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tteokdoroki · 1 year ago

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ೀ⋆OCT 16TH CLUELESS ━━ megumi fushiguro + step-cest !

୨୧ — caution, you are now watching. megumi fushiguro + step-cest. are you totally buggin’ or is your college-goer, goody two shoes step-brother kinda into messing around with you? (7.6K)

୨୧ — rated r. minors, blank and ageless blogs do not interact ! nsfw, heavy smut, dark content, characters aged up to 20s, college!au, enemies to lovers (?), step-cest, photos, videos, fingering, choking, praise kink, panty sniffing, body worship, riding stuffed animals, daddy kink, soft sex, unprotected sex, bimbo-ish + fem!reader, step-brother!megumi fushiguro.

୨୧ — director’s note. lets gooo another kinktober installment! i actually haven't written for megumi in ages and this is kinda long so...i hope this is okay? sorry this is late btw, please enjoy! <3 - m.list ⋆ kinktober m.list ⋆ taglist ✧

let’s get one thing straight.

not all daddy’s girls are dumb.

on the contrary, you’re actually highly intelligent and thoroughly educated — graduating at the top of every single one of your classes in high school, despite negotiating a fair portion of your grades with your teachers. after school, however, you couldn’t quite figure out what you wanted to do and everyone else you knew spent their time growing up around you. daddy wanted you to go to college, get your degree so you could find your footing in the world…he would even pay for it too.

but like every other twenty-something year old girl your age, you were completely and utterly clueless about the direction you wanted to take.

perhaps that was the reason as to why your step-brother, megumi, annoyed you so much. indoctrinated into your family unit of two (yourself and your father, of course) — megumi had joined you to play happily-family when his mother married your father. their fast-paced union didn’t last long, however, for your parents were quickly divorced by the new year…and apparently, you can only divorce people. not children. meaning that your older step sibling had decided he would much rather stick around for the long haul.

it could even be said that megumi fushiguro was an even bigger daddy’s boy (or kiss ass) than you were a daddy’s girl. he went to college on daddy’s money, ate on daddy’s money and got jobs using daddy’s money and power. now, he’s some big time hot shot at an environmental law firm and it irks you just how much your father is pushing for you to be just like megumi. in everybody’s eyes, your step brother was the picture perfect child, an example to follow, a fine gem.

and since your father liked that so much; likes how responsible and diligent megumi is — it would explain why your older step-brother could get away with sneaking up on you in your own house (favourite child privileges). “what are you all dressed up for?” the husky lilt to his deep voice sends shockwaves through your system and a shiver down your spine, making you jump away from the fridge you’re rummaging through.

“a party.” you say frigidly. the dark haired male makes a face and you roll your eyes at him in a disapproving manner. as if megumi was in any position to judge you for your plans and late night endeavours. he was a boring old college student clinging to his younger step sister whilst you were doing society a favour and helping your friend get together with the guy she liked.

it’s what you do! helping the less fortunate instead of studying for some boring piece of paper and graduate degree.

you were such a good person.

turning away from the cool air and dull hum of the fridge freezer, you tuck a few juices to be used as mixers for the party into your bag — ignoring the heaviness of your step brother’s admiral blue gaze as it slips over the curve of your waist, the expanse of your thighs and the bounce of your chest peeking out from your skimpy little get up. it’s funny, how you’ve never liked the way boys have looked at you in the past — but something about the way he drinks you in as if you’re the last glass of water on the plant makes your legs shaky and your breath turn short and…

“can i come?”

with his lips pressed into a thin line and his emotions hidden behind the perfect mask of his perfect face — megumi slams the fridge door shut, to make you squeak again. his brows raising expectantly while he waits for your answer. “a-as if fushiguro.” you huff in annoyance, jabbing the older step-sibling in his shoulder as he towers over you. “aren’t you too old for house parties? i wouldn’t want you to cramp my style.”

“i’m not that much older than you.” he laughs, it’s melodious sound sending a warmth through your body.

rolling your eyes, you snap back. “you’re old enough.”

you make yourself small as you pass by him, attempting to escape his suffocating presence. he makes you feel weird, and you don’t exactly hate it — sure megumi is annoying, snarky and a little mean but he’s… attractive, like next level attractive. he’s got those dreamy sea-storm eyes that make you feel as though you’ll die and go to heaven, a sexy smirk that gets you hot and bothered even if it’s not directed at you. all of your friends have had crushes on your step brother at some point, ones that cause jealousy to brim just under the surface of your skin, pricking you like a thousand tiny needles. your jealousy totally doesn’t have anything to do with you trying to hook your friend up tonight by the way (lying to yourself makes you feel better).

however, feeling this way about megumi is wrong, nowhere near normal. anybody could have told you that — it’s just that your family relationships make things complicated and you don’t want to make this weird between you both. you’d never admit it, but you do enjoy the back and forth sibling-like banter the two of you have. would ruining that be worth it? even if your step-brother was like…everything you’d ever wanted in a guy; not like those snot-nosed, unhygienic, monkey-brained losers you used to go to school with.

instead, megumi was smart, established and with his future practically set in stone. maybe that’s why you picked on him, why you acted like a spoiled brat whenever he was around, why you pretended to despise his every existence and wish he’d never become a part of your family. because megumi constantly reminds you of your failures or what your future could be if you put your mind to it and actually tried.

“maybe, college guys like me wouldn’t seem like such losers if you actually gave furthering your education a shot,” your step brother cuts through your thoughts, stalking behind you with his hands in his pockets as you leave the kitchen and head towards the foyer — getting ready to head out for the party. “just do what your daddy wants, angel. go to college, get your degree so he can get off my back and you can be smart like me. yeah?”

“and why would i listen to you?” there’s nothing you can do to shake him — your older step brother tailing you as if he’s your own personal guardian. he stops walking when you stop walking, bumping into your back, while a shocked whimper lays flat on the seam on your lips.

megumi passes you a jacket (which you slide on by yourself) whilst he chuckles again, the sound rumbling in his chest and through your body pressed hotly against his. “‘cause i’m your big brother.” his voice is almost scolding, playfully so, holding a darker tone that you almost recognise as lust whole his larger-than yours hands force their way down to the fat at your waist. “now c’mere, let me fix your outfit. can’t have you goin’ out like this…” megumi squeezes your hips, using his grip on them to spin you around so that you can face him.

you expect him to tell you to cover up more — that your pretty white dress is too short and that you’re too promiscuous. what you don’t expect is for the dark haired male to sink to his knees before you, soft and attentive fingers sliding up your inner leg to fix your thigh-highs as that have slipped down. you barely manage to choke back a needy moan.

he doesn’t let up on the eye contact either; only serving to fog up your pretty little head. “s-step brother,” you manage to remind him gently, finding your voice.

fushiguro rolls his eyes, poking his tongue into his cheek. “that was your take away, pretty girl?” he doesn’t stop touching you, going as far to peek his head up your skirt — pretending to finish fixing your socks despite the subtle press of his nose against your panties and pinging them against your backside once done fondling you. “there we go, better.”

he even goes as far to pat your bum in accomplishment too.

you feel pathetic for letting your step brother touch you in such a taboo way, failing to push megumi off. but he’s never been so bold and you’ve never wanted him more — craving megumi through an insatiable burning in your chest. there’s always been a sexual tension brewing between you both, fuelled by your banter, your rage and mischievousness but how could you act on it?

megumi was practically family. your family. it would be weird. you couldn’t be anything more without crossing the line of what’s deemed acceptable and what isn’t for step siblings. you have to remember who he is to you, an older brother, a menace to your friends who crush on him and someone who had called you selfish once upon a time.

finally snapping back to reality, you force yourself away from the tendrils of your step-brother’s grip — swiping your purse from the entryway table and storming towards the door. “you’re buggin’ gumi!” you squeak from the porch. “stop being weird a-and stay out of my room!”

the door slams harshly as you vacate the property in favour of the party, practically running down the steps with a rapid shake of your head. doing anything you can to rid yourself of all thoughts concerning the enigma that is your older step brother.

the party doesn’t help, and instead ends up a total disaster.

your plan to set your friends up completely falls apart when your ex-best guy friend decides to make a move on you on the way home and drops you off in the middle of nowhere after rejecting him. to top it off, some asshole robs you for your fendi purse at a gas station and makes you lie down on the ground in your matching designer dress!

the whole ordeal nearly reduces you to tears and forces you to call the one person you’d been trying to forget about all night. megumi.

he picks you up without a word of protest, but you swear that you can feel his disappointment radiating off of him in thick, asphyxiating waves. “please don’t tell daddy,” you had sniffed, eyes big and teary. and megumi can’t bring himself to blame you or to be mad at you because you’re so sweet and sensitive and a little too good for this world. that and you have no idea how much seeing you cry fucks with his head.

“you’re a smart girl, baby.” he’d replied softly — though his eyes were hard and his grip on the steering wheel even harder, indicated by the white of his knuckles. “you shouldn’t be messing around in places like this. it’s exactly why you should be in college.”

like the good big (step) brother he is, fushiguro sneaks you back into the house without a word to your watchful father. instead, he spends the rest of the night comforting you with silly cartoons to heal your inner child. deep down, it means a lot — usually the two of you would argue over control of the remote, and he would always win. this time, megumi lets you be.

“i don’t think i’m cut out for college,” you sigh after a moment’s silence, ren and stimpy providing the backing track to your vocalised thoughts. “‘m not much aside from my pretty face.”

fushiguro rolls over so that you lay side by side, nudging you with his elbow playfully. “what would you do instead?”

“i dunno,” growing bashful, you tuck your face into your shoulder — afraid that he might laugh. “start a fashion business, give people make overs? i think i’m good at that.”

“you’re good at a lot of things, angel. and making people feel god about themselves is one of them,” rather than belittling your dreams, tearing them down like you’d expect — megumi encourages you, flashing you a small yet supportive smile. “you take care of people.”

flustered by his praise, you lean into megumi’s side — playing footsie with him at the end of your bed shyly. “you’re better at taking care of me, though.” you whisper, nearly missing the way his eyes drop to your lip-gloss smudged lips.

“yeah? s’what big brothers are for, right?” he whispers back, a breath’s width away from your lips, nose inches away from nudging yours as if he’s going to kiss you. he wouldn’t be your step-brother if he wasn’t so full of annoying surprises, instead of pulling you into a lip lock — megumi grasps at the remote on your other side in an attempt to change the channel to something more boring and scholarly.

you protest in the form of a sibling play fight causing you both to roll around in the sheets — fighting for the remote or perhaps dominance over the sexual tension that thickens the air. heat rises throughout the room and your wrestling turns to megumi pinning you to your babyish pink sheets, straddling your waist. he grips your wrists, clasping them together between his large, veiny hands and forces them above your head.

everything happens so quickly, yet so slowly and all at once. one moment you’re fighting like siblings do and the next — megumi fushiguro is finally kissing you, tongue lapping at the crack between your parted lips from where you’ve gasped in shock. tasting every ounce and every essence of the remainder of your gloss, breathing weightily into your mouth as if it’s a relief to have it pressed against his own. you swallow everything he gives you and drink up his saliva as it pools into your mouth to the point where your head spins and you feel like he’s spiked you with arousal.

this is wrong, on so many levels. as if you would ever make out with your step brother. but this isn’t some kind of twisted dream, it’s a reality you find yourself basking in. you pull megumi onto you by the roots of his dark hair, mewling each time your lips slot together perfectly and whining when his hips start to jut down to meet the softness of your tummy. or when his large hands push and pull at sensitive parts of your body.

“you’re nothin’ like those college girls.” he tells you once you break apart for air. megumi’s nose nudges your cheek and his kisses dive lower into the crook of your neck while he waits for you to catch your breath. “you’re softer, prettier, you’re—“

he lets go of your wrists.

tilting your head back into your plush pillows, your shaky fingers tangle in the dark, unruly curls of your step brother’s baby hairs. “i’m what?” you tease through a series of pretty little moans, like music to megumi’s ears. you feel him twitch against your inner thigh and the temperature of his body spikes to a sweltering degree.

“perfect.” his rough tongue swipes over your prominent collarbones and over the fabric of your dress, slipping under the crevice where your breasts meets your rib cage. using his teeth, fushiguro pulls down your dress until it inches off of your shoulders, revealing more of your skin marked with scars, beauty and stretch marks. it comes off easily, exposing you to a pair of hungry, murky blue eyes. the dress remains bunched at your middle.

you must be tripping out — you’ve never seen this look in your step brother’s eyes before. he stares up at you, lips swollen and breath ragged, as if you’re the last meal on earth he’ll ever get to taste. the sexual tension was never obvious to you, and while you’ve always found megumi weird — it didn’t mean you disliked his company.

“quit staring,” you whine, arching your back into megumi’s touch as it drags across your searing flesh. “it’s weird…you’re making it seem like it’s a bad thing…”

he yanks down the front of your dress, smooths down the valley between your breasts and over your tummy as they rise and fall with each of your baited breaths. “you don’t like it when i look at you, pretty baby?” then suddenly, his thumb slips back over your naked nipple, curling your sensitive areola before applying a gentle pressure that makes you jolt up the bed. “there’s nothin’ bad about you.”

fushiguro’s grip runs down to your sides like an easy stream of water, grasping at any flesh he can while simultaneously pulling your hips up to meet his — slotting perfectly against your body to make sure you can feel how hard he is for you. “i’m not like those college girls you’re usually into…” comes your shaky whisper. “‘m too dumb.”

it’s weird, megumi’s never made you nervous until now.

“no. you’re smart, you’re perfect… you deserve more than the guys that you’re into. you shouldn’t waste your time.”

his steady hands slide over the curve of your ass, dip beneath the hem of your dress to play with your doughy thighs and every note of his praise is sung over your quivering body.

“so what?” you go on, stepping into the dark to explore whatever the fuck this is with your step brother. “i should waste it on college boys like you?”

the tail end of your words are lost in a gasped breath as megumi nudges a knuckle against the crotch of your underwear — chuckling softly at the wetness that pools in the seat of them. “you would be if you came with me.” a sort of sick and twisted expression, morphs on his handsome face. one that’s usually so stoic and unreactive to your whines and mewls. but this version of megumi seems to like watching you squirm, revels in the way your hips buck up on instinct the further he presses his fingers between your sticky, viscous folds. “god, sweetheart. your princess parts are already so wet for me.”

heat flashes across your face, accompanied by the unfamiliar twinge of lust you for megumi you feel buzzing beneath your skin and swirling with the blood in your veins. the way he coos down at you, eyes hooded and tone condescending — it only serves to cloud your judgement and your mind. you shouldn’t be doing this. but you want to. so badly.

“shut up.” you huff and look away, eyes threatening to roll back into your skull as megumi flicks at your clit from over your skimpy panties. the more he plays with you, rubs at his little sister’s cute pussy, the more your thighs twitch apart — revealing the treasure between them to his dirty-minded gaze.

the groan that follows vibrates around in the cavity of megumi’s chest before shooting down to your glistening core as it convulses under his fingertips. “you’ll miss me when i go back, don’t deny it.” he tells you like he knows you, voice horse with growing desire. “you should really come with.”

you scrunch your nose up at his request — of course he would choose now of all times to be annoying and tease you about college. “as if, megumi.” you warn, though it’s hard to stay mad at him when he presses two fingers against your spasming entrance, azure eyes darkening at a stream of your arousal dampens your panties — defining the shape of your puffy folds even more.

“yeah, yeah. i know, baby. not the time, huh?” megumi hums in amusement, gaze flickering up to your face to watch it twist with euphoria as he continues to pinch and rub at your cunt until your chest is heaving. “you want it that bad. wanna be touched so bad. pretty girls like you can’t do anything without their big brothers...” while he rambles over the drool replacing logical words on his tongue, your step brother pulls his hand away from your sex briefly to push past the lace scalloping on your underwear and access your wetness. “all this, ‘cause of me?”

“all ‘cause of you.” you breathe the words out like they’re air and nod shyly at your own admission despite the high pitched, babyish tone. to let your stupid older step brother know how much he affects you is embarrassing, borderline humiliating, but you can’t help but fall into him. megumi rewards you with two fingers stroking their way past the tight ring of your entrance, curling instantly to explore your gummy, oozing walls and locate the exact spots that make you tick.

he presses a chaste kiss to your sweaty cheek, body hunched over your shaky one as if to shield the scandalous sight from the world. his little sister split open on his fingers, drenching him in her scent and her slick as fushiguro scissors them and fucks you silly. “mhm, that’s my girl. so nice for me and my fingers. i like you better this way,” he slurs, long and dark lashes (ones that you’d die for) fluttering against your skin as his digits move faster and faster within your selfish, ribbed walls. “when all you can do is cry and make those pretty noises, instead of being a little brat to me all the time.”

fushiguro pauses his ministrations, forcing you to wriggle and writhe and chase your pleasure for only a moment. “m-megumi!” your hips jut upwards in an attempt to coax some friction out of him, anything on your pulsing clit or against your pleasure spots dotted along your insides. “p-please. fuck, gumi— i need it.”

he only smiles, his thumb finding your clit and his fingers pick up the pace — bearing down on your g-spot with every thrust into your tight heat. “that’s what i like to hear, none of that back talk. just your pretty voice, beggin’ for me.” he sweet talks you over the dirty, lewd and squishy sounds from your thoroughly fucked cunt as they ring out into the sex tainted air. they form a chorus with your hiccups and pathetic bleats for more — and if your body is a choir, megumi fushiguro is the conductor. he guides you to the gates of heaven, feeds you pieces of pleasure from the grapevine of sun and you let him.

because he’s your big (step) brother, and you trust him after all.

“fuck, you’re so pretty. could watch you make a mess of me all night.”

the bricks bliss build up in your lower tummy, cemented together by megumi’s relentless fingers pumping in and out of your slick sex. you’re the perfect vision, a sight to behold — darling gem eyes shiny with tears, tongue tied to the roof of your mouth by strings of saliva and your body doused with a glimmer of perspiration. your step brother can’t help but create a copy of you grinding against his hand on his mind. filing it away for later.

pulling his fingers from your selfish heat, megumi brings his hand down against it in a harsh slap — his entire body shuddering at the surprised wail you let out, and the stream of juices that fly up his arm as a result. “ooh, baby. what a pretty noise you just made.” he laments with a rough voice, soothing over the spank with soft flicks to your swollen clit. “can you do that again for me?”

he doesn’t give you the chance to answer, spanking your pussy again, and again and again until his head is heavy with the sounds of your broken moans and your panties are soaked all the way through — darkened by the running two of your sweet honey nectar that allow his slender fingers to slip back inside you with ease.

they tease at your stimulated walls and push and pull your tight little hole — and you swear you can practically see the stars that line the night sky with every new sensation. fushiguro is in no better state, cock painstakingly hard and straining against the insides of his sweats while his cool midnight eyes drink in the way your hips stutter and struggle to keep up with the pace of his digits inside of you.

“‘gumi… i think i—“ your words escape you, drowned out by your own pussy as it squelches around megumi’s fingers.

he kisses your forehead, contrasting my soft compared to the way he stretches you open and preps you for his cock. “i bet that feets good, huh? you feel like you’re gonna cum.” his tone turns into a mocking one, deep enough to send shivers down your spine and threaten to knock down the wall of mounting pleasure in your lower gut.

tears teeter over the edge of your waterline, streaking a hot path down the apples of your angelic cheeks as your hips lift off the bed — chasing the high only your big brother could give to you. “feels so good, p-please let me cum, ‘gumi.”

you look to him for reassurance and permission, hiccuping as megumi pulls his fingers out of you to trace from your clit and down the length of your juicy slit. pride swirls in his blazing chest when your body jerks at the sensation, hips running after the source of pleasure. you’re such a good little thing, so pliant and naive — following after your step brother no matter what he does to you. maybe you’re right, maybe you’re a little too dumb for college. but it doesn’t matter right now, not with the way your creamy entrance clenched down on fushiguro lovingly, pleading with him to let you cum.

you’re so close and he knows it, he’d have given into you if he weren’t trying to make this last.

“actually, i want you to do something for me.” he stops right before you’re about to burst, dragging his fingers out of your pulsating pussy to smear your wetness across your tummy and thighs.

a babyish blubber bubbles up on the swell of your pouty lips, coated in a layer of salt from your free-flowing tears. “w-what? m-megumi! i was so close!” you say in a petulant manner, squishing your thigh together and trapping his hand between them as if to coax him back into making you cum.

“so spoilt, more like.” your step brother bites back, almost punishing you by removing his body from yours so that he can rid himself off all of his clothes. he tosses them off the bed, but not before pulling his phone from his sweatpants and setting it to the side.

you swallow thickly when his cock springs free and slaps against his washboard abs. megumi is lengthier than he has girth, his balls heavy with an incredulous amount of seed saved up just for you. his tip is pink, almost bright red but coated in a layer of pre that’s no doubtedly smeared along the inside of his sweats but it’s a delicious sight to see nonetheless.

now you really must be bugging. you’re most certainly clueless to have never thought of megumi this way before today.

your throat bobs when he grabs hold of his rock hard shaft, hissing at the first few lazy pumps he gives himself. “i want you to do something for me. then i’ll make you cum.” fushiguro proposes gruffly, locking eyes with you carnally. “put on a show for me princess, ride one of your cute little stuffed animals over there so i can make a memory for when i go back to college.”

his ask doesn’t register in your pretty little head, and megumi figures he might have left you dazed from withholding your orgasm. or maybe you’re distracted by the way in which he fists his cock, spreading webs of milky white up and down his shaft and over his mushroomed tip with each movement. you hardly notice the fact that he’s reached for his phone, setting it to record using his free hand.

“you hear me, pretty… fuck…girl?” he curses in a low moan, squeezing himself.

this time, your attention shoots to his face while your tongue darts out to wet your lips. “y-you want me to… fuck my stuffie?”

you ask megumi so innocently, head tilted to the side like a sweet little puppy dog and he swears he might bust to you right then and there.

“fuck…yes.”

“and you won’t touch me?”

“not until i’m satisfied, princess.”

and like the bratty little sister you are, dress pushed down to your middle and makeup askew, you huff at your step-brother — all while grabbing your favourite and biggest stuffed bear to tuck against the ruined treasure between your thighs.

“you’re so fuckin’ mean, ‘gumi,” you try to keep your cool, but you’re too sensitive — lowering your twitching sex onto the soft toy slowly. “o-oh…”

he angles the camera perfectly to record you, zooming in on your cute little cunt as it slips and slides over the bear with ease.

even beyond the camera, you’re a sight for megumi fushiguro’s sore eyes, each of your curves and dips illuminated by the glistening beads of sweat that roll over the expanse of your skin – catching the low, warm yellow light from up above. he always knew that his little step sister was pretty, practically an angel, but up until now he’d relied soley on his dirty imagination to picture the way you’d look fucking yourself for him. the stuffed toy easily disappears between the meat of your pudgy thighs as you rock back and forth over it, nudging your clit against the nose of the fluffy brown bear.

“feels good, right?” he mumbles lowly, the sound vibrating in his chest. megumi can’t help but be engrossed in your every move, the soft jut of your hips and the bite down on your plump and shiny lips, the way in which your fingers dare to dance up the salacious softness to your curves and skin. “my pretty little thing. i can see why your daddy loves you so much. you’re such a good girl, listening to everything i say.”

megumi’s words waft over your mind like a thick fog of lust, darkening every pure thought you’ve ever had. your whole body twitches at their patronising air, dopamine crackling about in your skull and shooting down to the heartbeat swirling around your fluttering hole. it gushes and gushes, like an endless stream of erotica and glazes over the apex of your thighs like the shin of a sugary treat.

one that makes your step brother’s mouth water with anticipation.

each of your sweet mewls and whistle-tone bleats run through his ears like thick honey, rotting him from the inside out. perhaps that’s what makes megumi so perverted and what makes him crush on his perfect and prim little sister, you’re a fool to have not noticed it before. how he looked at you then and how megumi looks at you now, midnight blue and stormy orbs drowning with lust. your gaze flutters down to his cock, standing tall and flushed against his creamy white skin, neglected as it leaks all over his stomach.

“oh you like that, huh? you shake so much when i talk to you like that.” fushiguro starts to fist his cock faster, matching the speed at which you shakily circle your hips over the poor stuffed animal — panting as it’s fabric darkens with your wetness. “a daddy’s girl through ‘n through.” he teases while you throw it back for his phone.

sure enough, the camera picks up his warm chocolate voice as it coos its praises to you. such a good girl. ride it out princess. all of it fills you to the brim with wanton and desire, makes you crumble before the glaring lense of fushiguro’s phone.

“s-shut up.”

“uh-uh. and you were doing so well,” your step brother sounds almost cruel, reminding you of the reasons you didn’t get along before today. acting like a school boy picking on his crush, being mean to her because deep down he knows that she likes it. that you like it. “don’t be rude baby. put on a show for ‘gumi.”

he takes to palming himself more, precum slinging across his knuckles and down his thighs the more turned on he gets. it clings to every vein on his shaft, spreads to the weight of his balls and no doubt can be heard through the camera since slick and lewd noises of the both of you touching yourselves echo throughout your bedroom. megumi does his best to keep the camera steady, but he can’t help himself — following your movements and thrusting up into his closed fist to mock your pussy while you ride your stuffie for dear life.

you’re still so sensitive, but your big brother can tell you’re trying so hard to keep up for him — fighting off your next orgasm as it builds up strong in your lower belly. you want to please megumi, at the end of the day. a smart girl like you knows “that’s it, keep it movin’ for me…god, you make me wanna cum.”

you pout at the praise, rutting over the face of your stuffed animal as you breath heavy. it feels way too good, you’re overwhelmed by too many senses and megumi watching you spill your juices about the place doesn’t seem to help. dragging a hand up to your bare chest, you tweak your nipples and tug them until a needy squeal dancing on your wobbly bottom lip — doing your very best to please the dark haired college student.

you want him to cum, want him to memorise the way your eyes roll back and your moans and quivers — you feel so beautiful beneath his heavy, desire burdened stare. “m-megumi,” you say for the millionth time that night, squirming before his very eyes while you dream on the nose of your precious toy. “i-i’m close!” your hips burn holding back you release, exhaustion and just intertwining in your veins — combusting in your lungs.

clueless. you were absolutely clueless as to how it would feel falling apart under the caring gaze of someone who loves you so much.

“yeah, pretty girl?” fushiguro hums gently, giving his cock one last squeeze at the base — cutting off the stream of ore that he dribbles from the source. “c’mere, i gotcha.” he shuffles over to you on the bed, catching you before you fall with his lips pressed to your wet babyish cheeks. “i’ll let you cum, but only on my cock. you’ve got to stay good for me, okay?”

nodding timidly, you accept a few more kisses from megumi — the ones that he peppers across your face, before he manoeuvres you onto your side and nestles in right behind you. “say you want me,” the words coast along the back of your neck and your body erupts in goosebumps. his voice will always be like a dragon breathing life into a fire. sure to be careful, megumi lifts one of your thighs and hooks it over his slender waist so that he can better access your sluice sex.

he tugs your underwear to the side with one hand and positions his cock at your entrance, sliding the length of his shaft through the strings of your arousal glueing your pussy lips together. both of you hiss in harmony when his bright red tip grinds messily against your pulsing pleasure bud. your unused hole clenches around nothing, pushing out juices as if to claim megumi.

your head rolls back to rest on megumi’s broad shoulder and you reach a hand behind you to tangle in the dark mass of his sweaty locks — keeping him close. “i need you, ‘gumi. please.” you rasp weakly as his shaft breaches your silken walls, coating him in everything your body has to offer. you spoil megumi, giving him a moment to remember before he leaves for college again.

there’s a delicious residual burn from the way his girth stretches you out causing your cunt so selfishly squeezes down on every inch of your step brother’s milky cock. with a stuttered breath, fushiguro bottoms out until his balls are pressed hotly against your ass and his seedy mushroomed tip is just grazing your womb.

“just what i wanted to hear,” he purrs into the shell of your ear — nipping it tenderly. you blubber softly into the satin pillows, prepped with a fresh set of tears as you push back onto megumi to meet the push and pull of his dick into your tight, creamy sex. “you’ve always needed me, pretty thing. my precious baby sister, relyin’ on me for everything. even this.”

your entire body burns bright with desire for megumi, you’re surprised you’ve gone this long without him before today. maybe you’ve always needed to feel his sticky tip grind against your juicy walls or his hot breath fanning against your shoulders and neck. you’ve always needed your step brother to guide you in the right direction. you’ve always needed megumi.

“f-fuck, g-gumi!”

fushiguro fucks you slow and softly, pouring all of his affections into you — letting it buzz in the sex scented air between your salt slicked bodies. his fingertips leave their paw prints along your tiger striped thighs and soft tummy, he’ll kiss them better later, but for now he just wants you to know how much he’s always needed you. “oh i know pretty girl, i know.” comes megumi’s low, bristling simper — adding to the stacks of pleasure cementing together in your lower tummy. “you’re so good, taking me just right. i’ve always known you’d be good for me.”

your back arches away from the molten centre of your step brother’s chest but he refuses to let you run from him — wrapping a strong arm around your middle to anchor you and your pussy down on his throbbing cock. “i never wanted to ruin you.” he drawls hungrily, but that doesn’t stop the salacious buck of his hips upwards and the way his hands traverse over each of your perfect imperfections. “but you’re such a sweet thing… you always have been. god, baby, you drive me crazy.”

fumbling around on the bed, megumi gasps at the phone and hits record once more — propping the device up on the nightstand opposite you so that he can remain hands free. “this body, this princess cunt… the way you grip my hair—“ as if on cue, your fingers tighten at his dark roots and tug him down for a sloppy, spit swapping kiss. “everything about you, s’perfect.”

the room spins with ecstasy and your pathetic screams die in your throat at the feeling of megumi’s abs contacting against your back, his cock hitting that spongy spot inside of you over and over again. you drip sweet nectar onto the sheets, his pelvis and his thighs — tainting him with your precious sin. everything burns with exertion and exhaustion, so you’re forced to slump against your big brother and rely on him to carry you to the high heavens of pleasure.

he doesn’t disappoint, cupping your swaying breasts as you jolt up the bed from the force of his pounding thrusts, flicking at your nipples while keeping himself tucked in your squishy insides. you’re pleasured from every possible angle and it’s all caught on grainy film for megumi to take to college when he leaves without you.

“‘m so fucking happy… t-that our parents got divorced. s-so that i can…have you like this.” fushiguro tongues at the pulse point under your ear, giving you one hard thrust to emphasise the point, it makes you jump, pushing you that little bit closer to the edge. your step brother never stops pumping himself in and out of you, hardly giving you a second to breathe between sucking on your tongue and slapping a hand down on your slit.

“aren’t you happy?” he goes on to ask, carving the shape of his dick into your raw sex. “take a deep breath for me, gorgeous.”

megumi wraps a hand around your throat from behind, squeezing ever so slightly and your glistening doe eyes tear away from the camera to focus on him. you witness the stars align in his azure orbs, the adoration they hold for you and a cry-baby wail slips from between your cherry bitten lips in response.

“look so pretty with my hand around your throat ‘n my cock in your pussy… look at that. it’s like your body was made for me.” he chimes up again, watching the drool deep from the corner of your mouth as it hangs open with dry moans, like a a cute puppy panting. “how lucky are we?”

“o-oh! gumi!” you sniff blearily, not caring that there isn’t enough air in your brain to think straight. you’re swallowing down his cock and he’s leaking fat droplets of precum against the ridges of your walls — only adding to your wetness. megumi can’t expect a single logical thought to escape you this way. “‘m s-so glad. s-so lucky! so happy! i-i love you.”

the stuttered admission brings out the worst in megumi, causing him to lose his shit. your panties are rubbing his shaft raw, your pussy’s so good that he feels like he’s fucking high, not to mention you sound so pretty he could die here and be the happiest man alive. a feral desire takes over your step brother, his snapping his hips into you so hard that your headboard repeatedly smashes against the wall.

your panties are completely soaked through at this point, equally as ruined as your cunt… but megumi doesn’t care. “love you too. my good girl, my good fucking girl.” he coos, his thrusts growing animalistic and erratic — your bodies dancing to the tune of desire as you chase release. “can you cum for me, pretty? wanna see it, bet you’re so gorgeous when you’re cumming for me little sis.”

despite being fucked brainless, you still manage to do what you’re told — your hips back onto his from their own accord, puffy pussy locking down on megumi’s base to keep him inside. “i’m close… r-right there gumi!” you choke out.

“right here, baby?” is all he manages to respond with, moaning pornographically into your sweaty shoulder while he shifts the angle of his thrusts. “wanna feel you gush all fucking over me.”

that’s all you need to hear before your toe curling orgasm comes crashing down on you like a large tidal wave. the knot in your tummy finally unravels and you break beneath the pressure of it all, waves of your juices splashing out onto the sheets and megumi’s pelvis — rewarding him for fucking you this good. you cum so hard that it’s enough to force megumi from your twitching hole, expelling a musky scent into the air.

“f-fucking shit, fuuuck me…” fushiguro stumbles off the edge not long after, using the seam of your panties to finish himself off while you twitch through the aftershocks of your high. he just barely makes it, fucking your underwear and nudging his sensitive cockhead against your abused mound until he’s filling the seat of your panties with fat globs of white hot seed. “jesus…’hmygod, baby. you’re such an angel...d-did so fucking well for me.”

he peppers you with smooches until you’re calmed down enough to be rolled onto your back. megumi is careful to pull away from you, staying close while you sniffle and come back down to earth. he babies you throughout, lifting the rest of your dress over your head and waiting until you say he can move before grabbing you a spare shirt from your dresser.

“let me see you.” megumi whispers lovingly when he crawls back onto the bed to join you. he grabs his phone from the nightstand and ends its recording, pushing your thighs apart to snap pictures of your cum soaked undies and the thick white that clings to your fat pussy lips and clit. “perfect, you’re so perfect.

“i am?” you whinge — camera shy. but you don’t tell him to stop, letting your older step brother rub his sensitive and overworked cock over your crotch, smearing the last evidence of your orgasms against you for a quick video. another one that’ll be added to his spank bank for later. “‘gumi…” you warn once you start to feel overstimulated.

he chuckles at how whiny you are, tugging your clean shirt over your head before he pulls you into his arms. “i got it, i’m sorry.” rocking you both back and forth, fushiguro kisses the crown of your head. “yanno… if you’re so serious about not joining me at college. i’ll try and convince your dad to let you stay in town. as long as you keep up your promise and try to start a business.”

your heart skips a beat, and you cast a glance upwards at your step brother. “really?”

“really. if it means that much to you.”

sleep settles heavy in megumi’s bones and on his pretty face — one you didn’t realise you loved so much. “it does! thank you, ‘gumi,” you say quickly, pressing a chaste kiss to his jaw. “m-maybe you college boys aren’t so bad.”

“oh come on now, didn’t me fucking you stupid literally just prove that?”

“maybe.”

“so you’ll come visit me at college then. since you like me so much.” fushiguro quips cheekily, narrowly missing your swat to his chest.

you roll your eyes and try to unravel yourself from your step brother’s affectionate grip, but don’t hide your smile. “ugh! as if, don’t get ahead of yourself.”

but teasing megumi further only gets you dragged back into the sheets — two sets of laughter echoing throughout the room in what appears to be another sibling fight.

except this time, you’re not as clueless.

you know that something like this, and with megumi, means something much, much more.

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afloweroutofstone · 4 months ago

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Would love to hear more about your personal take on Walz, if you feel like it.

He's the most progressive of the Boring White Guys who were on Harris' shortlist for VP. To be fair, he's not actually that progressive himself— his record in congress was quite moderate, and he's generally seen as being more moderate than the Democrats in the Minnesota state legislature. But this image as a Normie Democrat can actually pair quite well with his record of progressive accomplishments in office. The stuff he's signed into law while governor has been absolutely incredible, arguably enough to make him the best governor in the country right now (even if the hard work behind most of these reforms came from state legislators to his left).

This is the gubernatorial record that Walz can run on: protecting abortion rights, universal school meals, guaranteed paid leave, legalizing weed, a plan for 100% renewable energy, banning LGBTQ conversion therapy, free college for families earning less than $80,000, automatic voter registration, increasing spending for public schools, universal gun background checks, expanding public transit, strengthening workers' rights, improving infrastructure, new public housing, (underwhelming) police reform, banning non-compete agreements, a strong child tax credit, and more. To compare, Harris' other top choice was a guy who compared pro-Palestine protesters to the KKK, likes charter schools, and wants to cut his state's corporate tax rates. You can see why progressives are happy with Walz as the outcome.

Also Walz does seem to have an electable personality IMO, what little I've seen of him makes him look like a good messenger. VP picks don't really matter that much, but he seems like a good choice if they're looking for someone to wipe the floor with Vance in the debate.

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lushrue · 5 months ago

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141 + könig & graves as college professors (fem!reader) nsfw, mdni

cw: p-in-v sex, creampie, semi-public sex, power imbalance/unethical relationship, age gap (everyone's legal), oral (f!receiving), bondage, oral (m!receiving)

price teaches military strategy, a more theoretical and scientific look at war and battle tactics. he’s done the field work, he knows what it takes to physically carry out a mission. but he values the skill behind the planning a bit more than the execution. would definitely give real-world examples with missions he’s carried out with as much detail as he can provide. has classes outside some days. he tells his students it’s because the weather’s nice, but he really just wants to smoke.

he’s one to stare when you show up to class in a short skirt or low-cut top. he’s not shy about it, but he’s tactful, not letting his gaze settle for too long. won’t fuck you in his office, too nervous his colleagues would hear. so he comes to your dorm room sometimes when your roommate’s out, or he’ll take you to a hotel and treat you nice with room service and the whole deal. absolutely obsessed with the way his cum drips down your thighs, takes some pictures to jerk off to later.

ghost maybe teaches something like warfare tactics. something that would only be taught at a military college, something hands-on. he takes his job educating the next generation of soldiers seriously. insists that his course have both a lecture and lab section. he’s getting his students up at the ass-crack of dawn to run drills, even if they’re not currently serving. they wanted to know how to win a war, so he’ll show them.

kinda hard to convince, tbh. he’s fine pushing the bounds when it comes to rules of engagement, but this? still, when you prove yourself, when you beat out everyone else on the obstacle course, he jumps at the chance for some extra tutoring sessions with you. the fact that you look good in a sports bra and leggings is just a bonus. he’ll definitely fuck you in the gym bathroom after a training session. he’ll drag you into a stall and lock the door, hold you up if your legs are too tired from the workout he put you through.

soap teaches something not military-related, i think. maybe chemistry or physics with his demolitions background? very into demonstrations in his classes, likes to make shit blow up or fly across the room for the wow factor. he’s set the fire alarms off in the science lab more than once. definitely has a high score on rate my professor, one of the most sought after in the whole physical science department.

fucks you in the science lab. you’d come to him during office hours, cause the subjects he teaches have a really low pass rate. it’d start with actual homework help before devolving into heavy petting and kisses as a reward for correct answers. he’ll test your concentration, making you recite newton’s laws or the ratio of reactant to product. when you fumble, he’ll just chuckle and mumble something about how your head is too fuzzy for science. not too fuzzy for him to bully his cock into you, though.

gaz teaches something intro level. we’re talking “intro to military studies” or “intro to war and peace”. he’s really lenient on due dates, doesn’t have the really strict attitude that a lot of intro level professors have. he’s chill, one of those professors that does everything he can to work with you. won’t suffer a slacker, though. if you don’t do the work, don’t expect him to round your grade up at the end of the semester.

he won’t fuck you while you’re still enrolled in one of his classes. he knows himself, the temptation would be too strong if he had to see you for 55 minutes three times a week and couldn’t touch you. so he waits until the semester is over. but best believe he’s dragging you into some secluded corner of the building the minute you hand in your final. tells you about every single time he’s wanted to touch you, every time you’ve almost made him break his own rule. he makes it up to you, though, eating you out in the hallway and making you come on his tongue twice.

könig teaches german. falling a bit into the stereotype here, but i feel like this man has a really strong love of country. he’d definitely teach the culture alongside the language. he probably has an oktoberfest celebration for his students, lets the older ones drink beer if they want. he tells stories all the time about growing up in austria and will get sidetracked for a whole class just talking about life.

when he’s trying to seduce you, he’s a gentle giant. always cooing praises at you about how pretty you are, how well you’re taking to the language, that you’re a natural. but the moment you give in, he lets himself indulge. everything he’s ever wanted to act out, he does with you. if he’s stroked his thick cock to someone else doing it on his computer screen, he wants to try. it’s how you find yourself tied up in his bed, silk rope wrapped around your body as he fucks your throat. always dirty talks to you in german, giving you praise when you figure out what he’s saying.

graves teaches something niche, a class on terrorism in America or something like that. he gets really into it too. he’s known for being really animated in his lectures, gets really loud sometimes. other professors hate having a class in the lecture hall next to his. appreciates the students who stay after class to talk to him more in depth about his lectures. he knows the material can be dull sometimes, but he always has a few that are really passionate about what he teaches.

you’re one of those few. he’s embarrassed to admit that he falls for you, the way your eyes sparkle when he starts talking about some fringe terror group he helped to squash when he was serving. you always give him your rapt attention and he eats it up. takes you on dates to nice restaurants a few towns over so you won’t run into anyone either of you know. likes to fuck you over his desk after office hours are over. once, he shoved his boxers in your mouth and fucked you in the middle of the afternoon, when anyone could walk in. that time was your favorite.

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veroniquesboutique · 4 months ago

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A Good First Impression - Atsushi Murasakibara x AFAB!Reader

I am feral over Atsushi Murasakibara. Worms using my brain for food type of feral. Foaming at the mouth type of feral.

He is unironically my phone background type of feral.

So, uh....here's this. Personally, I feel real great about it, so I hope you enjoy it as well.

Title: A Good First Impression

Rating: Explicit

Warnings:

AFAB!Reader, Female Reader, f-receiving oral, fingering, it is genuinely only him eating you out, mention of m-receiving handjob, super intense orgasm, squirting, reluctance/hesitation about the squirting but not quite dubcon/noncon, baby used regularly as pet name, college au, fear of getting caught, getting caught after the fact, home for the holidays, parent mention

Characters & ships: boyfriend!Murasakibara Atsushi x AFAB!Reader

Word count: 2.6k words

Summary: Your long-term boyfriend is nervous about staying at your childhood home and meeting your parents for the first time for four reasons:

1 - He's tall, and people tend to comment on it. Too much. 2 - First impressions are a big deal, and what if he fucks it up with his future in-laws? 3 - He met you in college and is terrified of learning something about the you from before (spoiler: you pass the test!) 4 - He can't keep his hands off of you, and he doesn't want the embarrassment of getting caught.

18+ Minors DNI!

More explicit below the cut

Atsushi Murasakibara was nervous to meet your parents for many reasons.

First, his height. This was the first time he was meeting your family, and your parents weren’t exactly short per se, but he was a towering 6’10”. He hated new people having to crane their neck up to look at him, he hated the same three questions and two jokes that every person tells when they meet someone as tall as him, and he hated that he was going to have to learn the careful layout of your childhood home since it was likely not designed with someone of his towering stature in mind. It was always so embarrassing when he’d bump his head on too-low ceiling fans or when he had to bend too far to reach the sink. No one really realizes how weirdly isolating it feels to be at least a head taller than everyone around you, and that’s if he’s lucky. It definitely makes the first impression game much harder.

Second, the holidays. For some reason, instead of meeting your parents for the first time at a low-stakes dinner or briefly in public, he agreed to stay for a week for the holidays at your house. It wasn’t ideal, but they lived in the countryside, and a hotel would have been so inconvenient, so you two decided to stay with your parents. He even sat through the awkward conversation where you all had to figure out if he was sleeping in your room or on the couch. Your parents weren’t exactly the most conservative people in the world - they knew you lived with him now for God’s sake, so it’s not like they had no idea what you two got up to - but everyone was deeply uncomfortable with the suggestion of anything happening under their roof. That being said, none of their couches could handle him - re: the aforementioned height problem - so they made the disgruntled decision to let you two room together. Just no locking the door.

On top of it all, he wanted to bring them gifts, but he had no idea where to even start with holiday gifts for future in-laws he’d never met. You insisted that he didn’t really have to get them anything and that they’d be thankful for anything he put thought into, but that didn’t ease the burden of deciding if your dad was a beer guy or if he was a tool guy or if he was a sports guy or a grill guy or a music guy. The options made his head spin, and that’s not even touching all the possible gifts he could get your mother. This was it - THE first impression - and if he didn’t get it right, he was afraid of a rocky relationship with them forever.

Third, your childhood. He didn’t know you before you two met in college, so everything about you before you moved to the city is a complete mystery to him. His worst nightmare was discovering something about you that he would never be able to unsee. He had always hated the vulnerability in this moment in all of his previous relationships, and it had soured more than one relationship well before its expiry date.

The night you arrived, you showed him to your room, and he held his breath as you swung the door open for him. He walked in, looking around, waiting for the weird childhood shoe to drop, but…it didn’t. The room was fairly normal. It looked like it could be a teenage room in a movie. It seemed stale, set in time, but it didn’t give him the same feeling of ick throughout his body. Carefully, shelf by shelf, he investigated your knickknacks and decorations and memories, and everything he saw made him love the small piece of you that he knew more than the last. By the time he had overturned every stone in your room, his heart was beating harshly in the rhythm of your name.

“You look like you were expecting something crazy,” You laughed at him, having watched him snoop through your past.

He looked at you, his eyes full of warmth. “I was. I didn’t find anything.”

And then he snuck a kiss.

Fourth, the final most important reason he was nervous was you. Well, to be more specific, he was nervous because he couldn’t keep his hands off of you, and this trip wasn’t going to change anything.

He was nervous because he didn’t want to get caught.

“Ah-Ah, ‘Sushi!” You moan, high pitched and trying to keep the volume low as you wiggle in his grip in an attempt to free yourself from the intensity of his tongue between your legs. Your wrist is pressed against your lips to dampen the sound. He tightens his grip on the back of your thighs, pushing your legs further apart and against your body, opening you up for him, and his tongue continues roughly sliding against your sensitive, buzzing clit.

“They aren’t home. You can be loud,” He grunts against you before wrapping his lips around you and sucking you into his mouth, and you can’t help it as you throw your head back and cry out at the feeling.

“They could be home any second!” You hiss, your hips bucking involuntarily against his face, and in response, he moans deeply, sending tingles through your body.

“Then cum before they get back.”

Biting your lip and panting, nearly winded, you stare down at him, meeting his eyes watching you just over your pelvis, and when his tongue dips into you and presses against your trembling walls, you moan loudly with a furrowed brow. Your fingers tangle through his messy purple strands, pushing his face against your core harder.

He slurps the messy wetness dripping out of you, the sound lewd enough to make you blush. “God, you taste so good,” He groans into you, his tongue desperate. “It’s been too long.”

“It’s been three days!” You laugh breathlessly, body convulsing at the small nudges of his nose against your clit as he drinks you in.

“And that’s three days too many,” he complains, shaking his head and smearing his face against the slickness between your legs. “I can’t wait like that. I need you all the time.”

You pant in response, unable to form words when his tongue finds your clit again, brushing against it at a punishing pace. Your eyes roll to the back of your head, your stomach spasming, and he finally releases one of your legs from his controlling grip just to slide it up your needy slit and dip one of his long fingers into you. You nearly cum then, your back arching so aggressively that you hit your head against the wall, and he can’t help the small laugh that rumbles against your nerves.

“Careful, babe,” He mutters, curling the single finger inside you, and the feeling is such a warm, pleasurable tightness in your core.

“I’m going to cum,” You whisper, dropping your jaw open in pleasure, and you feel his smile in response.

“I’m not done yet, so if you cum now, you’re going to have to handle it when I keep going.”

You whimper, lip quivering and body shaking. Breathing, you attempt to stave off the orgasm that has you dangling off the edge of sanity. He slows his movements, watching you closely as he wrings you of cute little sounds and moans and shivers, and it helps when you suck in air, huffing through your nose to stop the trembling in your lower abdomen.

“Y-you said cum before they get back,” You counter, hissing the words through your teeth as you lean up, your toes curling tightly. His tongue helicopters against your throbbing clit, and he takes the hand that was on the back of your other thigh and places it atop your pelvis, pressing down as the finger still deep inside presses up, and you feel the telltale tightening in your core that makes you panic a little.

“You can choose to cum now and be overstimulated, or you can choose to cum later at the risk of your parents hearing you,” He looks up over you with a smile, a second finger suddenly pushing into you to meet the other. “I’m a believer in autonomy.”

As his two fingers now press into the gummy sweet spot in you, you confirm the tightening is definitely going to cause many, many more problems than he’s considering. You bring your hands to grip the bedding below you, trying to wiggle away again. “’Sushi, I-I, wait, I’m going to-” You frustratingly cut yourself off with a groan as his mouth finds your clit again.

“Going to what, babe?” His voice rumbles against you, and there’s a soft wash of pleasure moving through you like waves against a shore. You can only think that it’s going to be a pain to clean after this.

“It’s going to-I’m going to-”

“Aw, baby, I need you to use your words,” He teases, batting his eyelashes innocently when you shoot him a glare.

“I’m going to make a mess,” You grunt through gritted teeth, raising your eyebrows in hopes of him understanding the euphemism, and when it clicks in his brain, his eyes go bright and wide.

He hums darkly, pressing his fingers into you deeper and earning a surprised squeal out of you. “You’re going to squirt for me, baby?”

“God, I hate that word!” You yelp, involuntarily grinding your hips down onto him and panting out in tight, restrained pleasure. “You-you gotta stop now, I-”

“I wouldn’t dare waste this opportunity. You know I love making a mess of you.” His voice is dark, his eyes still teasing as he draws circles around your clit, and between the stretch of his now scissoring fingers, the pressure on your pelvis from his large hand, and his unrelenting pace on your sensitive spots, you’re seeing stars.

Falling back, you groan again, the feeling of uncomfortable tightening worsening deep in you. “The bedding!” You exclaim, arching your back, “I can’t-ah, fuck, I’ll mess up the bedding.”

“Your parents have a washer.”

“The bedding was from my grandmother,” You groan, scrunching up your face and writhing, closing your thighs around his head when it gets too intense. Hyperventilating, you press the side of your face into the pillow, bringing your hand to your face to bite down on your hand to quell the rocking of pleasure inside you now.

“Pity,” He mumbles, distracted too much by the sounds pouring from your mouth, the clenching of your pussy, the taste of your arousal coating his tongue, the slick sounds of his fingers deep in you, and the promise of even more to come (literally and figuratively). “We should’ve put a towel down, huh?”

You groan, frustrated by his lackadaisical demeanor but unable to communicate it as the feeling of pleasure floods your body. You can feel your eyes go a little hazy, and moments later, you call out, your orgasm hitting you like a wall of bricks. It feels like an electric shock through your body, every muscle in your body tensing with a tight zap as the dam breaks inside of you. You squirt, gushing and coating the bed and, effectively, Atsushi’s face, and the only thing that cuts through the absolute sensory overload of your pleasure is his praise that he groans against your skin.

“That’s it, baby, that’s so good. Feel it, c’mon, you can breathe. You taste so good, thank you, baby, thank you.”

With your heavy pants and soft, whimpering moans as aftershocks of the orgasm reverberate through you, your pussy pulses and throbs in time with your heart, and when he softly pushes into you one last time to wring the rest of it out of you, you squeak out a last whine as the final wave of your cum rushes out of you and over his hand. He chuckles at the sight, pulling out of you and dragging his tongue up his fingers while making dark, teasing eye contact with you. Watching his tongue work to lick all of your cum off his skin, your body trembles with both your world-shattering orgasm and the sudden impending need that pulses through you yet again already.

“Kiss me?” You breathe softly, lips barely parted, and he cracks a wide smile, laughing like he’s disbelieving of you.

“You’re going to be the death of me, baby.” His voice is tense and dark with desire, and he crawls up your body slowly, and he meets your mouth with his extended tongue. You lick against it, tasting yourself, and he moans out loud, his hips pressing against yours. His length, hard and impressive, rubs against you, and the friction makes you cry out. You’re too sensitive and overstimulated, but he just smirks against your lips. “I told you to choose carefully. I wasn’t done with you.”

His hand drags down your body, feeling your curves with a hint of possession in his grasp. When he reaches his waist where his hips are pressing into yours, he grips his belt, pulling at the buckle, ripping it through the belt loops on his pants -

The front door opens. The sound of rustling bags floats up to your room. The floorboards creak.

Your eyes go wide in panic.

“Sweetheart?” Your mother calls up the stairs. “We’re home! Atsushi and you should come down and help us with dinner.”

“Get up, get up!” You mutter under your breath, gently batting at his shoulder as he frantically slides off you and off the bed, fixing his belt and helping you by pulling your bedding off. You’re searching for clothes, quickly pulling them on your legs.

The stairs whine as someone climbs step by step.

Your face burns at the impending embarrassment. Atsushi is struggling to hide his arousal with his clothes, and you’re struggling to wipe the slowly drying slick from between your thighs. Your bedding lays in a crumpled, suspicious ball on your mattress.

“Sweetheart?” Your mother asks again, her voice much closer than before.

The doorknob jiggles against the lock.

“C-coming!” You call back, pushing your fingers through your hair as Atsushi wipes his hands down his face to clean up any mess left behind.

“Your door’s-”

You cut off your mother’s inquiry about the locked door by swinging it open. “Sorry, force of habit,” You laugh, opening the door wide enough that she can see Atsushi sitting at your desk with his phone in his hand. He nods a greeting at her.

Her eyes flit to your unmade bed, back down to you, and back over to Atsushi. A slight blush covers her cheeks. “We…we brought groceries for dinner. Would you two like to come help?”

You look over your shoulder at Atsushi who meets your gaze. After a moment, he shrugs and nods. “Sure, we’d love to.”

“Great…come…down when you’re ready,” Your mother says awkwardly, quickly excusing herself back down the stairs. Once you hear her shoes click into the kitchen, you shut the door again, pressing your back to it as you finally let the air in your lungs go in a long sigh. You look up at Atsushi who is trying to bite back his laughter.

“Do you think she noticed?” You wince, knowing the answer.

“Oh yes, absolutely. She knows everything,” He stands, lumbering across the room towards you. He kisses your nose, his hand meeting yours on the doorknob. “Let’s go help with dinner.” He thinks. “And maybe later you can pay me back with a handjob in the shower.”

You groan, the thought of the blush on your mother’s face making your embarrassment burn brighter. “Absolutely not.”

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kookslastbutton · 1 year ago

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Too Late to Dream ༓ jjk (m) || ch. III

✑ Summary: You did it. You married your college professor. You even bought a house together. Against all odds, everything had fallen into place. But after two years of marriage, you begin feeling something was missing. You want a baby but your husband can’t say the same.

Pairing: economics professor!jungkook x fem!artist!reader

AU/Genre: angst, smut, fluff, marriage au, age gap, series

Rating: M, 18+

Word Count: 3,375

Warnings: 8-year age gap, big flashback of bromance between Tae and JK, slight drunkenness, family drama in-laws, imperfect relationship with parents, pent-up issues/desires, jk has daddy issues, mentions of therapy, kookie trying to be a good husband, needy kook 😶

Now Playing: Make It Right, Tryna Be, Infinity, It Will Rain, Heaven+

A/N: chapter 3 is here! I know its so short 😩 but I promise it sets up the next chapters really well! Also, I wanted to get into jk's background a little this time, his undergrad days, and Taehyung of course. It's a big leap but they're older now so...meh. Tysm for everyone's patience! 💞

<< ch. II ༓ ch. IV >> | series masterlist

There weren’t many people Jungkook envied in his life. He was 34 years old, had top-notch experience as an economist within the business and legal sphere, and taught at one of the finest universities in South Korea. He also earned his Ph.D by the time he hit 30, which was undoubtedly the cherry on top.

But if there was one person who could shake the ground from under his feet it would be Kim Taehyung.

The pair met during undergrad through mutual friends. Jungkook had been invited to an off-campus party his first year and Taehyung was an unexpected third party. The man was so put together that it was as if Michelangelo himself reached down and sculpted him from the clay.

16 years ago

“Hi,” a low, baritone voice rumbles. “I’m Taehyung.” He sticks his hand out, waiting for a shake. He’s a little timid but mostly stands upright with a few pieces of his caramel hair falling over his eyes.

Jungkook chuckles at Taehyung’s stark formality. “What’s up, man!” He slaps Taehyung’s hand casually. “Jeon Jungkook.”

Taehyung reeks of sophistication and has the most annoyingly gorgeous face. His boxy grin could charm the pants off anyone who was two feet from him. Hell, even Jungkook feels a little starstruck by him.

Though barely acquaintances, it doesn’t take long for Jungkook to realize they are on opposite ends of the same stick.

Taehyung comes from a wealthy upper-class family. They have four mansions plus a beach house. Every Christmas, he goes to Italy to visit his aunt and uncle. For his 18th birthday, Taehyung got a brand-new Corvette, red with black rims. Everyone wants to be him…everyone wants a piece of Kim Taehyung.

But underneath the surface of his flashy lifestyle is something oddly endearing. Jungkook can’t quite put his finger on it but as the night goes on, he enjoys the man’s company. Taehyung seems to latch onto him as well which shocks both of them to the core.

“Seriously hyung,” Jungkook slurrs. “I don’t know why you’re hanging around me this whole night when you could be getting off with one of the fifty girls who’ve come up to you. Are you playing it cool are you really a loner or something?”

Taehyung snatches the beer bottle from the younger’s hand. “That’s enough drinking for one night Jungkook. You’re about to pass out, I can tell.”

“I’ll decide when I’ve had enough.” Jungkook grabs the bottle back, taking a big slug before wiping his mouth off with his arm. “Something to know about me Taetae. I live by the work hard, play hard kinda philosophy.”

Taehyung cringes at the pet name but chalks it up to Jungkook being off his rocker. “That’s the type of philosophy that’s gotten my family to spend millions on useless crap. It’s fun for a while but it never lasts. I don’t recommend it Jungkook.”

Jungkook snorts. “So you are a loner huh? Because my parents have been stuck in the same loop for years. All work, no play. It’s caused them both to lose every hair on their head. Do you wanna lose your hair by the time you’re 45 Tae? I wouldn’t think so with those luscious locks of yours. Bet some chick would love to yank on them while–”

“I’m not a loner.” Taehyung interrupts, feeling a surge of embarrassment creep up his cheeks. He knows the looks people shot at him and while he didn’t entirely hate it, it always took more than it gave. All he wanted in those moments was to retreat into himself with his paints. Taehyung loved art and like many, found it therapeutic. “I’m not a loner,” he repeats. “I’m just not interested.”

“Sure you’re not buddy.” Jungkook gives a nod but remains largely unconvinced. “But you didn’t answer my question. Why you hanging around me? I’m not that cool ‘cause if I weren’t here, I’d be at the library right now with my nose in the books. Economics doesn’t slap all the time you know.”

Taehyung is silent for a moment before answering.

“I feel like a normal person with you," he starts. "Everyone looks at me like I’m some spoiled golden boy who they can get a free ticket of off if they talk sweet. And yeah, I’m aware of the advantages I’ve had…the struggles most people have that I don’t. But I’m still a real person that wants what most people do...purpose, belonging, someone that just gets them.”

Taehyung takes a breath before continuing.

"I really fucking love painting. It’s my heartbeat honest to god and I’m tired of being looked at as merely an object of someone’s unfulfilled wishes and desires. I like that I don’t need to worry about that with you. I think...we come from different backgrounds but we’re cut from the same cloth Jungkookie. Oh, are you-are you crying?”

“Fucking beautiful Taetae. You’re straight out of Vanity Fair you know that? I’m more of a Forbes magazine guy myself though.”

Taehyung throws Jungkook a puzzled look. Is he being condescending or is this just the booze talking?

“‘Cause I’m a small-town boy with great ambition, intelligence, and gall? We covered this earlier man, keep up!” Jungkook emphasizes his words, hands flying about.

“Right,” Taehyung joins in, recalling the conversation. “You’re father is an analyst for the city and your mom’s an accountant. They want you to get a job nearby after graduation but you don’t want to because–“

“Because it’s too small, boring, set in its traditional ways, and I for one am not fucking with it.” Jungkook sends Taehyung a lopsided grin. “You got a pretty good memory man. Maybe we can be friends after all.”

“I’m so glad,” Taehyung drawls, a slight trace of sarcasm. Jungkook doesn’t notice, however, too busy staring at the strobe lights dancing across the ceiling.

“Hey!” he suddenly pipes up, eyes wider than before. "What are you doing next Friday?”

“Uh, I don’t know. Why?”

“I got this boring family reunion to go to. Happens every year. I don’t wanna go but my parents force me to. You wanna come?”

Taehyung hesitates. “A family reunion? I know I said we’re cut from the same cloth, but we’re not…related Jungkook.”

“It’s fine, it’s fine. I’ll ask my parents if I can bring a friend. They won’t give a shit as long as I’m there. Also, I heard from my brother that Ha-Yun’s gonna be there.”

“And Ha-Yun is…?”

“Some girl that my parents want to set me up with. Family friend’s daughter. I went to high school with her.”

“So you think that if I’m there I can be your right-hand man or something? Make you look good in front of your future wife?”

“Fuck no. I’m hoping she’ll go to you instead.” Jungkook laughs when he sees the color draining from Taehyung’s face. “It’s nothing against her bro. She isn’t weird or anything. I say this lightly but, I just don’t wanna go out with her and she’s not my type.”

“I’ll think about clearing my schedule for this but I’m not being your meat on a stick,” Taehyung seethes. “But since we’re on this topic, what is your type?”

“Mm, not sure.” Jungkook shrugs. “Someone who’s unexpecting I guess. Like you shouldn’t be together because it's outside of the usual. But you can’t help it. You gotta have this person or it’s over. What about you?”

“Easy,” Taehyung mutters. “I like artists.”

“Artists huh? Like you? Well, I guess I can understand.” Jungkook smirks before leaning his head back against the couch. “One day, I’ll find an artist for you Tae. I promise.”

Oh, the irony.

present

“Jungkook, stop! I need to get up.” You struggle in his arms, biting back a grin. Jungkook has you in a locked position. His hard chest presses close against your back and his leg hugs your body.

“Mm,” he groans. “It’s not time yet.”

“Yes, it is. Also, you’re nearly suffocating me.”You wiggle your body but to no avail. Your husband always tends to get needier as the school year approaches.

"I just don't want you out of my arms yet. Is that a crime now?"

No. No it's not, you sigh to yourself. By this time next week, you’ll be waking up to an empty bed. "Okay." You glance at the alarm clock. "Ten minutes and then I really need to get ready for work."

"Fifteen," Jungkook mumbles.

"Twelve."

"Thirteen."

"No. It's twelve or I'm going now." Jungkook gives a cute grunt and tightens his grip. He really doesn't want you to leave this morning.

"Fine," he says. "Twelve. But we're snuggling again tonight."

"Jungkook. Can't. Breathe." Being spooned by your husband is nice but this isn't spooning anymore. He's completely cacooning himself over you. As soon you feel him shift his weight off you, hand loosening from your waist, your ribs hum in relief.

After what seems like three minutes of complete silence you decide to bite the bullet and ask the question that's been on your mind for the last couple of days.

"Um Jungkook?"

"Yeah?"

"When we went to get ice cream the other night. There was something that happened...to you." You're uneasy bringing it up but you can't shake your concern. When Jungkook saw the little girl with her dad, he went into a bit of a trance. He didn't talk, didn't move, and was pretty numb to your presence all together.

"Oh god," Jungkook groans. "I was hoping you didn't notice but you're my wife so I guess it's fine."

Crap. Was this a sore subject for him? You twist your head over your shoulder, just enough for your ear to be near his lips. You're in high alert now. "Why weren't you hoping I noticed?"

"Isn't it obvious? It's embarrassing." Jungkook smacks his lips before continuing. "But do we really have to talk about it? Spilling ice cream on my shirt at 34 isn't something I really wanna relive through early morning conversations."

Oh he thinks....of course he thinks that's what you're refering to.

"I'm not talking about you being clumsy Jungkook. I'm talking about the little girl with the ribbons. When she was with her dad, you kinda went a little frozen."

Jungkook doesn't reply immediately so you prod him a little. "I just wanna know if everything was alright. I suppose with our current situation I get it if it hit you in a sort of way. Good or bad, whatever the feeling was, you can tell–"

"They seemed happy is all," he croaks, voice dropping an octave. "The kind of happy that makes someone's entire soul stop, I guess. Like they had something special that no one else could. Does that make sense?"

If you look down you think you'll see goosebumps. The words coming from your husband's mouth are, at most, mumbles but they aren't coming from a place of unease or hesitation. Instead they allude to something warm, wholesome, and new.

"Yeah of course, it makes perfect sense. I had a similar experience when I met Si-woo. The way his face light up when he saw his mom comforted me but I felt envious too. Is that wrong of me?"

"Not at all. I think it's a natural response when you see something you want but don't currently have. You know, there was one thing that popped in my thoughts while I watched that father and his daughter..."

"Hm?"

"I thought, maybe I'll be happy too. If we actually have a kid, we'll be happy together like them or something." Yawning, he continues. "I dunno, honey. Kinda sleepy still so if I fall asleep I love you and I hope work goes well. But we can keep talking if you want."

You untuck your hand from under your head and close it over your husband's arm; the one draped around your waist.

Hope. Real hope.

"Dammit why won't you open?!" Jungkook bangs the jar on the side of the kitchen counter. He's been trying to get it open for the last five minutes. With you at work, it's his turn to prepare dinner.

"Take a breath kid," Yoongi says from the other line of the phone.

Jungkook ignores him of course, continuing beat the shit out of the jar in his hand. "I hate you, I hate you, I hate you. You stupid jar!"

"Kid!" Yoongi tries again, this time grumbling. "Stop doing that and go get a butter knife or something to hit the side of the lid with. It'll pop right off and I won't sue you for making me go deaf."

"Hyung–"

"Oh I thought you didn't call anyone that anymore. Now that you're a real boy and all. With big boy things." Jungkook shakes his head, hearing the older man snort through the speaker.

"You been talking to Taehyung?" That big mouth, he's become as bad as Jimin. What happened to the more reserved Tae he met in undergrad. He likes him better than this new, cocky mf.

"He may have slipped out a thing or two. But I'm glad to see you're still scared shitless of me that you'll keep calling me hyung."

Jungkook slams the jar on the counter, having enough. "Why the fuck did you call hyung? Can't you tell I'm a little busy right now."

Yoongi chuckles. "Alright I'll stop picking on you. I need a favor. The wife and I want to go out just the two of this weekend. I know you got your professor duties starting but would you and __ be willing to look after our gremlins for a couple hours Saturday?"

"Uh–I'm gonna have to talk to __ about this but maybe?" You and him have babysat for Yoongi's twins a handful of times before. They get a little rowdy but it's been mostly fine. Jungkook's not sure if either of you have the energy or time this weekend though. "I thought you usually got a babysitter."

"Yeah, usually but they're unable to this weekend. I'm hoping this time the babysitter will be you and __. We won't be long but we'd really appreciate it if you guys could do this for us. Could you maybe let me know by Thursday if you can?" Yoongi waits for an answer.

"Yeah alright," Jungkook finally responds. "I'll talk to __ about it when she gets home. No promises though." Jungkook wipes the sweat from his brow. It was a little hot in the kitchen. "Listen Yoongi, I gotta get back to prepping dinner but thanks for that tip about opening the–"

"Jungkook! Hello?" A familiar but muffled voice hollers from the front door. "Are you home?" The door bell is pressed continually without rest.

"Uh my ears," Yoongi pipes. "Who the hell is at your door?"

Jungkook walks towards the front of the house, peaking out the window. What the fuck are those two doing here? "Damn it, I gotta go hyung. My parents have decided to pay an unexpected visit." Before Yoongi has time to reply, Jungkook ends the call.

fuckfuckfuckfuck, he repeats under his breath. Could they not have called beforehand? It's a friggen' ten hour drive. Did someone die or something? Why are they here?

"We can hear you Kookie," Jungkook's mother coos in a sing-songy tone. "No one died. We just wanted to see you and __."

Jungkook opens the front door, not even caring if his face shows he's pissed off. "Mother it'd be nicer if you, I don't know. Planned these things?!"

"I told you," Jungkook's father grippes. "I told you woman, didn't I? We should have called. You never listen to me!"

"Oh shut up you goat," Jungkook's mother pushes her way through the door and into the house. "My son loves me and he's happy to see me." She wraps her arms around Jungkook's waist and presses her cheek against his arm.

"Yeah," his father steps in the house. "He's just jumping with joy with that silly apron on. C'mon, he was obviously in the middle of something. Ugh I'm sorry son. Your mother is, well, you know how she is." He slips out of his shoes and shuffles to the kitchen. "Whatcha cooking anyway? Something good I bet."

Jungkook rubs his face in agitation. __ is not gonna like coming home to his parents running around the house.

"You're not mad at me are you?" His mother lifts her chin, big doe eyes just like his own. "We just missed you and we figured you'll be busy with teaching soon so...we just decided to drive down last night."

Trying to smile, Jungkook brings his arm around her. "No, no I'm not mad. I'm glad to see you and __ will be too."

"Jungkook, why the hell are your parents here?" You force yourself to keep a low voice. Your in-laws were steps away and they had the sharpest pair of ears you knew. You didn't want them to hear a single beat.

Your husband pulls at his hair, pacing small circles around the bedroom. "Trust me, I didn't invite them. They just showed up. I don't even know why they're here besides they just wanted to. I'm really sorry."

You yank your silk blouse over your head, tossing it in the hamper. "I love your parents but you're gonna need to tell them this can't be happening." You change into a basic t-shirt and jeans. "I know they're probably a little lonely with you and your brother so far away but I'd be a far better host with some pre-warnings."

"I know. Mom's just so-" Jungkook pauses, scratching his head. "Persistant...and dad will do whatever she wants."

"Look I get it. Saying no is hard when they just want to see us. But what if we had something going on tonight?"

"You're right, you're right," he sighs. "I'll try bringing it up to them."

"Anything else new happen while I was gone?" You mean it as a joke. You really do. Jungkook gives you a look that says yes though. Excellent.

"Well, uh...Yoongi hyung asked if we could babysit Saturday. Him and the Mrs want to go out but thier regular babysitter isn't available that night."

Groaning, your shoulders slope down. "Wha–uh at this rate why the hell not? I was just looking for more things to do."

"Honey," Jungkook makes his way over to you. "We don't have to if–"

"You guys still in there?!" Jungkook's mother intrudes, pounding on the door. "You better not be having coitus! Though grandchildren would be nice if that were to ever be in the cards."

"Coitus?" You mouth silently. Jungkook's parents were a little old fashioned sure but who the heck still says coitus?

"We'll be out in a second. Can you and dad set the table?" Jungkook responds, girmacing at his mothers word choice.

"Okay but wrap it up in there. I'm only here for two days. I wanna see my beautiful daughter in-law!"

You and Jungkook immediately exchange a slack-jawed expression. "What?" With the door thrown open, your husband's eyeborws furrow. "Mom you can't be serious."

"Oh don't look so worried!" The older woman lets out a restrained chuckle. "We're not gonna stay in the house with you or anything. We got a hotel. But ten hours is a long drive and I really wanted to see you. Your father and I don't hear from you often and you didn't come to the last family reunion. What do you expect us to do? Just not see our son?"

"Please don't say it like that Mom," Jungkook combs his fingers through his hair, teeth grinding together. "You know that __ and I are–"

"Always happy to see you!" You rush next to your husband who's startled by your sudden change in demeanor. "Jungkook's just been a little anxious about returning to the university. But we'd love to spend a couple to days with you and dad. Let's start with dinner!"

You usher everyone down the hall and towards the dining room. Jungkook's mother is filled to the brim with joy while your husband slightly, actually very, concerned.

A/N: Apologies for any editing errors! Also close to adding some spicy stuff but we gonna wait on that a little longer 😉 Lmk what you think and if you wanna join taglist comment or send an ask. Thanks!! 😙💗

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#bangtanbathhouse #jungkook smut #jungkook fluff #jungkook x reader #jungkook angst #bts smut #bts x reader #bts imagines #bts fanfic #bts au #fic:toolatetodream #kookslastbutton

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katyawriteswhump · 11 months ago

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Freestyle love (Steddie holiday drabble)

Written for @steddieholidaydrabbles, day 22 prompt, Sports AU.

Nobody ever wanted Eddie Munson on their swim squad, and uni competition was no different. Until Steve Harrington decided to play by the rules.

WC: 966. Rating: T.

CW: none really. Tags: Enemies to lovers, whump, university/college AU.

***

"Munson's freestyle times smash half the teams.'" Steve pushed his wet hair from his eyes, double-checked the stopwatch. “He’s in."

"That science geek pond-scum?” asked Steve's swim co-captain, standing with him beside the pool. "No way. You read the numbers backwards again, Harrington?"

"Shut up. I’m calling this one."

When Steve broke the news, Munson pulled off his swim-cap and a mass of dark, damp hair tumbled out. “One of your teammates said my tats automatically disqualify me,” said Munson.

“That’s bullshit.” Steve actually found Munson’s freaky tattoos bizarrely compelling. Oh, and the body beneath—all lean rope-like muscle, not massive shoulders, but a decent swimmer’s physique. “We need you. You beat most of the sports scholarship guys.”

“I know.” Munson shrugged. “And you can take my place on your dumb squad and stuff it up their buttholes.”

“What the heck, man? Why did you trial, if you don’t want in?”

“To show you over-privileged frat-house dicks you ain’t special. I qualify every year—you’re just the first knucklehead to notice. Anyhooo.” He poked his tongue out stupidly. Steve planted his hands on his hips and couldn’t glare harder. “I’m off to Who Soc.”

“What Soc?”

Munson’s shoulder clipped Steve’s as he passed—possibly an accident, but he nearly toppled Steve into the pool.

“Screw you, man! Crawl back to your den of Satanist freaks, like I care.”

“Yeah?” Munson poked out his tongue again, wiggled his fingers. “Hexing you, Harrington. Oooooh, bet you’re pissing yourself.”

***

Eddie had simply been getting one back for the little guys, against all those over-pumped numbskulls.

He still felt bad when he heard what happened at the inter-state semis—some moron dived into the pool on top of Harrington in the shallow end, breaking his leg.

It bugged Eddie. So much he wound up visiting Steve at the hospital.

When Eddie sidled into Steve’s room, Steve’s pale face—peeking from behind his plastered leg in traction—said it all: What the heck?

“Hey,” mumbled Eddie. “Guess I’m the last person you expected.”

“On my list of expected visitors, you were somewhere below Elvis.” Harrington seemed pissed. Also genuinely bewildered.

He was still sexy as hell.

Especially now Eddie couldn’t find it in his cold, metal-loving heart to hate the guy. Mmmm, and was it kinda wrong to wanna lick those well-muscled arms, and picture him shirtless… even when Harrington glowered at him from a hospital bed?

Eddie raised his palms in half-hearted surrender. “I owe you an explanation. I’ve been doing swim trials since Middle School. My time is always good—the place I grew up in was right by a lake—yet nobody ever gave me my place on the squad before. This face never fits.” He gurned a silly grin. “Then you went and flew in the face of all the laws in the universe and offered me ‘in.’ I guess it... blew me away.”

“I was only following the goddamn rules.” Steve grumpily puffed his flatter-than-usual hair from his eyes.

“Yeah, and I was a dick, and the Hex thing was dumb. I didn’t really… you know…”

“I don’t blame you for my stupid accident.” Steve rolled his eyes. “Contrary to popular opinion, I'm not a complete moron. I'm scraping a pass in English Lit, okay?” As the atmosphere softened, Eddie shuffled nearer Steve’s bed. “Good job. Who's gonna keep me here on a sports scholarship now?”

“Sorry, man.”

“Jesus, it’s not your fault!” Up close, Harrington looked exhausted, possibly even in pain, with dark smudgy shadows around his eyes. “You know, you can do something to make this less shit.”

Eddie’s heart squeezed oddly—gratefully? “What?”

“Take my place in the squad.” Steve mumbled toward hands clasped in his lap. “I recorded your times, made it official. The place is yours to claim. I'd tell the team myself… if any of them came to visit.”

“You’re kidding?”

“Nobody’s got time for a swim co-captain who’ll never swim competitively again.”

A lump clogged Eddie’s throat. Harrington’s face worked strangely, too… Shit, shit, shit! Eddie reached out, tentatively squeezed Steve’s shoulder. Steve looked up sharply, eyes large and liquid. Damn, the boy was tense.

“That stinks,” said Eddie.

“Yeeeah.” Steve’s laugh was shaky, while Eddie’s mind raced:

“Dude, I’m in a ton of non-sports societies. D & D, model-making, Who Soc… Uh, maybe not that one for you. I can bring a few of the guys and gals here, see if you get into anything.”

“I don’t need YOU to find me friends.” Harrington’s spikiness proved short-lived. He unleashed a resigned sigh: “Look, man, I’m not exactly in the mood for parties, but… If you wanna come back… that would be cool.”

Suddenly, neither of them could look at each other. Eddie’s face was burning. Could he actually be into me?

“Tho’ if you’re not fresh from swim practice when you arrive, I’m not interested, Munson.”

Eddie hooted: “You blackmailing me?”

“I can play dirty, ya know, buck expectations, too.” Steve went in for the kill. He smiled up at Eddie, a proper, hot-as-hell smile, which reached his too-pretty brown eyes.

Is he hitting on me?!? Eddie gawked like a goldfish.

“See you tomorrow?”

***

On the day of the national finals, Steve watched from the stands. When Eddie slammed home for victory on the final leg of the freestyle relay, Steve was on his feet—okay, propped by his crutches—cheering his head off.

As soon as Eddie could get away, he clambered, wet and dripping, through to the rear of the stands and planted an even wetter kiss on Steve's lips. Steve threw his arms around his boyfriend. It was great to finally be with somebody to whom only the real things in life mattered.

"Love you, Champ," he whispered in Eddie’s ear.

"Love you, too." Eddie kissed him again.

Victory had never felt so hot.

***

Thanks for reading :) Also part of my steve whump fic series (mainly steddie) on ao3

#steddieholidaydrabbles #steve x eddie #steddie #steddie fic #steve harrington whump #steve harrington x eddie munson #steddie fanfic #stranger things fanfic

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jerzwriter · 4 months ago

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Kaycee reflects on how life turned out exactly as she imagined it and how it didn't when she and Ethan dropped their daughter off at college for the first time. When they leave, they know their journey will lead them back to Boston, but will it lead them home?

Book: Open Heart Pairing: Ethan x Kaycee (Past) Rating: Teen Words: 3,800 (sorry!) Summary: Please see above. A/N: This really took on a life of its own! @tessa-liam asked for two prompts from this list, and I merged it in with an anonymous ask from the same list. The three prompts are highlighted below, and they made for an angsty story! I hope you enjoy it!

This is not part of my HC - but a one-off, one-shot.

Participating in @julychallenge Pink: Love, Black: Loss.

Kaycee raised a cup of hot chocolate to her lips and smiled. It didn’t matter that she was now in her forties; she’d always prefer its silky, sweet taste more than coffee, and she didn’t care who knew it.

Sitting in the passenger seat of Ethan's parked car, she closed her eyes to listen to the sound of a gentle breeze rustling through the leaves outside; the moment felt almost perfect. It was exactly the day she had envisioned when she imagined dropping Emma off for her first semester of college. But as quickly as the thought entered her mind, she heard Ethan’s voice and was reminded – it wasn’t exactly as she had planned.

She stepped out of the car as they walked down a tree-lined path toward the car, Ethan’s arm wrapped protectively around their daughter’s shoulder.

“Now remember, you do not go out alone at night, no matter what. Wait for your roommate, another friend, or call campus security.”

"Yes, Dad," Emma said rolling her eyes. "You seem to forget I grew up in Boston – I have street smarts, Dad.”

The young woman looked to her mother, desperate for a save, and Kaycee reached out to embrace Emma one last time.

“Ethan, I don’t want to leave her either, but it’s getting dark, and it’s a long ride back to Boston.”

Ethan smiled tenderly as he stared at his “little girl.”

“It’s funny. I always imagined it would be me dragging you away, not the other way around.”

“Well,” Kaycee smiled curtly, “life has a way of surprising us.”

It had already been three years. Three years since their assets were divided, custody was determined, and with the scribbling of two signatures on a lifeless document, a marriage of almost twenty years came to an end. They’d come a long way since that painful day. Being in each other’s presence no longer elicited queasiness. The sight of each other didn't lead to dampened eyes or a feeling of guilt that consumed them. Still, it wasn’t easy. But today, they did what they always did best – they showed up for their daughter.

It was a two-hour drive from Boston to Hanover, New Hampshire. Ethan had hoped she’d pick his alma mater, Brown, where she’d only be 52 minutes away. But Kaycee reminded him that Emma’s top pick was originally UCLA. All things considered, Dartmouth wasn’t that far. But when Emma asked if they could all drive her to campus together, that two-hour journey suddenly felt much longer.

They were all surprised at how pleasant the ride up had been. Emma was a ball of nervous energy and chattering non-stop. The joy of heading off to college was mixed with the fear of being away from both her parents for the first time was familiar to her parents, and they both offered reassurance. They marveled over how it felt like it wasn’t so long ago that they were off to college – beginning their adult lives – at the starting line of all their dreams. They hoped Emma would realize as many of hers as they had, but they hoped other dreams would have happier endings than theirs.

“...and I’m thinking I might double major,” she said without taking a breath. “Because Poli Sci is what I want to do... that’s my passion... but if I want to get into a top-tier law school, I think double majoring in English would be beneficial.”

“Sweetheart,” Kaycee smiled from the backseat. “Why don’t you get through your first semester? Then you can make that call.”

Ethan shook his head with a gentle chuckle. “Can someone tell me how a child with two parents who are renowned in the medical field is hell-bent on becoming a lawyer?”

“Dad,” Emma exasperated. “You always told me to pursue whatever I wanted to...”

“And I meant it,” he interrupted. “But you have to admit, this was unexpected.”

They arrived on campus and unpacked Ethan’s Porche Cayenne – the SUV Kaycee insisted was his mid-life crisis, even though he had already passed that point when he bought it. They could have left as soon as all the boxes were in the dorm room, but they refused to leave until her new bedspread was in place, the matching curtains hung, and little fairy lights twinkled around the perimeter of the room.

With no excuses to stay left, Kaycee turned to her daughter, her voice cracking with emotion. “Well, I guess this is it.”

“Mom!” Emma scolded. “We said no crying.”

“I know. But my baby’s all grown up. I’m entitled to a tear or two.”

The mother and daughter were wrapped in a hug when Ethan returned to the room holding a cardboard tray with two cups of coffee and one hot chocolate – he was elated that his daughter had his refined tastes in hot beverages.

“What did I miss here?” He asked.

“Mom’s starting to get weepy,” Emma smirked.

Kaycee wiped a tear from the corner of her eye. “Just finishing our goodbyes,” she said. “I’ll go to the car to give you two some privacy.”

“You don’t have to leave...” Ethan started, but when he realized his ex-wife was about to burst into the tears she had promised Emma she’d hold back, he understood. “Fine,” he said, handing her his keys. “Why don't you wait in the car?”

Kaycee adjusted the passenger seat, admiring the soft leather. Ethan had always preferred to drive, and she’d spent a good portion of her life sitting beside him, but it was the first time she sat in this car, purchased right after their divorce. Remembering a life now lost was already difficult, but her mind rushed to places she had no desire to go.

Ethan had never been forthcoming about his relationships since their split. Of course, she had heard the rumors... some said he was dating the new Director of Nursing, others swore he and Harper had rekindled their old flame. But she never asked Ethan about them; it wasn’t her place. Their conversations revolved around Emma, and that’s how she kept it. Still, as she sat in a seat she once coveted, she couldn’t help but wonder if others now filled that space.

The sound of the driver’s door opening quickly ushered her back to reality, and she was grateful she could blame her tear-filled eyes on Emma.

Ethan turned to her with a tender smile that Kaycee hadn’t seen in some time. “She’s going to be OK," he reassured.

“Oh, I have no doubt about that,” she replied, dabbing her eyes. “It’s me that I’m worried about.”

Ethan had to chuckle. “I know that feeling quite well.”

An awkward silence fell between them. At another time, they would have hugged and offered each other assurances. He would have told her their new chapter was beginning, too. They could focus on the dreams they had planned together, but now, he just fumbled to find a classical music playlist as he started the drive.

“Thank you for agreeing to drive up together,” he finally spoke.

“Of course. Emma wanted both of us here. I’d never deny her that.”

“No, but if I’m being honest, I half expected you to tell me you were taking a Greyhound on the return trip home.”

A slow smile spread on her lips, and she confessed. “I did price them.”

“I bet you did,” he laughed.

The conversation turned to the other comfortable topic between them: Medicine. He lauded her recent article in the New England Journal of Medicine, and he told her when he planned to retire. Kaycee reminded him that Emma embracing law wasn’t too odd; after all, it had been her second career choice, too. He quickly reminded her that he remembered. He remembered more than she knew.

They drove for about an hour when a pinging sound began getting louder and louder. Kaycee tried not to chuckle when the expensive car came to a halt, knowing her trusty old Toyota would have never stranded them like this. Ethan looked under the hood, then returned to the car with a sigh.

“Tripple A will be here shortly,” he informed. “There’s a Porche dealer a few miles away, but of course, they’re closed until the morning.”

“Of course,” she half grinned.

Ethan turned to her with a smirk, and she couldn’t decide if it was one of annoyance or amusement, so she decided to believe it was a little of both.

“Are you enjoying this?” He said sarcastically.

“I always told you that simple was better when it came to cars. There’s no need for the expensive bells and whistles.”

“Yeah,” He chuckled sadly. “You told me a lot of things.”

“I’d tell you what Greyhound could get us back to Boston, but the last one left forty minutes ago... “

“Yep! I think we’re stranded here for the night, too. Not just my car.”

When the Tripple A driver arrived, Ethan and Kaycee hopped into the cab of his tow truck.

“There is a hotel nearby,” the man said. “I’m happy to bring you there. But there might not be any vacancy. A lot of local colleges are welcoming students this weekend, and a lot of parents who aren’t letting go stay nearby.”

“Yeah,” Kaycee barked out a laugh. “We’re familiar with that!"

“Oh, I see,” the man grinned. “You’re those parents. Well, as someone who has been through this, I can tell you it gets easier. Just think of it as the start of your second honeymoon.”

“Oh, no, we’re not...” Kaycee started but decided to skip it as they pulled up to a Comfort Inn. “You know, never mind.”

“This is the only place around here,” the driver informed. “If you can get a ride, there are more places about twenty miles down the road.”

Ethan looked at his watch. “The vacancy light is on, and it’s been a long day. This will do just fine.”

Kaycee ran to the restroom in the lobby while Ethan went to the front desk to secure rooms. When she stepped back out, she saw him grimace.

“Before I tell the desk clerk yes, are you sure you don't want to get an Uber to another hotel?”

Kaycee scrunched her nose. “An Uber in these parts? At this time of night? Unlikely. What’s the matter,” she chuckled. “Did you check the reviews and find out it’s not a five-star rating?”

“No, wiseass,” he smiled, enjoying the banter that used to be part of his daily life. “The problem is, they only have one room left.”

“Oh,” Kaycee said with a fallen face.

“Exactly.”

“Well,” she laughed nervously. “We’ve round ourselves in this position before, haven’t we?”

Both their minds drifted to the conference in Miami during Kaycee’s intern year.

“Yes,” Ethan replied. “But that was a long time ago in a galaxy far, far away.”

“Ethan,” Kaycee shrugged. “We’ve been in each other’s lives for decades. We have a child together. We can share a room for one night unless...”

Unless there is someone in your life who would prefer you didn’t, she thought as Ethan asked her to continue.

“Uhm, never mind. We’ll be fine for one night.”

The walk to their room was peppered with small talk in an attempt to break the tension. But they were both so tired that they really didn’t care. They’d fall asleep, wake up, and find a way home. Everything would be back to normal. That's what they thought until Ethan opened the door.

“There’s only one bed?” Kaycee gasped.

“The front desk said there were two queen-sized beds!” Ethan insisted.

“Well, by my calculations, there is only ONE.”

“Obviously, they were wrong.”

“Noooo!” Kaycee mocked to Ethan’s chagrin. He looked around the tiny room; the only other furniture was an uncomfortable looking chair and desk.

“I’ll sleep in the chair,” he declared.

“Don’t be ridiculous!” Kaycee insisted. “Ethan, it’s not like we haven’t slept in the same bed before.”

“Yeah... that was the norm for us... until that... changed.”

They exchanged an uneasy look, and both understood the best thing to do was go to sleep quickly. After kicking off their shoes, they both lay perched on the edge of the mattress, facing away from the other. Though they weren’t touching each other at all, their presence was obvious, and as exhausted as they were, suddenly, neither could sleep.

“Kaycee, are you still awake?” Ethan whispered.

“Yes.”

“How is our little girl already in college?”

“I don’t know,” she said sadly. “The years just flew by. And it’s odd because some of those days and weeks felt like an eternity, but I turned around twice...” she audibly gulped. “... and they were gone.”

The room went silent; all Kaycee could hear was her ex-husband's breathing. “So many precious days,” he lamented. “I know I haven’t thanked you enough."

“Me?” a startled Kaycee replied.

“You’re the only one here,” he chuckled. "Emma is a remarkable young woman, and I’m not just saying that because she’s my daughter."

“I know she is,” Kaycee laughed, rolling on her side to face Ethan, who had already turned her way.

“Well, that’s in large part because of you, and I should thank you more often.”

“You’re just as responsible,” Kaycee insisted. “You’re an amazing father, Ethan. You always were.”

He fell silent, hoping the darkness of the room would prevent Kaycee from seeing the emotion in his eyes, though there was no way to conceal it in his voice. If I had been an amazing father, I wouldn’t have let our family end. If I had been an amazing father, I would have fought harder for us to work, he thought, but all that came out was a broken.

“Thank you. You know, when you walked into Edenbrook all those years ago, I had no idea how much my life was about to change,” he smiled as Kaycee shifted uncomfortably.

“Ethan... it’s probably best if we don’t talk about this. I think we should just....”

With that, the lights flicked on, and Ethan was sitting upright.

“Why not?” he asked. “Not making time to talk is where everything started to go wrong for us.”

“It was,” she concurred. “But the time to fix that passed a long time ago. The ink on our divorce papers is long dry, Ethan. This isn't how it works.”

“It can work anyway we want it to,” he countered. “Kaycee, we may not be together anymore, but that doesn’t mean we can’t be a part of each other’s lives.”

“We’ll always be a part of each other’s lives. We have Emma.”

“I don’t mean because of Emma. I want you to be a part of my life because, with the exception of our daughter, you've been the single most important person in my life. For the past three years, I’ve felt like a stranger in my own soul without you. I miss hearing your voice. I miss your laugh. When I have exciting news, you're the only one I want to tell it to. I want you to be more than the person I arrange drop-offs with, and now that Emma is grown, we won’t even have that.”

“Are you telling me you want to be friends? She asked.

No. I don’t want to be friends. I want us to be so much more, and I wish I had the nerve to say it.

“Ethan,” she repeated after an extended silence. She saw the tears glistening in his eyes as he reached over and pushed a strand of hair away from her face.

“Friends.... or something,” he choked.

Kaycee’s head fell into her hands, partly because she was tired, partly because she was trying not to cry.

“Ethan, where did it all go wrong?”

Their minds drifted back in time to the days of trying to manage two busy careers with the needs of their child, long days filled with demands, exhaustion, and the feeling that they could never get it right. Sometimes, they fought; sometimes, they held it all in. Sometimes they turned the guilt inward... they weren’t good enough, they were failing, they should be better at this... and sometimes, they projected it onto the other... "You never...", "You used to...", "I can't believe you..." In time, they learned being alone isn't the worst feeling in the world, being in a relationship, but feeling alone was, and when the loneliness became too much to bear, they decided it should end.

“Why did we let it go?" Kaycee sniffled. “There was no affair, no hatred, even our fights weren’t all that bad. Our marriage was like a boat, just drifting away as we watched, and neither of us thought enough to help it change its course.”

“We were focused on work,” Ethan sighed with regret. “Focused on Emma. Then we had elderly parents to care for... it took so much of our time that in the end, we forgot to focus on each other.”

“But we knew what we had was special. Why the hell didn’t we fight for it!”

“You wanted to,” Ethan whispered. “You wanted to. I... I blame myself.”

“Ethan, you weren’t the only one responsible for our marriage ending.”

“I’m the one who stormed out of counseling, telling the counselor that it was absolutely useless. I’m the one who began to withdraw. You begged me to try.”

Feelings they believed to be long buried began to rise to the surface again, and the pain was as raw as it had ever been.

“You withdrew... but I never asked you why you did. I let my imagination get the better of me and...”

“And?”

“Did you stop loving me?” She asked, tears now streaming down her cheeks.

“No!” Ethan gasped. “Oh, God no, I never once stopped loving you.”

“I allowed myself to believe that you did,” she said, wiping her nose with her sleeve. “I felt like an obligation... like if we didn't have a piece of paper decreeing that we had to be together, you'd be long gone. And I swore I’d never be in a marriage like that.”

“Why didn’t you tell me that?”

“I thought I did,” Kaycee replied. “Maybe not with words, but with actions. I tried to give signs, but..."

“Kaycee, I never learned to read your mind.”

“I know that... and that’s why I’m as responsible as you for letting our marriage die.”

“I wish I would have fought harder,” Ethan wept as Kaycee’s floodgates opened.

“Me too,” she shuddered. “Me too.”

Ethan instinctively reached for her hand, surprised when Kaycee fell into his arms. His arms encircled her and held her close. Both were overwhelmed by the warmth and familiarity, a feeling of comfort from a time long gone when they were each other’s port in a storm. When they were each other's home.

“I’m sorry,” Ethan cried. “I’m sorry I let it end.”

“I’m sorry, too,” Kaycee cried into his shirt. Ethan went to pull away, but she refused to let him go.

“Please... can you hold me just a little longer?"

“Of course,” he whispered, resting his head on hers as she nuzzled into his shoulder.

Comforted by his touch, Kaycee fell into a deep sleep and slept better than she had in a long time. But Ethan found no such relief; he remained awake all night, never letting her out of his arms until he got up in the early morning hours.

The sun was shining through the window, and Ethan was seated at the desk with an abysmal cup of coffee in hand when Kaycee woke up with a startle.

“Hey, are you OK?” he asked, as she groggily nodded. He moved to the edge of the bed and sat beside her. “What’s the matter?”

“Nothing... you’re here,” she replied.

“Did you forget? The car broke down, we had to stay here, there was only one room...”

“No... no,” Kaycee stopped him. “I remember all that. I just had a bad dream. I dreamt that you left me during the night, and I woke up alone.”

“Well, you made sure I couldn’t do that, even if I had wanted to,” he smiled. “You basically slept on top of me all night.”

“I did!”

“You did," he smiled. "Did you at least sleep well?"

“Like a baby – and you?”

“I slept OK,” he fibbed, pointing to the paper cup on the desk. “That cup of swill parading as coffee should help wake me up a little more.”

“Yeah,” she laughed. “I think I’ll make myself a cup, too. If you have to suffer through it, I should, too.”

She flung her legs over the side of the bed, but Ethan grabbed her hand and pulled her back to the mattress.

“Kaycee, I have to tell you something before I lose my nerve.”

A line formed between her brows. “What... what is it?”

“I need to tell you what I should have said three years ago. That I’m sorry. I took us for granted and allowed life to come between us, which was so foolish because you... you were my life. I've felt like a stranger wandering in a strange land where he no longer belongs for the past three years. See, I love you, Kaycee. I never stopped, and the biggest regret of my life is that I let you go. So, I know the answer is probably no, maybe you'll think I’m crazy, and I could be... but is there a chance... any possibility that you and I could try again. If we can, I promise, I'll get it right this time."

He sat in nervous anticipation in every silent moment that followed. Kaycee’s eyes were wide, and her lip trembled, but he wasn’t sure why. It was taking too long. It was taking too long, and he braced himself for rejection... the rejection he now realized that he had feared so desperately that he found it easier to let her go. But it only took a moment for all that to change.

Kaycee threw her arms around his neck, holding him tight as she peppered him with kisses and pushed him back on the bed. Her lips found his, and they came together; their hearts raced as it deepened, their hands caressing the curves they still knew by heart. At long last, they were home.

“I’ll take that as a yes,” he smiled breathlessly.

“What gave it away?” she giggled, kissing him again. “But we have to take it slow. You’re the love of my life, and I want this to work more than anything, but we have to think of Emma. The divorce was hard on her, and we can’t let her know about this until we’re sure... 100% sure... that we’re forever.”

“I agree,” he smiled, his hands running through her hair. “You take all the time you need, but I know... if you’ll have me... this is forever. I don’t want to know a day without you again.”

“Can I have a week or two?" she grinned.

“As long as I can see you during every one of those days.”

After another lengthy kiss, Ethan reached for the hotel phone.

“What are you doing?” Kaycee asked.

“Calling the front desk.”

“Why?”

“Because check out is in a half hour, and we’re going to need this room longer.”

"Are we," she grinned. "I'm not on the schedule tomorrow; what about you?"

“Me?" Ethan beamed. "I’ll be calling out.”

"Good," Kaycee smiled, "Because we're going to need this room for another night."

@choicesficwriterscreations @openheartfanfics

Tagging others separately.

#open heart #open heart fanfic #open heart choices #choices open heart #ethan ramsey #ethan ramsey x f!mc #ethan x kaycee #playchoices #playchoices fanfic #choices stories you play #choices fanfic #one bed prompts

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dreaminginthedeepsouth · 4 months ago

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LETTERS FROM AN AMERICAN

August 6, 2024

Heather Cox Richardson

Aug 07, 2024

Today Vice President Kamala Harris named her choice for her vice presidential running mate: Governor Tim Walz of Minnesota. Walz grew up in rural Nebraska. He enlisted in the Army National Guard when he was 17 and served for 24 years, retiring in 2005 as a command sergeant major, making him the highest-ranking enlisted soldier ever to serve in Congress, according to the House Committee on Veterans’ Affairs.

He went to college with the educational benefits afforded him by the Army, and graduated from Chadron (Nebraska) State College. From 1989 to 1990, he taught at a high school in China, then became a social studies teacher in Alliance, Nebraska, where he met fellow teacher Gwen Whipple, who became his wife. They moved to Minnesota, where they both continued teaching and had two children, Hope and Gus, through IVF.

Walz became the faculty advisor for the school’s gay-straight alliance organization at the same time that he coached the high-school football team from a 0–27 record to a state championship. The advisor “really needed to be the football coach, who was the soldier and was straight and was married," Walz said in 2018.

Walz ran for Congress in 2005 after some of his students were asked to leave a rally for George W. Bush because one of them had a sticker for Democratic presidential nominee John Kerry. Walz won and served in Congress for twelve years, sitting on the House Agriculture Committee, the Transportation and Infrastructure Committee, and the Committee on Veterans’ Affairs.

Voters elected Walz to the Minnesota state house in 2018, and in his second term they gave him a slim majority in the state legislature. With that support, Walz signed into law protections for abortion rights, supported gender-affirming care, and legalized the recreational use of marijuana. He signed into law gun safety legislation and protections for voting rights, and pushed for action to combat climate change and to promote renewable energy.

Strong tax revenues and spending cuts gave the state a $17.6 billion surplus, and the Democrats under Walz used the money not to cut taxes, as Republicans wanted, but to invest in education, fund free breakfast and lunch for schoolchildren, make tuition free at the state’s public colleges for students whose families earned less than $80,000 a year, and invest in paid family and medical leave and health insurance coverage regardless of immigration status.

While MAGA Republicans are already trying to define Walz as “far left,” his votes in Congress put him pretty squarely in the middle. His work with Lieutenant Governor Peggy Flanagan to expand technology production and infrastructure funding in the state was rewarded in 2023, when Minnesota knocked Texas out of the top five states for business. The CNBC rating looked at 86 indicators in 10 categories, including the workforce, infrastructure, health, and business friendliness.

Walz checks a number of boxes for the 2024 election, most notably that he hails from near the battleground states of Wisconsin, Michigan, and Pennsylvania and comes across as a normal, nice guy. He favors unions, workers’ rights, and a $15 minimum wage. He is also the person who coined the phrase that took away the dangerous overtones of today’s MAGA Republicans by dubbing them “weird.” As a student of his said: “In politics he’s good at calling out B.S. without getting nasty or too down in the dirt…. It’s the kind of common sense he showed as a coach: practical and kinda goofy.”

Walz is also a symbol of an important resetting of the Democratic Party. He has been unapologetic about his popular programs. On Sunday, July 28, when CNN’s Jake Tapper listed some of Walz’s policies and asked if they made Walz vulnerable to Trump calling him a “big government liberal.” Walz joked that he was, indeed, a “monster.”

“Kids are eating and having full bellies so they can go learn, and women are making their own health care decisions, and we’re a top five business state, and we also rank in the top three of happiness…. The fact of the matter is,” where Democratic policies are implemented, “quality of life is higher, the economies are better…educational attainment is better. So yeah, my kids are going to eat here, and you’re going to have a chance to go to college, and you’re going to have an opportunity to live where we're working on reducing carbon emissions. Oh, and by the way, you’re going to have personal incomes that are higher, and you’re going to have health insurance. So if that’s where they want to label me, I’m more than happy to take the label.”

Right-wing reactionary politicians have claimed to represent ordinary Americans since the time of the passage of the Voting Rights Act—on August 6, 1965, exactly 59 years ago today—by insisting that a government that works for communities is a “socialist” plan to elevate undeserving women and racial, ethnic, and gender minorities at the expense of hardworking white men.

Historically, though, rural America has quite often been the heart of the country’s progressive politics, and the Midwest has had a central place in that progressivism. Walz reintegrates that history with today’s Democratic Party.

That reintegration has left the Republicans flatfooted. Trump and J.D. Vance expected to continue their posturing as champions of the common man, but on that front the credentials of a New York real estate developer who inherited millions of dollars and of a Yale-educated venture capitalist pale next to a Nebraska-born schoolteacher. Bryan Metzger, politics reporter at Business Insider, pointed out that J.D. Vance tried to hit Walz as a “San Francisco-style liberal,” but while Vance lived in San Francisco as a venture capitalist between 2013 and 2017, Walz went to San Francisco for the first time just last month.

Head writer and producer of A Closer Look at Late Night with Seth Meyers Sal Gentile summed up Walz’s progressive politics and community vibe when he wrote on social media: “Tim Walz will expand free school lunches, raise the minimum wage, make it easier to unionize, fix your [carburetor], replace the old wiring in your basement, spray that wasp’s nest under the deck, install a new spring for your garage door and put a new chain on your lawnmower.”

Vice President Harris had a very deep bench from which to choose a running mate, but her choice of Walz seems to have been widely popular. Representatives Alexandria Ocasio-Cortez of New York and Joe Manchin of West Virginia, who are usually on opposite sides of the party, both praised the choice, prompting Ocasio-Cortez to post: “Dems in disconcerting levels of array.”

Harris and Walz held their first rally together tonight in Philadelphia, where Pennsylvania governor Josh Shapiro, who had been a top contender for the vice presidential slot, fired up the crowd. “Each of us has a responsibility to get off the sidelines, to get in the game, and to do our part,” he said. “Are you ready to do your part? Are you ready to form a more perfect union? Are you ready to build an America where no matter what you look like, where you come from, who you love, or who you pray to, that this will be a place for you? And are you ready to look the next president of the United States in the eye and say, ‘Hello, Madam President?’ I am too, so let’s get to work!”

Pennsylvania is a crucial state, and Shapiro issued a statement offering his “enthusiastic support” to the ticket. He pledged to work to unite Pennsylvanians behind my friends Kamala Harris and Tim Walz and defeat Donald Trump.”

LETTERS FROM AN AMERICAN

HEATHER COX RICHARDSON

#Letters From An American #political #election 2024 #Tim Walz #joy #Democratic party #Minnesota #mind your own damn business #these guys are creepy and weird as hell #we're not going back

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rohitpost · 2 years ago

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Which Is The Best Private Law College In India?

Geeta Institute of Law: The Best Private Law College in India

When it comes to pursuing a career in law, choosing the right college is crucial. Geeta Institute of Law (GIL), located in the heart of India, is widely recognized as one of the best private law colleges in the country. With its unwavering commitment to academic excellence, state-of-the-art infrastructure, esteemed faculty, and a plethora of opportunities for holistic growth, GIL has emerged as a preferred choice for aspiring law students.

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One of the key strengths of GIL is its distinguished faculty. The institute boasts a team of experienced and accomplished professors who are experts in their respective fields. They employ innovative teaching methodologies, including case-based learning, moot court sessions, and legal research projects, to foster critical thinking, analytical skills, and practical application of legal concepts among students. The faculty also emphasizes the importance of ethics, professionalism, and social responsibility, instilling in students a strong moral compass and a sense of duty towards society.

GIL's infrastructure is top-notch, providing students with a conducive learning environment. The campus is equipped with modern classrooms, well-stocked libraries, computer labs, hostels, sports facilities, and a moot court hall that replicates the ambiance of a real courtroom. These facilities enable students to have a holistic learning experience and hone their legal skills through moot court competitions, debates, seminars, and workshops. The institute also organizes guest lectures by renowned legal luminaries and conducts field visits to courts, prisons, and other legal institutions to expose students to the practical aspects of the legal profession.

GIL places a strong emphasis on research and publication. The institute encourages students and faculty to engage in legal research and contribute to the body of knowledge in the field of law. The institute has established research centers and collaborations with national and international institutions to promote research and foster academic excellence. This provides students with opportunities to develop their research skills, publish papers in reputed journals, and participate in national and international conferences, enhancing their profile and career prospects.

Furthermore, GIL focuses on the overall personality development of students. The institute offers co-curricular and extra-curricular activities, such as moot court competitions, legal aid camps, cultural events, sports, and community service, to nurture leadership, communication, and teamwork skills. GIL also has a robust career development cell that conducts placement drives, internships, and skill enhancement programs to enhance employability and enable students to secure lucrative job opportunities in leading law firms, corporate houses, government agencies, and international organizations.

In conclusion, Geeta Institute of Law is undoubtedly one of the best private law colleges in India. With its exceptional academic standards, renowned faculty, modern infrastructure, emphasis on research, and comprehensive personality development programs, GIL offers an ideal platform for aspiring law students to excel in their chosen field. So, if you are looking for a law college that can provide you with a holistic and enriching learning experience, GIL should be at the top of your list.

#gil #geeta institute of law #the best private college #top private college #top rated college for law

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papasbaseball · 9 months ago

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Raphael x Reader (Till Death Do Us Part)

+18 CONTENT NOT FOR MINORS. MINORS KEEP SCROLLING

Pairing: Raphael x F!Reader

Rating: Explicit

Warnings: Sexual Coercion. You sign a contract without reading that indebts you to Raphael. Mentions and descriptions of torture (flaying(not done to the reader)).

Summary: You went looking for a lawyer to help with your divorce. Always read what you sign or you might end up in bed with the Devil.

Word Count: 2,379

Notes: This was inspired by the CONTRACT THAT WE ALL SIGNED WHEN WE INSTALLED BG3???? Definitely did not read the Terms and Conditions. Someone suggested that Raphael was Larian's lawyer and well... here we are.

AO3 Link

He wanted the house, the new Mercedes you bought last month, and alimony to boot. For a cheater, he certainly footed a high bill.

“And you didn’t get any evidence of his… infidelity?” The crooked frown of your newly acquired lawyer, Raphael Hope, betrayed the polite substitution. His eyes ate into his skull in a fashion that spoke of many a long night and too many encounters with jackasses. Perhaps in private company, he would not be so quick to bite his tongue.

The words came out tightly. ”I came home early from work and that’s when I saw him…screwing my cousin on the brand-new sofa.”

He walked to the minifridge in the corner of the room, fetching a bottle of Evian. He sat it to the side of your consultation folder. You thanked him quietly, letting your shoulders fall as the coolness of the water slipped and soothed your hoarse throat that you had earned from a night spent on your coworker’s couch.

”A pity, really,” he said. “To throw away a marriage to someone as exquisite as yourself? I would not blame you if you thought all men to be fools.”

His words and the bass he put into them forced your gaze to the consultation folder, intent on figuring out if the font of “Hope Law Firm” was serif or not. His eyes glowed a genuine amber that reminded you too much of sparks from 3 years ago.

”I didn’t come here to flirt, Mr. Hope,” you said, taking another sip of water.

”I am a man of facts. It is only the truth.” Putting a black marbled pen to the notepad of his padfolio, he continued, “No evidence will make it difficult to win in court. You are certain there are no texts, no photo-“

”There’s nothing,” you interrupted. The golden nib stopped scratching, fire lighting in his eyes.

”Please-“ He blinked and it vanished, his face set once more in cool professionalism. “We have ways of getting evidence, but most people find it to be out of their price range. Think very carefully, dear.”

The blood crept into your cheeks at the endearment. Your soon-to-be ex-husband had always called you “babe”. It felt commonplace and cheap, the kind of sweetener that a boy might use to get into his college girlfriend’s pants. Raphael's words smoldered on his tongue and felt anything but commonplace. The crisp suit, the soft but styled chestnut hair, the smoky cologne that promised wealth and wins in the courtroom. If Satan had built the perfect lawyer, it was him.

You shook your head.

He sighed, sliding a thick cream-colored paper out from the back of his padfolio and over to you. The page's weight was increased by the bold black letters across the top: AGREEMENT. You flipped the paper, surprised that the back was blank.

”Read it if you would like, but this permits us to do our own snooping. We have a 100% success rate, but our methods are… unorthodox.”

He had no website boasting wins or guarantees when you’d gone looking for a lawyer, but the newspapers had done that enough for him. Win after win gilded his name on every article in the news tab, tales of mob bosses and politicians clearly guilty getting off. You knew this was coming.

Biting your lip, you took the pen that Raphael offered you and scrawled your signature as quickly as you could across the bottom. Better to be fast than to change your mind. A sigh of disappointment from him froze your hand.

”You should really read things before you sign them, dear.”

With a wave, the doors slammed shut, window shades dropped, and sconces gleamed an angry red. The table and chairs vanished in a cloud of ash and smoke that swept up the walls, devouring the dark blue and mahogany into volcanic stone veined with bloodied quartz. Scrambling towards the exit, you watched as the door and handle were soon too devoured by that awful smoke.

”Let me out,” you begged, turning to face him. “You can’t keep me here.”

”Can’t I?” he chuckled. “I must… per our contract agreement of course.” The cream-colored paper floated up into his palm, having survived the incineration of the room. “From this day forth, I do agree to be willingly at the service of Raphael of the House of Hope until he sees fit to relinquish me from his company.” He laughed at this, directing his darkened gaze toward you. “It is not often my servants are so rare in beauty.”

“My roommate-“

”Will not miss you,” he finished. “Nobody at that dead-end job loved you. No husband at home to cry for your absence. No children to weep for their mother’s milk.” His pupils burned hot like dying stars against an obsidian sclera, raking over your body. “At least not yet.”

He stalked you into the corner like a lion, a smile forming when you whimpered as he got too close. Another sweep of the hand and the contract engulfed in flames to reveal a great dagger, golden from hilt to tip—the point nestled under the tip of your chin.

”What should I do with you, little mouse?” He crooned, cocking his head to one side. “So careless. I can’t have that in my service.”

“I promise I won’t tell anyone,” you breathed, trying to ignore the tear that slipped down your cheek. The dagger tip pressed into the delicate skin, raising you until you were standing once more. “I’ll give you anything you want.”

”Of course you will,” he said. “You have no choice.” He drew closer until you could taste the tart cherry undernote of his cologne. “I would like a taste, dear.”

Your fingers trembled reaching for the soft charcoal lapel of his suitcoat that rose and fell with each breath. It stilled for a moment as you looked up into his face. A sharp brow quirked, highlighting those wicked eyes. A weak tug of his lapel earned you a smile and he bent just enough for you to touch your lips to his. His hand slithered up your back as if he had done this a thousand times before, a modest touch enough to set your nerves alight. Your tongue flicked across his smirk, and he parted those unforgiving lips.

Whether he was a devil, a trickster, or some other creature made no difference. His cool indifference sparked something within you, however small. His hand splayed across your back, pushing you into him to be devoured. The sharp line of his nose pressed into your cheek, a small groan as if he were devouring a cake that was soaked in the sweet fruit syrup of the summer sun. You pressed your tongue into his, desperate to taste the honeyed words he’d used to get you to let your guard down so easily. Your legs were soon wrapping themselves around his waist.

“Greed looks good on you, little mouse,” he said, dipping his head to trail kisses down your jaw.

“You’re a monster,” you protested, voice breathless and hungry for more of his lips and tongue.

He nipped into the crook of your neck. “I can stop if you would like. Denying you your pleasures has its own charm.”

You gasped, grabbing a handful of his soft hair as he licked and sucked. Your mind toyed with the idea of trying to escape, but every time you got close to the plan of finding an exit the thought slipped away into the lust of him pressing you up against the jagged wall, knife still to your chin.

“Mr. Hope-”

“Your Excellency,” he cut you off.

The stabbing points of the rock behind you retracted and you watched the darkened cave transform into a room decked in gaudy red and gold with ceilings high enough to house God. He carried you to the bed made softer than sin, kneeing open your legs.

Light glimmered over him to reveal a monstrous form, complete with horns that looked like twisted stone and demonic crimson wings that served as a terrifying backdrop to your captor. Black claws shredded the woolen skirt, pantyhose, and pink satin panties that you picked out that morning, leaving scratches on your stomach in their careless destruction. A growl at the sight of the warmth that you offered him was all the warning given before he finished butchering the turtleneck and lacy bra.

“I’m going to enjoy breaking you, crushing you until the only words from your mouth are “Yes, Your Excellency”. Given how wet you are, it should not be long.”

You crawl back further onto the bed, away from him. “I’m not.”

“Please. Even a human could smell the way your cunt is aching for me to stretch it and fill it.” He crawled onto the bed after you, pulling your legs apart once more, bringing his face close to your needy sex. “Would you like to see how a real man does it?”

Your ex always had an excuse for refusing to go down on you. One night he’d claim that his jaw locked up easily, the next he’d say he preferred only freshly shaven. They were endless to the point that you had stopped asking. Raphael nipped at the skin of your inner thigh, begging you to answer.

“Are you going to bite me?” you stuttered.

He smiled. “Would you like me to?”

You grabbed one of the rough horns, guiding him towards your pussy. His tongue glided through your folds until it found your clit. The dying stars looked from under his brow in eager sadism as he suckled the bundle of nerves between his lips. Your back parted from his bed and you shut your eyes as bliss clenched through you.

“Watch me or suffer,” he growled before returning to his ministrations.

Your eyes snapped open as you watched him toy and tease, nibbling and flicking in a new and exciting way with each gasp and whine. He would push you as close to the edge as he could before backing off in cruel delight, mocking your weakness as you pulled futilely on his horns.

“Is there something you want, little mouse?” he said.

“P-please.”

The tip of his claw circled your abused clit. “Please, what?”

The pride stabbed in your throat, trying to claw its way out. “Please, let me cum… Your Excellency.” The words tasted like battery acid, but they satisfied that shit-eating grin of his.

His mouth glistened with your juices as he kissed you deeply once more. “I will think about it.”

The shimmering light swept over him once more to reveal his naked form. Despite him being a monster, you whimpered when you caught sight of his cock. It was built for a creature much bigger than you, a deep red of coagulated blood and wrapped in ridges.

“It’s not going to fit,” you pleaded, digging your nails into his biceps as he pulled away. They slipped out of your grasp and he shouldered one of your legs and then the other.

“Relax. You are too tense.” He lined the tip up and slowly pushed the head in, flaring his wings in response. “Gods you are tight. When was the last time you were properly used?”

It was difficult to hold onto the last remaining bits of sanity as he slid in further. You clench in protest, feeling the burning pain as he stretched you fuller still. “I-” You groan as he slips further in. “N-never..”

His lips brushed gently against the fresh bruises on your neck, picking them over to find a spot unmarked by his hunger. He stopped pushing, letting you adjust to him. “A pity. I can’t wait to flay that bastard after I finish him in the courtroom.”

His hips pressed forward once more until he had buried himself to the hilt. “Would you like that, my little mouse? I can let you watch as I skin slice after bloody slice off of him. Torture him just enough and then make him watch as I claim your cunt and fill you deep with my seed.” He rocked into you, simulating his wicked plan. “I want to hear him scream as I finish what he couldn’t.”

You groaned as he pushed into you again, stretching you even more. He pulled out and buried himself into you again and again. His claws bit into the flesh of your hips. The thought of him torturing your ex as he fucked you mercilessly put a lurch in your stomach, but it was quickly washed away thinking about the power of Raphael at your side in the courtroom. Giving him the just desserts that the legal system refused to give would be the cherry on top of taking everything from him. The rush mixed and intertwined with the lust bringing you closer and closer toward the edge.

“I-I’m…” you said.

He snorted. “So easy.” The amusement in his voice went straight to your core. He quickened his pace once more. “Cum for me, my little mouse.”

His teeth sank into your shoulder and it sent you tumbling, wave after wave gripping him in desperation. The movement of his hips stuttered after a few more thrusts and you felt the burning heat of him as he growled into your flesh, filling you with the filth of a devil.

He removed his teeth from your shoulder and slid out of you, leaving you aching and wounded. Reaching into the top drawer of the nightstand, he pulled out a gilded cigarette, lighting it with a flash of magic. He took a long drag before reclining back on his side of the bed.

You crept close, wincing as you propped yourself up on your injured arm. His eyes were focused on the far-off paintings on the ceiling. “Did you mean it?” you said. “About torturing him and making him watch?”

The devil exhaled the sweet cherry-scented smoke out of his nostrils. “After I beat him bloody in the courthouse, yes.” He took another drag. “Why?”

You plucked the cigarette out of his clawed hand, taking a drag yourself. “I want you to kill him when you’re finished.”

Raphael smiled, snatching the cigarette back. “Till death do us part.”

#raphael x reader #smutty smut smut

51 notes · View notes

tteokdoroki · 1 year ago

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ೀ⋆OCT 31ST LEGALLY BLONDE ━━ seishiro nagi + coercion !

୨୧ — caution, you are now watching. seishiro nagi + coercion. there’s no way someone broke up with nagi because he’s too blonde!? poor baby, maybe you could provide a little emotional support…(5.5K)

୨୧ — rated r. minors, blank and ageless blogs do not interact ! nsfw, heavy smut, dark content, characters aged up to 20s, college!au, strangers to lovers (?), teaching assistant/student relationship, dom/sub dynamics, some switching, reader is lifted up by nagi, coercion, dubcon, handjobs, virginity loss, cherry chasing, oral fixation, mind break, praise kink, creampies, soft sex, clothed sex, unprotected sex, TA!reader, elle woods!nagi.

୨୧ — director’s note. happy halloween my loves! i hope you enjoy the final kinktober fic! its been super fun writing and editing for you all. stay tuned for the bonus in the coming weeks <3 - m.list ⋆ kinktober m.list ⋆ taglist ✧

this law school thing wasn’t all what it cracked up to be.

after the love of his life, reo mikage, had broken up with him for someone smarter, blander and richer than him — nagi had been blessed with the genius idea of following his ex all the way to one of the top law schools in the world. the plan was practically fool proof, the guys at his sorority worked hard to help seishiro study — pulling all nighters for practice tests and rewarding him with naps every time he had gotten a question right.

rin itoshi had even convinced his parents to reach out to a hollywood director so that they could film nagi’s audition tape. it obviously featured isagi and bachira too. nagi had even worn his best designer swim trunks to impress the board of admissions. they’d all been super supportive of the light haired male in his endeavours and were there when he passed his LSAT exam

with all of this combined, he had managed to get in in — if that wasn’t enough for reo, then what was?

the answer? nothing.

reo still wanted that bland, basic bitch his family was marrying him off to. she was sensible, she was rich and seishiro quickly realised that he had only ever been a bit of ditzy fun to reo — a dumb blonde to stick his dick into whenever the time felt right. eye candy and nothing more. balancing his shattering hard with the complexities of law school had been tough for the white haired male and everything seemed to be going wrong. no one would study with him, reo wouldn’t even look at him and his friends back home were busy with the wedding plans nagi so desperately wished he had.

however, that’s when you came along.

after having the epiphany that he didn’t need reo to succeed — nagi knuckles down and studied hard for the law firm internship being offered amongst his cohort. he was relieved to have you as a teaching assistant in the process, not only were you absolutely gorgeous but you were compassionate and empathetic. you were smart, eloquent and everything seishiro wished he could be for his ex.

perhaps that’s what drew him to you, why he followed your every word like a puppy drooling after a treat. you’d been kind to nagi for the entire semester, from helping him out with studying for the internship right down to today, where he would be taking on his very first case in a court of law. it should have been easy, the facts were simple too. the client and fellow fraternity brother (shidou ryousei) was accused of and arrested for the murder of his wife… but something about the events weren’t seeming to add up. nagi couldn’t come up with an alibi either.

it was as if the words; the reasonings, the justification for shidou’s freedom were right in front of grey-scale eyes, only scrambled up like morse code. “how about we take a break?” as if you were a vision from his dreams or an angel from up above, you appear behind nagi’s tall frame as he slumps defeatedly against the hotel room desk — your hands fixing themselves to his broad shoulders for a massage. “you’ve been at this all night, seishiro.”

the law student swears your touch could heal all human ailments, the warmth of your palms seeping into the tense parts of his muscles like a cell performing diffusion — relaxation forming a comfortable fog over his brain. “i know shidou didn’t do it,” nagi defends with a grumpy pout, leaning back into you so that his head rests lazily against your stomach. “he told me… he said he was getting liposuction.”

“we’ll need evidence of that,” you note, jerking your head to the side so that nagi can write it down. this entire time you’d been such a good mentor. “good boy.” something clicks in the light-haired male’s brain, a crackle of electricity shooting down his spine at your praise — swirling around in his guts as if to activate arousal. “run me through the witness statements again.” there’s a sensual lilt to the tone of your voice and your touch cascades from his shoulders up to his neck like a backwards flowing waterfall.

seishiro isn’t sure if he’s making things up or reading the signs correctly — but he knows that there’s some kind of tension bubbling in the air. particles that resemble an aphrodisiac using kinetic energy to collide together, painting the room with lustful colours. “shidou’s step daughter says she heard a gunshot around 2:15pm after leaving the shower, walkin’ downstairs only to find shidou hangin’ over his wife’s body — covered in blood. ugh, this is too much hassle. this doesn’t make any sense!” he tosses an annoyed sigh into quietness of the room, moaning in surprise when you cup the base of nagi’s neck to pull his head up to face you and your eyes meet.

“you need a break seishiro, we can come back to this later,” you hum, the vibrations of your voice laced with sex appeal. as he swallows thickly, the law student’s Adam’s apple bobs under the pressure of your fairy-light grip on his throat — anticipating more from you. at this point, you’re half bent over him as he leans back in the chair, pink tongue slowly darting out to cover your lips in a spit shine. “how about it?”

this feels so wrong. nagi’s cock stirring beneath his slacks at how good and kind you’re acting towards him. no one has ever gotten him this hot before — no one aside from reo. and you were still his teacher, by technicality, it would be wrong for nagi to even consider sucking your tongue down his throat. and yet, he can’t find it in himself to stop the temperature from rising between you, for falling into your dangerously salacious trap.

“y-yeah,” he breathes deep when you squeeze his throat a little to test the waters. “i could do with a break.”

“me too,” you gasp all too agreeably, bending the rest of the way down to capture seishiro’s lips in a searingly hot kiss. just as he wished you pry his mouth open with the tip of your curious tongue — pushing through his plush lips and curling around his own pink appendage. the lip lock is passionate, ravenous despite the mess and spit that you exchange. he chases your lips until he can’t breathe, sloppily accepting anything you give him, letting you lead where he can’t.

he’s never done this before, not like this, not without reo. but in this moment, the silver-blonde doesn’t think he could ever go back to making out with his ex. not now that you’re the one kissing him.

“i-i've never done any of this before.” the blonde gulps, swallowing down the copious amount of spit that builds on the palette of his tongue — looking into your eyes as a sense of hunger dawns on him, as if you’re the very meal he’s set to devour. “not without anyone that wasn’t—“

reo.

sure they’d done stuff together. naughty touches here and there, hands ghosting over boxer briefs and fingers tweaking nipples (sei’s were especially sensitive because of the cute little piercings his ex insisted he get) — but nothing close to actual sex, nothing with a girl, nothing with someone like you. a burning heat, unlike anything nagi’s ever felt before, begins to brew in his lower stomach. his cock rises beneath his pants that suddenly feel all too tight.

nagi’s girth twitches against his thigh as your nails rake their way down his chest and slowly pop open the buttons of his crisply pressed white shirt. it heaves beneath his clothes — heart hammering against its calcium cage of his ribs.

“i can tell, pretty boy.” you soothe him by purring into the shell of his ear, teeth tugging at the softness of his lobe. “but you’re a good kisser though. did reo teach you that?” your lips cascade down to his neck like a gentle flowing river at the same time that your hands delve below the belt to squeeze at seishiro’s swelling erection — testing the waters.

his hips instinctively buck up into the warmth of your palm and a grin spreads across your plush lips at the feeling of his precum soaking his underwater and smearing across your fingers in thick, clingy webs.

white and seedy and he’s nowhere close to cumming. almost like a little virgin.

“have you ever done this before, seishiro?”

the sound of his name, salaciously spelt out on his tongue, earns you a high pitched whine from nagi — his head rolling to the side and his thighs squeezing together with vicious need. “n-no,” he pauses before he grunts out a response and his entire body seizes as you take a firmer grip on his cock — jamming a thumb into his leaky slit to spread his arousal. “but i wanted to i just… reo said not until marriage—“

“— you don’t have to listen to reo anymore.” you announce breathily, setting a steady pace to your fist to jerk him off with. you’ve barely started and yet your hand is already glossed in a slight sheen of pre, soiling your knuckles from its viscousness. it’s so much for someone who’s never gone father than sloppy kisses and grinding while making out. it nurtures a certain seed of satisfaction in your chest to see him so messy so fast. “you can listen to me, sweet boy. do you want this… do you want it with me?”

without letting go of the fat, drippy cock within your grasp — you shift to stand between the desk and nagi’s chair, shoving papers and court notes to the ground in your lustful haze. nagi thrusts lazily into your closed fist as if it’s instinct, following the sensation like a moth takes to a candle light. his grey eyes grow murky like a pond, swimming with desire for you and only you.

who was reo mikage to seishiro nagi? when there was an angel like you willing to feed this inexperienced man morsels of a heavenly pleasure he’s never felt before. the lawyer in training nods at your words like an eager man fallen to siren’s song as bait. “i want you,” he whimpers airily. “i wanna with you.”

you rub down his thick, lengthy dick far enough to have your fingertips briefly brush against seishiro’s sensitive, weightly balls — just pulsing full of seed to give to you. the feeling makes nagi jump up from his seat so that he immediately towers over you. his height doesn’t overwhelm you, not when the towering blonde collapses onto you with a case of the shakes. he trembles above you, supporting himself by using one hand on the table while is mouth sloppily finds your neck to suck on and pacify himself.

“good boy, sei,” you coo, voice as sweet as hot sugar or candy. “i want you too. i always have. you’re such a pure, darling boy. glad to see that it’s true.” your praise is hidden in your soft moans as seishiro licks at the crystalline salt on your bare skin. you’re a little too twisted, taking advantage of his inexperience and his position beneath you as a student, but neither of you seem to care in this very moment.

sweat beads against nagi’s hairline like diamonds on an expensive Chanel necklace and roses bloom across his cheeks with exertion — his hips rise and fall into your sticky fist in fluid motions, changing the steady stream of ecstasy you provide him. your hand is a solace for his aching cock, but you still make your student work for it. make nagi chase you since he only works hard for the things he wants. and right now, he wants to reach the end of the tight rope of pleasure you have him walking on. and to stave off the stormy frustration he feels from the case.

your hand wriggles it’s way into his wet silver locks, dragging nagi’s hungry mouth over yours since he’s so desperate to taste you, to have at you. it shows in the way he roughly grabs your hips too, grip so tight it threatens to leave bruises he’ll have to apologise for later. “ngh… please. g-god. miss…a-angel please,” he stutters, his bucking into your hand faster and harder, back and forth, back and forth through the tight ring of your fist. his bright and angry red cockhead peeks through the other side, glazed in opaque white — it’s a nice feeling, blistering hot and sensitive. “i…hah… gotta—“

nagi’s lashes flutter against your cheek — a strained whine reverbing in the base of his throat while you let him fuck your hands to his heart’s content, let him chase this new pleasure he’s never known. let him fall from the high heavens with blackened and burnt angel’s wings. you make him sin, for the first time ever. something about this should feel off to nagi, his law teacher taking advantage of him like this — but at this point, he’s too far gone, drowning in a hellfire of lust.

mocking his moans, your mouth falls open in one of your own as you follow along with the pitiful expressions crossing the contours of seishirou’s face. “what is it, sei? what do you need?”

the room is too hot. your bodies against each other are temperate in the sex tainted air — accompanied by wet slapping sounds from your hand around his throbbing cock. “n-need to let go. it h-hurts,” he sniffles out, forcing his tongue into your mouth again to calm himself down. the more you speed up, remorselessly jerking him off, the closer nagi gets to the end of his own tether. this sensation is unfamiliar, the crumbling foundation of his orgasm coming crashing down as you fling droplets of his precum and arousal about the place — some of it landing on your clothes, the desk and discarded papers.

again, neither of you care.

“surrender to me baby, it’s okay. i’ve got you.” guiding the pale blonde through his first ever orgasm, you pour your heated words into his slobbering mouth — tongue running over his pearly white teeth and tangling with his drool coated tongue. that’s all sei needs to hear before he crumples against you with a shout — the first wave of his high crashing over him and pulling him under.

it’s world shattering, brain melting as he cums. his abdomen contracts under your never-ending touch, ropes of hot white dribbling from his stimulated tip like a tap that keeps running. nagi swears he almost blacks out, falling dizzy and victim to your lustful charms as he twitches and cums and cums into your soiled palm.

“f-fuck,” a soft whimper bubbles up on his raw bitten lips, stuttered out in suprise. “w-what was that?”

“you orgasmed for me, sei, so pretty baby.” comes another set of your gentle praises. he feels his entire body wrack with a shakes at your words, his cock doesn’t dare to soften either. “you look so good when you cum.”

his greyish-brownish eyes roll back into his skull when you let him go, his tip slapping against his clothed tummy. the brush of his cotton shirt against the slit on his tip makes him writhe from the sensitivity. “c-can i cum for you again? promise i’ll keep being good.”

“of course,” you grin, proud that to have corrupted the poor boy. “are you okay to let me touch you again or do you want it now?”

“touch me. now.” he growls, gripping your hand and guiding it towards his dribbling shaft, aiding the movement of your palm around him to start slow and lazy — working seishiro up into a heat once more. this time, the way your hand languidly jerks him off is made smooth by the evidence of his last orgasm, which you now use as lube. if you weren’t pressed for time and with a court case first thing tomorrow, you would have gotten onto your knees to clean up his copious amounts of mess.

you quickly reduce him to a babbling mess against you, drool laden on his tongue and dripping onto his skin as you drive your thumb over nagi’s hot tip in tight circles with your free hand — touching what doesn’t fit in the other. “reo treated you so badly, poor baby,” you mewl sweetly, kitten licking at his pulse point just below his neck. “you work so hard, you deserve so much better. you deserve me.”

he believes you, blindly and naively. nodding tenderly despite the way he widely fucks both of your hands as if they’re a makeshift hole — warm and slick, all for him. dopamine shocks him at the stem of his brain, spreading throughout his body like a wildfire only you can tame — it burns so good and feels even better to have your dainty, perfectly manicured fingers wrap around his chubby girth so deliciously.

for a moment, you let seishiro go to squeeze at his heavy breeder’s balls — noticing the way they pulsate in your palm to signify the pale blonde’s second impending orgasm. “i think…hah… i think ‘m gonna… c-cum! again!”

pushing at his shirt, you press a kiss to the creamy skin of nagi’s shoulder and hum pridefully. “thank you for letting me know, sweetheart. cum for me. give it to me.”

with your permission granted, another blinding ecstasy takes over nagi, and he falls victim to you and your merciless hands once again. blood rushes through his ears like a storm surge, drowning at your angel coos while you guide him through his high, never letting up as you palm him through it all. he quivers and his knees buckle, shooting a hot and hefty load of seed all over your hand and clothes and the papers nearby. “o-oh! fuck…” nagi chokes on a weak sob, bleating like an innocent lamb at the slaughter house while he weighed against your shorter frame — allowing you to bare the brunt of his weight and height.

he’s so pretty when he cums, silvering blonde locks matted to his forehead by sweat — cheeks pink and lips swollen and red. if you could, you’d swallow him whole and selfishly devour your student for all that he has to offer. silly little blonde, stupid for trusting you, for wanting to fuck you.

your hand doesn’t slow around his pulsing cock but instead speeds up, digging your thumb into his oozing slit as arousal pearls at its centre once more. “n-no, s’too much.” seishiro cries quietly, tears stinging a pathway down the apples of his milky cheeks. “it hurts.”

“poor you, poor baby.” you say harshly, mocking the poor blonde’s sniffles and hiccups. he’s exhausted and frustrated but doesn’t dare to pull away — his hips running after your hand hungrily. “you’re so cute sei, panting for me like a bitch in heat, fucking my hand like the dumb little blonde you are.” he hisses at the overstimulation, gargles on spit as it floods his mouth to accompany his appetite for you.

“i’m not…ngh… ‘m not dumb.” he whinges in response and before either of you know it, seishiro is cumming again. hard. soiling his lap with abundant amounts of white. his chest heaves as he comes down, collapsing against you. he might deny it later, but being dumbed down and reduced to a stupid blonde seemed to really do it for him.

finding his lips again, you soothe nagi with short and sweet kisses that grow more feverish by his own demand. all of a sudden you find yourself pinned to the desk below with the tall blonde between your instinctually parted legs so that he can grind against your panty clad core. “you’re…you’re right,” you say, breathing deep through your nose as your composure threatens to fall apart. “you’re so smart, sei. you’re the best lawyer on our team but…” bucking your hips once, you lower your voice by an octave so that your words slip through his ears like molten chocolate. “you’re acting like a dumb slut right now. don’t you wanna be my dumb slut, sei?”

his palm flattens against the mahogany desk just above your head, caging you in against its cold surface. “y-yes i do, oh fuck. please lemme fuck you. lemme be inside. i’ll be good.”

“are you sure, baby?”

“please—“

“but sei,” you brush a stray hair that curls at the centre of his forehead, the dumb blonde looking down at you with swimming grey eyes because he’s so needy. “it’d be your first time…”

his face scrunches, nose crinkled at its bridge and brows knitted together in frustration. now that nagi’s had a taste of your sinful elixir he can’t seem to stop, you’re like a drug an addict can’t quit. something that could ruin his life or future prospects if he doesn’t get help. and yet he can’t look away, can’t pull his body away from yours and his achy dick from between your thighs — instead leaning closer so that it sinks between your plush pussy lips.

nagi licks his lips, tongue rolling over his bottom one as he pants desperately. “please angel,” comes his broken beg, hanging pathetically in the sex tainted hair. “i need you. need it so bad. please please please— mph—!”

satisfied with his begging, you shove a set of cum soaked digits past the swell of seishiro’s pretty lips — chuckling darkly as his tongue laps over and in between them, and he whines at the salty taste of his arousal on your skin. “atta boy,” you coo, thrusting deep into the hot cavern of his mouth until the pale blonde gags around you, swallowing your fingers down like they’re a cock. he sucks so obediently, so desperately as if to please. like a good student too — and all the while, you work on kicking off your panties and flipping up your skirt so that he can get a nice rewarding view of your glistening cunt.

“c’mere,” you reach out to the blonde and he leans into you, letting you wrap an arm around his shoulders to keep him in place. “sei,” you gasp at the first contact of his thick, long shaft against your throbbing wet mound — mouth agape as if you’ve taken a gunshot wound to the chest. “do you know how to do this, smart boy? do you know how to fuck?”

nagi nods, pressing his forehead to yours while his hips jut forward on their own and his seedy tip brushes against your pearling clit so deliciously. at first, his movements are lax and the room is filled with the lewd squelches of your sexes moving over one another, but your breathing soon grows ragged and the salacious bump and grind becomes stickier and wetter.

“u-uhuh.” he mumbles in response.

he’s so good for you even when his mouth is full and his mind is dazed, sucking on your fingers while he lets you overwhelm him. however, the blonde is only so well behaved and patient, and it’s not long before he slips his girth past the tight ring of your entrance without any warning. his fingertips dance up to your waist, grabbing at the fat there and using it as leverage to drag you to the edge of the table so he can sink into you further.

“oh…fucking hell!” you whimper wetly against the junction of nagi’s neck, nails digging into his shoulders to steady yourself while he sets the pace to your sinful dance. he’s bigger than what you expected (despite mapping his girth out with your hands), stretching your sloppy walls wide to accommodate for his size. you don’t complain, however, eyes rolling as he brushes up against pleasure spots you could never reach on your own. “o-oh baby, fuck me.”

you pull your fingers out of his mouth with a lewd pop, desperate to hear the symphony of his sweet, low and sexy moans instead of having them muffled by your fingers while he fucks you for the first time. the pale blonde can hardly believe it — having your warmth wrapped around him and your cunt drool down on him like a waterfall.

the law student throws his weight into fucking you, bullying his way into the deepest parts of your womb to slothfully fuck up your gooey insides. your cunt, your moans, your whole body has some kind of control over nagi — dumbing him down and reducing him to a sex crazed mess. to the point where he can’t even remember his ex’s name. he’s a mop of pale blonde hair and sweaty clothes, entirely hunched over you.

“y-you’re so tight,” he tells you in a dreamy sigh, lost in the heat of your core. nagi’s grabs at your pudgy thighs and drags you back and forth onto his dick, the new deepness to his thrusts causing you to squeeze and froth around the fat base of nagi’s cock. “hah, feels so…so good.”

wrapping your shaky legs around his slender waist, you offer up the same treatment to nagi — pulling him close to the point where he’s buried in your sluice sex right up to the hilt. his precum smears against your ribbed walls and his broken whimper echoes around your hotel room. “that’s it, fuck me like you fucked my hand, sweet boy.” lust sparks against your sex slicked bodies, your breasts bouncing with every one of nagi’s calculated yet sloppy thrusts. you can’t get enough of one another, clinging and clawing at one another’s bodies madly. “you can do it, prove to reo that you don’t need him. only me.”

“o-only you.” nagi repeats weakly, tucking his face into your neck as he pounds you to the high heavens. the desk creaks beneath the force of his thrusts, threatening to break at the nails and bolts that hold it together. his eyelashes flutter against your skin, his low and deep moans mixed with high pitched gasps send a hot rush of dopamine across your brain and it really is all too much.

nagi’s already cum three times and managed to fold you in half over his desk as a virgin. he feel as though he might break with how much he loves this, loves fucking you senseless. another fresh set of tears burn tracks down his face and gather in his unfairly long lashes as they tickle your skin. he hiccups and heaves against you, whilst his breathing grows ragged every time his glistening cock escapes the snugness of your tight pussy, precum stringing along your puffy folds.

“so good baby, s-so fucking good!” your voice is broken and husky as you praise him, making his dick pulse against your g-spot over and over again. you’re fairing no better than he is, your skin blistering hot to the touch and bruised from how tight your student is gripping you — pulling you back onto his cock.

the pale blonde feels though he might burst, cream your insides like he did your hand and ruin that pretty skirt of yours — the one that sticks to his pelvis because of how close your bodies are. it’s rubbed him raw while he fucks you raw. “‘m i the best?” seishiro asks, cherishing the embrace of your viscous walls, his shaft coated in a crude mix of white as it froths from your tight little hole. “t-tell me i’m the best…”

“t-the best i’ve ever had! f-fuck, sei!” you squeal in response, only egging the law student on, babbling your praises while fat droplets of your arousal flies about the place — painting nagi’s pelvis in a shiny gloss, curling in his white happy trail as well.

“‘m the best. i’m the best for you.” grunting from the exertion and the very force of his own thrusts, seishiro wraps both of his strong arms around your middle and stands up from the table — taking you with him. at the new angle, the coil in your stomach only tightens and you fling your arms around his neck to prepare yourself for what’s to come next. “s’not enough, not deep enough. fuuuck you’re so wet and warm. i-i can’t,” he drawls lowly, nipping at the shell of your ear on instinct.

that’s when seishiro begins to use his sheer strength to lift and drop you back onto his thick girth, fucking up into you at the exact same time. “g-good god!” you cry out, your impending orgasm prickling at your pelvis — shooting down each section of your spine. all of it only serves to spur nagi on.

“give me your fingers,” he demands huskily, cantering into you from bellow — your juices running a steamy track down his heavy balls as they harshly smack against your peachy ass. “wan’ suck on ‘em. give ‘em.”

you don’t have time to register his ask because he grabs your wrist before your mind can even catch up (too occupied with the way he’s churning up your guts) and has two of your fingers in his eager little mouth — sucking on them diligently. you shudder as nagi runs his tongue between them, coats them in spit and drool that tracks across his chin once he’s done with them.

“touch yourself for me?” he pleads through a wet whine, almost too innocently. “wanna see you cum this time.”

it’s only then that you realise he’s been holding himself back, staving off his orgasm so he can see you writhe and gush all for him. the overstimulation must be burning at his brain, sizzling off his nerve endings and it’s probably more than the dumb little blonde virgin can take. so you do as he asks, trailing your spit slicked fingers between your bodies as they grind down on one another and you with your sensitive clit, pulling its hood back to draw tight circles over the pleasure nub.

“o-oh! seishiro!”

“that’s right, touch yourself f’me. wanna see you lose it like you make me lose it,” he moans softly constraining with how rough nagi pounds up into you. one of his hands slips from your hips to grope at your ass, pushing you down on him and forcing his cock to grind against that one special spot threatening to make you break. “‘m sorry,” he whimpers as though he’s going to cry. “d-don’t think i can hold back, angel.”

“then don’t,” you gasp at the new friction, holding onto your last strings of sanity as you fumble with your clit tucked away between your ravaged folds. “i know you wanna cum for me, sei. l-let go, yeah? wanna see you break for me, like a good blonde slut.”

your encouragement doesn’t give seishiro much choice, and while he’s in control of your bodies — his lean, strong frame anchoring you down onto his cock as it bullies your insides, you are in control of his mind. you destroy his train of thought, ruin the self-made man he was and send him tumbling into his final high. nagi’s orgasm breaks the surface viciously, pouring another load of his cum against your ripe and rippling walls. there’s still so much of it, the warm and viscous white seeping from your cunt and smearing all over your hot mound.

the force of nagi’s high is so strong that he nearly drops you, just about managing to pin you safely to the desk once more. he’s still cumming and cumming and cumming — but that doesn’t stop him from thrusting into you hard and fast, desperate to trigger your orgasm so he can reward himself. it doesn’t take long, he’d already had you seated on the edge before his mind had shattered to pieces just from fucking you.

you gush down his length and all over what remains of your shitty case notes (he probably didn’t need them anyways) with a pornographic shout when you finally hit your peak. it’s like the crescendo of a beautiful song — the world around you spinning and flashing white as you squirt and gush for the white haired lawyer.

“f-fuck.” you giggle with a soft smile, fatigue washing over the both of you come down from the gates of heaven — crashing back down to earth with ecstasy still buzzing in your veins. “good boy, sei. you did so good for me,” you hum softly. “do you feel any better?”

seishiro looks up at you from where his heavy frame has collapsed on your chest — clothes sweaty and askew, and offers you a lazy grin in return. “better,” he mumbles meekly and kisses a slither of your exposed skin, still grinding his seed into you as if to make sure it sticks. “thank you.”

bringing a hand up to toy with his hair and soothing him, you nod. “good, we should get some rest, you’ve got a big trial tomorrow, pretty boy.”

“do you think I can do it?”

“i know you can, sei.” you scratch at his scalp. “i meant it. what i said earlier. you’re the best lawyer on our team. shidou’s defence stands a pretty good chance.”

nagi grins once more, only this time he leans up to press a chaste kiss to your unexpecting mouth — pouring all of his gratefulness into it.

because thanks to you, he feels more confident about the trial, — almost as if he’s won the trial already. and even if nagi goes lose, at least he’s won you over.

2K notes · View notes

sam-is-my-safe-word · 9 months ago

Text

(K)not for Sale

Dean Winchester (Supernatural) x Soldier Boy (The Boys) Rating: Explicit Tags: Alternate Universe, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Omega Verse, Rape/Non-con Elements, Dubious Consent, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Smut, Shameless Smut, Alpha Dean Winchester, Omega Soldier Boy (The Boys), Top Dean Winchester, Bottom Soldier Boy (The Boys), Canon-Typical Violence, Blood and Injury, Anal Sex, Knotting, Orgasm, Multiple Orgasm, Aftercare

Word Count: 4,245

Summary: Every six months, Soldier Boy goes into heat. Vought can't afford to let him go without a knot and end up sick - again - so they bring in a compatible alpha to see him through. Whether Soldier Boy or the alpha want it or not.

Notes: PSA time - heed the tags. Non-con/dub-con for a/b/o dynamics. Y'all know the score I'm participating in @jacklesversebingo and this part will fill my "bend over, I'm not kidding" square.

~~~

Every six months, Dean gets the call. He can pin-point the exact day it will come, even though most omega’s cycles aren’t that accurate. After a decade of calls, his own body starts to respond in the days before it arrives.

He hates it.

But you don’t argue with Vought, and when they’d tracked him down, a newly matured alpha at just twenty-two, offers to see Sammy through Stanford and into an excellent law firm had been enough to convince him to sell his knot twice a year.

And when Sam had graduated and was safely in employment with said excellent law firm, Vought's assurances that Sam could disappear with just a word had kept him compliant.

Sam knew. He figured it out when the college offers came in with no mentions of scholarships. He’d been furious, but turning down the place wouldn’t have got Dean out of the contract he’d signed.

And now, ten years down the line, it’s just another fact of life. Death, taxes, and calls from Vought.

He hates that his body is tied to someone else's like this, a sick parody of a mated couple going into heat and rut together. Hates the exhausting drive, hates NYC, hates Vought Tower and everything that goes on in there.

But the time spent in a secured room with Soldier Boy… he loves that.

~~~

The same Vought lackey walks him down the same corridor every time. The jumpsuit they gave him itches, some kind of fancy-pants body armour that looks and feels like normal clothes but will protect him from Soldier Boy ripping his limbs off or something. He didn’t really pay attention when they first brought out the duds.

The lackey pauses outside the usual door. The way Dean’s body is responding, you’d think the corridor is drenched in the scent of omega-in-heat. But it smells of nothing. This is pure pavlovian.

The guy is reading from a clipboard. He was just a kid when he started leading Dean down this corridor. They’ve grown up together. Dean wonders if he hates this as much as Dean does.

“Right, so remember to keep the suit on at all times. Don’t let him have access to any area you want to protect.”

Dean clears his throat and when the man looks up, he gives his crotch a long, pointed look.

“Any area I’d want to protect? Like my cock, you mean?”

That gets him a half-smile.

“Oh, no, he wants that part of you. Just anything else you want to keep. Arms, legs, guts on the inside, y’know.”

Dean wills his stare to incinerate the other man, but he didn’t get the Supe gene and the man just shrugs, the ‘your choice’ as plain as day.

“Okay, see you in twelve hours. Have fun.”

Dean rolls his eyes.

The door opens, not revealing the sparse room Dean knows is beyond, but an ante-chamber of sorts. It’s decorated in the same bland, beige colours as the corridor. Dean thinks it should be all white and medical sterile. It serves a similar purpose as a decontamination chamber, except it’s one way. Keep what’s on the inside, inside.

No scent gets out, no sounds, certainly not a semi-feral Soldier Boy.

The door behind him shuts and Dean feels the vibration as deadbolts the size of his forearm lock into place. The inner door won’t open until he presses the large green button on the wall. But once he does, it’s twelve hours with no escape.

He takes a deep breath. It’s not difficult after so long, but there is still a headspace he needs to get into before he enters the room.

Dean needs his omegas willing as a bare minimum. If he has a choice past that, he likes them to be small, frisky blonde women that give as good as they get and leave him walking funny the next day. Or guys bigger than him that bend over beautifully and call him daddy. And he doesn’t treat his partners meanly. Doesn’t call them names and say cruel things.

But this, here. This isn’t sex. He isn’t wanted here. He doesn’t want to be here. This is a battle. He has to be faster, smarter, and trickier than his opponent. Otherwise he’ll end up dead. And what happens to Sammy if Dean isn’t here to sell his soul knot?

In the early days, Dean tried to be understanding. He tried to treat Soldier Boy with the same kindness he’d treat any other omega in his bed. It earned him two broken arms and a shattered orbital socket.

He didn’t attempt kindness again.

Feeling like an overgrown baby in a onesie, he pops open the split in the crotch of his jumpsuit. The panels of fabric that now hang loose get attached to the legs by more button popper things.

He’s gone from overgrown baby to assless chaps - almost. But it gets the important bits accessible without compromising any of the squishy bits he wants to keep in his stomach, thanks. The fact that his cock is a sometimes squishy part that he really wants to keep seems to go over Vought’s head.

He’s already hard, pre-cum running down the length to soak the skin and trimmed hair at the base. He jacks himself a few times then rubs his hands together to get the scent on them. Soldier Boy will respond a little better if Dean smells excessively alpha.

Another deep breath. Just twelve hours and he can go back to his hotel, take a blisteringly hot shower and drive home. Go back to his life for five months and three-point-five weeks.

He presses the button on the wall.

~~~

The room where Soldier Boy is waiting is a cold white colour. Dean has wondered more than once if Vought just repaints it instead of trying to clean the blood off the walls as needed.

There’s no furniture, just a mattress against one wall. Dean knows that it gets tossed out after one use.

It’s not a very large room. Probably for safety. If Soldier Boy got up some momentum, he could probably bust through a wall or something. Best to give him less space.

The space is absolutely saturated with the scent of heat pheromones and slick. It overpowers the scent of Soldier Boy’s fury. Dean can’t even smell himself over it. He hopes Soldier Boy can, otherwise this is going to be a nasty fight before the omega submits.

As always, Soldier Boy is facing away from the door, completely naked and staring at a blank wall. Dean can see the camera in the corner, knows Soldier Boy is completely in frame, but he’s never worked out if Soldier Boy is watching the lens or just staring at the wall. The muscles in his broad back twitch randomly, and every so often a shiver makes its way down his spine and the smell of slick gets even stronger for a few seconds.

“You gonna play nice this time, Omega?”

“Fuck you.”

This call and response has been happening since Dean got a new metal bone in his face and hardened his heart to everything that goes on in this room.

“We both know that isn’t how this is gonna go down.”

Soldier Boy’s shoulders are shaking now, a sign of his anger.

“Fuck. You.”

Dean cracks his neck. He always hopes Soldier Boy will just submit and make it easier on both of them. But he always prepares for the fight.

“C’mon, the quicker you show me that ass, the quicker this will all be over and you can get back to burning down orphanages or whatever the hell you Supes do.”

That gets Soldier Boy to turn, to try and stare Dean down, even though they’re the same height.

Dean takes the opportunity to look Soldier Boy over, starting at his feet and moving upwards. Tense legs, trembling thighs - slick coating the inner skin. The usual. Diamond-hard cock, flushed deep red, drooling pre-cum that Dean longs to lap up. Also usual. He’s flushed red from his chest to his temples, a mixture of the heat and his anger. His bangs are plastered to his forehead with sweat. Three for three, full steam ahead, captain.

Dean has seen Soldier Boy in action on the TV, in the green suit and gold shield. In front of a camera, he always looks perfectly put together, hair shiny and styled into soft waves, bangs that hang artfully over his forehead. It’s a far cry from the panting, sweating omega that stands before him now.

Soldier Boy takes a step forwards. Dean crouches just a little, gets ready.

“Leave. You’re not fuckin’ needed here.”

“Aww, c’mon, Omega. You'll hurt my feelings. We both know you’re desperate to bend over for an alpha.”

Another step, but Soldier Boy doesn’t stop at one. He keeps walking until he’s nose to nose with Dean.

“Never.”

His lip curls in disgust, but Dean can smell the fresh wave of slick.

“Always. Always, little Omega. You can shout all you want, but you always end up begging in the end.”

Dean leans in, pressing their foreheads together.

“Bend over, I’m not kidding.”

Soldier Boy crashes into him like a linebacker. It’s more luck than any kind of planning or judgement that they land on the mattress and not the floor. Even heat-weak and from a standing start, he still feels like a Mack truck smashing into Dean.

Soldier Boy winds up straddling Dean, both trying to grip the other's wrists. The constant shifting rubs their cocks together perfectly and Dean stills with a hiss. Soldier Boy freezes, face screwed up to hold back his moan.

He recovers a fraction quicker than Dean and manages to get Dean’s wrists in one hand. He raises his other arm, fist clenched. Dean might be about to get another metal bone in his face. For just a second, he wonders if Vought will pay to replace his whole skull or just leave him to die and find a new alpha.

He thrusts his hips up sharply, causing Soldier Boy to freeze again. Pulling up his knees, he thrusts again, throwing Soldier Boy off balance, pitching him off Dean’s hips.

Dean scrambles to get off his back, get his knees under him, get the higher ground.

Soldier Boy tries to turn onto his back, get his legs up to kick Dean away. But Dean’s alpha pheromones are draining the fight from him now. His omega is taking over, making him pliant.

Dean shoves him face down with both hands on a shoulder. Even completely flat on his stomach, Soldier Boy’s ass looks incredible. Dean can’t wait to see him present properly.

For now, though, he lays himself over Soldier Boy, chest to back. His cock slots perfectly in between Soldier Boy’s ass cheeks and is coated in slick within seconds. He can’t help rocking his hips, just to feel the glide. The body under him shudders violently.

“That’s it. You’ve had your little bitch fit, but this is where you want to be, isn’t it.”

Soldier Boy tries to rise on his elbows, but with Dean skin to skin, he’s unable to fight his omega anymore. Dean’s own alpha is snarling to fuck and claim. Dean rubs his neck against the sweaty skin of Soldier Boy’s shoulder, smearing his pheromones as close to Soldier Boy’s nose as he can get them. Soldier Boy’s arms shake and he faceplants on the mattress again. Dean catches a whisper that could be ‘Alpha’.

“Yeah, say my name.”

Dean doesn’t think Soldier Boy even knows his first name, but Alpha is close enough.

“I don’t know why you fight every time. You could just bend this ass over and we’d have a good time.”

Dean drives his point home with another thrust, drawing a bitten-off moan from the Supe under him.

“Fuck you.”

It’s mumbled into the mattress, but Dean can still hear the lack of bite in the words.

“You know you don’t really want that, Omega. This sweet ass is just begging for my cock, begging to be knotted.”

The base of Dean’s cock is starting to ache in the best way. He’s past ready to fuck and knot the omega in front of him.

“You gonna present for me like a good omega or are you gonna get fucked on your belly like a bitch?”

Dean doesn’t even see Soldier Boy move, but the back of his skull smashes into Dean’s face, breaking his nose and spraying blood everywhere.

“Not. A. Fucking. Bitch.”

The words are spat from behind gritted teeth, but they just don’t have the rage anymore. It’s a token effort, one last act of defiance. Dean is still going to need to see a doctor to get his nose reset… again. He’s still blinking away tears. He can still feel the bruising that’s going to come up around his eyes. He’s still dripping blood into his mouth and into Soldier Boy’s hair. He’s still furious.

“Fuck! Fucking asshole.”

It takes some effort and shuffling to get up on his knees, but he manages to pull both of Soldier Boy’s arms behind his back and cross his wrists so Dean can hold them in one hand. It helps that Soldier Boy has gone mostly limp and compliant now.

“Get on your fucking knees.”

He uses his free hand to push on Soldier Boy’s ass.

“Up! On your knees. Fucking present, Omega.”

Soldier Boy shifts, pulling his knees up under him.

“Look at you, all bent over like a good bitch.”

Dean hisses the last word, lets his fury colour it. Soldier Boy twists in the grip Dean has on his hands, but it’s weak. Dean can hold him.

“Ah ah ah, you’re gonna stay where I put you, Omega.”

Dean reaches down to stroke his cock, getting ready to line himself up. He can’t smell himself over Soldier Boy’s pheromones and the scent of slick, but the omega must be able to smell him, or at least the scent of fresh pre-cum, and shivers, trying to suppress a whine.

“You be as loud as you want, I wanna hear you beg for my knot.”

Dean lines up and pushes in. It’s tight and wet and hot and perfect. He doesn’t stop until he’s as deep as he can go, thighs pressed tight to Soldier Boy’s ass. Soldier Boy who is now shaking from head to toe and still trying to hold back his moans.

But Dean doesn’t have to hold back anything. He can groan and curse as much as he wants.

“Fuck. So tight, Omega, so good.”

He forces himself to hold still, to not pull out and slam back inside, to make Soldier Boy squirm and beg. And squirm Soldier Boy does, hips undulating back and forth in an effort to make Dean move. It’s tempting, so very tempting. But Dean’s pissed about his nose and he’s going to hear the omega beg.

Soldier Boy holds out for more than a minute, a whine building in his throat. Dean wants to put his hands there, just to feel the vibration. But just like Dean knew he would, Soldier Boy breaks.

“Please.”

His jaw is clenched so tight, the word is almost garbled beyond recognition, but Dean knows what it means.

“That’s it. Beg for it.”

Dean rewards Soldier Boy by pulling out and thrusting deep again.

“Alpha!”

“Yeah. This what you need? An alpha to put you in your place? Big powerful Supe, huh. Out there. This is what you need, though, isn’t it. Need to be bent over like a fucking bitch.”

“Fuck you, you worthless kn- don’t stop.”

“Not gonna stop. Not 'til you’re hanging off my knot. If they could see you now. So fucking full of yourself in public, begging on your knees in here.”

“Alpha. Please. Gonna, gon-”

Soldier Boy freezes and then goes lax, the scent of omega cum filling Dean’s nose, even over the blood.

“Fuck. Get so damn tight cumming on my cock. You like this, huh? All that strength, those special Supe powers. But you’re on your knees for me, a random alpha you don’t even know. Better hope there isn’t some new intern manning the camera room today, recording the feed so he can jerk off to it every night.”

Soldier Boy goes tense.

“Ohhh, that scares you, doesn't it? I bet whoever's watching is tugging themselves raw at the sight of you. Face down, ass up. Begging for my knot while you cum all over yourself again and again.”

“You wish- Oh, god. Bet I’m the only one that’ll - fuck - have your knot and that’s by force, motherfu-uck-”

Another orgasm grips the omega and by extension Dean.

“You keep cumming on it, though, can’t hate it that much. You better hope this doesn’t get out, don’t want the world to see you begging to be bred.”

The mention of breeding makes Dean’s knot start to swell and makes Soldier Boy groan.

“Please. Alpha… please.”

Dean’s an inch from cumming, so close he can taste it.

“Can you even breed? Ten years I’ve been filling up your cunt, I’ve never got a ‘congratulations, daddy’ call.”

The omega whimpers.

“Do they keep you dosed? Or did they have you spayed?”

A twitch tells him it’s the latter. Something about the knowledge that one of the most powerful men in the world can be rendered societally worthless while Dean is whole sends fire up his spine.

“Makes sense. Can’t have you ruining the Supe genes any further, can they.”

Right there, right fucking there. His lip curls with malice.

“But damn, a disgrace to Supes by being an omega and a disgrace to omegas by being barren. Wouldn’t want your life. But hey, at least you get my knot to look forward to.”

Soldier Boy tenses up on another orgasm, a sob breaking out at the same time, and Dean follows him over the edge. His knot swells fully and ties them, cock pumping gush after gush of cum deep inside the omega.

As the initial high of his orgasm wears off, Dean guides them down to the mattress - away from the wet patches of slick and cum - and arranges the limp omega on his side, with Dean pressed against his back.

They’ll be tied for a little while yet, so Dean closes his eyes, tries to fight off the nausea welling up at what he just said. Soldier Boy brings out cruelty he didn’t know he had.

Deep, even breaths from the man almost - but not quite - in his arms. Soldier Boy will sleep until his heat flares again. At least Dean doesn’t have to look him in the eye.

He busies himself running his hand over as much bare skin as he can. From the way Soldier Boy melts at Dean’s touch, Dean doesn’t have to be a genius to work out that he’s touch-starved beyond belief. It's part of why Vought brings him in at all. Dean can’t imagine anyone but him getting close enough to touch Soldier Boy, much less try to comfort him. So he tries to give everything he can in these quiet times between knottings and then leaving. Hopefully his touch lingers for a little while and brings some peace to the man.

Dean wasn't joking when he said he hates everything about this place and everything that goes on in here, but he doesn’t hate the time locked in this room. Not just for the sex, but so he can have these quiet moments and delude himself that he makes a difference in Soldier Boy’s life, a tiny little difference. That he does some good instead of just bringing the man low with cruel words and a knot he never asked for.

He knots Soldier Boy a few more times, but it’s little more than fucking a fleshlight. The first time is explosive and violent. After that, omegas just need the sensation of a knot and fresh alpha cum to soothe the heat.

Or so Dean assumes. Soldier Boy is the only omega he’s ever seen through a heat and it’s been this way from the start. The only thing he knows for sure about omega heats is that without an alpha to knot them, they get sick. If they go long enough, they get really sick. The first time Dean was brought to Soldier Boy was proof of that; already unconscious when Dean was shoved into the room, it was the closest this thing had ever felt to true rape. But Dean had no choice, the scent of the half-dead omega had made his alpha feral. He was as much in control of his body as Soldier Boy at that point.

Past that, he’s flying blind.

He knows Sam is working with some research group to get funding and approval to try and formulate synthetic alpha cum so omegas won’t need to rely on alphas anymore. Maybe one day, the calls will stop and Dean and his cruel words will be forgotten entirely.

Eventually Soldier Boy cools to a normal temperature and his breathing shifts to real sleep instead of semi-consciousness. Dean’s knot shrinks for the last time and he can pull out. He could leave now, pace around like a caged animal until the door unlocks.

But he doesn’t. He stays pressed to Soldier Boy’s back, running his hand along now-clammy skin, trying to leave a memory of his touch there. He tries to ignore that he’s smearing the drops of his own blood along the way.

As much as this whole situation - Soldier Boy himself, even - brings out the worst in Dean, when it’s over, it brings out the protective side of him. Maybe it's part of being an alpha seeing an omega through heat, or maybe it’s just a part of Dean himself. The man never asked to be born an omega, never asked to be born a Supe, and never had a choice about his life. Dean can relate.

The hiss of the ante-chamber door makes Dean startle. Time to go.

He pulls away from Soldier Boy, who curls into himself a little as the air replaces Dean’s body heat. Keeping his hand on the man’s arms as long as possible, Dean gets to his knees.

“Stay safe out there, Ben. See you next time.”

He doesn’t look back, just lets the ante-chamber door close behind him while he redoes the poppers on the stupid crotch flap of the jump suit. Whoever watches the cameras has seen enough of his dick and he’s not going to walk back to the ‘dressing room’ where his clothes are with everything hanging out.

Being suddenly cut off from Soldier Boy’s scent leaves him reeling. He can still smell the slick on the fabric over his thighs, but mostly he can just smell his cum, his sweat, and the blood now dried on his face. He wrinkles his nose at the way he stinks and his whole face throbs with pain. Vought better get him a doctor before he leaves. They owe him.

The same lackey is waiting in the corridor. They don’t speak on the way back.

~~~

“-even breed? Ten years I’ve been filling up your cunt-”

Ben is still locked in the fuck-room, as he’s nicknamed it.

Vought won’t let him out until he’s been out of heat for a full one hundred and twenty hours. The fact that his heat breaks and finishes before they even let the alpha leave never seems to get through to them. Idiots.

They give him food, water, and access to the camera feed. That’s it. Like he’s a fucking prisoner.

So he watches the camera feed, again and again.

It disgusts him.

Seeing himself on the screen, bent over and begging, makes him want to hurl. He fights so hard - against his biology, his desires, his own omega. And this fucking nobody alpha gets picked off the street by Vought and cuts through it all. Strips him of everything that’s Soldier Boy, even everything that’s Ben, and leaves him a panting, needy mess, nothing but instinct and omega.

The alpha meets Ben’s fury with his own cruelty, though, and it’s exactly what Ben needs. He fights and he’s overpowered. He can just about accept that; he can give in to his omega knowing the alpha earned him.

He stops the tape as the alpha moves to lay him down after the first knotting. He can’t watch this part. He’d have to hunt the alpha down and murder him, and then Vought would have to find a new alpha and they wouldn’t be anywhere near as good.

He pulls up his email. The message won’t be sent until his laptop is allowed back online but that’s okay. It’ll get there.

‘Winchester,

Regarding your attendance at our bi-annual meeting. Your performance was somewhat lacking, as always. I expect to see improvement by our next meeting.

Much obliged for your continued collaboration.’

~~~

A few days later, when Dean is back on his side of the country and elbow deep in Baby’s engine, getting her spic and span after two cross country treks, his phone beeps.

He wipes his hands on a rag and pulls out his phone. A smirk lifts the corner of his mouth.

A thank you from Soldier Boy is almost double-speak, but Dean can decode.

It’s nice to be appreciated.

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