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cloudteawrites · 4 years ago

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chapter: three ( 2.9k ) rating: mature (death, past abuse, eventual smut) genre: mystery | romance | hurt/comfort tags: bts x reader | ot7 x reader | hybrid | poly summary: when an estranged uncle leaves you his massive fortune you wonder if the universe is playing a joke on you. when that fortune comes with seven hybrids, you know for sure that it is. << first < previous | next > last >>

You did what any sane person would do upon finding one of the world’s deadliest predators making itself at home in their living room: you made unbroken eye contact with it for a solid five seconds before backing out of the penthouse and quietly closing the door. You stand in the hallway, staring at your hand still wrapped around the handle, unable to move. “No,” you mutter softly. “That can’t be right...” You punch the code in again and peak your head inside. The tiger is still there, staring straight at you. It makes a noise and you slam the door shut. You weren’t hallucinating, you weren’t dreaming. There was definitely a tiger on your couch. “What the fuuuuuck… ” You mutter, pulling your phone from your jacket pocket and punching in Mr. Seo’s number as fast as your thumbs will let you. “What the fuck what the fuck what the fuck-”

The phone rings once, three times, seven. There’s no answer. You groan and try not to think of this as the universe punishing you for being late. You hang up and send him a text instead, imploring him to call you back as soon as possible.

You press your back flat against the door and slide down it, sitting with your legs splayed out in front of you. There was a tiger in the penthouse. There was a tiger in the penthouse. You drag your hands down your face, replaying all your conversations with Mr. Seo and all the documents you’d read. There’d been nothing about pets in the asset manifest. You knew; you’d checked three times. You weren’t confident in your ability to take care of all of Oliver’s companies much less another living thing. You didn’t even really want to take care of the hybrids, but you’d appeased yourself with the knowledge that it was only temporary. So why there was a tiger in your living room you couldn’t say...Unless-

Your eyes widen. All the purchase order had said was three felines. It’d been you that’d made the assumption they’d be house cats. Not to mention, Mr. Park said the hybrids had been delivered already which meant the big cat sunning itself on the couch was-

Before you can draw the thought to its logical conclusion, the door swings open. You tilt backward, world going askew, but before your head can crack against the marble tile there’s a flurry of movement and someone’s holding it in soft hands.

You see azure eyes, soft lips, a crop of honey blonde hair. You blink up at the prettiest man you’ve ever seen in your life. His mouth melts into a close-lipped smile. “Hello,” His voice is soft and airy, almost musical. “You must be our new owner.”

You wince at the word owner. “Uh, I’m Y/N, yeah.”

He hums in acknowledgement then asks, “Would you like to stand up? The floor must be uncomfortable.”

“Oh!” You’d been so busy staring into his eyes that you’d forgotten he was crouched on the ground, holding your head in his hands. “Yeah, I would. Thanks for catching me.”

He gives you another smile. “Of course,” He purrs.

The man offers you a hand and helps you to your feet. Even when you’re standing, he doesn’t release it. You try to tug your own away, not wanting to make him uncomfortable, but he holds you fast and laces your fingers together. You balk down at your conjoined hands and shoot him a look of concern, but if the prospect of holding hands with a virtual stranger bothers him, you certainly can’t tell from the serene expression on his face.

Now that you’re standing and you get a better look at him, you can tell that he’s really -almost disconcertingly- good looking. His hair is well groomed and, if the golden spotted ears poking out from it are any indication, naturally blonde. He’s dressed simply, in a loose-fitting cream sweatshirt and matching pants. The logo of breeding company he’d come from was embroidered neatly on the upper left side of it, just above his heart. He’s taller than you, but not overly so. You’re at eye-level with the elegant column of his throat. He’s slender, from what you could tell, and he smells nice, like soap and fresh linen. He notices you ogling him and tilts his head to the side, catching your gaze again.

“Is this your first time meeting a hybrid?” He’s still smiling at you calmly and you feel at ease despite the nervous heat you can feel creeping into your cheeks.

You offer him a wincing smile in return. “Is it that obvious?” Despite them being relatively common, you’d only seen them from a distance or when they were standing silent beside their owners while they made a purchase. You’d never had an actual conversation with one. You feel something twine around your calf and you jump, startled. There, wrapped around your leg, was a long, fluffy tail, just as golden and spotted as his ear. Well that , certainly wasn’t a house cat’s tail.

The man laughs at your reaction and it sounds like bells. “It’s okay,” he assures you, tugging you out of the doorway and into the apartment. “I don’t mind the staring.”

You feel a little relieved knowing you hadn’t offended him. Your temporary relaxation evaporates when you catch sight of the tiger again over the hybrid’s right shoulder. In the haze of meeting this one, you’d completely forgotten the one stretched out over the couch. The spotted hybrid notices your gaze shift and squeezes your hand lightly.

“Don’t be afraid,” he soothes, tail tip twitching against your calf. That was right, you’d heard they could smell chemicals that signaled major shifts in emotion. “That’s Taehyung. He was born wild, so that body is a little more comfortable for him. There’s still a person in there, so you don’t need to worry, okay?”You nod mutely, only moderately comforted by the spotted hybrid’s reassurance. “-And I’m Jimin.”

Jimin. Taehyung. You repeat the names to yourself over and over again in your head.

“-And Yoongi-hyung is around here somewhere.” That was right; there were supposed to be three of them. “He’s probably sleeping; he doesn’t like to be awake during the day time. If you find a bobcat in a closet don’t be surprised, okay?”

You swallow dryly. “No promises.”

The man- Jimin, you remind yourself. His name was Jimin - let out another soft laugh and steps back, untangling his tail from you to turn and face the tiger. “Tae,” he calls. “Come say hello to Y/N.”

Your heart jumps into your throat and you hold your free hand up. “No!” You say, alarmed, as the tiger rises and stretches. It lets a long, barbed tongue loll out of its mouth as it yawns and you feel your blood go cold at the sight of three-inch long incisors. “I-It’s okay; he doesn’t have to get up if he doesn’t want to!” But the tiger has already hopped down from the couch and is sidling toward you. You make a noise of distress and try to tug away from Jimin, but he’s stronger than he looks. His thumb rubs soothing circles on the back of your hand. It doesn’t help.

Taehyung stalks closer and closer until he’s right in front of you. You stand as still as you can manage, trying not to do anything that might set the predator off. Hybrid or not, he could still take a chunk out of you if the mood struck him.

Far away he was big, but up close he’s massive. On all fours, his shaggy head reaches your waist. If you bent forward to wrap your arms around his neck, you’re not sure if they’d even reach all the way. His paws are the width of dinner plates and from nose tip to tail, he has to be at least ten feet long. There’s no doubt that he’s a beautiful animal. Beautiful and terrifying.

For a moment the three of you stand there: Jimin holding your hand, you staring at the tiger and the tiger staring back. Suddenly he leans forward and presses his nose to your stomach, letting out a rumble that makes your whole body vibrate. Your eyes snap toward Jimin, wide. The other hybrid seems completely at ease. If anything, his smile’s gotten even wider.

“He wants you to pet him,” he says by means of explanation.

“Is that okay?” Before Jimin can give you answer, Taehyung presses his muzzle even further into your stomach and huffs. His breath is so warm you can feel it even through your jacket. You let out a puff of air. “Alright…”

You move slowly so you don’t startle him. You set a trembling hand atop the tiger’s head and gently run your fingers through his fur. It’s wirier than you thought it’d be, the hairs coarse against your skin. The tiger lets out another rumble, louder this time and much longer. You snatch your hand back for a moment, startled, and worried he was upset- but he sat back on his haunches, reached out with one massive paw and pressed your hand back against his head.

You let out a surprised bark of laughter.

Emboldened by his apparent approval, you risk scratching behind his ears. The big cat practically melts. If he could purr, you think he would. A hesitant smile creeps on to your lips. “You’re not so bad, huh?” He tilts his head forward to give you better access to his ears.

You feel Jimin’s tail curl around your ankle again, the hybrid apparently pleased to see you getting along so well with his friend. “None of us are,” he hums, taking advantage of your distracted state to brush your conjoined hands against his cheek. “Not when you get to know us.”

“What the hell are you two doing?” A gruff voice at the top of the glass staircase catches your attention. There on the landing is a man in a black sweatsuit identical to Jimin’s. His ash gray hair is a mess, mashed up on one side from sleep and his eyes are squinted against the light seeping in from the oversized windows. A pair of large, tufted ears are turned backward on top of his head and a short tail flicks behind him in irritation. The two other hybrids disentangle themselves from you immediately. “Didn’t I tell you to wake me up when the owner got here?”

There’s that word again: owner. You hate how final sounds. In the eyes of the law they may have been your property, but they were still people. You didn’t want them to think of themselves as something you possessed, however brief their stay with you would be.

The black-clad man slumps down the stairs, clearly displeased with the scene before him. Taehyung lowers his head between his shoulders and slinks back to his position on the couch, but Jimin stays by your side, slightly behind your shoulder. If you didn’t know any better, you’d think he was trying to use you as a shield from his hyung.

Yoongi stops in front of the kitchen, tugs out a bar stool and drops his weight into it. He’s still a good twenty feet away, but Jimin doesn’t look appeased. “You were sleeping, Hyung…” he purrs. “I didn’t want to disturb you-”

“Bullshit,” the bobcat huffs . “You two just wanted to scent like a bunch of cubs and you knew I’d stop you.”

Jimin’s bottom lip pokes out into a pout but he doesn’t deny the accusation.

“...Is scenting bad?”

Yoongi cuts his eyes at you and his stare is so icy, you get the feeling you shouldn’t have spoken at all. His tail lashes behind him.

“It’s not bad,” Jimin soothes, his hand finding your lower back. He rubs circles into it, trying to relax you. “It’s just-”

“It’s rude.” Yoongi cuts him off. “And they know better.”

Jimin wilts and slowly retracts his hand.

Yoongi rakes a hand back through his hair and you catch your first good look at his face. It’s small, his features soft but well articulated. He’s boyishly handsome- or would be if he wasn't fixing you and his junior with a look that could freeze hell over. “Jimin, Taehyung, go upstairs.”

The spotted hybrid behind doesn’t argue, just lets his tail and ears droop as he slumps toward the staircase, the tiger on his heels.”

It’s only once they’ve disappeared around a corner and a door shuts that Yoongi speaks again.”What do you want us for?”

Your brow furrows in confusion. “Why do you think I want you for something?”

“This isn’t our first time doing this,” he drawls. “You people think just because you can have something, you should . So, you go out and buy exotic hybrids that you can walk around on a gold leash to show off to all of your friends. Or you take us off suppressants so you can take advantage of us. Or you treat us like dolls. You don’t think we’re real. We’re just toys to you, and if you break us? Well, that’s okay because you can always buy another.”

Your mouth feels dry. Was that what his life had been like up until this point? A revolving door of people who only saw him as temporary entertainment and gave him back when he turned out to be more trouble than they thought he was worth? You knew that feeling; were more familiar with it than you’d care to admit or remember. “I’m not like that,” You insist, softly.

“I don’t know what you’re like,” Yoongi scoffs. “And if you’re just gonna send us back in a month, I don’t really care to find out.” An uncomfortable silence settles between the two of you. He doesn’t seem bothered by it, his gray gaze still focused to a sharp point in you. “Jimin, Taehyung, they’re young. They still have hope. You’re only Tae’s second owner. You’re Jimin’s third.” A pause, and then, “You’re my eighth. I know how this goes.” He pushes up from the bar stool and stalks back toward the stairs. “I don’t care how you treat me,” he calls back over his shoulder as he retreats back to the second floor. “But don’t get their hopes up by pretending to be something you’re not.”

A door slams and you flinch. You’re alone again

This day was not going how you thought it would. All the videos you’d watched online had shown bright eyes hybrids smiling as they were embraced by their new families, happy to be taken home. None of them had covered what to do if your hybrid didn’t want to be at home and certainly not how to handle an exotic one.

You shuffle over to the living room, toss your backpack onto the floor and step over the back of the couch into the sunken living room . You settle down, cross-legged and pull out your phone.You open up your web app and input your first query.

my hybrid hates me

3.5 million results.

You scroll down, article after article explaining how you should deal with dog hybrids challenging your authority, bunny hybrids thumping because they felt insecure, and cat hybrids knocking things over in a bid to get your attention. You suck your teeth. None of these were going to help you. You tap on the search bar and edit your request.

my exotic hybrid hates me

182 results. Most of them were for porn. You quickly hit the back button.

“Okay,” you mutter. “Let’s try something else.”

what is hybrid scenting

18.6 million results.

The top one is from the International Association of Hybrid Owners and you figure that’s as good a source as any. You tap it and scan the first paragraph.

Hybrids have a sense of smell that is thousands of times more powerful than a human’s. Scent is used to interpret emotions, track food in the wild and identify members of a family group. Juvenile hybrids often gravitate toward familiar smells in order to self-soothe if their parent is not available.

Upon welcoming a new hybrid into your home they may wish to mix their scent with yours in order to signify your new bond or let other hybrids know that you are a member of their family group. If there are multiple hybrids in the home, it is important that the dominant hybrid be allowed to scent you first, then the subordinate hybrid(s) in order of age. If this scenting order is not enforced, it can cause disharmony within the family group and tension between members.

You close the article and set your phone down. Was that why Yoongi was upset? Because Jimin and Taehyung had essentially marked you as a member of their family without his say so and undermined his authority? You flop back against the couch cushions. You were sure that wasn’t the only reason but it certainly didn’t help

You think about the cold look in Yoongi’s eyes, about how eager Jimin and Taehyung had been to get their scent on you, about how tightly Jimin had held onto your hands, like you were going to slip away into smoke at any moment. You drag your hands down over your eyes. Well, one thing was for certain. You certainly couldn’t send them back now.

#bts fic #bts x reader #bts x y/n #hybrid!bts #ot7 x reader #seokjin x reader #namjoon x reader #jhope x reader #yoongi x reader #taehyung x reader #jimin x reader #jungkook x reader

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slashersins-abandoned · 4 years ago

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nsfw alphabet : vincent sinclair

A = Aftercare ( what they’re like after sex )

vincent will hold you while you both come down from your pleasured high . only letting you go once both of you have been able to calm down and even your breathing . he wants you to be aware , even if exhausted as he takes care of you . aftercare for vincent can last anywhere from minutes to over an hour . it depends on all that happened during your sensual exchange . his desire to touch you has him cleaning you , from damn near head to toe , with a warm wet rag . he’ll wipe away all the sweat with such deft fingers that it might just rile you up again . expect gentle kisses over any bruises left by his hands , or his mouth . if he happened to cum inside you , then he will use those long fingers of his to clean you out , crooking his fingers to drag it out , making sure that his fingers come out clean before he finishes the thorough torture . once clean your clean , he’ll tuck you into bed , taking care of himself quickly before moving back into the bed with you and pulling you close for lazy touches and kisses until sleep takes you both . on the other hand , aftercare can be as simple as cuddling and coddling you as you both come down before leading or carrying you into the shower and doing a quick rinse off . fast and easy so you can start your morning or go about your day .

B = Body part ( their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s )

vincent is proud of his hands . large palms with long slender fingers , trimmed and filed nails . paraffin wax has made it so there are little to no callouses on his hands , they are soft to the touch and surprisingly warm . he also sees his hands as useful tools . able to create art , whether it be painting , drawing , sculpting wax figures . he can do beautiful things with his hands . but they are also tools of destruction , ending lives with ease , strong and deadly and powerful .

vincent finds himself drawn to your lips , your eyes , your thighs . the first being how plush and soft they look . the look of them parted as you look up at him wanting a kiss . the way they glisten when your tongue darts out to wet them . how you push your bottom lip out when you pout . it’s hard for him to fight the desire to drag his thumb over those lips of yours only to see them go back into place before he leans in and tastes you for himself .

your eyes … so expressive . so easy to read . the emotion you hold in them , the want and need , even sadness and anger look beautiful when they dance in your eyes . he finds himself staring into them intently , seeing how your pupils dilate . there are many sketches of your face , of your eyes and those long lashes in his sketch book .

and your thighs .soft and supple . so delicate and perfect in his hands . soft and mailable . he wants to touch over him , to feel his body between them , to have his face buried and feel you squeeze down on him . you’ll find most of the unintentional bruises vincent leaves on your skin are on your thighs , inside or outside , it doesn’t matter . they are vincent’s most desired part of you .

C = Cum ( anything to do with cum, basically )

his cum is thin ( between stu and billy ) , and he cums a surprising amount ( between jason and brahms ) . while it’s easy to swallow , it is a bit bitter . he prefers to cum inside of you , mostly because he will be able to clean you up with his fingers , and seeing you drip satisfies a quiet possessiveness that he rarely shows . the only other place he enjoys cumming in is your mouth . though he isn’t fond of shoving down and choking you on his cock to cum down your throat . he’ll purposely pull back so only his tip is in your mouth , filling it and wanting to see it cupped by your tongue . he has no issue if you spit or swallow , so long as he can see it in your mouth for just a moment .

D = Dirty secret ( pretty self explanatory , a dirty secret of theirs )

vincent is a panty thief . though he often returns them , after they’ve been washed . he is very careful when he takes them and uses them . preferring to feel the fabric against his cock as he thinks of you . if he knows he has a project he’s about to dive into , or there’s a crop of new future wax figures in town , he will take what he needs to make it through those long nights alone . he prefers to steal the lace and silk , used or freshly laundered it doesn’t matter . he may be a panty thief , but he is not a panty sniffer .

E = Experience ( how experienced are they ? do they know what they’re doing ? )

vincent has actually had a few sexual encounters . no more than three . one was a drunken experience that started and ended in a bathroom stall at a bar that bo had brought him to . another was curiously as a teen with someone he can’t remember the name of from school . the other a more intense affair with a prostitute in new orleans , it’d been a strange night as all three of the brothers had … shared said person , not at the same time or in the same room , but over the course of one evening during mardi gras .

vincent has enough experiences to understand the in and outs . thought he discovered most of his own personal preferences on his own and with his own hand and imagination .

F = Favorite position ( this goes without saying )

as vanilla as it sounds , he prefers missionary . anything that gives him a clear view of your face and body as you writhe under him . he enjoys the sight of you , studying you with an intense want . though it’s not the only position he enjoys . having you in his lap is another favorite . the way you bounce up and down , leaning your head on his shoulder as you roll your hips and grow so weak and needy that you have to beg him to take hold of your hips and move you .

G = Goofy ( are they more serious in the moment ? are they humorous ? etc . )

vincent knows that sex can be silly and fun and cute and lighthearted . so he takes each lovemaking session with a grain of salt . while he wants it to be intimate and close and passionate , serious and intense . he will also smile softly if you make a loud strange noise , quirking a brow for a moment before soothing you with kisses , luring you back into the passionate mindset he craves . sex with vincent is likely to lean towards serious more often than not . only leaning towards light heartedness if you are both just smoked and are enjoying a shared high .

H = Hair ( how well groomed are they ? does the carpet match the drapes ? etc . )

unlike the silken , long , black locks on his head , his happy trail and pubic hair is coarse and kept trim and neat . he finds if he trims them too short they feel scratchy and rough , so he keeps them a bit longer than some might , just so that there is a nice softness and not just blunt coarse pubic stubble . scratch against his happy trail or pubes and you’ll find yourself with a suddenly passionate vincent ready to lay you down and have you every way he pleases .

I = Intimacy ( how are they during the moment ? the romantic aspect )

intense gazes , roaming hands , shared glances . the act is always intimate . without that intimacy he’d feel detached and dejected . he doesn’t want you to feel that way with him , and he certainly doesn’t want it either . if you leave vincent’s embrace not feeling as if you are wanted and desired and loved and needed , then vincent did a terrible job and will do everything in his power to rectify it . he wants you to know how much he craves you , and he’s very good at doing so .

J = Jack off ( masturbation headcanon )

jacking off is a quick fix for him . it brings temporary relaxation , a destressor when he is busy . before you , his hand was all he had , and he did it more so as a chore than anything . something he needed to do to force himself to relax . however after you arrived in ambrose it became a need . his want for you so powerful that he thought of a million different scenarios in which you found your way to his bed , or him to yours . after you became his lover however , it went back to being something he had to do because he was too wrapped up in his work to find you , or perhaps you were asleep and he didn’t wish to wake you just to satisfy his needs and leave . however he does jerk off less often , finding that allowing himself to get pent up during a project leads to a passionate and long session when he leaves his domain under the houze of wax .

K = Kink ( one or more of their kinks )

he is a voyeur . watching you intently as you undress , shower , or pleasure yourself . while he might have watched you through a cracked open door in secret before you two became official , now that you are lovers , he will at times simply sit and watch you pleasure yourself . his keen eye keeping track of every movement , ever stroke of your fingers , every twitch of your hips . it’s even common for him to have a sketchbook in hand , doing quick drawings of you to later turn into paintings .

vincent is also an exhibitionist . the thrill and power that comes with sex in semi public places is exciting . the way you both have to be hushed and hurried partly clothed as you desperately grasp at each other . it’s the fear of getting caught , and the fact that getting caught would cement in anyone’s mind exactly who you belonged to that has vincent , on rare occasion , taking you against the walls of the house of wax , in the open fields that surround ambrose , or even right outside of bo’s shop while he works . it’s a power trip that you won’t know he enjoys until you have him pressing you against lester’s truck while he’s out walking jonesy .

L = Location ( favorite places to do the do )

his bedroom . it’s a place for just the two of you . undisturbed by his brothers or the outside world . he’s taken you on the bed , in the comfy chair , against his desk . the dresser . he’s had you so many ways in his room , it’s the perfect place to feel you pressed against him .

he does also like having a roll with you on a blanket in the fields of ambrose . in nature . seeing your hair wild against the grass and small flowers , the smell of earth and how the sun or stars and moon illuminate you , it’s beautiful .

M = Motivation ( what turns them on, gets them going )

sometimes it’s just as simple as you turning to face him , half dressed and getting ready for bed , smiling and welcoming him home that has him itching to strip and make love . other times it’s the way you look at him , how your gaze up so shyly , a flush on your cheeks . it can be from you passing next to him , the scent of your shampoo triggering something in him that makes him want to take you . vincent may not seem like it , but he is very easily swayed into your arms .

N = No ( something they wouldn’t do , turn offs )

there is no impact play . no degradation from either end . no choking . these are turn offs . and as kind and even tempered as vincent can be , doing any of these things will have him removing himself from you and the situation entirely .

O = Oral ( preference in giving or receiving , skill , etc . )

he enjoys giving as much as he enjoys receiving , how ever he is more inclined to give as he enjoys the feeling of your thighs on either side of his head . you are , however , his first experience in giving oral . so he will start out cautious and slow , learning what makes you tremble and shake and moan and using that to his advantage . he is a quick learner . he doesn’t however spend time edging or teasing . when his mouth is on you he is going to work you to completion , not denying you as you cry out for him .

when it comes to receiving he is very open to it . like stated before , he enjoys it just as much as he enjoys giving . don’t expect him to fuck your mouth like a while animal . he will be slow and methodical , wanting the sensation to last . he’s more likely to want you to edge him , to rile him up for a bit . deny him his pleasure once or twice , and he will he in heaven when he finally cums . thought he will pull out till only the tip rests in your mouth while he does cum , seeing your mouth full of him makes him intensely satisfied .

P = Pace ( are they fast and rough ? slow and sensual ? etc . )

vincent can do both. more often than not he will go the slow and sensual route . he likes taking his time , working you both up , building the pleasure until it’s too much to bare . foreplay , during , and aftercare are all kept at the same pace .

the only times he will get fast and rough is when the two of you are clinging to each other in public . against the side of bo’s shop , against lester’s truck , in any room of the house of wax . if you two are anywhere you may get caught , vincent lets himself go and takes you in a assertive and dominant way that leaves you quaking .

Q = Quickie ( their opinions on quickies , how often , etc . )

he prefers actual sex instead of quickies , however if stress becomes too much , and there’s too much on his plate and he can only spare a few precious moments , he will take what he can get . he will leave you with a passionate kiss that tells you he will make it up to you at a later time . and you find yourself enjoying the intensity he shows you when he finds that time to make your little sessions last .

R = Risk ( are they game to experiment ? do they take risks ? etc . )

vincent will do nothing and try nothing that will cause you or himself pain . i would say he is not likely to experiment unless he has a good understanding of what it is that you want to try . and so long as it follows the rules he has in place for the bedroom .

S = Stamina ( how many rounds can they go for ? how long do they last ? )

he can last for two rounds before needing a break of fifteen to twenty minutes . however he will be more than happy to satisfy you with his fingers or mouth until his cock twitches back to life if you desire more than just two rounds during a session .

T = Toys ( do they own toys ? do they use them ? on a partner or themselves ? )

he does own some . he has a few fleshlights that he stopped using once his relationship with you started . before he had you they satisfied him more than just his hand . but after having you , they cannot compare . he also owns a few vibes that he enjoys using on himself and on you .

U = Unfair ( how much they like to tease )

he tries not to tease you much . in truth he much rather be teased than do the teasing . the most teasing he will do will involved making you ask for a kiss , or force you to lean up and steal on for yourself .

V = Volume ( how loud they are, what sounds they make , etc . )

raspy breathes , low moans , heavy panting , grunting . that’s what you get . he doesn’t get too loud , rather quiet in the act . but don’t ever feel as if you aren’t giving him pleasure . you are , he will show it to you in more physical ways than verbal .

W = Wild card ( a random headcanon for the character )

while vincent will agree to it , he is not a fan of being begged or bottoming . he finds it’s harder for him to cum when penetrated . but if it’s something that brings you pleasure he will allow you to do so , you’ll just have to work his cock with your hand , possibly having to pull out completely before he can finally cum .

X = X-ray ( let’s see what’s going on under those clothes )

while he is somewhat broad , he is also lithe . very toned . you aren’t going to find bulging muscles under his clothes . but you can still see the strength in his shoulder and back and arms . his chest toned but not defined . he has a flat stomach , tapered hips and strong legs and calves . follow the happy trail that down , eyeing the v of his hips and you’ll be greeted with a pretty flushed cock . he’s cut , head swollen and rosy , a darker shade than his shaft . he has a few thick veins around his base that curve around his cock . his cock hangs between his legs , even when hard , with a slight curve up . he’s long , 7″ in length and has a good girth . nothing that needs too much prep . he’s a nice snug fit .

Y = Yearning ( how high is their sex drive ? )

before he had a face and name to his want and lust , he didn’t yearn much . he craved , but he didn’t yearn . like stated earlier , his sex drive was low to average , only using his hand or fleshlights to get himself off in order to have a moment of relaxation or to just satisfy an urge like scratching an itch .

after you , he has seen a dramatic shift . while he can push it to the back of his mind while working , he yearns deeply for you . so much so that on the days he doesn’t go into his workspace , he will likely have you two to three times throughout the day . and each time is a session that can last between one to three rounds , depending .

Z = Zzz ( how quickly they fall asleep afterwards )

you will more than likely always fall asleep before vincent does . he’s observant . he likes to watch . he enjoys watching you fall to sleep . and he tends to want to keep watch over you , savoring the closeness of having you pressed against him . so trusting and all his .

#vincent sinclair #vincent sinclair imagine #vincent sinclair x reader #slasher #slashers #slasher imagine #slashers imagine #slasher x reader #slashers x reader

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shewillreadyou · 4 years ago

Text

Haven’t met you yet

As always. I hope that you enjoy reading as much as I enjoyed writing.

A/N: This is a TRR AU. Liam is already married, but see’s Riley and wants his cake. If the readers are receptive this might turn into more than a mini series.

Disclaimers: Most characters are property of Pixelberry

Warnings: NS*FW (+18) don’t read this fic if you’re a minor; period.

Word Count: 1887

Prompts: @wackydrabbles prompt #88 “I meant every word.” will appear in BOLD

Pairings: Drake & Riley

Song inspiration: Haven’t met you yet -Michael Buble

Be Kind: Hit the heart button, leave a comment or reblog. It makes a writer so so happy.

A replay of the Royal wedding of King Liam and Queen Carsyn of Cordonia was playing in the background as she packed her clothes in the small carryon. She giggled when they kissed. Although it was rumored that the king was into black women, something seemed off when he kissed his bride. She had watched this wedding a half dozen times and still couldn’t really put her finger on it. She was headed to New York to stand up in the wedding of one of her sorority sisters. After landing her dream job in Dallas, Riley couldn’t wait to meet her sorors in New York to celebrate. After all, Norah was about to marry the man of her dreams and Riley was truly happy for them.

There was currently no man in Riley’s life and no prospects. Maybe she’d meet someone in Dallas or maybe she was destined for the life of a career woman. Maybe there would be no happily ever after for her. She turned out the lights in her new downtown Dallas apartment, and grabbed her carry on dragging it to the door as she headed to the airport.

She opened the door to see her latest amazon purchase on the door mat. She took a moment to retreat inside to open the box. She was hoping it was delivered before she had to head out. Her pink Bedroom Kandi toy was still packed away lost in the sea of boxes crammed into her guestroom. She knew that she would not survive this long weekend in NYC without some form of sexual entertainment. She was disappointed when she opened the box to find her new toy was smaller than the picture made it look. Her flight left in 2 hours and her uber was downstairs so she shoved the disappointing toy in the side of her bag and headed down.

After the uneventful three hour flight, she finally landed at JFK. Mack was supposed to pick her up from the airport. She stood to the side as people herded to baggage claim to send a quick text. A group of men came from the opposite direction. One was this tall, very attractive Asian guy who looked alot like King Liam. He was with a few other men but there was one in particular who caught her eye. He was beautiful, he had dark hair and the most beautiful blue-grey eyes. The guy who bore resemblance to King Liam smiled and winked at her, while his brooding friend who definitely glanced at her, kept moving. She was snatched from her day dream when Mack texted to say she was outside.

They checked into the Crown Plaza in Manhattan, freshened up and changed into their little black dresses before meeting the girls at a local rooftop lounge for appetizers and drinks before the bachelorette party.

The sounds of Dua Lipa’s “Don’t start now” played in the background and encouraged a slightly inebriated Lauren to shake her body on the empty dance floor. Still licking the wounds behind a very fresh break up she intended to use this weekend to drink her troubles away and vowed to nail a stranger.

The hostess seated a group of gentlemen at the table directly behind the ladies giving Riley, who never sat with her back to the door the best look at the group. It was them. The men from the airport. When they were settled, Riley’s eyes met with the Asian guy’s who was smiling and licking his lips. She rolled her eyes and turned to Kourtney.

“So, how is Gabrielle, is she two now?”

“Yes, she’s great. Busy, but great. That was real smooth. You have an admirer.”

“Ugh, I saw those guys in the airport when I landed. He smiled at me then too.”

“But now there are two of them looking at you like you’re a steak.”

Riley coyly glanced at the group again, this time noticing the dark haired man looking. She blushed and turned back to Kourtney right as the server approached with a whiskey sour, complete with a phone number written on the cocktail napkin.

“How did he know what you drink?”

“Girl, I have no idea. Should I drink this?”

“Sure, they wouldn’t have served it if it had been tampered with. But the real question is are you going to call him?”

“Me? Noooo. What would I say?”

“What do you have to lose?”

“Wait, you have never dated a white guy before have you?”

“Well, no. Not that they aren’t attractive. I just never had one interested. Not all of us find our Prince Harry.”

“You do now. Besides, Chris is no Prince Harry, but he does treat me like a queen. I have always wondered if there are people who would rather be alone than to date outside of their race. Chris is the best thing that ever happened to me.”

“I definitely would date outside of my race if it were the right person. He is gorgeous, I’m still not calling this guy. He’s going to think i’m desperate.”

“You are!”

“I am not!”

“When was the last time you got laid? Mack told me about your toy.”

“Remind me to kill her later. It’s been 8 months, 3 weeks and 5 days. But who’s counting?”

“Exactly,” Kourtney cackled, drawing the attention of the men at the next table.

Maroon 5’s, “Moves like Jagger” started to play as they continued to chat.

“May I have this dance?”

Riley was disappointed to find the King Liam look alike.

“Thanks, but my feet are killing me.”

“That’s too bad,” he said as he flashed her a sexy smile.

Just then she glanced across the rooftop to see him whisper something to his brooding friend. In an instant the guy with the beautiful eyes headed over and slipped the DJ a tip and whispered something in his ear before heading Riley’s way.

“Kourt, shit! He’s coming over here what do I say?”

“Don’t. Let him do the talking.”

He held out his hand and smiled at her and she was sure her panties were ruined.

“Hey, did I get your drink right?” he asked placing her hand in his.

“Actually, yeah you did. Impressive.”

Just then the DJ changed the song to Silk Sonic’s, “Leave the door open.”

The stranger pulled her to her feet.

“Let’s dance.”

His scent was intoxicating, his arms where strong and she could get lost in his eyes. He held her with a familiarity that made her feel at home in his arms.

“So are you going to tell me your name?”

“Drake. And you are?”

“Riley.”

“We don’t have to talk right now. Let’s just dance. Just use my number when you’re ready.”

“Their bodies swayed slowly to the song before her friends pulled her away to the next leg of their night.”

Two weeks later

After a very long weekend in New York, Riley was back in Dallas. She had been there for almost a month and hadn’t met anyone at all. Well, there was Will from work. But she doesn’t date co-workers and she is pretty sure he is gay. In her freetime she goes to the gym, and eats at new restaurants a few times a week, which leads her back to the gym. After a particularly long work day, circuit training and an hour on the treadmill Riley came home and poured herself a very large glass of wine. She filled the tub, lit some jar candles and grabbed her toy and the romance novel that she was currently reading.

She was soaking in bubbles up to her neck when her phone rang, it was Kourtney. Out of all her friends she probably checked on Riley the most. She dried her hands and pressed the speakerphone button.

Hey Kourt,

Hey Ri, what’s new?

Not a thing, work, the gym, dinner, wine repeat.

That’s sad. No human interaction?

Not really. I’ve hung out with Mack and Ben twice but I always feel like a third wheel.

Remember when I told you to call the guy from the rooftop?

Yeah.

I meant every word.

I will think about it. I gotta go. Early morning. Love you.

Whatever, I know when I hit a nerve. I love you too.

Three days later

Riley was as lonely in Dallas as they come. She thought about online dating but wanted something more organic. Kourtney’s words lingered in the back of her mind. Maybe she was right. Riley had nothing to lose by reaching out to the handsome stranger who sent her the drink in NYC. She decided to take the plunge.

The next morning Riley sat on her balcony reading the paper and sipping amaretto flavored coffee when her phone rang.

Hey Mack!

Hey, I am running into church and I know it’s short notice but Ben is out of town next weekend and my college roommate is getting married down in Waxahachie. Please tell me you don’t have plans and you’ll be my plus one.

I’ll have to check my planner. She laughed.

Who am I kidding? I don’t have plans. Free booze, food, and maybe a groomsmen to have a fling with. Count me in…

Yay! She squealed. I will pick you up Saturday morning and we can ride down to the ranch together.

Saturday

The doorbell rings and Riley grabs her clutch and the wedding card she got for the newlyweds before heading down to meet Mack. They catch up while they take the 30 minute drive out to the Walker Ranch where the ceremony is to be held. Mack talked about feeling like an after thought when it came to her boyfriend. Riley mentioned the need for human interaction, more specifically from a man and how the one man she met in New York lives in Europe. When they arrive Riley takes in the vast land and the beautiful event space.

“Savannah’s family owns this ranch? Wow, it’s massive.”

“Yeah, I know at one time they were really struggling to keep things afloat. But it definitely looks like they are doing well for themselves now.”

“Right? I love when family businesses do well. It’s really a gorgeous day for an outside wedding. But we should probably take our seats. The ceremony will be starting soon.”

Mack led Riley to a couple seats on the bride's side. Before long a very serious looking groom and an officiant that Riley could only describe as a King Liam look-a-like stood under a wedding trellis decorated with blush colored blooms. The violinist started to play a beautiful arrangement as the attendants began to descend the aisle.

“All rise and receive the bride.”

They guess all stood and turned to receive Savannah. She was a stunning bride. Then Riley laid eyes on those hypnotic blue-grey eyes. She instantly broke out into a sweat. She couldn’t ever mistake those eyes for someone else’s. He was as beautiful as the first tine she saw him. She swallowed hard and her mouth went dry. Her heart seemed to be pounding out of her chest, she was shaking when she gave Mack’s hand a firm squeeze.

“What’s wrong Ri?”

Before she could answer, his eyes met hers, he bit his lip and her knees buckled.

“Um Ri?”

“It’s Drake from the rooftop in New York..”

@txemrn @pixie88 @secretaryunpaid@khoicesbyk @blackkingliamstan @mom2000aggie @shannonwrote @hopelessromanticmonie @fanjessfic @rideordiechronicles @lucy-268 @dcbbw @darley1101 @maurine07 @burnsoslow @sfb123 @bbrandy2002 @kingliam2019 @schnitzelbutterfingers @lem-20 @choicesficwriterscreations @wackydrabbles

TRR: @twinkleallnight @bebepac @mainstreetreader @romereadingshop @romewritingshop @lem-20 @texaskitten30

#choices fanfiction #choices #the royal romance #fanfic #fandom #fanfiction #drake walker #drake x riley #follow shewillreadyou #kim reads #kim writes

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rfadaydreaming · 4 years ago

Text

jumin han / nsfw abc’s

the ceo in all his glory <3 original post here

A = Aftercare (What they’re like after sex)

so attentive to all your needs. needs a minute for you both to catch your breath and come back down to earth, but almost instantly he’s all over you. wraps his arms around you, kisses your neck, murmurs words of affection into your skin. plays with your hair and listens to you talk about whatever you please, you’ll be doing most of the talking since he’s pretty quiet after sex. super casual and even somewhat lazy aura after the whole thing, he’s not lying when he says he gets drunk off of you. not exactly tired, just super calm and relaxed. after some snuggling he’ll offer to clean you up, run a bath, order food, or just stay in bed together if that’s what you’d like to do. whatever you prefer, he’s perfectly content.

B = Body part (Their favourite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

he’s not fond of anything in particular on himself, hasn’t really thought about it much? but if he had to choose, he does like the way his hands look. his fingers are long and soft, they look especially good dancing across your skin, or covered in your cum. the last one he prefers the most <3

for his partner, it's the finer details that really get to him the most. the tiny things that no one would otherwise notice. the back of your neck, inside of your wrists, the softness of the skin between your thighs. even the freckles that dot your skin, every tiny little detail comes together to perfectly form you. that’s why it’s his favorite. finds it beautiful. victorian man over here !! hide your ankles

C = Cum (Anything to do with cum basically… I’m a disgusting person)

loves finishing inside. theres just something about it for him. stands back to admire as it pools out of you, much to your embarrassment. uses his tip to gather it all up, pushing it inside you again before starting round two. will love if you get all flustered about the whole thing too.

when you come to visit him in the office, he’ll finish inside and quickly pull your underwear up so nothing has the chance to spill out, a mess like that on the floor would be tough to explain. bonus points if you wear them throughout the day only for him to find out when he gets home from work, it will drive him crazy.

D = Dirty Secret (Pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

got turned on when you said his name during the phone call the two of you shared shortly after you had joined the RFA. he’s never had that happen from someone’s voice alone, but then again, no one has said his name in such a slow and quiet way like that before. made him feel a little uncomfortable with himself, so he just ignored it and tried his best to forget. but you were definitely on his mind later that night. thats one of my favorite calls skdhksbs he was so surprised

E = Experience (How experienced are they? Do they know what they’re doing?)

no experience, like... none at all. maaaybe has watched porn once or twice but it didn’t really do anything for him, so he never picked it up again. the type to sit through sex scenes in movies completely unphased.

he knows basic anatomy of course—had a good education so he's aware of what’s going on—but only really researches the hidden tips and tricks once he gets in a deeper relationship with you. seven probably sends him know how links out of concern, they do help though !! he’s a naturally observant man as well, so he’s quick to learn what you like, the things that get you moaning and squirming the most. Not afraid to ask what you want from him. honestly if he hadn’t told you, you wouldn’t have a clue about his inexperience. boosts his ego sm <3

F = Favourite Position (This goes without saying. Will probably include a visual)

any position where you’re bent over he loves. doggy style, over his desk, against a wall.

also loves when you ride him while he’s sat at his work desk, gives him a good position to let his hands run wild all over your body. something about sitting in his office with you over him like that, riding him. really likes that.

G = Goofy (Are they more serious in the moment, or are they humorous, etc)

obviously he can smile or throw in a few sarcastic quips here and there, but overall takes the whole thing pretty seriously. gets a little nervous if you laugh for no reason, throws him off for a second. it’s pretty serious for him, sometimes there's off moments here and there of course, but he’d rather skip over them than dwell for too long. not a lot of laughs, he’s busy focusing on the task at hand. hold in your laughter please he will get offended

H = Hair (How well groomed are they, does the carpet match the drapes, etc.)

doesn’t shave completely, makes him feel weird when he does, but keeps himself trimmed often. prefers the neatness.

I = Intimacy (How are they during the moment, romantic aspect…)

prefers intimacy more than anything else, kissing your neck or wrists while he slowly thrusts in and out of you, whispering sweet words into your shoulder while he does so. he’ll trail your skin with his fingers and leave behind little pecks. loved asking questions or pointing out little things you might not have even noticed that he's absolutely in love with, freckles or birthmarks for example.

but that doesn’t mean he can’t also be rough. he likes bending you over, grabbing a fistful of your hair, making you beg for him. versatile king

J = Jack Off (Masturbation headcanon)

Before he met you:

rarely, he would do it on occasion? If he had a stubborn urge that just wouldn’t go away for some reason, but never really got the feeling for it. If he did, he never fantasized too much, just focused on the feeling until he was done. feels gross for the rest of the day after he does it, makes his head foggy.

After he met you:

still doesn’t do it too often, he has you after all. If the mood strikes he’ll ask if you’d like to help him out with his problem. phone sex is common on business trips, so he does it then, and if you want him to touch himself in front of you, he definitely will without a second thought. but unprompted and alone, no. he’d rather just wait.

K = Kink (One or more of their kinks)

possessive sex. If you spend too much time with zen, someone flirts with you too openly, or even when he just starts to get caught up in his own head, the sex that comes after is intense. especially at events. he’ll make it a point to smudge your makeup, leave marks on your skin, turn you into a drooling mess. he’ll have you repeat who you belong to, make you beg for permission to finish, really gets off on being the one in charge. domination kink

L = Location (Favourite places to do the do)

home is probably his favorite just because it’s where you’re most comfortable getting loud, you both can spend as much time as you need there without any interruptions. the office is a close second though.

M = Motivation (What turns them on, gets them going)

when you wear short skirts with nothing else underneath them, especially if you come to visit him in the office. bonus points if he’s insanely busy that day and doesn’t have time to bend you over his desk. text him beforehand and watch how many times his eyes shift to your legs, the way he looks at you. really drives him up the wall. but besides that most of the time all you have to do is speak and he’s ready to go, all day every day. say the word and he’s yours.

N = NO (Something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

no choking, slapping, drawing blood, anything too intense in the bedroom that’s super violent. It just.. doesn’t get him going. he’s not too picky with what he will or won’t do, but that isn’t his cup of tea.

O = Oral (Preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc)

either or, if you give he’ll always give back and vice versa. prefers giving a bit more honestly, loves seeing you come undone from his mouth alone, but no complaints if you sneak under his desk at work and start undoing his belt.

skillswise it does take him a bit of getting used to at first, but he warms up quickly as he gets to know your body more. again, observant and a very quick learner. will never complain about his jaw hurting, never ever. groans a lot into you while he’s doing it, let’s himself get himself lost in the whole thing.

P = Pace (Are they fast and rough? Slow and sensual? etc.)

it depends on the mood or how either of you feel that day. he does prefer slow and intimate just a bit more than anything else, but isn’t strongly leaning towards one or the other.

Q = Quickie (Their opinions on quickies rather than proper sex, how often, etc.)

proper sex if he’s able to, only likes quickies when you two are in public and or a time crunch, but they’re definitely not his favorite. If he does have to finish quickly, he’s sure to make it up to you later. they’re surprisingly often though, especially if you drop by his office. you’ll always leave looking way redder than you did before.

R = Risk (Are they game to experiment, do they take risks, etc.)

most anything you want to try, he’ll try. He wants to make you happy. I don't see him being overly kinky right off the bat since he doesn’t have much experience? but he’s down for new things. pretty risky, loves public sex after all.

S = Stamina (How many rounds can they go for, how long do they last…)

at first not too long due to his inexperience, but he learns to hold back more as time passes. pretty good at controlling himself, wants to see you come undone as many times as he can before he finishes himself. after a hard day at work he can only last a round or two, but normally he can go for awhile.

T = Toy (Do they own toys? Do they use them? On a partner or themselves?)

doesn’t own toys for himself, but has a few he’d buy for you. has quite the selection of vibrators. his favorite is a pink one that's controlled by his phone, it gets quite a bit of use, especially during events. handcuffs and blindfolds too !! always super pink, he likes that color for you.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

unfair, making you beg, edging you until you can’t bear it any longer, embarrassing you especially with his dirty talk. doesn’t hold back in the slightest, so it’s never fair for you. he’s selfish after all.

V = Volume (How loud they are, what sounds they make)

grunts, groans, little “fuck”s under his breath. more vocal as he gets closer to coming, he breathes heavier and groans deeper in his throat. It’s never super loud, he’s way more on the quiet side. prefers to hear your sounds more than anything else so he's focused on that the most, doesn’t really moan too much.

W = Wild Card (Get a random headcanon for the character of your choice)

cannot send nudes for the life of him. like, it’s bad. super blurry, awkward, or way too dark. it’s cute whenever he tries though. for some reason they’re just so painfully awkward looking. opt for phone sex instead

X = X-Ray (Let’s see what’s going on in those pants, picture or words)

never measured himself officially? but he's on the lengthier side— more than seven inches for sure, he leans up more towards his stomach but overall very straight, no curves or anything. cut, not too many veins except for one prominent one his underside that will absolutely drive him insane if you run your tongue across it, his tip is very red and incredibly sensitive, jumps a little if you go in on it way too fast. he has way more length than he does girth, and the size stays the same all throughout. i know his dick is pretty i just feel it

Y = Yearning (How high is their sex drive?)

before he met you, low. but after he met you, all those years of repressed sexual frustration really started to show huh, he can’t go more than five minutes without keeping his hands off of you. It’s high, especially at the beginning of the relationship.

Z = ZZZ (… how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

depends on how work was that day !! But no matter what he tends to stay up for a while afterwards. you’re much more likely to fall asleep before him most of the time. he likes think for awhile first.

#mm #mysme #mystic messenger #jumin han #jumin han mystic messenger #jumin mystic messenger #jumin han headcanons #jumin mm #jumin mysme #mystic messenger headcanons #daydreaming after hours #hey !! hey #omg why was this so hard to write #not me struggling to describe a mans dick for 20 minutes straight #my search history ... adios

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cagestark · 4 years ago

Text

-Unfinished-

That’s the title, btw.

About this: Stuckony, college!au with older Tony. NFF. 9.4k. Minor CBT, daddy kink, spanking mentioned.

“Steve - 3 o’clock.”

Steve doesn’t tilt his head up from where he is looking at his phone, but behind his dark tinted sunglasses, Bucky knows that his blue eyes are scanning the crowd that crosses the southern sidewalk of the quad. Bucky knows when Steve has spotted the man in question because his mouth parts enough for a breathy exhale, tongue wetting his lower lip.

“God,” Steve murmurs. “No chance he’s a student.”

“Forties, you think?” Not that there aren’t students of all ages moving on campus today, but there are no bags by his side, no pack slung over his shoulder, no sense of eager urgency as he stands watching the afternoon sun play off the fountain that’s dead center of the open, grassy area. Faculty or family, Bucky thinks.

“Couldn’t say for certain,” Steve says. “Wouldn’t say for certain. Jesus, he looks good.”

“Better than good, come on, admit it.”

“What makes you think he’s interested?”

“No wife at his side,” says Bucky. “But more importantly, no straight man is stylish enough to wear boots like that.”

Steve gives a long suffering sigh. He slips his phone into his back pocket, and Bucky takes the moment to admire the way his boyfriend’s shirt clings tightly to his biceps. Buying Steve shirts is a chore, always too loose around his trim waist and always too tight across his chest and arms. A chore, but no crime. At least, not one Bucky’s suffering from. “Well,” says Steve. “Should we introduce ourselves? ‘S only polite.”

Bucky gives a shark’s grin.

Up close, the man is even more striking than he��d appeared across the quad. He has thick, dark hair that lays with stylish disorder, and neatly groomed facial hair threaded with gray. His eyes are hidden behind dark Ray-Bans, but they can see his eyebrows rise steadily at their approach, the corners of his full mouth slipping upward. He’s more than a head shorter than they are, but his petite stature belies a strength.

Steve, ever amiable, offers his hand. “Hi there. Steve Rogers, Art postgrad. This here is—”

“James Barnes, Criminal Justice.”

“—do you need any help finding your dorm?”

As they speak, the stranger’s smile grows wider and wider. He reaches up to push back his sunglasses, really dark eyes surrounded by healthy lines hinting at many smiles. When he takes Steve’s hand in a firm shake, Bucky feels downright jealous of his own boyfriend’s palm. Hastily offering his own, he’s treated to a calloused palm that is small in his own grip but no less strong.

No wedding ring.

“Tony,” says the man. “Boys, you should know I’ve been playing the game longer than you’ve been alive.”

“What game?” Steve asks, grinning widely. They all take note of the way Tony’s eyes drop to Steve’s mouth, the full lips, the neat lines of white teeth, the facial hair he’s taking way too much fucking pride in (though Bucky sure as hell doesn’t mind the beardburn).

“If you know the game, then you should know how to play along,” Bucky says, winking.

Tony laughs, the lines around his mouth and eyes blooming. The sound makes Bucky’s gut flutter, his chest clenching tight with fondness that feels too strong to have for a man they’ve just met. “I’m no student,” says Tony. Then, a little more cautious: “I just finished moving my son in. Freshman; bioengineering.”

Bucky’s eyes nearly roll. He reaches out to put a stabilizing hand on his boyfriend’s strong shoulder, leaning into him dramatically. Yeah, Bucky has father issues, what else was he going to get growing up with a ma who raised him and his sisters alone after their old man walked out? The gray in Tony’s facial hair had called to him, but the downright authenticity in him being a parent? Bucky can feel his cock tingling already.

“You hear that?” Bucky leans in to whisper into Steve’s ear dramatically. Out of the corner of his eye, he watches Tony watch them, notices dimly the flicker of anxiety that passes through his expressive eyes, the drawing of his brows together. His eyes widen with more than a little incredulity when Bucky goes on to say: “He’s not just a daddy, he’s a dad.”

Steve slips an arm around Bucky’s shoulder and pulls him close, patting at his head with theatrical indulgence. “Your weakness,” Steve sighs.

Tony snorts, turning away to stare out over the quad and pretend to give them privacy. A healthy flush rises to his face, a few shades short of a flush. Flattered, Bucky thinks. Maybe he’s been turned down recently for his age, for having a grown son. Maybe he thinks he’s getting too old to attract lovers but he’s dead fucking wrong.

Steve murmurs something else to him but it falls on deaf ears because Tony’s head has turned back towards them, eyes widening in horror. Bucky reels just in time to catch a football as it strikes him in the chest, knocking the breath out of him a little. Sprinting across the quad towards them is a familiar, dark skinned man who looks more delighted than concerned.

“Jesus Christ, Wilson!” Steve barks, demeanor changing from soft to authoritative in an instant. “What the hell are you thinking, kickin’ a ball this direction? You could have hit someone!”

“Just Barnes,” Sam pants. “No great loss.”

“I’ll remember that next time we’re in a sociology class and you’re begging for my notes, buddy,” Bucky says, throwing him the ball. Sam catches it with a dry thud, tucking it under one arm to greet Steve with a pat on the back.

A hand touches his shoulder and he turns to see Tony, eyes flickering between his sternum where the ball made contact and Bucky’s face. “Are you alright? I’m sorry I didn’t notice it sooner. Fuck, I thought it was going to take your head off.”

“I’m alright, doll,” Bucky says, realizing a little too late the endearment slipping off the tip of his tongue.

Tony snorts in a way that makes Bucky feel silly for falling into familiarity so soon. “I’m hardly a doll; I’m twice your fucking age, James.”

“Bucky,” Bucky supplies. “Friends call me Bucky. Twice my age, huh? Does that mean you’ll call me ‘baby’?”

“Means you should address him as sir, Buck,” Steve chimes in. Tony licks his lips, a subconscious action that he and Steve can’t help but zero in on. Feeling the heat of their gaze on him, Tony reaches up to slide his sunglasses back down over his eyes, a loss Bucky downright laments. The silence that rests between them feels thick with something. Promise, Bucky hopes. Chemistry, for sure.

“Oh Jesus,” Sam mutters, breaking the moment. “Y’all make me sick with that fifty-shades of gray bullshit. If I have to hear Rogers spanking the holy hell out of you one more time I’m going to mistake it for a domestic dispute.”

“Hey, let’s not make light of domestic violence,” Steve says. When he glances over (hoping for a blush, a flush, any sign that their banter is affecting him), Tony’s head is ducked, and maybe he’s looking at the ground, politely playing spectator in the conversation, but Bucky thinks that maybe he’s looking at Steve’s hands, broad and strong and capable of delivering spanks that have Bucky’s teeth chattering.

Bucky ups the ante. “Can’t mistake it for nothing than what it is, Wilson, not when I’m thankin’ him after every spank.”

“If you were spanking him right,” says Tony suddenly, flashing eyes that burn from behind his sunglasses. “The only word he should be able to say is please.”

Bucky’s mouth goes dry, a ringing in his ears as he stares at Tony’s confident, experienced gaze where it rests on Bucky’s own boyfriend. He’s got the urge to go down on his knees then and there, to ask for a demonstration that will leave his ass aching for days. By the time his soul returns to his body, he’s missed half of whatever Sam is saying.

“—came over here to find you two fuckers because some of the other boys asked me to. Want to throw some ball? The field’s clear for it.”

“Hell yeah,” Bucky says to cover up the fact that he wasn’t listening. “Steve?”

“Sure,” the blond agrees in his calm, agreeable way.

Tony clears his throat, taking a step away from the group. Bucky and Steve share an alarmed look from behind their own sunglasses. Tony strikes them as the kind of man who always keeps a foot out the door, but they don’t want him to get away so easily. Especially if what he really wants is to be there as bad as they think he does.

“Nice meeting you boys,” he says. “Enjoy your game—I’d say stay out of trouble but if you’re anything like I was, that will only encourage you—”

“Whoa, you’re leaving already?” Bucky asks. At risk of coming on too strong too soon, Bucky reaches out to put a gentle hand on Tony’s shoulder, watching him closely. When the man’s mouth parts a little, no sign of being uncomfortable visible in the set of his shoulders or the lines of his face, Bucky squeezes a little, feeling burning skin through Tony’s leather jacket.

“We could really use a referee,” Steve offers. In a stage whisper: “Bucky cheats.”

Bucky pulls away to lightly punch at one of Steve’s broad shoulders. “That’s Steve’s way of saying I’m talented. If we have an unbiased judge for once, will that put to rest this cheating bullshit, Steve? Then Tony, you’ve got to come watch. Unless you’ve got someplace to be. Is your wife waiting in the car, maybe?”

Tony snorts softly. He holds up his hand, free of rings. “No wife. But if you’re any good at this game, you already knew that.”

“If you’re so knowledgeable, then you must know that we needed to hear you say it,” Steve counters lowly. It’s Steve’s turn to put one broad palm on Tony’s shoulder, and the size difference between them is enough to have Bucky’s throat squeezing tight like when Steve’s got a hand around it. Fuck, he could see it all in his head like the filthiest show: Steve bending Tony in half across the island in their off-campus apartment together, Tony’s smaller figure riding Steve, making eyes at Bucky across the room. But he’s getting ahead of himself. “What do you say, Tony? Help us settle an old score?”

“At your service,” says Tony, grinning widely.

“What the fuck are you doing, Tony,” Tony mutters under his breath to himself. The field looks lovely, even if the lines are faded and not yet repainted. The grass is lush and green, providing the perfect background for Steve and Bucky’s pale bodies. They’ve got him set up on the first row of the stands so that he has ‘the best vantage’.

The vantage is pretty fucking good. When the two grad students had joined their half-dozen friends, the two had immediately shed their shirts, giving them to Tony for safekeeping. Thank God for sunglasses, because it gave Tony the freedom to let his eyes wander over two of the most sculpted chests he’s ever seen outside of a magazine or television. It’s fucking obscene how broad Steve’s shoulders are, the way they taper to his slim waist. Neither of them has a single hair on their chests, and Steve is notably lacking the fine line of hair that Bucky has running from his navel down into his shorts.

Tony remembers those days. Waxing, working out, keeping his body firm and appealing so as to attract and delight whatever sex he wanted to go home with that night. That had changed after Pepper, her not-so-playful wondering of Why are you trying so hard, Tony? You’ve already got me. Their breakup years ago had swept all the dirt from beneath the rug, and her accusations of infidelity still stung after all this time.

Still reminded Tony that he was just a washed-up old man compared to these kids horsing around on the football field of his alma mater. If he wanted to have a midlife crisis, he could go to the nearest dealership and buy a corvette. But is that all this is? When the two had approached him like tigers closing in on a tasty meal, he’d felt flattered. Almost embarrassed. He’d done such things during his college days—volunteered to wear the ugly red shirts that would set him apart as a student underclassmen could look to to ask questions. Escorting freshmen and sophomores to their dorm rooms had been the perfect way to strike up conversations, and Tony had ended up inside those dorm rooms more times than he could count.

He’d never been interested in men like him, though, always more interested in people his own age. If he’d seen a man in his (very) late forties with so much gray, he never would have given them the time of day. Too old for the casual lifestyle. He’d been prepared to tell the boys that, to send them on their way. But the same reason he didn’t was the same reason why he wasn’t meant to have casual-sex anymore. He caught feelings too quickly. Fifteen years of monogamy has reconditioned his brain, and now he craves the connection. Wonders what Steve and Bucky do on dates together, if they want to travel, if there’s room between them for another person.

“Tony, you dumb bastard,” he sighs to himself. Then, louder, cupping his hands around his mouth: “Hey—! That was holding, Bucky! Roll around with Steve on your own time!”

On the field, Bucky has Steve pinned to the grass. His torso, damp with sweat, catches the light as he twists to listen to what Tony’s saying. The grin he gives is far from apologetic, and judging by the way one of Steve’s large hands splays against the curve of his boyfriend’s waist, Steve is hardly a victim.

The rest of the team boo at Bucky, Sam cuffing his head gently as they all set up another play.

This must be foreplay for them, Tony thinks fondly, working hard to keep from grinning. The two of them have basically spent the entire game with their hands on each other. Tony won’t say he’s unaffected by the sight of two attractive men grappling with each other, of the position of power he’s in. When he shouts stop, they stop. Clearing his throat, he shifts, leaning forward to plant his elbows on his knees and hide the growing bulge in his jeans. His own jacket has been removed and sat to the side, too hot to wear it in the direct sunlight.

When Steve misses a signal because he’s too busy looking at Tony in the stands, it’s a good fucking feeling.

The kiss the two of them share when Bucky scores a touchdown (even if he’s on the opposite team from Steve) is open-mouthed and deep, both of Steve’s hands cupping either side of Bucky’s face to hold them together, the searing heat between them enough for Tony to feel even so far away. One hand drifts down to cup Bucky’s ass and Tony groans under his breath, forced to turn his gaze away.

By the end, Bucky’s team has won.

“Losers buy drinks!” Sam shouts to cheers from all.

A Monday night and they’re going out for drinks, oh to be young again.

Tony meets them on the field and is roped into an exuberant, sweaty hug from the victorious Bucky. They are easily a head taller than he is, and even though Tony isn’t some twink (he works out plenty often, though warding off heart disease isn’t sexy in any way shape or form), he can’t help but feel dwarfed. The hard planes of Bucky’s body pressed flush against his own, the way Steve’s eyes glitter as he takes in the sight of them—there’s a heat pooling low in Tony’s gut.

“Congratulations,” Tony says, breathing in the masculine scent of sweat. “And Steve, my condolences.”

“Thanks,” Steve laughs.

“Enjoy your drinks, gentlemen,” says Tony.

Bucky pulls back, frowning down at Tony. “What, you’re not coming with? Steve owes you a drink too. The referee gets the first drink, as a matter of fact. Come out with us.”

“Yeah, Tony,” says Steve coming up to wrap an arm around Bucky’s waist. The look they give him leaves no room for interpretation. Tony isn’t slow—for some reason he can’t begin to imagine, these two want to fuck him. Taking him out for a drink is far from a contract set in stone, but it’s the next step to Tony ending up between their sheets. Steve lifts a hand to thread it through Bucky’s dark hair. “Do you want us to beg?”

Tony licks his lips. “That would be a sight.”

“Is that a yes?’ Bucky asks. “Or should I get on my knees? You know—to beg.”

That image spears through Tony’s gut like a lightning bolt. “I could come out for a drink or two.”

One by one, their friends take their leave in various states of intoxication, many of them with aching cheeks and chests from laughing. Tony is a fucking hit, witty and sarcastic and clever. He roasts the boys like he’s one of them, but Steve and Bucky are all too aware of how he isn’t. The wisdom in his eyes, the sadness of his silences when he slips out of the conversation and loses himself in his thoughts.

Sam plays the most excellent wingman. When he leaves, dragging Bucky up out of the chair to grab him in a bone-aching hug, Sam mutters in his ear, “I like this guy. Treat him good.”

“And then there were three,” Tony murmurs, voice nearly lost to the noise of the bar. “Should we call it a night, or should we order another drink?”

“I don’t know about you two,” Steve says, “But I need to slow down. Maybe we should order something with a little more sustenance than the typical bar food.”

“Burgers?” Bucky offers. “What do you say, Tony? Are you in?”

Tony’s glossy eyes flicker between them, narrowed in playful confusion but with a healthy dose of skepticism. He’s had more to drink than any of them, starting out with hard liquor (letting everyone try his expensive aged whiskey) before tapering off to beer. His body is loose, face flushed, but he’s just as quick. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you two are trying to get me...sober. Which is actually a refreshing change of pace from the people I’m usually at bars with.”

“You don’t have to stop if you don’t want to.”

Reaching out, Tony finishes off the last of his draft before pushing the glass away. The smile he gives them is so fucking handsome, none of the anxiety or self-consciousness in his gaze the way there had been at the quad. What this incredible man has to be self-conscious about, Bucky has no fucking clue. Tony rubs his hands together. “So. Burgers?”

Over burgers, the conversation changes tempo from the fast-paced, superficial topics they’d discussed among the other college boys. The three of them may as well exist in their own little world; once the bar’s busy hours began, they moved to a smaller table in the corner to free up seats for larger parties, families flooding in to have their last dinners with their college kids before driving away. Gravitating towards each other, heads always leaned close to be heard over the music, Bucky has seen the waitress turn away from them more than once, unwilling to break the spell they all seem to hold over each other.

“So your son’s going to school for bioengineering?” Bucky asks, licking grease off his fingers.

Tony’s eyes watch the movement, so Bucky plays up the action, giving a flash of teeth and tongue before sucking his fingers clean. He’s already feeling more sober, the greasy food soaking up the alcohol in his stomach. Tony reaches out for his sweating water glass and takes a large gulp that has Bucky hiding his smirk. “Peter. Yes, he’s always been especially interested in advanced prosthetics.”

“He’s in the right place then,” Steve says. “We’re number one in engineering this side of the Mississippi, and the head of the bioengineering department is top in her field.”

Tony smirks. “No need to sell me on the college, kids. I went here myself.”

Bucky leans forward. “Major?”

“Which one?”

“Ho-ly shit, Steve. You hear that? Which one. All the ones, Tony, all the ones.”

“I have a Masters in electrical engineering and physics.”

“Fuck me,” Bucky breathes. “You’re a genius.”

“It’s funny that you say that,” says Tony. “I have been called that once or twice or ten dozen times.”

“Can we ask about Peter’s mom?” Steve asks. He immediately regrets the question when Tony’s face falls from its easy smile. The crowd mills around them just outside the gravitational pull of their table, and Tony leans back in his chair to watch it for a long silent minute. Steve nudges the older man’s foot under the table. “Hey—you don’t have to answer that.”

Tony waves a careless hand, though there’s nothing relaxed about his expression. “It’s fine. Peter was the result of a one night stand during my younger less responsible days. Mary and I co-parented fine. She passed away after a terrible accident many years ago, when Peter was just a boy.”

Bucky’s heart aches, a physical weight in his chest it sinks like a stone tossed into water. “I’m so sorry,” he says.

“Me too. She was a very good woman and an incredible mother. After she died, I knew I couldn’t care for a young child on my own, so I remarried. Pepper is an awesome step-mother; when I was leaving Pete’s dorm, he was just booting up his laptop to Skype with her and show her his room. We divorced a handful of years ago because of—irreconcilable differences. It was rough on Peter.”

“And on you,” Bucky surmises.

Tony winces. He lifts his water to try and hide behind it. “That obvious?”

“Do you miss her?” Steve asks. His face is clear and open and sympathetic; Bucky knows him well enough to know that he isn’t the easily jealous type, that even if Tony said he was still madly in love with this ex-wife Pepper (and what kind of name is that, Bucky wonders) Steve wouldn’t take it personally.

“No,” says Tony without preamble. “The fighting was bad. I worked too much, I didn’t want more children, I didn’t make her feel wanted. She was convinced that if I wasn’t being intimate with her, then I was being intimate with someone else. My porn history is what really tipped her off to my changing proclivities. I thought, I’m too old to be having a sexuality crisis. She thought I’d misled her—tricked her into marrying a gay man.”

“There’s no such thing as too old,” Steve says with tenderness. “And you hardly could have tricked her if you hadn’t known yourself.”

Tony’s smile is misty, distracted. “Yeah. Well. Jesus, boys, would you look at the time?”

“Tony.”

“It was sweet of you kids to humor me, but I really should get going. It’s a long drive back to New York City.”

“Are you sure? You had a lot to drink,” Bucky says. There are a host of reasons why he wants Tony to stay—at this table, in this moment, in this bar—but more than anything, he wants Tony to be safe. And he wants Tony to want to stay.

“I’ll sober up on the walk back to the university’s parking lot, don’t worry.”

“Our place is close by,” Steve says. “We live in an apartment for graduates. It’s small and the walls are thin, but it’s clean and you’re more than welcome to stay and drive back in the morning.”

Tony frowns. Bucky wishes that he’d push those ridiculous tinted glasses back so that they could see the darkness of his eyes and whatever might be swimming in them. Face flushed with either drink or anger, the older man scoffs, pushing away his water. “I really don’t get you two. There were half-a-hundred other men and women in the quad who would have been happy to go home with you. Why the hell did you target me? Look, here’s some life advice: try to avoid picking up middle-aged men with as much baggage in their past as they have bags under their eyes.”

“Wait a minute—” says Steve firmly. Bucky can feel the tenseness in his form mirrored in his boyfriend’s body, a rising sense of alarm that the night is not turning out the way they had hoped. It happens sometimes: Bucky and Steve will pick up a person only for the night to end outside the bar. But judging by Steve’s clenched jaw and the way Bucky’s own heart pounds, this isn’t a situation they’ll be able to walk away from - not without shooting their shot properly.

But Tony makes a derisive noise to stop Steve before he can start. Reaching into his wallet, he takes out an obscene amount of cash to leave it on the table. “Please. No more. Thanks for trying to repair an old man’s pride.”

They watch his figure as he begins to shuffle his way through the crowd towards the exit.

“I don’t wanna let him go,” Bucky says. “Not right now, but not tomorrow morning, neither.”

“You really like him,” says Steve, more of a statement than any question. He takes a last drink of water before standing hastily. “Then we’d better not let him walk away without knowing.”

Outside, the air has a chill in it. People stream along the sidewalk wearing jackets to protect them from the beginning hints of the New England fall. Their height gives them an advantage as they search the crowd for a shorter head of dark, impossibly fluffy hair. Steve takes a firm grip of Bucky’s arm, pointing, whispering a breathless, there!

Bucky sees him. Tony has stopped the next building over and is leaning heavily against the brick wall, both hands rubbing at his face as if trying to wipe the remnants of sleep away. The people flooding in and out of the bar have disguised Bucky and Steve’s exit; they nearly make it to him unseen before he turns and begins to walk away back towards the university, when a knot of fear that’s tied itself deep in Bucky’s throat makes him call out, “Tony!”

Glancing over his shoulder, Tony’s face displays a complex series of emotions that Bucky can’t properly follow—but at least he doesn’t run. Stepping out of the crowd’s current, he lingers at the mouth of an alley while the two younger men catch up to him.

“I know I left enough cash,” Tony says tiredly.

“We aren’t here about the cash,” Steve says. “We really had a good time tonight, and we don’t want it to end. If you’d rather head home alone instead of with us, could we at least get your number?”

“My number?” Tony asks, eyes wide. He shoves his hands deep into his pockets. “What for?”

“To text you,” says Bucky. “To maybe set up another time to meet up whenever you’re back this way.”

“Come on, boys,” Tony murmurs, his voice nearly lost to the crowd. He looks at them with soft, sad eyes. “Come on. Let's just quit pretending.”

“Who’s pretending? What will prove it to you? You want me to beg? I offered it once before. I’m not above it.”

Neither of them can miss the way Tony’s throat bobs at the suggestion. Before anyone else can say a word, Steve’s hand is pressed to Bucky’s shoulder. When Bucky glances over, he sees the cool level gaze and immediately goes soft and spacey in the head (though hard everywhere else).

“Go on,” Steve says to Bucky. His voice is low and sure and goes straight to Bucky’s cock. “That’s what he wants. You want to give him what he wants, don’t you? Get down on your knees and beg him.”

“Steve,” Tony croaks.

The rest of his sentence is lost at the sound of Bucky’s knees connecting with the pavement. Tony looks good from down here, Bucky thinks dimly, looks good from every angle, but there’s something about being on his knees that makes Bucky see through different eyes.

“Please don’t be done with us,” Bucky begs through numb lips. Behind him, the raucous mill of the crowd melts into white noise. They’re only just inside the mouth of the alleyway. People would barely have to turn their heads to see them and the thought sets Bucky’s nerves on fire. “Please, give us a chance.”

A long breath comes out of Tony’s nose, jaw clenching and unclenching. His looks from Steve to Bucky again and again before he lets a tentative hand reach out and touch Bucky’s hair. Bucky’s eyes fall shut at the feeling. There’s a reason why he keeps his hair long. Mouth parting, he tilts his head into the older man’s touch.

“Jesus,” Tony breathes. “What am I going to do with you, kid?”

“There’s plenty you could do,” Steve offers. “But you don’t have to do anything at all, if you don’t want to.”

Then Tony is kneeling in front of him, shifting those tinted glasses until they rest in the impeccable cloud of his hair. He takes up all the space in the alley, all the space in Bucky’s vision, all the space in his brain.

“What about you, James?” Tony asks. “What do you want?”

Without any hesitation: “I wanna make you feel good.”

They kiss. There’s no preamble, no gentle exploration; Bucky and Tony are both masterful kissers after years of experience, and at the moment neither of them are sober enough to worry about finesse. Bucky takes Tony’s tongue into his own mouth and suckles, swallowing the way the older man groans. His facial hair abraids Bucky’s mouth and chin, the sting making him feel raw and hot all over. It’s one of the best kisses he’s ever had, and if it’s an omen of how the evening will progress, it’s a very fucking good one.

“Fuck,” Tony mutters, pulling back. His breath fans across Bucky’s face as he laughs, one hand coming to rest on the younger man’s shoulder. “I’m not twenty-five anymore; this kills my knees.”

Steve, who had nearly blended into the shadows while watching them with bated breath, helps Tony up, adding, “I guess Bucky and I will be the only ones on our knees tonight.”

Then it’s his turn to kiss Tony, tilting the older man’s chin upwards and cupping the back of his head with one broad palm. They are the antithesis of each other: one tall and broad, pale and blond. Bucky groans at the sight of his boyfriend’s jaws opening, the hint of hollowness in his cheeks as he licks into Tony’s mouth.

“God,” Steve mutters when he pulls back to catch his breath. “That whiskey tastes even better comin’ off of your tongue.”

“How close is your apartment?” Tony asks.

“Too far,” Steve says roughly. “Too far for me to not have my hands on you. Yes or no?”

“Yes. Yes, yes.”

The two of them coax Tony deeper into the alleyway, his boots echoing off the concrete. When they’re a safe enough distance from the prying eyes of the street, Steve leans with his back against one brick wall, pulling Tony’s back to rest against his chest while Bucky presses himself flush to the man’s front. There’s no hiding Bucky’s erection which presses into the soft cotton of the t-shirt beneath Tony’s jacket, and when Bucky shifts a thigh between the man’s legs, there’s no way to miss Tony’s erection either.

Tony sighs in pleasure as Bucky drags his thigh along his cock. When his head tilts back, Steve is there nuzzling into the side of his neck, scraping teeth along the sensitive skin.

“Fuck me, look at him, Steve,” Bucky pants. With hands firm on Tony’s hips, he tugs the shorter man up while angling his own hips down until the bulge of their cocks can drag against each other. “He’s so fuckin’ beautiful, isn’t he?”

“Like art,” Steve rumbles into Tony’s neck. “Wanna pin him up against the wall—”

“I think I can feel what you plan on pinning me with,” Tony breathes, arching his back.

“You think?” Steve asks, rutting his hips upwards. It punches a gasp from Tony’s mouth that Bucky swallows with his own.

Between them, Tony must feel like the pivot on a seesaw, dragged back and forth, both of them desperate for whatever part of his body they could touch. Steve splays a wide hand against Tony’s breastbone between his open jacket and drags his palm from one pec to the other, fingers taking one clothed nipple (hard and delicate as a glass bead where it pokes through his t-shirt) and working it over, tender and merciless.

In front of him, Bucky guides his hips so that Tony maintains a steady pace where their cocks are grinding together. He hasn’t cum in his pants since he was fifteen years old with his first girlfriend writhing against his lap, but he feels liable to repeat history tonight.

“You feel so good,” Bucky groans into the juncture of Tony’s neck. “Been thinking about this ever since I spotted you on the quad, even more at the bar. Every time you’d flirt with the waitress I’d almost pop a stiffie. Nobody’s got a right being as sexy as you are.”

“You’ve got it—ah!—wrong,” Tony pants. He’s wrapped his arms around Bucky’s neck, the fingers of one hand tangled and tugging at his hair. “Watching you and Steve roll around on that football field was like pornography. The hell do you think I had my jacket in my lap, for?”

Bucky barely manages to stifle an embarrassing sound in his throat. His balls feel tight and heavy, as if he’s been edging himself all day long. His jerking thrusts against Tony’s jeans begin to become sporadic as he chases that high. His sweatpants will be ruined—they probably already are, if he’s leaking like a faucet how he thinks he is—but all consequences and repercussions fade as the coil of heat in his gut winds itself tighter and tighter.

“‘M gonna cum,” he gasps, shivering when he hears the breath Tony sucks in at his words.

“You want that, Tony?” Steve asks. “You want him to cum or do you want him to wait? You get to decide tonight—”

“Steve,” Bucky says, voice strained. “Don’t make me stop, please don’t make me, he feels so good, Steve—”

“Stop him,” Tony gasps, though his own hips offer no help considering he arches them to rub the burning line of their cocks together. “Don’t let him cum.”

Steve reaches out to press firmly on Bucky’s chest until he stumbles back away from the warm cradle of Tony’s hips, an undignified noise slipping past his lips. From a distance, he’s treated to the incredible sight of them: Steve holding Tony flush against him, the way Tony’s eyes are dark and heavy-lidded, the obscene bulge in his denim and the way his entire body jerks when Steve thrusts his cock against the lush curve of Tony’s ass.

“Jesus, you all aren’t making it easy on me,” Bucky says, palming his eyes.

“Tony’s right,” Steve says firmly. “He deserves better than this. We need more room.”

“Apartment?” Tony wonders through swollen lips.

“Apartment. Let’s go, sugar, we’ll take a shortcut.”

What the hell am I doing? Tony wonders for the thousandth time that day as they walk briskly down alleys and jaywalk across streets. The thought replays in his head like a track on repeat. His own erection wanes quickly thanks to a heart condition and as a lovely perk of aging, but he hardly minds when he sees how ridiculous the two younger men look trying to hide their half-hard cocks while navigating the downtown area. Tony removes his jacket and offers it to Bucky who has a tell-tale patch of darkness where the head of his cock has rested. The sight makes his heart pound.

What the hell am I doing, he thinks again when the two of them pin him to the wall in the elevator of their apartment building, both of them grinding their respective erections into his hips while teasing the sensitive skin of his neck, hands creeping up under the hem of his t-shirt to trace his quivering stomach.

He feels infused with some sort of youthful madness. The three of them stumble out of the elevator with swollen mouths and tented pants and he feels young again. Even for just a moment while Steve takes the time to unlock their apartment door. Then the three of them are tumbling over the threshold and Tony remembers—right, he’s on the wrong side of forty.

“Goddamnit,” he hisses when his knee cracks against the doorframe. The twin expressions of horror on Bucky and Steve’s faces have his pained groan turning into laughter, even as Bucky leans down to wind one of Tony’s arms over his broad shoulders and help him to the couch.

“Jesus, you okay?” Bucky asks, kneeling down between Tony’s spread thighs and tenderly running his fingers over Tony’s clothed knee.

“Fine,” Tony laughs. “Still a little drunk.”

Bucky’s eyes flash upwards, pale, liquid heat. His fingers trail up, up, until they trace the seam at the crotch of Tony’s jeans. “Too drunk?”

“Not that drunk, kid,” Tony smirks. “Not by far.”

“Good,” Steve says from where he’s locking up the door. “Do you want Bucky to suck you off?”

The idea, spoken so casually as Steve pauses to rifle through the drawer of the foyer table, sends a bolt of electricity down Tony’s spine. He’ll never get used to it—that flippant way Steve speaks about Bucky, as if Bucky is just an item Steve feels welcomed to loan out. Sure, you can take him home, Tony. Just rewind him before you bring him back.

“I think he likes the thought of that,” Bucky says lowly, his mouth curving upward to hint at wickedness.

Steve stops, rustling papers falling silent as he glances over his shoulder at them. “Tony? What do you want?”

“I’m amenable,” he admits, far more breathlessly than he’d like.

“Then get to it, Bucky, I’m looking for our papers we got from the clinic.”

“Lookin’ in the wrong place,” Bucky teases. “On top of the ‘fridge.”

Then he leans forward and licks a broad line up over Tony’s denim-covered cock. It barely registers as pressure on his dick, but it’s the imagery that has the blood rushing from his head in a torrent so strong he feels dizzy. Bucky keeps his eyes cracked open, glittering as he takes Tony apart, laving him from outside his jeans, dragging the line of his teeth down the growing bulge to laugh at the sound that slips past the older man’s lips. He opens wide to mouth at Tony’s balls, the heat from his breath and tongue seeping through the denim.

“Finally,” Steve breathes, drawing Tony’s attention. He holds out two pieces of paper—how the hell he expects Tony to read given the lack of blood in his brain, Tony has no idea. “Bucky and I get tested regularly. Here’s our most recent screening, and we’ve only slept with each other since then.”

“I don’t have mine,” Tony says. His voice sounds strained from the effort it takes to keep his hips still and not fuck up into Bucky’s mouth. “Condoms okay?”

“More than fine,” Steve says. “God, look at you, Bucky. Makin’ a mess of him.”

“Get me something and I’ll blow him proper.”

Steve retrieves condoms while Bucky unfastens Tony’s jeans. He gets distracted by the sight of Tony’s cock straining against the fabric of his boxer briefs and leans forward to nuzzle against it. It takes all the breath from him. When was the last time Tony felt desirable? To have Bucky looking at him this way, refusing to withdraw his mouth from Tony for longer than a moment at a time—it fills up an empty, wounded part inside of him that he had avoided acknowledging in the first place.

“Finally,” Bucky breathes, snagging a condom up from where Steve drops them on the couch cushion beside Tony. Tony wants to mirror the sentiment, but his throat is shut tight while he watches Bucky tear open the condom with expert fingers.

Steve kneels down next to his boyfriend. One hand cups Bucky’s jaw and briefly turns his head so that their mouths can meet. If Tony thought he was breathless before, he knew differently now. It’s pornography in person, it’s erotica come to life watching both of these hopelessly attractive young men kiss each other so filthily, tongues flashing pink when they adjust the positions of their mouths.

The aching of Tony’s cock is painful. When he reaches down to rub the heel of his palm over it, it offers only the briefest reprieve, his eyes fluttering shut. Then Steve’s fingers wrap gently around his wrist and his eyes open to see the both of them watching him, flushed with swollen mouths.

“Sorry,” Steve rumbles. “We are easily distracted.”

“Then you’re among like-kind,” says Tony.

“May I?” Bucky asks, holding up the condom.

“Please.”

“Hips up, sugar,” Steve murmurs. There’s a fluttering of embarrassment at the endearment—in some ways Tony feels infantilized—but it’s been so long since he was called any sweet name (besides Peter’s fond, exasperated dad’s) that a larger part of him feels choked at the name. Swallowing hard, Tony shifts upward so that Steve can work the jeans and underwear down and off.

Bucky reels off a line of expletives at the sight of Tony’s cock: long, cut, flushed. It jerks under their gazes, the head slick and sticky. He can’t help but laugh under his breath at the expressions on their faces. The laughter ends when Bucky reaches out to trace his fingers up his shaft, thumbing at the sensitive skin beneath the head.

“You’re perfect,” says Bucky.

“It’s a cock.”

“Yours,” says Steve. “Is there anything about you that ain’t perfect?”

“I’m positive there is, but I really can’t think of them right now,” Tony says, thighs tense from the effort it takes to keep still under Bucky’s explorative touch. When a warm palm cups his balls, rolling them tenderly, feeling the heft of them, all semblance of language leaks from Tony’s ears.

“God, you need to cum, don’t ya?” Bucky asks. “It’s been too long, hasn’t it? Bet you don’t like to cum with your kid in the house, but he’s been hanging around night and day to spend time with you before he went away to school. Has there been nobody since your ex, Tony? It’s like you were saving it up for us. It’s okay, it’s okay, we’ll take care of you. Just how you deserve.”

With careful fingers, Bucky places the condom at the tip of Tony’s cock before rolling it down his aching shaft. Then Bucky is chasing the edge of the latex with his mouth, heat and pressure enveloping him. Tony makes a guttural sound, fingers scrabbling at the cushions of the sofa for purchase.

“Don’t be greedy, Buck,” Steve says. With a hand on the nape of Bucky’s neck, he coaxes his boyfriend back off of Tony’s cock so that he can lean forward and lap at it with his own tongue.

“Holy shit,” Tony slurs drunkenly. While Steve sucks on the head, Bucky places open-mouthed kisses along the shaft. They urge Tony’s thighs wider and wider so they can comfortably take turns rolling his balls in their palms, tugging softly, hurting him in the best way. It helps to keep his orgasm at bay, though he still feels it creeping over him. It centers in his lower gut, a liquid heat relocating to his balls.

“He’s getting close, Steve,” Bucky breathes, his lips brushing against Tony’s shaft. “His balls are drawin’ up. Feel—”

“God, you’re right.”

“Don’t want to cum yet,” pants Tony.

“Do you want us to stop?” Steve asks.

That idea is painful in a way Tony can't tolerate.

“No, just—” His hands release their death-grip on the sofa to bat their hands out of the way. Using one hand to press his cock towards the flat of his stomach, his other hands slaps at his heavy sac. Gasping in pain, he doubles over on instinct to protect his most sensitive parts while the pain lances bright and sharp through his gut. As he catches his breath, he feels how his erection has waned. Still hard, but not in the danger zone. Had he been any closer, the blow to his balls might have made him cum, no matter how bad it had hurt. Tony’s always been one of those people to enjoy pain with his pleasure.

“I don’t like that,” Bucky says, frowning as Tony uncurls and leans back to his original position. “Don’t hurt yourself. We coulda just put a ring on you—”

“Rings will only do so much,” Tony laughs, still trying to catch his breath. Then, with surprising diffidence, he mentions, “Sometimes, I like to be hurt.”

Steve groans, collapsing forward to rest on Tony’s thigh. Muffled, he says, “Don’t tell me that, Tony. Have mercy on me.”

“Steve’s a sadist,” Bucky admits, grinning. He leans forward and laps at the latex covering Tony’s cockhead.

Tony lets out a shaky breath through his nose. “Is that so?”

Steve lifts his head and pins Tony in place with the heat behind his gaze. “Can’t help it,” he says, voice rough. “I love...confusing people. Take Bucky for example: the first few spanks, he flinches away, right? Puts up a real fuss. But position him so his cock’ll only brush against my leg if he’s arching his back, and he’ll be thrusting out his ass for me to spank in no time at all. Work a person over with pleasure and pain and they’ll start cravin’ both.”

“Work me over enough so that it doesn’t hurt so fucking bad when you’re following too close at the grocery store and step on my heels, will you?” Bucky deadpans.

“You're doing too much talking,” Steve says. With a firm hand, he cups the back of Bucky’s head and coaxes him down until Tony’s cock bumps his cheek. “Go on, baby. Choke on him.”

Tony gives a groan that is mirrored (though muffled) by Bucky. That impossible heat and force of suction surrounds his cock as Bucky’s lips slide lower and lower, tongue working against the thickness as best as it can. When Tony’s cockhead brushes the firm back of his throat, Bucky’s dark eyelashes flutter shut. Steve is just as enraptured as Tony, watching with hooded eyes even as he presses down with more force on the back of Bucky’s head.

Bucky gags, the back of his throat spasming around the most sensitive part of Tony’s cock. Tony moans long and low, reaching out to brush away the stray strands of hair in the younger man’s face. Bucky’s eyes flutter open at the touch. The whites are flushing red, tears at the corners as he continues to gag and gag and gag, massaging Tony’s cock with his throat.

“He loves it,” Steve whispers over the wet, obscene sounds of Bucky choking.

“That true?” Tony grits out. “Do you love choking on cock, Bucky?”

Steve relents his grip so that Bucky can pull back, mouth wet and red and gasping for breath. “Your cock,” he says with a cracking voice. “Love choking on your cock, daddy.”

“Fuck,” Tony groans, legs shaking. “Don’t call me that, you shouldn’t call me that—”

“He shouldn’t call you that, or you shouldn’t like it?” Steve wonders.

“Both.”

“He loves it too,” Steve whispers. He’s the devil on Tony’s shoulder, feeding him everything he needs to hear to drag him deeper to sin. “Look at him. If you bent your leg and gave him your shoe to rub against, he’d cum quicker than you could blink. It’s the power imbalance. He’s getting off on it, so why can’t you?”

Bucky pulls back. His voice is throaty when he laughs and says, “Steve, I think you’re usin’ your mouth too much.”

The blond man laughs. “Yeah, maybe you’re right.”

Then both of their mouths are back on Tony’s cock, licking and sucking, making sure to run their lips over every last inch of him. Sometimes they are distracted enough to pull back and kiss for a moment, mouths swollen. Sometimes they refuse to part from Tony, instead lapping at each other’s mouths from around Tony’s cock. The heat in him builds slow like water turned from simmering to boiling. He reaches out and pets his hands through both of their hair, Bucky’s so fine and dark, Steve’s so thick and golden. When one of their thumbs drifts to the sensitive skin behind his balls and rubs in a slow, firm circle, all at once he feels like he’s vaporizing.

“I’m going to cum,” he warns.

Steve pulls off, nuzzling wetly at Bucky’s temple to say, “Go on baby, you’ve earned it. You finish him off.”

Instead, Bucky pulls off too, looking at Steve with mournful, sulky eyes. “I want his cum, Stephen.”

“Don’t talk to me, talk to him!”

Bucky turns that heated gaze on Tony instead. He looks absolutely debauched: face flushed, sweat gluing strands of dark hair to his pale temples, mouth red and swollen. Leaning forward, he drags his smooth cheek along Tony’s throbbing cock. “Why can’t I have it,” Bucky mutters with all the morose energy of a teenager. “Come on, daddy, lemme have your cum. I'd strip this condom off of you and drain you, suck you dry."

It’s, fuck—what, like it can’t tempt him? It does. He hasn’t cum in anyone’s mouth since Pepper (and as per her preferences, she’d then spit). He’s never had someone acting positively thirsty for his cum. It's a heady feeling, something he could get drunk off of, could get used to. But Tony was a young queer man during the AIDS crisis. He knows that safety matters more than the heat of the moment.

“You’ll take what I give you,” he says. “And I will give it to you, once we all know it’s safe and we can enjoy it properly. Now—be a good boy and, and suck daddy off.”

If Bucky notices that the words are stilted coming from Tony’s mouth, he doesn’t show it. A noise slips from his throat, raw and high and desperate, and then he is leaning forward and taking as much of Tony’s cock past his lips as he can, groaning wetly when it chokes him. Tony’s fingers tighten, pulling harshly at Bucky’s roots as the heat in his balls builds back to boiling point.

A warm hand reaches out to push Tony’s shirt up, baring the long line of his soft abs. He places his palm just beneath Tony’s navel just in time for the muscles there to clench up tight as Tony cums.

For a moment the pressure builds and builds, leaves him standing at the precipice and looking over the edge for so long that he thinks it might last forever. Then one firmer press of that thumb behind his balls snaps the tether that held him back from plummeting down. His entire body tenses as his balls draw up tight. No sound escapes until his cock finally begins to release its spend, and then the only sounds in the room are Bucky’s wet gags and Tony’s choked groans as one of the best orgasms of his life is wrung out of him. Maybe it’s a good thing he shoots into a condom instead of down the kid's throat, because it seems to last forever. Steve presses him firmly to the couch even as his body spasms in the throes of pleasure, a comforting weight.

“Jesus,” Tony whispers to the ceiling, body wracked with aftershocks.

“Did you hear that?” Bucky rasps letting Tony’s softening cock slip from his mouth. Tony blinks down at him, unsure if there was something he as supposed to hear—a knock on the door, the wet sounds of the best blowjob of his life—but then he realizes that Bucky is speaking to Steve. “He said he will give it to me. That means we’re not finished, right? There’s gonna be more between us, right Tony?”

Tony breathes out, his heart soft. Now that he’s cum, he feels the post-coital exhaustion coming over him. Christ, it must be late. The best way to spend his evening (if they’ll let him) would be to spend it pressed between their stacked, warm bodies.

“I’d like there to be more,” he admits. The blood returning to his brain brings back all of his doubts, his fears, his insecurities. What the hell is he doing, letting two young men take him home, letting two young men work their way into his heart like this? Surely it is doomed. But if there’s even the slightest chance of otherwise, then Tony feels obliged to follow it down, to see it through right to the end.

“We can take all this slow,” says Steve, the voice of reason. “Exchange numbers. See each other next time you’re in town to see Peter. See what happens.”

“I’m an exclusive kind of guy,” Tony admits. Realizing the irony of having such a conversation with his pants down, he works them back up over his hips, tying off the condom and depositing it in a trash can Steve produces from beneath one endtable. “Fifteen years of monogamy will do that to a man. If I’m talking with you two, I won’t be talking with anyone else.”

“That’s fair,” Bucky says, leaning his cheek against the denim of Tony’s jeans. One side of his mouth quirks upwards. “Besides, you’ll have your hands full with the two of us, anyway.”

“We’d extend that same courtesy,” Steve says, poking Bucky in the ribs. “Besides—I don’t think anyone is going to be peaking our interests. Not if they aren’t you.”

“That’s sappy.” And everything he’s ever wanted.

“It’s true, though.”

“Steve’s a big softie,” Bucky teases. Throwing his voice in a poor imitation of his boyfriend, he adds: “I’m Steve and my childhood asthma left me with a huge complex—I want to make you crave pain and then make you vegan pancakes in the morning.”

“That’s it—” Steve slaps Bucky upside the head. “No pancakes for you in the morning. None.”

“What about for me?” Tony wonders softly.

Steve’s smile, when he turns it on Tony, is bright as the sun. “For you? All the vegan pancakes.”

Bucky mutters something foul under his breath, and all at once Steve is towering over him, chest nearly pressed against Bucky’s shoulder, a solid disapproving wall of muscle. The brunet has to turn his face into Tony’s thigh to hide his smirk. Tony watches the display of dominance with raised brows.

“You’ve been pushing me all night, Buck, and I’ve just about had it.”

“Just about?” Bucky asks.

Steve’s eyes cut to Tony. “You said something earlier today, about the proper way to spank somebody. Care to show some pointers, daddy?”

Tony’s cock, spent as it is, gives a valiant jerk. At his feet, Bucky’s entire body shivers. He turns to look up at Tony, his eyes like molten silver with all the heat and desperation packed behind the irises. It’s been so long since he spanked anyone properly (or was spanked in return); surely it would take him a few swings to get back into the hang of things.

He has a feeling that Steve wouldn’t be the only one learning a thing or two tonight.

Clearing his throat, he says, “I think I can help with that.”

#stuckony #college!au #Insecure!tony #tw: alcohol #cagewrites

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morimallow · 4 years ago

Note

Hi hiiii. This is my first time requesting but... would you mind writing Kita's NSFW Alphabet? MY MAN DESERVES THE HYPE ;) Thank youuuu <3

I didn't proof read this so feel free to correct any of my mistakes.

I'm so sorry I didn't make this GN, it's so hard to go into detail. 😥

NSFW Alphabet (Kita Shinsuke)

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

King of aftercare. This guy won't leave you unattended. He'll draw a nice warm bath for you. If he's feeling it, he'd take a bath with you. Gives you a body massage, which usually leads to another set of rounds, when he was extra rough that day. Will whisper that you did good taking him in, you won't even know if he's praising you or teasing you. Every thing he does for aftercare just makes you wanna have sex with him all over again.

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

He loves his arms and back because that's where you usually hook on for support which also means he likes you marking him. He wouldn't even care if someone saw your scratch marks, he's low-key showing you off. He likes the way you grip on him like he's your only source of strength. He doesn't have a favorite part of your body though because that's all you. It's all his, you're all his. Why would he want a favorite? He loves every inch of your body and makes sure they receive equal attention.

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

This guy wears condoms. Cleanliness. To avoid unwanted pregnancy. Cum? Straight to the condom. Sometimes when he's close, he'd pull out his dick, remove the condom and cum on you while his fingers do wonders to your hole. He does it raw with you sometimes ─ either you insisted on doing it and after asking if you’re sure many times, he’d comply or if he’s extra horny and he’s sure you’re on a safe day and on your pills.

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

His left ear is extra sensitive and he likes it when you nibble on it and suck on the area behind it. He doesn't know you've figured it out, he just thinks it's your favorite spot to suck on.

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

At first, since he solely relied on knowledge on paper and sites, he tested those out and it came out bad. He used to read sex articles and stuff found on the internet. He’s intelligent enough to know vaginas don’t smell like roses and taste like sweet candy as they described them to be. He then started to listen to the twins’ conversations and eventually got caught up in those said conversations. You won’t change my mind that they exchange sex tips and tricks. Kita came to be their master or something. His dick kind of makes up for his lack of techniques and such during sex but still! He pleasures you. He does his absolute best to make you feel good. He asks you if you want him to go deeper, if you want him to thrust harder. He'd probably do anything and everything you want him to do as long as you're pleased.

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

Side fuck because he doesn't skip leg day. /j

Yes, side fuck — second to missionary. The side fuck but not really…? God, I hate this, I don’t know what it’s called. Basically, he’s on his side and you’re lying on your back. The first time he did you in this position, he had leg cramps and it was extremely painful but he enjoys this position nevertheless. He likes that you’re so close to his body, that he can see how your hole devours his cock, and of course, your lips are so close to him he can just turn your moans into heavy breaths in his mouth.

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

He takes everything seriously and, of course, this isn’t an exception. Okay, so, his grannyma tells him someone's always watching but he stopped caring. He doesn't get nervous about things he does regularly, on a daily basis. But y'all don't have sex daily (who does tho?), so he's kinda nervous and giddy (he doesn’t show it). His top priority is to make you feel good always. He’d usually whisper to your ear some lines that go like, “you’re squeezing me so tight, I won’t go anywhere, I’m all yours, baby” without knowing this turns you on so fucking much.

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

Having black and white pubes would be weird so I'm saying it's black.. and thick. The aesthetic kind of thick (LOL, WHAT?). Okay, he's clean. He doesn't shave it fully but trims it every month because he knows the benefits of keeping your pubes. Neat guy, neat privates.

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

Kita showers you with compliments and words of assurance but it always comes out as dirty talk? He’d say you’re so good ─ that he wants to come inside you so bad because you’re just begging for him to do so with how you squeeze him so tight. But then again, the way he whispers those three words turns you on more than any other thing he had said. His hands never leave your body. He doesn't seem like the possessive type but he want you to remember his touches.. and only his. He won't grip the sheets or the headboard whenever he pounds into you. He places his hands on your cheeks, neck, your waist. He pulls you close and moans in your mouth as he comes. Always.

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

Believe me, he doesn’t jack off that often. It’s not because of what his granny says that someone’s always watching him but because he knows you’d come to him and you’d come for him. When you’re far away from each other, he can’t help but miss you and your touch and that’s where his trusty right hand comes into play. He always calls you when he jacks off. If you’re not available, he’d leave a voicemail so just be careful not listening to it in public.

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

Praise kink but reverse? LMAO, is this a thing? He likes it when he praises someone during sex, he likes the mewls coming out of your mouth whenever he calls you a good girl.

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

He likes to do it on the bed because a.) you’re both comfortable and b.) unlimited sex positions. He likes the way you grip on the bedsheets, the way your heels dig onto the mattress, how he can feel your warmth everywhere. The bathroom is another thing. He likes the coldness of it and the only source of heat is each other’s body, he likes the way you make lewd faces when he fucks you in front of the bathroom mirror, when he eats you out while sitting on the toilet and how intimate you get under the running water.

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

He gets harder even more that it hurts not to come inside your cunt when you try your best to not let out moans because his granny might hear you next door so he asks you if you if he can and you’d nod your head frantically because the way his cock throbs inside you as he comes makes you think that your hole was made for him.

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

He kind of likes spanking you but caning is just a no-go.

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

Did you expect this? He prefers giving. I mean, come on, he solely relied on porn clips which are far from real sex and his performance was just a little below average before so he likes to think that giving the best oral to his current partner is an apology to what his previous partner/s had/have suffered but this doesn’t mean he thinks of someone else during sex. It’s just that… Fuck it, that’s it. He prefers giving.

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

This depends on the mood and occasion. I mean, I personally think people have the other side hidden in their deepest desires, they just didn’t find the person to be with yet but in you and Kita’s case, you communicate very well. You want him to go hard and fast? He’d say okay. You want to be slow and sensual? He’d start off with a sweet and passionate kiss.

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

He thinks it’s convenient and risky but hot. You guys don’t do this often though because what’s worse than getting horny in public and Kita locking you in a cubicle to calm yourself down because he suspected this would just be a wholesome date? But you have sex every once in a while, in their backyard garden and that was wonderful.

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

He doesn’t usually ride with you whenever you suggest something in the sexual aspect because he sticks to what he knows and he only believes that certain things are possible when a witness or trusted articles support the claims. You’d think he just doesn’t want to do things with you but he’s actually considering your likes and dislikes. He, for sure, knows what you’d like and dislike because he closely keeps an eye on you.

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

He can go for two to four rounds in average. How long it lasts usually depends on you because he knows he can handle himself well, thrusting into you nonstop.

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

He doesn’t like toys and doesn’t understand why it doesn’t make him feel things like how they described it to be in the articles he had read before when you guys tried toys but you insisted in giving him a cock ring just in case he wants to wait for you to call back when he masturbates.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

Kita usually doesn’t tease you although he’s already kind of teasing you when he compliments you during sex but he does once in a while. He’d delay your orgasm as much as he can control himself not to ram into you faster and harder when he knows your horniness is out of the meter and whenever he senses you want some kind of teasing. How he knows when you’re like that? He says that’s his sixth sense.

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

Kita Shinsuke never fails to let out a loud moan when he comes, it’s literally the best thing you heard from him. It’s hot and deep just like how his dick is inside you. If he was going rough, you’d probably hear more of those moans, every spurt of cum from his dick makes him emit more of his beautiful sound.

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

He sleeps naked. Send tweet.

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

His dick is so pink and pretty ─ the best shades of nude and rose, I’m not even kidding. He takes care of his body so much and you both take care of his dick. A six-inch dick is good enough, no? his biceps are everything, arms so strong he can fuck you standing for a long time.

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

His sex drive is on the average level. He’d have sex with you if you want to, you’d have sex with him if he wants to because somehow, your desires always match so it’s like your minds are saying you want to have sex… at the same time.

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

As the king of aftercare, he only sleeps when you're taken care of already, when you're neatly tucked against him. Letting his lips curve into a smile, he can only then go to sleep.

M. List

#kita shinsuke #shinsuke kita #kita x reader #kita x y/n #character alphabet #kita headcanons #hq kita #hq headcanons #inarizaki

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incognitajones · 4 years ago

Text

gift fic

for @fulcrumstardust‘s champagne birthday!

Cheers to you, friend! Here is your wedding meet-cute, as requested; my apologies that it’s a bit late, but better late than never...

———

As a rule, Jyn didn’t much enjoy weddings. She didn’t particularly care about marriage as an institution. And as far as parties went, they were usually boring and staid, at least until everyone got drunk on cheap wine and the reception turned into a seething mass of bad dancers and handsy drunks.

Not that she’d expected Baze and Chirrut’s wedding to be like that, but still. The general principle applied.

She was glad she’d come today, though. It was genuinely moving to see Baze and Chirrut stand up in front of their friends and family and join their lives officially (though they’d been loving partners for years). The venue, and the day itself, were beautiful: an understatedly elegant restaurant on the riverbank with a view across the water, and a crystal clear autumn day with sunlight sifting through the bronze-gilt leaves.

There were maybe more guests at the wedding banquet than Jyn had expected, but again—not a wedding person. And both Baze and Chirrut tended to draw people to them (Chirrut by force if necessary, as Baze always said). Jyn recognized a few people, mostly students from the martial arts studio, though she was content to nod at them from afar and keep grazing her way through the astoundingly delicious buffet. She’d given the grooms her best wishes and a little red envelope of money already, so as soon as she’d finished eating her own body weight, she’d be on her way.

Just as she was starting to think about leaving, Baze came up beside her, took her by the arm, and said, “Come meet Chirrut’s newest stray.” She’d just about reached her quotient of new people for the day but Baze was like a (much older, grumpier) brother. Jyn didn’t want to say no to him on today of all days. So she let him lead her through the crowd sipping wine and gorging on hors d'oeuvres to where Chirrut was standing beside the dessert table.

“I brought Jyn to say hello,” Baze announced. He slid an arm around his husband and rested his cheek on the top of Chirrut’s head.

Jyn was so occupied trying not to giggle at this uncharacteristically sentimental display that she didn’t notice the other person in the group until Chirrut started an introduction.

“Ah, thank you, husband! Jyn, this is Cassian Andor—“

“Oh.” The bitten-off syllable escaped Jyn before she could hold it in.

Cassian said in a similar tone of bewilderment, “It’s you.”

“You know each other already? Really?” Chirrut asked, with an irritating note of glee in his voice. “And here I was just thinking how well you’d get along.”

“Not exactly.” Cassian’s low voice was just as magnetically attractive as Jyn remembered it. And then she wanted to kick herself for remembering. “But we’ve met.”

Baze cleared his throat. “I see Mrs. Jiang over there, Chirrut, we should thank her for the gift.”

“Yes!” Chirrut agreed, grinning. “You two enjoy yourselves. Try the chocolatines, they’re excellent.”

Jyn glared at Baze, but he only shrugged and abandoned her. Traitor.

She directed her stare back at Cassian. Why should she run away, after all? She wasn’t embarrassed by running into the Tinder hookup from this spring who’d ghosted her and led her to delete the app out of spite (not because she was that disappointed, no matter what Shara said). And she was not remembering what was underneath those clothes, or the way he’d kissed the hollow beneath her ear with just a faint rasp of stubble… Absolutely not.

She grabbed a pastry and bit into it deliberately, refusing to look away.

“How do you know the grooms?” Cassian asked in a mechanically polite tone, with a death grip on the glass in his hand.

Jyn swallowed a mouthful of flaky puff pastry without tasting it. “Baze is my godfather.”

She snatched up a plate and loaded it with three more chocolatines��maybe enough sugar could make this bearable—before asking an equally inane question. “So you’re taking a class with Chirrut?”

“My physio recommended it to work on my balance,” Cassian said. There was a moment’s awkward hesitation as he waited to see if she would speak, but Jyn had just taken another enormous bite of pastry so he plunged ahead.

“I was in an accident in May,” he said. “Hit by a car. My phone got smashed and I was in the hospital and by the time I managed to get a new one, um…”

“Oh.” Jyn’s eyes widened as she did the math in her head. It had probably happened right after that night. “Oh, shit.”

“I was going to call you. Honestly. I really wanted to see you again. But when I was able to log in again your account had disappeared.” He raised his glass and drained a long, desperate swallow of his drink as though to keep himself from talking.

“That’s awful. I’m sorry. Are you doing okay?” Even to her own ears, Jyn’s attempt at sympathy sounded stilted and clumsy.

He nodded. “Getting better, yeah. The pin in my leg is a pain but hey, at least I can walk.”

He was maybe a little skinnier than a few months ago, but otherwise she couldn't see anything that looked like a healing injury or scar. She shoved back the momentary impulse to check him over, head to foot, very thoroughly, to explore his body with her hands and soothe anywhere that might still be in pain.

Jyn set down her empty plate on the table and shifted from foot to foot. “I wanted to see you again too,” she admitted softly, her chin tilted down.

More people arrived to plunder the dessert table and the two of them were displaced around the corner. In the process, Jyn wound up much closer to Cassian than before. She stayed still, waiting to see if he’d shift away again, but he didn’t.

They shuffled a little farther from the dessert table as yet another group of guests congregated around it. Now they were so close to one of the doors to the terrace that when someone slid it open to come inside, the draft blew a strand of Jyn’s hair over her eyes. She lifted a hand to push it back and watched Cassian track the movement of her fingers.

“I need some air,” she said abruptly. She tipped her head toward the terrace overlooking the water, looking up at him with a question.

Cassian set his glass down and opened the door. The breeze off the river flowed past them, crisp and pure. It had been a gorgeous fall day, but as the sun began to set the temperature would also drop quickly. Jyn was glad she’d worn a long-sleeved dress and tights, but was starting to think a jacket would’ve been a good idea too.

She walked toward the railing overlooking the drop to the river and propped her elbows on it. Strands of her hair were falling out of its knot and the wind teased them across the nape of her neck like a stroking hand. She remembered Cassian’s fingers cupping her there, holding her as he moved inside her, and a long shiver drew up her spine.

“Are you cold?” Cassian shrugged out of his suit jacket.

Jyn opened her mouth to refuse, but he said, “Please?” and the memory jolt of hearing him say the same word on a low groan short-circuited her.

She nodded, mumbling, “Thanks.”

He placed it carefully over her shoulders without touching her, but the sensation of being surrounded by warmth that smelled like him still fogged her mind. She wrapped her arms around herself inside the satin lining to hold in the heat and to keep herself from reaching for him.

“We could go back inside,” he suggested, but Jyn was reluctant to give up the lingering golden light. And the company of Cassian.

She shook her head. “It’s nicer out here,” she said inadequately, hoping that she sounded like she wanted him to stick around.

He leaned on the railing next to her, mimicking the casual drape of her body. “Anyway, I’m sorry that our wires got crossed.”

“Don’t apologize!” Jyn ordered, feeling like a heel. “I’m sorry. I take back all the nasty thoughts I had about you.”

“All of them?” he said, turning his head to look down at her. “I don’t blame you for being angry, given what it looked like.”

“Maybe not every single one.” She licked her lips.

The honeyed light of the setting sun caught in his dark brown hair, and Jyn found herself trapped staring at the way it fell across his face and brought out the amber in his eyes. His mouth had lines around it that looked like they could be from pain, but when he smiled at her they deepened into something like real happiness.

She lifted up on her toes, just a little, and pressed her lips to his: a soft, light kiss as gentle as she could be despite how badly she wanted to consume him. His hands went to her arms and held her up, sustaining the contact as they opened to each other and the kiss sank deeper, hungrier. She leaned into Cassian and he let her weight press him tight between her body and the railing at his back. At the smoky burn of alcohol on his tongue she made a shameless noise, pushing closer still.

He jerked in her grip and she pulled back, terrified that she’d hurt him. “Cassian?”

“Jyn,” he murmured in response. His hands lifted to cradle her face and he kissed her again, lips dragging along her cheek until her skin kindled at his touch. She wasn’t cold anymore, she was a blazing fire.

She whispered, “It’s probably rude to start making out at someone’s wedding.”

“Probably.” His voice was roughly gravelled, and his breath on her cheek made her shiver again. “Should we stop?”

She pulled his mouth back to hers and kissed him once more, twice more—and forced herself to stop at three before she lost her head completely.

“Come on,” she said breathlessly, rocking back on her heels and taking his hand. “Come with me. I’m going to give you your jacket back. And then you can give me all the rest of your clothes.”

#jyn x cassian #rebelcaptain #modern au #rated T #prompt fills #my fic #fulcrumstardust

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vintage-squid · 5 years ago

Text

The Fruits of Love

Summary: "When we first met, you thought I was a pompous airhead and I thought you were nothing short of insufferable. If anyone had told me then I would one day spend my mornings waking up in your arms and kissing your illegally handsome face, I’d have told them to take a long walk off a short pier." Logan can't believe the wedding is finally happening, but even his nerves can't stop him from marrying the prince of his dreams.

Pairings: Logan/Roman, brotherly Virgil/Logan, background Virgil/Deceit/Patton

Rating: G Warnings: a whole heckin lotta fluff On AO3

I realized I never posted this to tumblr lol, so here yall go

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Logan exhaled deep and slow as he took one final look at himself in the full-length mirror. He smoothed his hands over the skirt of his dress, trying to focus on the sensation of smooth silk and textured ruffle rather than the clammy chill that had settled into his palms. The layers over his hips accented his low curves, holding him in an embrace as comforting as his fiance did each night. There was not a crinkle to be found in the fabric, nor a hair out of place from his wavy curls, and yet he felt as disheveled as the dressing room around him, which had been cleared of his half of their wedding party only moments before as they scrambled to get the finishing touches of their outfits in order before the ceremony.

Now, the groom-to-be was alone with his thoughts and a raising heart rate. He could do this, there was no reason for the flush of nervousness that sent a cool tingly sensation to the tips of his manicured fingers and toes (styled like miniature galaxies, of course, his brother was an exceptional artist, even with nail polish). There were less people out there than in any of his lectures, and all of the audience would be close friends and family, and yet...and yet…

He startled when someone softly knocked on the door, looking over his shoulder to see his brother, and best man, peeking in.

“You almost ready?” Virgil asked, stepping inside and closing the door behind him. With what was likely a pitiful expression, Logan turned and reached for his older brother. Virgil didn’t hesitate to step closer, gathering him close. He cupped Logan’s face, smoothing his thumbs over his brother’s cheeks and drawing him close to touch their foreheads together. “Hey, it’s gonna be okay, LB. The love of your life is waiting for you out there, annoying as ever, but looking damn good too. Just don’t tell him I said that, or I’ll never hear the end of it.”

Logan huffed a small laugh, both at Virgil’s never-ending rivalry with his fiance, and the childhood nickname he would never shake - not that he wanted to. LB. Logan Baras. Little Brother. Logan Berries. Lotsa Binch. Really, it was getting ridiculous at this point, but it was an in-joke that had been evolving since they were in grade school. It was also part of the reason why Logan had asked to keep his last name, or hyphenate the two, after the wedding; he couldn’t bear to part with such an ingrained part of himself. Thankfully, Baras-Sanders rolled off the tongue quite nicely, in his opinion.

He raised his hands, mirroring his elder brother’s position to cradle Virgil’s face in turn. “I swear that will remain between you and I, else I will never hear the end of his gloating over your compliment either.” The pair chuckled before Logan trailed off with a sigh. “I .. I am…” A second shaky exhale. “I’m anxious, VB.” Virgil Baras. Very (Big) Brother. Vigilant Bro-tector. Vain Bastard. An eye for an eye, as they say. “I know our friends and family support our relationship, but many of them are unaware that I will be wearing a dress and make-up! Not to mention how unorthodox our choice of venue is - I can’t believe I let him talk me into hosting our wedding at his theater, and -”

“Hey!” Virgil’s low voice cut him off with a small shake of his head. “Hey... it’s my job to be the worry-wart here, remember? Deep breaths, okay? And stop chewing on your lip! Do you know how long it took me to get that ombre just right?”

Logan rolled his eyes, but obliged; he really didn’t want to sit through another session of his brother’s perfectionist fussing.

“Now, you look fucking amazing. Like damn gurl, slay it.” Virgil’s deadpanned drawl in a mockery of their mutual friend, Remy, had Logan snorting a giggle. “But seriously, LB, I can promise you that everyone out there is going to be stunned at how gorgeous this dress is, and how radiant you are… and no one more than that idiot you fell in love with. You’re gonna walk out there, and Za is gonna be with you to walk you down the aisle, and mom will be crying, and I’m gonna waiting on stage too, but you’re only gonna have eyes for the man you are marrying today.”

With a shaky smile and watery eyes, Logan lunged forward to wrap is older brother in a tight hug, burying his face into the crook of the other’s shoulder. “The proper pronunciation is ‘going to’, and I love you so goddamn much, VB.” Pulling back, he cycled a deep breath, and squeezed Virgil’s upper arms gently. “Thank you. Now, I believe we have a wedding to attend.”

Walking out of the dressing room arm-in-arm, the brothers snuck around the side doors so they could enter the theatre from the foyer with the rest of the wedding party. The assorted group of groomsmen, groomsladies, and friends of honour turned as they approached, the other best man breaking away to sweep Logan into a hug.

“Oh Lolo! You look stunning!” Patton pulled back, stars in his eyes as he looked over the whorls of colour covering the ballgown-style dress. “Wow…. This dress is absolutely perfect on you! And it matches your pretty make-up! Oh!! This is so wonderful!!” He fanned his face, trying to hold back the tears that were already threatening to fall. “I can’t believe you two are finally getting married!”

A blush graced Logan’s cheeks with a soft smile. “I cannot either; it feels like a dream come true.”

“Speaking of the wedding - we really need to get that started here, people!” A voice cut in, drawing the group’s attention to the ring-and-flower bearer of the ceremony. Denali approached the trio, slipping their hands into both Virgil and Patton’s. Their outfit was a delightful mix of both their genders: the tighter bodice giving way to a flared coattail-skirt with striped pants matched well with their colourful make-up - done on only one half of their face. The ensemble was completed with a wide-brimmed hat topped with an extravagantly flowing feather. “I love that you’re all being cutesy over here, I really do, but I don’t want to have to listen to Roman whine later that we left him standing at the altar. So-” They raised their voice, addressing the wedding party as a whole. “I need everyone to buddy up and line up! We have some gay nerds who need to get married!”

With a wave to cue the sound operator, the music began. A chuckle rippled through the crowd as they recognized the entrance music as a slowed version of the Lord of the Rings’ iconic theme. Virgil and Patton grinned at one another and planted a kiss on both of Denali’s cheeks simultaneously before linking arms and striding into the theater. Two by two, the rest of the wedding party followed, walking down the center aisle through the audience, and parting at the stage to walk up the stairs on each side. Their lines met once more to either side of Roman and the officiant, an array of suits and dresses in colours accenting the grooms’. Denali completed the proceeding on his own, tossing flower petals with a flourish so grand one would almost believe this was their wedding.

Then, the room faded into silence, and, as the opening notes of the original 1963 Doctor Who opening theme (stylized for a wedding procession, of course) played out, Logan rounded the corner. Arm linked with his Za, and a bouquet accented with peacock feathers held in his other hand, the groom looked ethereal in the spotlight. The blues and greys of his dress and make-up sparkled as he made his way past the most important people in his and Roman’s life, and if he had been able to look away from Roman’s eyes for a moment, he would have seen only love and awe radiating back from them.

Logan hugged his Za tightly as they stopped in front of the stage, smiling with tears in his eyes as his beloved parent tipped his head down to kiss his forehead. When Roman stepped down the stairs at center stage, his burgundy suit and silver filigree circlet lending him the regal air of royalty he had always hoped to achieve, his soon-to-be Za-in-law pulled him into a hug too. Ze guided the grooms’ hands together, squeezing them gently with a smile, and stepped back to sit with zir wife to watch as they officially welcomed another son into their lives.

Ever the gentleman, Roman helped his beloved up the steps, ensuring the skirt of his dress didn’t get caught under the practical blue flats Logan had chosen to wear. Thankfully, there was no train to wrangle, as it was an excess of fabric that Logan had no desire to waste or trip over. As they took their places, Virgil stepped forward to take the bouquet, letting the grooms hold both hands with matching smiles.

Clearing his throat, the officiant - and theater owner, and close friend of Roman’s - Thomas, began the ceremony.

“Mawage.” A smirk was tugging at his lips as both grooms’ jaws dropped. “Mawage is wot bwings us togeder today. Mawage, that bwessed awangement, that dweam wifin a dweam…” Slowly, Logan began to grin, Roman already biting his lip to muffle his giggles. “And wuv, tru wuv, will fowow you foweva..” Of course Thomas had chosen to quote the movie they had watched together on their first date. “So tweasure your wuv.”

The entire wedding party was giggling now, as well as a fair number in the audience. Thomas, looking far too pleased with himself, continued in his normal, exuberant tone. “I truly believe the pair standing before us today not only each embody the beautiful magic that blossoms in the heart when one has found true love, but they choose each and every day to work together to care for those precious gardens. They shared carefully tended clippings made from their vulnerabilities and strengths, their fears and their trust, and lovingly incorporated these parts of their partner into their hearts. At times, yes, there were weeds which needed to be pulled. Some just needed to be identified to deal with, while others required both of them pulling with all their might to remove. Those deep roots could have left holes in their gardens, but instead, our handsome grooms chose to fill in the spaces so new seedlings could begin to grow. The literal fruits of their labour have culminated here today, as they promise themselves to one another for the rest of their lives.”

Smiling widely, Thomas retrieved a ring box from the pocket of his suit and held it out. “Roman, I can tell you are absolutely bursting with the need to profess your love right now. We’ll let you say your vows first then.” A laugh rippled through the crowd, Logan snickering too as his betrothed shrugged with a sheepish smile but did not deny the claim.

With his fingers cupped under Logan’s, cradling and supporting them, Roman held up their joined hands and kissed his knuckles. “Hey nerd,” he began, drawing another laugh from their friends and family, and a smiling eye-roll from his beloved. “I can’t believe I’m lucky enough to be the one standing up here with you today. When we first met, you thought I was a pompous airhead and I thought you were nothing short of insufferable. If anyone had told me then I would one day spend my mornings waking up in your arms and kissing your illegally handsome face, I’d have told them to take a long walk off a short pier. But, by Julie Andrews, here we are, and I couldn’t imagine my life without you by my side. You are my greatest joy, my strongest support, and my deepest love. I swear, with every fibre of my being, I will spend everyday striving to be the same for you. I swear to care for you through the good and the bad, to celebrate your victories like they were my own, and to provide for you safety from the noise of the world when all you need is someone on your side. I love you, Logan, this I swear to you.”

Delicately plucking a ring from its satin cushion in the box, Roman cradled Logan’s hand and slipped the band over his left finger. The silver band was inset with three small red stones set on a diagonal, mimicking Orion’s belt - the only constellation Roman could confidently identify for years, frequently and loudly, much to their joined amusement. Woven through the gemstones was a simple silver filigree, and all of which perfectly complemented the engagement ring already at home on Logan’s finger.

If at all possible, Thomas was smiling wider, eyes damp. “Logan? It’s your turn.”

With a sniffle, Logan looked from the wedding band up into the eyes of his love, determined to make it through the ceremony without ruining his make-up. Tenderly, he shifted Roman’s hands so both cradled Logan’s left, around his rings, around their promise. Right hand freed, Logan reached up to cradle Roman’s cheek and smooth his thumb over those sharp cheekbones, accented today with a glittering highlight.

“Roman,” he began, voice a little strained with emotion. “Gods above, Ro, only you and that ridiculously handsome smile of yours could make me forget every carefully planned out word I wanted to say.” The couple shared a chuckle, Roman’s hands tightening briefly around his. “You are every bit the royalty you claim to be. Even now, I cannot recall which one of us began to pursue the other, but I will surely never forget how patient you have been with me through every step of our relationship. Not once have you ever asked more from me than I was willing to share, and nor did you get angry or leave when I requested we slow down because I was scared of how quickly I found myself falling for you. I used to relish in my solitude, in the silence of my own company, but somehow you managed to worm your stubborn way over my walls. You have become a vital part of my life, and I find it unnervingly quiet when you are not around. I cannot even enjoy star-gazing alone anymore! Roman, I need you to know, I would never have it any other way. I swear to care for you through the good and the bad, to celebrate your victories like they were my own, and to provide for you safety from the noise of the world when all you need is someone on your side. I love you, Roman, you truly are the prince of my dreams.”

There was not a dry eye in the theater as Logan retrieved the matching ring to his own from the box and slid it delicately onto Roman’s finger. The equally silver band sat alongside Roman’s engagement ring like it were expressly created to be there. The filigree crept around another trio of gemstones in the same position as Logan’s, though these were coloured a deep blue.

Clutching a hand to his heart, Thomas wiped the tears from his eye. “Roman James Sanders, do you take Logan to be your lawfully wedded husband?”

Unable to look away from his love, Roman nodded with a wide smile. “I do.”

“Logan Wilson Baras, do you take Roman to be your lawfully wedded husband?”

Logan nodded and squeezed their rejoined hands. “I do.”

“Then by the powers vested in me by the province of British Columbia, I now pronounce you husband and husband! You may kiss the groom!”

Logan had only a moment’s notice at Roman’s shit-eating grin, before he was swung around into a dip, his husband’s - husband!! - knee supporting his back and arms around his shoulder and neck. “You are positively ridiculous,” he muttered, before tugging Roman by the tie to share their first kiss as a wedded couple. Cheers and applause erupted around them, including a wolf-whistle that could have just as easily been from any member of their wedding party.

Straightening, the couple leaned together, Roman’s arm around Logan’s back, hand resting comfortingly on his opposite hip. They grinned, their friends and family standing as Thomas’ voice rang out once more. “Guys, gals, and nonbinary pals, for the first time ever, I present to you Mr. and Mr. Baras-Sanders!”

As a second cheer arose, Virgil stepped over to hand Logan his bouquet again, pulling his brother into a tight hug. “Congrats LB,” he whispered, before standing back and applauding the newly weds.

‘Love you’, Logan mouthed in return, smiling at his brother before turning back to Roman to join their hands and take their first steps into the next adventure of their lives together.

#logince #platonic analogical #moxieceit #logan sanders #virgil sanders #roman sanders #patton sanders #deceit sanders #sanders sides #fanfiction #squid scribbles

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zombriekid · 5 years ago

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The Devil Takes Care of His Own 2/?? [Alastor/Gender Neutral Reader]

Series: Hazbin Hotel

Chapter Name: Miscommunication

Chapter Summary: miscommunication runs amok at the hasbin hotel and you’re at the center of it all

The Has-been Hotel is... you honestly don’t know what you were expecting when Niffty described the place but it sure as hell wasn’t... all of this.

It’s grandiose in both concept and execution, a towering beast of red brick and daunting spires and white marquees lights that draw the gaze up, up, up all seven plus stories until you’re gawking at the luminous, colossal eye nestled at the tippy top of the building; an amalgamation of various parts, such as the rusty boiler of an old locomotive on the left side and the splintering ruins of a ship smashed into the right, it’s as if the architecture had whipped up a variety of blueprints, couldn’t decide on which one to use, then hurled them at the wall to see what stuck. Each individual structure stacks on one another at such awkward angles, not enough to topple over but sufficient to deceive your brain into thinking that it will.

The sort of anxiety that you get when a cup sits dangerously close to the edge of a table.

Niffty skips from one foot over to the other in an energetic, repetitious fashion until they both carry her closer to the grand double-door style entrance, and with a flourish of her skirt she twirls around until she’s gracing you with a toothy grin. “This is it, Newbie!” The declaration is made, and you feel the skin around your mouth pull into a smile of your own before you can even think about it. Her joy is infectious.

“Cool!” You respond, “umm... I’m gonna kinda stick around until you can get inside, is that okay?”

Her grin quickly drops and her brow pinches, though neither are done out of disgust or anger or any sort of negative reaction. If anything she merely looks confused. Then she asks her favorite question: “why?”

“Cause- I dunno, what if it’s locked?”

“But.. it’s a hotel. Why would it be locked?”

“I don’t- friggin know! Look, I just.. have to make sure you get inside safely! For my peace of mind.”

Something clicks in her head, you can tell by the way her face slackens, the way her eye widens a fraction, and how her already open expression just... opens up more. What this all means you can’t say for sure but you’re hoping that it stems from the epiphany of self preservation and survival instincts, or rather her lack thereof. You can’t afford to worry about her well-being after this. Got an un-life to live and all that.

A smile, tiny in size but genuine in nature, blooms on her face, and warm, fuzzy relief swells in your chest at the sigh; seems the little lady finally gets it.

“You should come inside and meet everybody, Newbie.”

...

Or not-

That’s-

You-

That’s not- the response that-

“W-why?”

The giggle she emits is light and airy, girlish- not quite like a child’s or even a teenager’s yet akin to. Like she knows something that you don’t. “I think you’ll like them, hell you might even become friends!”

“I don’t need- I have friends-” the rest of the statement disconnects from your voice due to the emotional and mental whiplash you’re currently suffering. Because this is not the direction you were anticipating. The direction you were hoping. A moment of clarity to break apart the cloud of teenage hormones- to bridge the gap between childhood and adulthood in her head so that her sense of self preservation might serve her better in the future! That’s all you’re wanting.

Accountability from her. Not an assessment on how pathetic she finds your existence.

But then her smile slips into something a little more somber and the wind in your sails- that is the ire in your throat- immediately deflates. “Please?” She asks.

Hear that? Those are your heartstrings being tuned and plucked and strummed by a diabolical mastermind forever trapped in the body of a teenage girl. Under your breath do you curse the softness in your chest as your feet begin pursuing her prints.

____________________________________

There’s something off about the hotel’s entrance, and you’re already aware of what that something is for it lacks any semblance of subtlety and tact.

The walls don’t match.

That is to say there’s quite a large patch that coils around the doors from one side of the moulding to the other, with the jump between textures and slightly off-coloring of the material a harsh sensation. “Repairs from an intruder” Niffty tells you; “a big ass red flag” is what you’d call it.

The youngen grasps one of the dusky doorknobs and you have just enough time to note the twin stained glass panels on either door before she shoulders one of them open- oh fuck, these doors are so much bigger than her!

That’s too goddamn endearing.

Crossing the entrance’s threshold and into the foyer doesn’t leave you with any flesh wounds or broken bones, which is a normal expectation otherwise, yet still that doesn’t embolden even an iota of morale. Just makes the oxygen in your lungs slip through pursed lips.

The interior’s lovely, though.

It has a particular aesthetic to it, a sort of old timey feel inspired by early 1900s Hollywood- gold trimming glistens in the low light around the wall’s seams, a wombo combo of creepy eyes and apple silhouette patterns smatters across the wallpaper and windows and furniture, and varying yet complimentary shades of red- some orange based, others with purple undertones- as far as your eyes can see. Chipped marble statues stand tall along the length of the rich, ruby red rug, and both design choices run down the walkway between your feet and the front desk. Safe to say the rest of the establishment follows this decorative draft.

It’s all very gaudy- not something you would’ve chosen.

Niffty announces her arrival with the verbal enthusiastic accompaniment of a “new friend”, which makes the skin on your face heat up, makes you feel coy, however, then her declaration is only met with the ripples of her voice bouncing from wall to burgundy wall, and the silence (emptiness) becomes baffling.

And a quick glance around the space the two of you occupy yields no other results, it’s just the two of you.

Empty.

Obviously there’s electricity in the building, you can easily point out the amber light sources and random puffs of cool air from the air conditioning, so it’s nearly safe to say that this hotel is functioning. At least somewhat.

Don’t most, if not all, functioning hotels have... tenants? People checking in? Employees, managers, a friggin cock roach?! Life?

Why keep the lights on if no one else is here? No one else except... you and Niffty. Why would she bring you here? Knowingly, of all things, given how she spoke of this place with such familiarity. Unless...

No.

Your eyes find her red, curly locks- she wouldn’t- and the hairs on your arms rise with the pebbling texture on your skin- she wouldn’t- and, oh, how the comprehension of age old adages such as “stranger danger” and “curiosity killed the cat” spreads in your chest.

You had no reason to trust her four hours ago, and you have no reason to trust her now.

Seems like her self preservation isn’t the only one that needs fine tuning around here.

Slowly, quietly, you lift your leg and just as discreetly lower it back down behind you, and you mirror this silent shuffle on your right, back and forth, until the tips of your fingers caress a cool, grainy surface. The doors.

Feel for the doorknob- “huh, is no one here?” she mumbles- a metallic globe nestles into the meat of your palm- “that’s weird”- your fingers fold around the bulb- “I was hoping that- what’re you doing, Newbie?”- the knob turns, not by you. It’s not you. You’re not twisting the door open.

The doorknob is moving and it’s not because of you.

A sensation of lofty weightlessness replaces the solid slab against your back, a flurry of butterflies erupts in the pit of your stomach, and the visual of Niffty standing amidst dim lighting slips into the recesses of your peripheral as you fall backwards with the retreating door. However, a pair of hands immediately clench around your biceps and from that point of contact you can physically feel their arms expend force to halt your body’s natural inclination to follow the pull of gravity.

“Whoa there!” Someone says from behind- the owner of the hands and your personal savior, you’re assuming. And judging by the higher, decidedly more effeminate pitch of the voice, your pillar of support is a young lady.

Brief peek up through your lashes confirms all suspicions and you’re, like, ninety five percent sure you’ve fallen in love.

A young gal, somewhere in her early twenties, is staring back at you with her groomed brows creasing the impossibly pale skin of her forehead. But it’s the way she’s looking at you, the manner of which you’re able to meet her lovely doe eyes, is what leaves you weak in the knees.

She’s hunched over you. Spine bowed, shoulders raised, neck craned, spun gold tresses spilled around her face kind of hunched because she’s taller than you by a significant amount.

You’re ready to go ahead and propose.

“Umm, hi there,” the (hopefully) future Mrs. Newbie says through a lopsided grin, “are you okay?”

This next moment of stupidity will hound your psyche later on tonight until the only thing that lulls you to sleep is the sheer exhaustion of socially awkward-induced anxiety, however in the meantime there’s no stopping the response that jettisons out of your mouth. “I need to call heaven because they’re missing an angel.”

“... what?”

“I mean my legs must be broken cause I’ve fallen for you.”

____________________________________

Over a glass of water, serviced by an individual whom you can only describe as a winged grump cat- and was, supposedly, here the entire time you were questioning a child’s integrity- is where you apologize to the blonde hotel owner, Charlie; she attempts to wave it off with a flick of her wrist but this doesn’t suffice, not for you at least.

“No no, I’m really sorry- it’s just...” at a momentary loss for words, your index fingernail lightly scrapes into the grainy pattern of the bar. “I’m fairly new here so a lot of things are still pretty jarring.”

“Guess that explains the meat suit, then.”

This astute observation comes from her companion, a long-legged fellow by the name of Angel Dust who’s currently scrutinizing you with his sharp, mix-matched eyes; at a whopping seven foot something this guy looms over everyone in the room with all four arms laced over the tuft of white fur billowing out of the plunging collar of his suit. Bug-based, you think, like an arachnid maybe but with six limbs instead of eight.

“-arachnids are not insects because-”

Nope, none of that, not gonna have an episode spice up your (less than) stellar first impression.

“Yep, been here for about a month now. I’d like to think I’ve adjusted well enough but, ya know, still get thrown through a loop sometimes. Like this hotel for instance! Never would’ve thought that friggin Hell would have one, no offense.”

On a bar stool to your left pipes up Niffty; “is that why you thought I was gonna attack you, Newbie?”

Naturally you’re utterly unprepared for her rather perceptive question, cause she can determine your, a total stranger’s, apprehension but not an aggressor’s intentions when their teeth are poised around her noggin?

Well, no sense in denying it now, you suppose.

“Sorry about that, Niffty.”

“Oh no worries!” She giggles, “it’d be pre-etty stupid to blindly trust someone like that.”

A few beats pass with the two of you staring at one another, her donning a toothy smile and you puckered lips, and shortly after you disrupt the unofficial contest with a single nod of your head and a “fair enough” tacked on to the finale.

Turning back to Charlie, you tell her that the offensive essence of your statement about her hotel didn’t really make itself known until just now, and apologize for your insensitivity once more. “I guess I just didn’t think anything like this was plausible, but here I am drinking complimentary tap water in a lobby of a hotel in Hell.”

“’Complimentary’, my ass.” The winged cat, Husk as you were told earlier, grumbles under- his? that voice definitely sounds masculine- breath.

“Okay, just tap water then. I’m drinking tap water in-”

“I-it’s okay, Newbie!” Charlie interjects, palms raised and fingers slack. “You’re not the first one to doubt the Happy Hotel, though I do appreciate your apology.”

... want some of that non complimentary tap water to wash down that foot, self? Jesus, if you didn’t feel like shit before then boy howdy do you feel it now; way to trash her gig like that.

“But I believe in this project, no matter what anyone else says, and if I can help just one demon find redemption here then everyone else will believe too!”

FUCK, you really just shat all over this literal-but-not-really angel’s dreams! God you’re such-

Wait.

Wait wait wait... rewind that, what did she say?

“Redemption,” you stress the word, “whaddya mean by that?”

Her mouth blinks open repeatedly not unlike that of a fish before she quickly clears her throat and continues. “Umm.. rehabilitation? To fight against the overpopulation issue?” She must see the lack of recognition on your face. “The entire reason for this hotel?”

Unfortunately for her nothing is distinguishable, not one bit of information or even hearsay within your recollection to mend the rift of miscommunication here, and you explain as such.

“Isn’t that... why you’re... here? To be rehabilitated?” She asks.

You shake your head, “I was just escorting Niffty home so she’d get back safely. This is the first I’ve even heard of your project.”

“Yep yep! Newbie here saved me from some guy that was trying to kidnap me, said he wanted to use me as bait against the bossman, can you believe that?” Niffty scoffs, chased by a large, arcing roll of her one eye. “Completely clueless. But thanks to our new friend here I didn’t have to do anything!”

Angel Dust, apparently with a desire to be a part of the conversation once more, emerges into your line of sight from your right and levels you with a somewhat twisted sneer; lots of fangs, this one, hopefully he’s not a biter.

“So... what? You lookin’ for reward money or somethin’?” He jeers, and it takes some exertion of personal willpower to not clench your hands out of irritation.

Doesn’t mean it’s not showing on your face, however.

“No dude, just seemed like the right thing to do at the time.”

“Tch, ya think we’re really fallin for that crock of shit?”

“I don’t care what you think?” Your tone is calm, steady, no need to act like a jackass even in the afterlife- a concept that has obviously eluded this guy’s notice. “That was my reason for helping, ‘s not my problem if you don’t believe me.”

In your peripheral you can see Charlie’s silhouette veer a little to her right/your left; it’s a slight tilt in her neck that seems to tip her center of gravity, drawing her blonde hair over her right shoulder in a curtain of pale gold, however it’s her eyes that capture your absolute, full attention. Round and unblinking, they probe into you with such vigilance that your stomach churns from the intense concentration, except it’s done in a way that brings a sort of glossy haze over her round, pretty face- like she’s looking at you but she’s not seeing you.

Normally you’d be flattered by such an attractive person outright staring at you, openly, but uhh... right now? Yeah, no you’re not, you’re actually feeling pretty anxious right now.

Guess Angel Dust is tuning in on the same wavelength as you because he says her name in the form of a question. And, still with a far away vog clouding over her features, she merely discloses “I need to call Vaggie” then treads towards the building’s entrance.

“... what?” Is all you can get out in this disorientation.

“Vaggie is Charlie’s girlfriend,” Niffy whispers behind a cupped hand.

Which doesn’t actually answer much of anything for you, nevertheless you appreciate her effort and thank her for it.

Then your left pocket comes alive with rhythmic tremors, a clear indication that your phone is receiving some sort of outward correspondence. Ah, a text message from... oh no.

Text from: The Boss

“WHAT. THE FUCK. DID YOU DO, NEWBIE?”

“Oh fuck me.”

____________________________________

a/u: no beta, we post (and die) like men... until i actually go back and review it. y’all this chapter was gonna end much further down the line but it’s already long enough, and though i’m not inherently happy with the outcome i am proud of myself for getting it out by my self imposed deadline! btw the reader’s assertion of the characters’s gender identities is there only cause these are characters we know so it makes it easier on me; if any of them didn’t follow a binary based identity then i wouldn’t identify them based off of their biological sex. like, reblog, comment, and all that great jazz cause engagement means everything to content creators, and thank all y’all for taking the time to read my jargon <3

tagged: itz-kira (i gotchu boo)

#hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel alastor #hazbin hotel alastor x reader #hazbin hotel alastor x you #alastor x reader #alastor x you #alastor the radio demon #hazbin hotel fanfiction #hazbin hotel fanfic #writing

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thecosmicsen · 4 years ago

Note

22, bicth.

send me a number from 1-100 for a starter based on that song or 🎁 for shuffle + @shesin

↳ fucking around with me is dangerous, the lines are blurry now, this isn't lust · tinashe

in true grisly apocalyptical fashion, he observes how the blood red streaks mar her usually smooth canvas of skin and taint the vibrance of her pearly white enamels. the metallic crimson stands out in a stark contrast to what she pulls herself off as. refined. polished. impeccably groomed. the untouchable. but now he is reminded of the heart of her innate nature. it embodies itself upon her in the form of dazzling patterns that trickle down the corners of her doused ruby lips and falling off as seamless red droplets from the tapered ends of her canines. is she smiling or stricken with another bout of grief that is about to come and seep in at full force to wreck havoc on her already trembling limbs ? he can’t tell just yet. all he can do is merely observe from a situated distance, marvelling at the irony of the entire situation. how did he come to the point in life that he has to ask his twin brother, that he had so cruelly stabbed, to fetch a fresh body to ensure the survival of an increasingly unstable demonic entity ?

what baffles him even more is the instinctive washing over of his own nature to serve and protect that grips his body in lock, chaining his feet solely to the spot nearby her side to reassure the two of them that things will turn out okay. the crease between his brows is elicited more from the presence of his twin brother’s erratic but stealthily hidden scheming. Taesoo’s ever present gaze lingers on the back of his neck like an itch of a fly that one cannot seem to sway away enough. he knows about Inés. he knows I’m with her and willing to be flexible with my terms to make sure she gets through this. he has all this information now and I don’t know what he is going to do with it. he’s too calm as usual. why did he leave so easily ?

a ragged sigh that escapes between a bloody heaving pout catches Jaewoo’s attention. flitting his vision back to the woman who still stands with natural command, her posture visibly improved from her freshly plucked feast. she doesn’t need to speak for him to understand what is going through her mind. his lips downturn in a grimace as the invisible lines of fatigue etched on her face cause his heart to wring aches of sympathy for a creature that just unleashed frenzied savage destruction to a single vulnerable body. she must have been starving. no wonder.

" hi, did you eat well ? ” Jaewoo gently breaks the silence with the least provocative question to test the waters of a post-fed demon, his overflowing concern filtering out any leftover confusion lilting his tone. “ you got some blood on your teeth. would you like me to help you clean it up ? ” in all naturalness, he hands over the power to her with the choice of whether she decides she will like him to help her clean up the drying ichor splayed on her limbs. not that she needs any demonstration, he scrutinises her reactions as he takes teeny tiny steps towards her which he hurries when she throws him a questioning look, as if she is silently daring him to see what happens next if he acts hesitantly cautious in his movements towards her.

the air hang stills between the convoluting triangle of himself, the devoured body and Inés. although the reeking scent of torn open flesh causes his stomach to recoil from slight agitation the memories of his knife slipping between his brother’s ribs never seems to go away, he has no wavering pauses when he reaches out to her hands gently. her smeared palms transfer to his but he pays no mind to it as he is already used to being nothing but full of her bloody tears mattifying his clothes down. he doesn’t mind it. in fact, he secretly is grateful for it so that hopefully she can notice that he is fine with sharing the instability of emotional turmoils with her and that he is nothing but a mirror to her in her moments of weakness. you’re not weak, you’re not alone, I get like you too but even worse. I can’t keep picking myself up right after but you can.

when she doesn’t have a knee jerk reaction to shove him away this instance, his tender touch increases in firmness only just enough to guide her to another of the little routines they have established together. going to the bathroom usually entails a huge clean up of sorts, primarily the deluge of crimson staining her cheeks from the emotions that ravage through her veins.

“ you have so much blood on your face, ” he states, his words nothing but soft spoken as he gazes at her with intense attentiveness, his palms cupping her face. it starts off with square one, using a facecloth soaked in water to tenderly rub away at the cracking blood on her skin. one palm steadies underneath her chin to ever so delicately guide her face around so he can dab away, getting one morsel of blood cleaned off at a time. this is all part of their established rhythm for the past few days where he carefully takes his time to wash her free of her smudged bloody shades that tarnish her cheeks. each speck of smeared red is a testament to the emotional turmoil she has to endure which he had to helplessly witness the recoiling horror of having to see someone like Inés, ever so self-assured in her own person, to be battered down by the relentless swarm of the entire spectrum of emotions.

it is a silent few moments, nothing awkward but rather he feels intimately intertwined with her aching soul surfacing its tumultuous sharp descent of sentiments. he meticulously dabs dabs dabs at her hollowed cheeks, more of her ichor generously coating his fingers instead. Inés opts for noiselessly staring at him if not fluttering her eyes shut to conceal the next threatening crash of unstable rickety emotions. this time, she keeps her eyes open at him, her gaze steadfast and unblinking as he focuses on vanishing any reminders of her harrowing struggles that her heart has to trudge through. in between mild brushing aways of the soiled facecloth, he offers her small reassuring smiles in the moments their gazes do lock albeit an edge of fatigued empathy hardens the corners of his eyes. I’m here for you, we’ll get through this together. I feel your pain too. I don’t know how you’re still standing so strong. I wouldn’t be able to survive something like this.

now he feels a tinge of awkwardness flush his cheeks when he realises he needs to thoroughly brush his teeth. attempting to camouflage his random embarrassment, he pulls a slight grimace laced with mirth before gently murmuring, “ do you think you could open your mouth for me please ? ”

it feels strange to do so but he thumbs a bare finger over her bottom lip, silently asking for permission before taking his own initiative to tenderly tug her chin in between his fingers as another non-verbal cue to request permission. to give her space to do so without feeling like he is overpowering her, he breaks away between the arising pause of tension in order to grab her toothbrush and apply a generous coating of toothpaste. when he turns back to her, he is hit with the sight of how the thick oozing of blood fills up the tiny gaps between her enamels and the fierce need to protect and ensure her wellbeing grips him with force.

“ let’s rinse out first a little bit ? ” he doesn’t know why he is asking for permission again when there is no other way to start cleaning her mouth. filling up a cup of water, he guides her by her arm over the sink so he can press the cool rim against her lips so she can begin to rinse her mouth clean. when she finishes a few rapid swishing of the water, she turns back to him expectantly, a springing of tears to her eyes and his own soften. I know, I know. you can’t explain your moods. it comes from out of nowhere. it’s okay. it happens to me all the time too.

tucking behind a couple of stray hair strands away from her freshly cleansed face to avoid getting flecks of toothpaste on it, he coaxes her to open her mouth wider with an encouraging grin, abruptly transitioning into a tuneless hum as he starts brushing her teeth. fixating to achieve nothing but a flawless finish, he thoroughly brushes away at her teeth, spending a little too long at her canines in awed fascination as his free hand remains gently cupped at her chin.

five minutes later, she is all freshly brushed and flossed but when he nears the end of wringing out the last bits of flesh between her teeth, he is suddenly hyperaware of her blown out pupils following his every movement and his hands tremble slightly under her intense scrutiny. he’s reluctant, uncharacteristically shy, to immediately meet her gaze so he draws out the last few moments for unnecessary extra flossing of her molars. when he can no longer prolong the moment, he looks up to meet her gaze and time seems to stop.

blissfully unaware of their current situation and the context of the toothbrushing, he is sucked into staring back at her hypnotic eyes, the honeyed dark brown colour that means she is momentarily satisfied. he doesn’t know how much time passes, or whether such a concept even exists with a woman of her calibre, he keeps staring back at her without much movement as she keeps staring back at him. he realises that his hand is still cupping her chin although his hand holding her toothbrush is dropped far away from her mouth now. yet he still holds her in his grasp whilst staring back, a slight questioning behind his look as well as hers. what are you thinking about right now ? how are you feeling in this moment ?

he wants to say something but the words die on the tip of his tongue, his brain halting him with a noiseless warning that he shouldn’t speak within this moment. he remains questioning, blinking his rounded eyes at her, her toothbrush still tightly gripped in his other hand. he desperately yearns to know how she feels. does he need to go start making some tea now ?

" I’m here with you. ” the words spontaneously tumble out of his mouth since he feels a need to anchor them in the present tense and remind her himself that he is here for her. removing his hand from her chin, he rests on his chest earnestly instead. “ I know you’re suffering a lot . . . I feel it to with you. but you will be fine. we’ll get out of this together. ”

the look she gives him mystifies him but she surprisingly rasps out a, “ thank you. ” before spinning on her heel to walk away.

all that he is left behind with is the remnants of her blood staining his hands and soaked into the sleeves of his clothes. he looks down at his bloody palms, finding himself unwilling to completely wash himself straight away.

is this how she feels too ?

#I just thought the lyrics of the song and this moment... is very fitting #a lot of questions and thoughts in his head #a lot of tension #a lot of vulnerabilities exposed #they slowly ease into the next transition of knowing each other far more intimately #hm hm hm #sheshin #* : ✮ ┆𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑛𝑒𝑎𝑟 𝑠ℎ𝑜𝑟𝑒 (𝑎𝑠𝑘𝑠).#* : ✮ ┆𝑏𝑒𝑔𝑖𝑛𝑛𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑜𝑓 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑒𝑛𝑑 (𝑠𝑡𝑎𝑟𝑡𝑒𝑟𝑠).#* : ✮ ┆ℎ𝑒𝑟 𝑑𝑎𝑟𝑘 𝑒𝑦𝑒𝑠 𝑓𝑢𝑙𝑙 𝑤𝑖𝑡ℎ 𝑡ℎ𝑒 ℎ𝑜𝑎𝑟𝑠𝑒 𝑙𝑢𝑠𝑡 𝑜𝑓 ℎ𝑜𝑛𝑒𝑦 (𝑖𝑛𝑒𝑠).

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avenging-fandoms · 5 years ago

Text

Richard Madden A-Z

requested: - you should do a Richard Madden nsfw A-Z plsss - Can i request richard madden for the a-zs next week 👀👀👀 love you thank you - can you pls do a nsfw a-z for richard i’m literally begging you 🥺🥺🥺 - can u pls consider doing a nsfw a-z for richard madden, i’d literally love u forever 🤡🥺 - Richard Madden A-Z?? I loved your taron ones

*i tagged taron cause he’s in W

A = Aftercare (What they’re like after sex)

richard is so so so soft and kind after sex. he’d clean you up and get you dressed, laying next to you and pet your hair, kissing you softly and telling you how amazing you are, how much he loves you. he’s the softest and sweetest thing ever after sex.

B = Body part (Their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

his favorite body part of himself is his hands, only because he can pleasure you in many ways with them. putting a hand around your neck, gripping your hair, spanking you, gripping your thighs, fingering you, etc. the list goes on.

his favorite body part of yours is your thighs. he loves saying you lay on the bed, spreading your legs and kissing and biting down your thighs, and watching them shake as he makes you cum. he loves touching them softly in public and seeing you squirm.

C = Cum (Anything to do with cum basically… I’m a disgusting person)

richard loves to cum on your tits and your face. he loves to see you licking it up and smiling about it. he also loves to do creampies, watching it drip out of you, then fuck you again. he just thinks it’s so hot.

D = Dirty Secret (Pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

he loves being a sub. he loves when you’re in control of the sex, telling him what to do and if he can cum or not. he loves all of that.

E = Experience (How experienced are they? Do they know what they’re doing?)

richard is very experienced, knowing how to fuck you that makes you shaking in seconds, knowing just what to do to get you screaming his name.

F = Favourite Position (This goes without saying. Will probably include a visual)

richard loves to fuck you doggystyle while gripping your hair in his fist, smacking your ass with the other hand, telling you how good you take his cock. but he also loves missionary, but only when you’re wrapped around him. he loves your arms tightly around his neck and legs wrapped around his waist, fingers in his hair as you’re moaning into his neck.

G = Goofy (Are they more serious in the moment, or are they humorous, etc)

he’s always serious, or in the case you two are having a quickie in the bathroom or in his dressing room as he’s in costume, you both giggle and shush each other when your giggles get a little too loud.

H = Hair (How well groomed are they, does the carpet match the drapes, etc.)

richard does have hair, but it’s not excessive. he doesn’t want you bothered by it when you go down on him, and it’s the same shade of black that’s on his head.

I = Intimacy (How are they during the moment, romantic aspect…)

like i said, it depends on where you two are. but he loves having the time being romantic. he loves slowly thrusting into you and you moaning in his ear, he loves making love more than fucking you.

J = Jack Off (Masturbation headcanon)

richard’s fingers gripped the sheets as his hips bucked into his hand, whimpering as he desperately needed you to touch him. “please.. please” you sat on his thighs, rubbing circles into his hips. you chuckle, shaking your head as you bite your lip.

“not gonna help you, you wanted to jerk off without me here, i’m gonna watch you do it yourself” you lean back on his knees, richard groaning and bucking his hips rougher.

“please! please! i need to cum, please just-”

“no”

“but you wanted me to masturbate, and you won’t even let me cum?”

“yes, because you broke one of our rules. so you’re gonna listen to me. you can’t cum” richard gulps as he slows down, watching you watch his hand.

“please.. it hurts so bad” your fingertip hovers over the tip of his cock, making him gasp. “please..”

“you won’t touch yourself without asking or showing me, right?”

“right, yes, i promise, please” your hand takes over and you whisper in richard’s ear.

“cum for me, richard” he lets out the loudest whimper before moaning loudly, cumming all over his stomach, grunting as you pump the rest out. he catches his breath and rubs your back, you looking at him and kissing him sweetly.

“thank you, and i’m sorry”

“well, you’ve learned your lesson”

K = Kink (One or more of their kinks)

richard absolutely has a sir kink. he also have a breeding kink, and just loves watching is cum drip out of you. he also has a bondage kink, orgasm denial and also loves when you’re in control.

L = Location (Favorite places to do the do)

he loves to do at home, that way you two can be as loud and use all the toys you want.

M = Motivation (What turns them on, gets them going)

whispering in his ear, calling him sir, touching his thighs, telling him how much you want him, sexting him.

N = NO (Something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

richard would not want to share you with someone unless it was someone he liked, like taron. he also doesn’t want to ever do blood play, knife play, etc.

O = Oral (Preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc)

richard absolutely loves giving, he loves to see you squirm and buck your hips as he fucks you with his tongue the right way, fingering you in the right spot and curling his fingers the right way to get you cumming all over his hand.

P = Pace (Are they fast and rough? Slow and sensual? etc.)

it depends on where you two are and what mood you two are in. but it’s usually fast and rough.

Q = Quickie (Their opinions on quickies rather than proper sex, how often, etc.)

richard does likes quickies before he goes to film, before he leaves in the morning, he loves quickies, but would rather have actual sex.

R = Risk (Are they game to experiment, do they take risks, etc.)

he’s game to experiment a kink or sex act you bring up. you two read about it, and you two can decide if you want to try it or not. richard loves the risk of getting caught.

S = Stamina (How many rounds can they go for, how long do they last…)

he can go for a while. and hour, hour and a half. he can go for 2 rounds, 3 on a day were you tease him so much.

T = Toy (Do they own toys? Do they use them? On a partner or themselves?)

yes he does!! he has a lot of toys. he has vibrators, cock rings, remote controlled vibrators for both you and him. he uses the toys on both you and him, and he absolutely loves all of them.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

richard? KING of teasing. he’ll take a little vibrator, stick it in his sleeve and use it on you and only puts it on your inner thigh. or he likes to whisper dirty things into your ear, his beard tickling your skin. he loves to see you squirm and slightly throw your head back and close your eyes as you beg for him to take to home.

V = Volume (How loud they are, what sounds they make)

oh my god richard is so vocal. grunts, “shit” “fuck” “you feel so fucking good” “whose pussy is this, hm? who’s the only person who can fuck you this good?”

he’s just so dirty during sex, dirty talk, moaning, whimpering, grunting and all.

W = Wild Card (Get a random headcanon for the character of your choice)

“richard.. i’ve been thinking.. how would you feel about a threesome?” you sat on richard’s lap and twirled his curls around your fingers. richard looks at you with dark eyes, and you smile and raise your eyebrows.

“no. no. i won’t share you” he shook his head and you whine, kissing his jaw.

“well, what if it was with someone you knew, very closely, and basically had sex with for a movie?” you look at him and richard looks up from his phone at the black tv screen, thinking for a moment before turning to you with a little smile.

“he said he was up for it?”

“yeah, we chatted about threesomes one day and you knew i always wanted to have one, and we both know taron quite well. so..?”

he sighs before smiling, kissing your cheek. “i’ll give him a call”

a week later as you laid on the bed in just a t-shirt and underwear on your stomach, the door opens with taron standing in front of richard. you roll over and sit up, legs swung over the side of the bed. “what..?”

“you said how you always wanted a threesome, baby” taron walks in and stands over you, you looking at richard who nods. taron slips off your shirt, richard smirking as your breasts bounce as the shirt’s taken off. taron lays you down on the bed and strips, kissing down your body until he slides off your underwear, richard coming up next to you, naked, stroking his cock slowly. taron spreads your legs and starts to fuck you with his tongue, richard running his fingers through taron’s hair and pushing his face deeper into you, making you pump richard faster.

“feel good?” richard asks and you moan, richard chuckling. “i’ll take that as a yes”

X = X-Ray (Let’s see what’s going on in those pants, picture or words)

richard is 6 1/2 inches, and has a bit of girth. he loves to slide into you and say “fuck i love stretching you out”

Y = Yearning (How high is their sex drive?)

richard could go all night. he loves to do different things every round and could spend all day in the bedroom, the two of you going at it all day.

Z = ZZZ (… how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

he’ll fall asleep fairly quickly if you’re snuggling him to your chest, rubbing his back and playing with his hair. but if you aren’t and you’re laying next to him, he waits until you’re asleep to fall asleep himself. stroking your hair and drawing soft patterns into your back.

#richard madden #richard madden x reader #richard madden x you #richard madden imagine #richard madden imagines #richard madden blurb #richard madden blurbs #prince kit charming #kit charming #cinderella #david budd #bodyguard #taron egerton #taron egerton x reader

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hotforharrington · 5 years ago

Text

Goody Two Shoes (Pt. 4/6)

Series Masterlist

Pairing: Billy Hargrove x reader

Warnings: swearing

Notes: In this fic, you are in the same grade as Steve (a senior) which means Billy is a year younger than you (a junior) ; here is part 4 of Goody Two Shoes :)) I am very happy with this part, so I hope you guys like reading it! I think there’s only going to be 2 more parts but I’m not 100% sure yet. Anyways, enjoy!

—

You walked into your home and your mother was cleaning the kitchen. Billy’s jacket was now lingering in your arms, hoping your mother didn’t notice it among your textbooks. Luckily, she was too consumed with her cleaning to study you.

“(Y/N)! I was about to call the school, I was getting so worried about you!” Your mother said to you.

“Sorry mom! I got held up helping someone with an assignment in the library at the end of the day.” You lied to your mother.

“You are such a good one!” She beamed.

You set your backpack down and were about to head up the stairs when the phone rang. You knew exactly who it was going to be.

You turned around to dart to grab the phone but your mother just barely beat you to it.

“(Y/L/N) residence.” She stated politely.

“Hello, Mrs. (Y/L/N)! This is Billy Hargrove, I go to school with (Y/N). I was calling to speak with her about our upcoming history project.”

“Oh, wonderful. One second and I’ll get her on the line.”

“I’ll pick it up in my room.” You said to your mom before you darted up to your room to pick up your landline. You delicately laid Billy’s jacket on your bed as you pressed the phone to your ear.

“Hey, B, so you’re gonna come over to work on that project?” You asked nonchalantly.

“Yeah, beautiful, I’ll be over soon, if that works for you.”

“Sounds perfect to me.” You said with a smile on your face and your fingers twirling through the phone cord. You prayed your mother wasn’t listening in on your conversation, because the two of you weren’t being very subtle.

“See you soon, princess.” He said before hanging up the phone.

You went straight to your bathroom and freshened up your hair and make up. After that, you made your way back down the stairs to tell your mom that Billy would be over soon.

“Hey mom!” You shouted at her over her vacuum.

“Yes, Sweet Pea?” She responded.

“Billy, the guy who just called, he’s coming over so we can work on that history project. He’ll be here soon!”

“Sounds good, sweetie.”

About 20 minutes passed, and your dad was now home from work. The three of you sat in your living room. A few moments later, the doorbell rang.

“I’ll get it!” You called to your parents.

You opened the door to be greeted by a form of Billy you’d never seen before. He was well groomed and put together. He wore a lightly colored button up shirt (which was surprisingly buttoned all the way up) and khaki pants. The blonde curls of his mullet were smooth and appeared soft, and not slightly tangled as normal.

Your heart felt so full that he took this so seriously for you. This was a huge sign that he actually cared, and wasn’t just playing games with you.

“H-hi, Billy.” You stuttered.

“Hi, (Y/N). How are you doing?”

“Um, I’m good, thanks... Please come inside.” You said to him.

He walked into your home and your parents stood to greet the handsome young man that now entered their living room.

“Mom, Dad, this is Billy Hargrove, my uh... classmate.” You said, slightly nervous.

“Mr. and Mrs. (Y/L/N), it’s so nice to meet you. “ Billy shook your parents hands with a polite smile on his face.

It was so odd to see him like this. It was like a completely different person was standing here meeting your parents, not the bad boy you had come to know.

“It’s good to meet you too. Are you new to town? I don’t think I’ve seen you around and, well, Hawkins isn’t too big.” Your father said to him.

“Yes actually! My family just moved here from California.”

“Oh wow! Must be a big change for you.” Your mother said in response.

“Yes ma’am it is.”

You were starting to get stressed about your parents questioning him so you interrupted and said, “Um, we’re gonna go upstairs if that’s alright. That history project isn’t going to start itself!”

You headed for the stairs, when your mother said, “Billy?”

You both turned back to see what she was about to say.

“Yes ma’am?” He responded.

“Are you planning on joining us for dinner?” She asked.

Panicking internally, you said, “Oh I don’t think Billy would want to join us-“

“I’d love to.” Billy said, surprising you.

Your mother smiled at him and you faked a smile, grabbed Billy by the arm, pulled him upstairs to your room, and closed the door.

As soon as the door was closed, Billy unbuttoned the top few buttons of his shirt and said, “Fuck (Y/N), I don’t know how you do this every damn day.”

You chuckled at him and he sat on your bed.

“It’s not so bad,” You said, “But, hey, what was that about staying for dinner? You know they’re going to ask you all kinds of questions that you’ll have to lie about...”

In this moment, you felt kind of guilty about making Billy do all of this. You hated that he had to pretend to be someone he’s not in order to impress your parents.

You sauntered closer to the curly haired boy. He grabbed your hands in his and said, “Hey... don’t worry about it, okay? It’ll be fine. Besides, I told you I wanted to meet your parents.”

You nodded and plopped yourself down next to him on your bed. “I really appreciate you doing this for me, B.”

“Of course, princess.” He responded, playing with your fingers that were now intertwined in his.

“But... maybe in the future if you want to hangout with me, we should just sneak out... or you could sneak in...” You suggested.

“Whatever makes you happy, beautiful girl.” He caressed your cheek and pulled your lips to meet his. Billy intentionally made this kiss a sweet one, to show you comfort since you were obviously stressed about this situation.

You pulled away from the kiss and smiled at him. Then, a realization came into your mind.

“Oh, shit! The project!” You said.

“I thought that was made up? We don’t even have a history class together.” He said, confused.

“Yeah it is, but we have to have something in case my parents want to see what we’ve been working on... or if one of them happens to come in, we’ll have to pretend like we’re working on something.”

You walked over to your desk where you had placed your textbooks that you had brought home. Thank god! you thought to yourself. You managed to bring home your U.S. history book, which would be a perfect prop.

“I’ll be right back!” You said to Billy before darting out of your room and down the stairs.

“Whatcha lookin’ for, Sweet Pea?” Your mother asked.

“Do we have any poster board?”

“Yes sweetie, in your father’s study there should be some in the cabinet.”

“Thanks!” You said, bolting into the study and opening up the cabinet. You grabbed a medium sized, white poster board and went back upstairs to join Billy.

Billy looked at you with a confused expression and you just said, “Trust me. This will only take a second.”

You grabbed a permanent marker from your desk drawer and placed the poster board on the floor.

You began drawing a bubble map and wrote ‘The Civil War’ in the center bubble. In your nice, neat handwriting, you began filling in the surrounding bubbles with detailed information about different battles of the Civil War.

Billy was amazed at your intellect. The history book remained closed and you were able to beautifully describe this information with out any help whatsoever.

You made sure to leave at least one bubble empty, to show that you were still ‘working on it.’ After you finished writing, you flipped the textbook open to the table of contents and found exactly the chapter you were looking for. You turned the flimsy pages right open to a display of pictures and bold letters that said ‘Chapter 7: The Civil War’.

“Perfect.” You whispered to yourself. You then turned to Billy and said, “There. Now we can plop down here and pretend like we’re working in case we hear anyone come up the stairs.”

A soft smile overcame his face from admiration of your determination to this whole thing.

“Your ambition is so sexy, you know that?” He said to you.

“Oh yeah?” You cocked an eyebrow at him and moved to straddle him on the bed.

You looked deep into his piercing blue eyes before going in for a passionate kiss. You both toppled over, him on his back and you on top of him.

He lightly bit your bottom lip and in response, your tongue invaded his mouth. Your fingertips lingered at the base of his neck, gently playing with his curls. His strong hands inched down from your waist, slowly moving lower and lower...

The two of you made out in your room for only a few moments before you heard your mother begin to yell out for you and then slowly ascend up the stairs.

The both of you jumped up. You wiped your mouth and Billy buttoned up his shirt. The pair of you plopped onto the floor with the project just in time before your mother opened the door.

She smiled and said, “Hey you hard workers! Dinner’s ready! I hope you like spaghetti, Billy!”

“Sounds amazing, Mrs. (Y/L/N)!” He replied politely.

Your mother walked back towards the stairs and you turned to Billy with a nervous smile.

“This is kinda fun.” He said to you with a genuine smile on his face.

You pressed up on your tip toes and gave him a small peck on the cheek before leading him out the bedroom door and down the stairs.

The delicious aroma of Italian food filled the kitchen. The table was set for four. Two chairs on each side. You and Billy took a seat on one side and your parents sat on the other.

After saying grace, everyone fixed their plates and began to dig in. It was awkwardly silent for awhile until your father spoke up, “So Billy, got any plans after high school?”

“Billy’s actually a year younger than me, dad.” You explained.

“Doesn’t mean he hasn’t already thought about where he’s going to school or what he wants to do with his life.” Your father stated, “He seems like a fine young man. Definitely the kind of man I hope you’d end up with, (Y/N).”

You turned slightly and softly smiled at him. You two intertwined your fingers underneath the table, in secret.

Your father continued his statement, “And with that logic, I would think he would be smart enough to think ahead.”

“Well, in terms of colleges, I am keeping my options open at the moment, sir.” Billy answered.

“Nothing wrong with that, son!” Your father said politely, “But as for, (Y/N), she doesn’t have much choice where she’s going!” He chuckled.

A confused look spread across Billy’s face.

“We’ve been saving for her to go to Harvard since we found out my wife was pregnant!” Your dad explained, “She’s gotta continue the family tradition. We’re just waiting for that acceptance letter to come in. Should be here any day now!”

“Our sweet girl, she’s never let us down before and I highly doubt she’s going to start now!” Your mother said with a joyful chuckle.

Billy slowly released his hand from your grasp. “That’s wonderful, (Y/N).”

You could tell Billy’s words were forced. You hadn’t thought about the fact that you’d potentially be leaving for Harvard at the end of the school year.

You could feel the change of energy from Billy. He had tensed up, when he had been cool, calm, and collected since he walked through the front door.

The rest of the meal went by with casual small talk and everyone managed to get through it. Your parents were too blind to see the shift in Billy.

After you cleared you and Billy’s dishes from the table, you announced, “Billy and I are almost done with our project, so we’re going to go finish it now, okay?”

Your parents nodded their heads and you retreated to your bedroom.

Billy walked in first and you closed the door behind you.

“So... Harvard huh?” Billy asked with a bit of pain in his voice.

“Maybe...” You replied.

Billy just looked down at the floor for a moment. It was silent and awkward in your bedroom.

“Is that what you want?” He asked.

“I don’t know.” You replied.

“(Y/N)... I know we haven’t been seeing each other long but I know you’re something special. And even without the idea of us being in a relationship, I don’t want to see you go at the end of this school year unless going to Harvard is what really is going to make you happy. And when I say you, I mean you. Not your parents. You know, eventually you’re going to have to be up front with them and speak your truth!”

You knew Billy was right, even if you didn’t want to admit it. “I know.” was all you could manage to say to the boy.

You sat down next to him and rested your head in the crook of his neck. He slipped his hand into yours and kissed the top of your head. Billy turned to look at the clock on your bedside table.

“Shit.” He said. It was 6:30 and he told Neil he would be home at 6:00. “I gotta go, (Y/N), I told my dad I would be home thirty minutes ago.”

“Okay, Billy, calm down. Just tell him we were working on this project. It’ll be okay, won’t it?”

“You don’t understand, princess. I have to go. Now.” He said with a serious tone.

You bolted up and escorted him out. He quickly, yet politely, thanked your parents for having him over and your mother for the delicious meal.

He scurried to his Camaro and sped off to get home.

You watched the boy drive away and couldn’t help but worry. What did he mean by ‘You don’t understand, princess’?

You decided to shake it off and move on with the rest of your evening.

When 9:00 rolled around, you decided you better catch up on your sleep.

You headed up the stairs, brushed your teeth, put on your pajamas, and drifted off to sleep.

Good thing you decided to get some extra sleep, because only a few hours later, you were awoken by a fairly loud knock on your window.

—

Read Part 5 Here

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#billy hargrove imagine #billy hargrove stranger things #billy x reader #billy hargrove fanfiction #billy hargrove fanfic #billy hargrove x you #billy hargrove x reader #billy hargrove imagines #billy stranger things #stranger things fanfic #stranger things imagine #stranger things fanfiction #stranger things imagines #stranger things preferences #steve harrington #stranger things #dacre montgomery #Goody Two Shoes Billy Hargrove

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veryveryverytemporarily · 4 years ago

Text

As promised Chapter 3 of The Best Man. The boys go rowing in this chapter for the first time but in separate boats for now. 😂 Naturally Aaron is a strong rower and Robert struggles with his competitive instinct 😂😂 After they go back to their shared hotel room 😉

Link for Ao3 here. The standard of writing isn’t glowing lmao. but I’ve had a go at editing below.

****

Chapter 3

The water on the Thames was its usual murky olive green. Trees overhung the river and moorhens floated around under the weeping willows.

A large group arrived on the river bank and Laura quickly partnered up pairs for boats.

Melissa looked particularly beautiful in short shorts and a halter neck T shirt with her long dark hair shining in the sun. Many of the men hovered around her, tongues hanging out, which made Laura feel nervous. She placed a conspiratorial hand on Robert’s arm.

‘Please, partner with Melissa will you? She’s your family, well she’s going to be your family, isn’t she?’

Robert nodded and stepped forward

‘Mel, come on.’ He reached out a hand to help her step into a boat.

Melissa smiled.

‘Where’s Chrissie?’ She asked, having sat in the front with Robert behind her.

‘She had to go shopping with Rebecca.'

Melissa picked up the oars, though it was obvious she had little idea what she was doing, so Robert leaned forward to show her. He placed his hands over hers and showed her how to use her wrists to stroke forwards and backwards into the water to propel the boat forward. Looking across at the bank he saw Aaron watching him, also dressed in shorts and a sleeveless T –shirt climbing into a boat with Laura.

Aaron had the same impact on him this morning as he had the afternoon before. Robert found he needed to shift back against his bench, and gently adjust himself, hoping the attraction wasn’t too obvious.

‘Hey!’ he shouted across. ‘I am not sure about how fair this competition is going to be, Laura, if you pick the fittest partner!’

‘I know!’ She laughed ‘He is rather lovely, isn’t he?’

Robert screwed up his face. ‘Didn’t mean that sort of fit,’ he scoffed, and watched Aaron’s face.

‘Yeah mate!’ Aaron called across, ’Keep telling yourself that!’

Robert put on his sunglasses and grinned.

‘Okay, the first stretch is to Orchid Island,’ Laura instructed.’It’s about forty minutes away, and the last boat there will get a forfeit, so beware!’

The boats set off. Robert enjoyed the journey even though Melissa struggled to find any rhythm in her stroke and they soon fell behind the others. Robert decided, against his better nature, not to care that they were being overtaken by a number of boats and suppressed his competitive urges.

‘How are you doing Mel?’ He asked ‘Are you alright? Do you need a rest or anything?’

‘No, isn’t this just lovely?’ she answered.

‘Put your oars down for a while, and I’ll row on my own,’ he offered,

She shifted round and gave him a smile under lowered eyelids ’Thanks.’

‘So Mel. I’m guessing you have a boyfriend? Isn’t he here?’ Robert asked.

‘No I don’t,’ she answered, ‘But there is someone I like.’

‘Well I hope he deserves a beautiful girl like you,’ Robert replied distractedly, watching the horizon where the river bent.

‘I don’t know yet,’ she replied.

As they rounded onto Orchid Island they were met by laughs and klaxons.

‘Alright! So what?’ Robert objected. ‘We were slow. We were enjoying the scenery.’

Laura shouted out, ‘But we warned you - there’s a forfeit!’

‘Yeah? What’s that then?’

‘Well, you’re going to wear a blindfold, then three people will kiss you and you’re going to rate them out of 10.’

Robert spluttered.

‘Wha...Seriously? That sounds more like a stag do!’

‘This is nearly a stag do! Except the groom isn’t here right now, ’ Laura quipped back. ‘But anyway. Nah!’ she laughed.‘But look behind you!’

Robert turned in time to see a group of lads ducking under the water. The next thing the boat was rocking violently and before they could draw a breath they had been capsized and were under water in the cold Thames. Robert surfaced, gasping and spitting out river water.

‘Fu..... Ha, ha! Very funny!’ he spluttered.

And then he looked round for Melissa. She hadn’t reappeared. Time seemed to grind to halt, she still didn’t appear. A wave of adrenaline hit Robert. He called her name and some of the others joined in. Where was she? He dived under. When he emerged she was in his arms but it was clear she was unconscious. Robert swam with her towards the land where Laura, Aaron and others all ran into the water to help him carry her out. Her eyes were closed and she didn’t seem to be breathing.

‘Shit’ Robert said.

Aaron stood next to him and placed a hand on his back. Laura started CPR. Robert ran his hands through his hair, watching in agony. What kind of a wedding would this turn out to be with one of the bridesmaids drowned on the first day?

Suddenly Melissa started coughing up water. Robert ran forward and dropped down next to her, taking her hand.

‘Hey! You silly girl you gave us a real scare there!’ He turned and gave Laura a grateful smile.

‘I can’t swim,’ Melissa groaned.

‘Really? Wow!’ Robert laughed.

Laura called an ambulance to meet them at the nearest riverside location. Melissa asked for Robert to go with them, and Aaron, who wouldn’t give up on his rowing partner, also jumped in the back of the ambulance. The para medics gave them blankets since their clothes were wet. In spite of that, Robert started shaking and Aaron looked concerned. Robert smiled apologetically.

‘Always get cold very easily,’ he stammered. ‘I must have poor circulation or something.’

Aaron smiled back.

‘Could be, you know, a bit of shock too, you did actually dive in and rescue this lass you realize.’

He turned to the paramedics. ‘Do you have a hot cup of tea or something for my friend?’ he asked.

After it was confirmed that Melissa was going to be alright but needed to be kept in for routine observation, Laura insisted the boys go home. She fished in her backpack and pulled out a bottle of Champagne.

‘Drink this!’ She instructed them. 'Imagine I am with you, because believe me I would enjoy it if I were!’

Robert gave her a hug. She was tough and his admiration for her had only increased over the last few hours. She patted his shoulder. ‘Go back and have a hot shower. See you this evening, you idiot.’

Back at the hotel, the boys went up to the room. Robert placed the champagne on the dressing table.

‘We’ll need glasses.’

‘Here.’ Aaron fished some out of a cabinet.

Robert poured them each a glass which they drank down quickly, and then poured a second. He called Chrissie, who was still out shopping, and explained briefly what had happened, and she told him she would go to the hospital to see Melissa and catch up with him later.

Robert felt the champagne go quickly to his head. He sat down heavily, letting relief wash over him. Then he looked at Aaron carefully for a moment.

‘Your eyes are lovely. You have blue eyes,’ he said suddenly, and then didn’t know why he had said it. Aaron laughed.

‘What’s so special about blue eyes? You have blue eyes too,well, greeny blue.’

Robert tipped the last of the champagne into the glasses. He was starting to shiver once again. Aaron noticed.

‘You get your shower first. Your lips still look a bit blue. You seriously need to warm up, mate.’

Robert laughed. ‘Are you looking at my lips?’

Aaron rolled his eyes. ‘Are you flirting with me?’ he asked back.

Robert spread his arms in defense. ‘You mentioned lips’ he replied, leaving Aaron shaking his head as he countered.

‘Well, you mentioned eyes!’

He stayed under the shower a long time, letting the warm water seep into him. It was his turn to emerge with the towel round his waist, his blond hair wet and combed back. He noticed Aaron’s eyes flicker over his body, but slipped gratefully into his bed as Aaron prepared to get into the shower himself. Before he knew it sleep overtook him.

When Robert woke and looked at the time he saw it was already late afternoon. He felt ravenously hungry and slightly hung over.

Looking across the room he saw Aaron asleep on his bed on his stomach. His head was turned to one side and his arms were spread out at his sides. He looked so beautiful, his face relaxed against the mattress. Robert fleetingly allowed himself to imagine slipping under the sheet between his thighs, stroking a hand up over his back and neck.

He shook his head and frowned. He decided to get up, stepping out of the bed and going to the wardrobe to retrieve some clothes, pushing his hand down on the semi hard on that had appeared.

The noise of the wardrobe door opening must have woken Aaron because when he turned he was shuffling himself up to a sitting position against his headboard and blinking at the sight of Robert naked in front of him.

‘Enjoying the view?’ Robert smirked.

‘Ugh. Well one of us is clearly enjoying something!’ Aaron snapped back, referring to Robert’s state of semi arousal that was not intending to settle down any time soon.

‘Yeah, well. Admit it. You’re impressed.’ Robert smirked again finally pulling on some boxers he found in the draw.

Aaron just laughed. ‘Get over yourself.’

‘Come on then. You give me a show! We can find a measuring tape if you like.’ Robert laughed back.

‘And you are what...8 years old?’ Aaron replied.

Robert persisted though.

‘No, just it’s only fair, right? I showed you mine so ...’

Aaron sighed. ‘You know for a straight guy you really are a complete dick.’

Robert was just about to step in the bathroom but froze suddenly.

‘I don’t like labels,’ he said, and then shut the door, leaving Aaron blinking in confusion.

That evening Robert and Laura were treated as heroic rescuers by the party, and particularly the Whites. Robert found himself quietly amused at how well fate had treated him this time around, without any scheming required on his own part.

Even Adam spoke up in his praises, walking up with Aaron by his side.

‘Nice one Robert. Rebecca is made up that Melissa is going to be OK.’

‘Thanks.’ He inclined his head. Then he blurted out a question, ‘Are you too joined at the hip or something?’ It sounded aggressive.

‘What?’ Aaron scoffed.

‘Just wondered, that’s all.’

Robert walked away, mentally kicking himself. This best man was getting to him. He needed to do something, so he sought out Chrissie.

‘What’s the plan for tomorrow?’

‘Well Rebecca and I still have things to do in town.’

‘Great. I do too. I’ll come with you if you think you can bear having me around. And I also thought I might just check out the hotel situation. It’s killing me being in separate rooms.’

#robron #fan fic #revisiting the old because of kayaking #chapter 3/11

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