

The sudden noise of a car starting up and echoing off the wall has you both breaking apart.

“We should go,” you say.

“You think.”

It’s a little awkward to navigate in the cramped space, but you help each other up, your legs wobbling a bit. You hand Mary back his jacket, and he brushes off the detritus before donning it again. You notice that he keeps pulling the bottom of his shirt away from his stomach, and you laugh.

“Oh no! That can’t be comfortable.”

“It’s fine. It’s only cold and wet. And sticky.”

You hold out your arms to him, and he perks up. When he’s in your arms, you make sure to rub and smush his shirt into his stomach.

“Oh my god you’re such a bitch.”

“I’m helping!”

“How is that helping?”

“It’s just like acclimating to the ocean—you just got to dunk under in one go,” you chirp at him.

“Next time I’m just gonna leave you looking like a bad bukkake.”

At some point Mary started rocking the two of you, and you squirm until he finally lets go. He sighs.

“All right. Let’s get you home.”

He puts his hands in his pockets and starts striding out of the parking lot. You skip after him and thread your arm through his.

“Really? The night’s still young!”

He gives you an incredulous look.

“Suey, you look like you just got face fucked in a parking lot.” He gives you an appraising look. “Actually, that’s kinda hot. On second thought, let’s go to Sixes & Sevens—”

“Where?”

“Mickey’s place. I have no problem with everyone knowing whose dick you just sucked. I’ll make them smell my fingers too.”

“Pig.”

“Hmm, maybe I should reup.”

He pushes you against a wall and puts his hand between your legs. His face contorts into a look of surprise.

“Fuck, you’re wet. Like … really wet.”

“Well, what did you think—”

“Fuck, are you still …”

Suddenly he’s pushing up your skirt and diving his hand into your panties. You gasp Oh my god when his finger slip-slides over your clit.

“How are you still so wet?”

You give him a sultry look.

“You know sucking your cock does it for me.”

He’s still fingering you, leaning into your space, when he says, “Maybe we should get a cab. I could be fucking you in 10 minutes. No drunks looking for a place to piss.”

With his clever fingers manipulating you, you have to admit the prospect is appealing. But …

“No,” you purr at him. “You’re going to get me off right now because it pleases me. Then we’re going to go get a little sloppy, and if you can keep your hands to yourself, you can fuck me that way you like when we get back to my place.”

Mary presses into you like it’s a reflex.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“And if I can’t?”

“Then it’s you and your hand, mister.”

His fingers go to work at you. They’re sloppy, artless—unlike his usual careful manipulation—but you’re already halfway there from the blow job and that, combined with him sucking bruises into your neck, has you mewling and pushing at him in no time. The pad of a finger suddenly presses hard onto your clit, and you make a wounded noise. It doesn’t leave, and you feel the direct pressure keenly. You start twitching and letting out small noises.

“Oh oh oh … Mary—oh god … Mary …”

He turns his head to kiss at the hinge of his jaw, but his finger just. Stays.

The pressure is all at once Way to Much and Not Enough, and you’re thrashing you head back and forth.

“Mary, Mary, Mary, Mary …”

You’re asking for mercy, but he’s granting you no clemency.

It’s a slow build to your orgasm, but you feel every second of it intensely. Your head tips back, and your nails scrabble at the wall as you moan Oh oh oh oh in time to the pulsating of your clit. You’re making these embarrassing high-pitched wounded noises as the throb between your legs worsens.

When you finally cum, it’s almost painful, and you grapple at Mary’s arms, sinking your nails into him. Your screams bounce off the walls around the two of you, and Mary covers your mouth with his to muffle you. You’re dimly aware that you just squirted everywhere, soaking your leggings, the fluid dripping down your legs.

You jerk when Mary runs a gentle circle around your over sensitive nub, and he wraps an arm around your waist to pull you into him.

“I made a mess,” you say as Mary withdraws his hand. You meant for it to be funny, but once it comes out, it sounds small and your voice wavers.

Mary wipes his hand off on his jeans and brings his other arm around you.

“I guess we’re matched now—both covered in sex juice.”

The wetness on your legs is beginning to cool, and the droplets are beginning to settle into your socks. Suddenly the thought of going anywhere else other than home is unappealing. Cleaning some semen off your face in a bar bathroom is much different than dealing with soaked bottoms all night. You push away from him.

“You did that on purpose!” you say as you tug on your damp leggings.

“I—what?”

“If you really didn’t want to go back out, you just could have said!”

Mary’s looking at you helplessly.

“You asked me to get you off …”

“I can’t go anywhere like this, Mary!”

He closes his eyes and pinches the bridge of his nose.

“Are you really fucking mad at me because I made you cum too hard?”

“You knew what would happen!”

“Jesus fucking christ. There’s never any winning with you sometimes.”

You turn and start walking away.

“Where are you going?”

“Home.”

“Yeah? You gonna walk the whole way?”

“Yep.” Maybe taking off your leggings will help. Except then your ass will be hanging out.

“Suey … that’s an hour’s walk. Let’s get a cab, ok?”

You spin on your heel.

“I’m all wet, Mary! I can’t sit in a cab. I’m disgusting.”

You turn back around and continue walking. After a bit, Mary catches up with you.

“Let’s get a cab, you can sit on my jacket.”

You look at him. “I can’t do that.”

“Why not?”

“Well I’m … it’s …” you sputter.

“It was really hot. Fuck, I think I almost came in my pants.”

“But—”

“So I literally don’t give a fuck if you sit on my jacket.”

You don’t say anything, but you don’t fight him either.

“Look, we’ll get a cab; you can change; and we can go to the bar down the street from you. Ok?”

You stop and look at him.

“Ok.”

He looks at you, then rolls his eyes, shaking his head.

“You’re a fucking pain in my ass, you know that?” He bundles you into an embrace. “I don’t know why I keep you around.”

You let him enfold you in his arms, but don’t hug him back.

“Probably the blow jobs,” you say into his chest.

He cradles the back of your head and you feel him smell your hair.

“Definitely one of the top 3 reasons.”

The two of you get a cab and—true to his word—Mary lays out his leather jacket for you to sit on. When you get back to your apartment, you make a beeline for your shower. You strip down to everything but your panties and leggings—those you’ll shower in.

The shower is amazing, and you relish in washing the night off your body. When you’re done, you hang the wet garments over the shower rod and wrap yourself in your robe.

You find Mary conked out on top of your covers in just his boxer briefs. One of his hands is on his chest and the other is sprawled across your bed; his mouth is open and there’s a little drool in one of the corners. You climb onto the bed and lie on top of him

“Huh, wha?” says Mary as he startles awake.

“Nothing. Go back to sleep.”

A hand rests on your back.

“Wasn’t sleeping.”

“Mmhm.”

“Just resting my eyes.”

“Mmm.”

He rubs your back a little before saying, “Should we get moving?”

“Can we just stay like this?”

A pause.

“Sure.”

You lay like that for awhile, feeling Mary’s chest rise and fall under you.

“M’sorry,” you mumble.

“Hmm?”

“I’m sorry I was such a bitch.”

“Yeah. I didn’t like that.”

You consider for a moment before saying, “My parents used to pull that shit on me.”

He breathes in. He breathes out.

“Which?”

“They’d—they’d give me permission to do something or whatever, and then they’d manipulate it so they got what they wanted anyway. Um, like one time I wanted to go to this concert? And they said I could if xyz, you know? I got the ticket and everything. All my friends were going. We had all these plans. And then like. The night before, my parents held up my English class roster. I had this paper due the next week and they asked me to show them my research notes. Obviously I didn’t have any research notes because I’d planned to spend that Sunday at the library. So they revoked their permission. Said I promised this concert wouldn’t interfere with my schoolwork, and obviously I hadn’t kept that promise. All my friends went to the concert that Friday and my parents drove me to the library. Said it was a lesson in responsibility.

“That’s just the one that really made me realize how fucked up they were. I know it sounds stupid—boo-hoo I missed a concert, but it's really the thousand little paper cuts like that. It’s about how stressful it was never knowing what I was actually allowed to do, and what was fake. Having to always go the extra mile and second guess myself. To do everything right and get tripped up on a technicality.

“One time I saved up to buy this dress to one of the proms I’d been asked to? And they knew that. They praised me for being fiscally responsible. I kept my grades up. I stayed on top of all my assignments and made sure all my chores were done. They helped me with a deposit to the group limo. And then a week before—you know, I didn’t even remember what bullshit reason they found. But they found something. And it’s like they knew I was going to go anyway, so they returned my dress and drove us out to grandma’s for the weekend.

“It kinda beat me into submission, you know? I just. Stopped doing things. Like, what was the point, right? The dance? The new movie? Game night? They always found a reason. And my friends? Just stopped inviting me out to things. They said my parents would just find a reason to block me anyway and that they were tired of working around it.

“So, I dunno. Tonight? It felt a little like that. Like you’d wanted to call it a night, and when I didn’t want to, you found a way to get what you wanted while pretending to give me what I wanted.”

Mary lightly scratches down your back through your robe.

“That sounds really fucked up.”

“Yeah.”

“Are they …?”

“They disowned me.”

Mary lifts his head.

“What? Why?”

“I—not tonight, ok?”

“K.”

The two of you lay like that, unspeaking, for a while. After a while you become aware of Mary’s hardness under you.

“Did you want to fuck?”

His hand stills.

“What?”

You squirm a little.

“I can feel you.”

“Suey. You’re laying on top of me. What did you expect? But no: I don’t want to fuck.”

“Are you sure?”

“This is kind of nice, actually. As it is.”

“Gross, but ok.”

“Can I kiss you?”

“Whatever.”

Mary maneuvers his head until his mouth meets yours. He starts with your lips, then moves onto slipping you some tongue. You meet his kiss, gently tangling your tongue with his. He runs his hand through your hair, then rolls you onto your sides. His thigh slips between yours, but he doesn’t grind against you or anything. Still—his dick hasn’t seemed to get the memo. You slip your hand down to cup him, but May flinches and catches up your hand.

“Hey. I said it’s fine.”

“But you’re—”

“I said, no.”

You bury your head in his neck.

“Ok. But … do you really not want to, or is it something else?”

“Why do you think I’m some sexbot?

You bring your face to Mary’s and squish his between your hands.

“I don’t think that, Mary. It just seemed like—I dunno—you were falling on your sword or something.”

“Fuck, Suey. I don’t expect you to understand. You always seem ready to go. Like we could be having the worst fight, but if I took my dick out, you’d still drop to your knees and suck it.”

You flush at being read.

“But I don’t—I know my dick thinks it’s gonna get lucky because you’re so close, but I’m just not in the mood. If you want an orgasm, I’m happy to give you one—I’m always happy to make you cum—but I’d rather not myself, ok?”

You kiss his nose. “Ok, Mare Bear. But if you change your mind …”

“Noted.”

The two of you make out lazily. Mary’s hands slip into your robe and roam all over your body—a light caress here and a grabby handful there—but you keep yours at his face and in his hair. Soon, he has his face in your neck and his one hand is kneading at your breasts. Because he’s pressed close to you, you can feel the throb of his cock. His finger sweeps over a hardened nipple, and you moan at the sensation. Mary ruts into you, then whines.

You pet his head. “It’s ok, Mare. You can fuck me.”

“But I don’t want to want to fuck you. I should be fucking able to just lie here with you without fucking wanting it.”

“Why?”

“Because.”

“Ok, but if I want it and you want it …?”

He tilts his head back. “Christ, you’re frustrating. Look—you were kinda right earlier. You wanted to go out, and instead it became all about where we could fuck. Is that all? Are we just strung together by times we’ve fucked and times we could be fucking?”

You consider his words.

“I don’t have many relationships, Mary. They kind of seem like a waste of time? And if I get horny, there’s always a bar full of guys to fuck. But, I dunno. You’re different. You don’t want things from me. I feel like I can just … exist with you.”

“I want a lot of things from you.”

You huff.

“You don’t want idealized things from me. I don’t know where you’ve gotten this idea that the only thing we’ve got in common is our genitals.”

“Don’t say genitals.”

“Our nethers.” Mary groans. “But I feel like in a pie chart of my life, there’s a big slice devoted to Mary Rants. About capitalism, about the patriarchy, about gender construct, about slow walkers—”

“Who are these people who have nowhere to go?!”

“—and another devoted to the plotline of the WWE wrestlers.”

“I won’t apologize for that. It’s dramatic as fuck AND there’s head bashing. Everyone who disses it is missing out on some serious soapy shit.”

“Such on brand Mary.”

He grumbles.

“Fine, ok. But—you’re like this vault, and I only have a lock pick.”

“Am I?”

“Yeah.” He presses an index finger to your forehead. “I know there’s gold in there. But I can’t get at it.”

“Hmm.”

“Hmm?”

“I’m ruminating,” you say.

“You and your 10¢ words.”

“I won’t apologize for my vocabulary.”

Mary pecks your lips. “Wasn’t asking you to.”

You sigh and snuggle—yes, ok snuggle—into him.

“I guess I take too much pride in being independent. And, I mean … I think we work because we’re both independent people looking for—I dunno—a partner to come home to, not someone who follows you around. But—I’ll try, Mary. To, I dunno—hand the gold bars out through a slot or whatever … it’s your stupid metaphor.”

“It’s a start.”

You blow a raspberry at him, and he retaliates by gently biting your tongue. When you squeal in consternation, he just sucks it into his mouth. You try to push away from him, but he just rolls on top of you and begins to blow raspberries into your neck

“How do you like it?” Thhpbt “How do you like it now?” Thhpbt “You think that shit is funny?” Thhpbt

You’re laughing and trying to push him off you, but he has you thoroughly pinned.

“Wait—no! Stop!” you beg in between giggles.

He buries his face between your tits and gives you the biggest one yet.

“I will fucking murder your face, Mary Goore!”

He looks up at you, eyes glinting boyishly. “You’d have to get free first.”

You start kicking with your legs, and he tries to keep you pinned—but you bring your knee up, and he flinches away preemptively.

“Don’t play dirty!” he exclaims as you take your advantage to roll back on top of him.

You lick his face and try not to cringe from the awful taste of the makeup on it. Mary makes a disgusted noise.

“Did you mean murder my face like a kitten? Seriously, fucking stop.”

Still ignoring the bitter taste of his makeup, you continue to lap at him. He grabs you by the hair and drags your mouth down to his. Him sucking your tongue into his mouth (“Ugh, is that what I taste like?!”) is initially a matter of defense, but it soon turns into a heated kiss. Mary’s gripping your hair and pressing up into you as his tongue pilfers your mouth. He wrenches your head back so he can kiss down your neck.

“What about now?” you gasp. “Can I take your cock now?”

“Ugh,” he huffs into your neck. “I hate it when you win.”

He rolls the two of you back onto your sides, and his hand travels down to your cunt. You’re by no means soaking, but the play fighting and subsequent kissing have made you wet enough. Mary thinks so too, and—after some fumbling with his underwear and your robe—his cock finds your hole and pushes in. He makes a sound of relief, as you gasp, and begins to slowly thrust in and out of you.

The position is a little awkward, even with your leg hoisted over him, and you say, “I can turn around if …?”

But he just draws you closer. “No, this is fine.”

His thrusts are slow and steady, him slowing you down every time you try to pick up the pace.

You whine. “Mare—”

“Shh—it can be good like this.”

He finds your mouth again, his one hand tangled in your hair and the other gripping your ass. You let him slowly fuck into you, your hand snaking down to play with your clit. It takes longer than when the two of you pound frenetically at each other, but soon enough Mary is stuttering and trembling with the need to cum.

“Are you close?” he mouths at you. “I want to cum with you.”

You squirm. “Mary …”

“Please …”

You suck his tongue into your mouth and start tapping quicker on your clit. You dredge up your favorite x-rated fantasy. All you need is …

“Faster—oh please, Mary …” you plead, breaking away from his mouth.

He presses you into him harder as he begins to thrust faster. Your eyes are squeezed shut as you will your orgasm to happen.

“Suey—this pace … I can’t …” whines Mary. He slows down a little, pumping into you with longer, deeper thrusts. You press into your clit, hard, and clench around him, loving the feeling of being filled, of having something pressing back against you.

“Oh my god,” hisses Mary, and then he slams suddenly into you. “Ughn,” he grunts out as he empties into you.

It’s actually enough to push you over, and your eyes roll back as you start to pulsate and spasm with the waves of your orgasm.

“Ah ah ah ah,” you punch out.

And then the two of you are clenching and grinding and grabbing at each other, mouths meeting and then smearing across faces and necks.

When it’s over, your leg is draped and hanging over his hip, his face is mashed into your shoulder, and your arms are wrapped around his head. You are both panting, hearts rabbiting.

“Fuck,” says Mary into your shoulder.

“Double fuck,” you say, and Mary huffs out a laugh. He raises his head to capture your mouth in a lazy kiss.

You’re both sticky with sweat, and it’s a messy business separating. Mary reaches out to you, but you’re already bouncing off the bed.

“No, why?” he whines as he makes grabby hands at you, but you’re already shrugging your robe back on.

“Do we have to go through this every time? I’m going to pee—I’ll be right back.”

You’re on the toilet when Mary wanders in—nude and soft cock bouncing.

“Mary,” you squeal as you cover yourself with your hands.

He squints at you. “What?”

“WHAT IF I WAS TAKING A SHIT?!”

“Are you taking a shit?”

“No, but—”

He turns the sink faucet on. “Then what’s the issue?”

“Fuck, leave some mystery!”

He grabs his Mary-designated washcloth and looks over at you as he runs it under the water.

“I don’t really want ‘the mystery’. I want the real thing.”

Mary begins to wipe in between his legs, and you turn your head away with a disgruntled noise.

“I don’t get what the big fucking deal is. I probably know what your, uh, vagina—”

��You can just say ‘cunt’, jesus christ, this isn’t health class.”

“—your cunt looks like better than you do. I’m up there enough. And earlier tonight you were covered in my jizz.”

“It’s-it’s—I don’t know! Kind of gross?”

“You peeing is grosser than semen?”

You press the palms of your hands into your eyes.

“Yes?”

The faucet shuts off. “Fine. I'll tell you what. You promised to be more open. So you can either finish peeing—don’t deny it I know I interrupted you midstream—

“Christ, Mary—”

“—or you can tell me one personal, intimate thing, and I’ll leave.”

You turn to glare at him. He’s standing with arms akimbo, modesty be damned. You keep his gaze as you unclench and finish peeing. He grins at you—a wide, fearsome thing.

“Ok, ok—get out. That’s all you get tonight, drive through.”

He leans over to kiss your head, and you make a mean lemon face at him.

When you get back into your room, Mary is in a fresh—well different—pair of boxer briefs and is straightening out your sheets. You hang up your robe and shimmy into the old tee of his that you’ve claimed as yours. When he turns and sees you, his eyes linger, but he doesn’t say anything.

You both climb into bed, and you allow him to big spoon you—with the understanding that the second he falls asleep you retain the right to extract yourself from him. He snuffles into your neck and sighs.

After awhile you say, “Sorry that that’s not the way I promised to let you fuck me.”

He huffs into you. “How do you know how I wanted to fuck you?”

"It was implied.”

“You said ‘that way I like’. I like the way we fucked just fine.”

“But I—”

“Hush. Let’s just go the fuck to sleep, ok?”

"Yeah, ok.”

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#mary goore #ofc #feral cats fic #ficlet #gritty girls #gutter punk #my writing

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