#a question for both smut writers and readers!

[rawflwrs]

Can you pls write some more about terry ?

▐ sugardaddy!terryrichmond ୫ camgirl!reader

summary: after a long day of spending daddy’s money, you both decide to end the night giving your viewers a show.

writer’s notes: I tried my best with this, although it was rushed, so it’s definitely not my best work. I apologise if you don’t like it! I’ve just been busy with assignments, so I’ve been distracted. I also added visuals this time, so let me know if you guys enjoy them and want me to add them in future smut fics. Nevertheless, I hope you enjoy and don’t forget to like, comment & reblog </3 !!

warnings: explicit language, begging, pet names (daddy, princess, etc) overstimulation, dacryphilia, clit slapping, bimbofication, finger sucking, choking, spanking, age gap relationship and praising — bratty!sub!reader & dom!terry

tags: @luvrsluxe @gardenof-venus @theogbadbitch @fairygoround @nayaesworld @catxo @withoutmusiclifewouldbflat @kenshisluvrgirl @bigjuiciisushii @todorokishoe24 @notapradagurl7 @writingsbytee

Terry knew you were high maintenance before he met you. The way your bedroom lit a soft shade of baby pink with gold and cheetah print accessories surrounding you, your nails and toes always freshly done, either in a sparkly baby pink or a basic french tip: you made sure you were put together. After all, all you did was dress up like a doll and men paid to witness it.

It was one of the few things Terry noticed about you. He never intended to come across you as he believed that watching porn or anything remotely related, wasn’t of any benefit to him, knowing that if he had any sexual needs, there were always a list of women who would be at his beck and call.

But before he knew it, Terry became one of your top contributors, starting off by sending you five thousand dollars in the first stream he joined and progressively adding another ten thousand for every stream after, just to hear you thank him as you pressed your toys into your glistening pink hole.

Terry loved the idea of spoiling a pretty girl like you, hearing your giggles as you repeatedly thanked him for sending you so many gifts or when you joked that you needed to see him in person to thank him properly: he knew that he needed you. When you had announced you were going to do private calls for your top contributors, Terry made sure he was number one on that list.

You were nervous. It was obvious that the person named ‘@/treatsfromterry’ was clearly obessessed with you and although you liked the idea of someone being so desperate for your attention that they would spend what felt like their lifesavings on you, you were also terrified that he would be some old creep.

You were so wrong. When a muscular caramel toned man, wearing thin rimmed glasses and a short sleeve black wife-beater popped onto your zoom call screen, you couldn’t believe your eyes. He was beautiful. You felt your mouth drop open slightly at the sight as his deep chuckle filled your ears. “You okay there, beautiful?” He questioned, fixing his camera position to ensure you can see him clearly. “Mhm” you trailed off, eyes lowering to his biceps. They were so big and soft: you wanted a bite.

“I need to hear you use your words, princess.” He sighed out, feeling himself harden at the sight of you wearing the lingerie he asked you to wear for this special occasion. “I’m fine, daddy. I just didn’t expect you to look so good.” You giggle, remembering that he asked you to only call him daddy. The name definitely fit the view you were seeing. “Thank you, baby. I appreciate you wearing that for me.” He smiled, motioning towards your lingerie.

You smiled. “I mean you spoil me so much, it’s the least I could do. Do I look pretty?” You moved closer to your laptop camera, purposely angling it to face your breasts as you slowly message them, circling your brown areole’s. “So fucking pretty, princess.” He groaned, the ache in his pants getting worse. You smiled, leaning back before thanking him again. “Is there anything specific you want me to do for you, daddy?” You asked.

Initially, Terry thought about asking you to masterbate on the call to watch you moan his name, but he realised that it would be better to see that in person. “No, I just want to ask you one question.” He leaned forward to look directly in your eyes. “Oh? Go ahead, but I’m just letting you know that if I feel uncomfortable, I won’t hesitate to block you.” You said softly, attempting to set your boundaries as clearly as possible.

“I wouldn’t want to make you uncomfortable, princess. Tell me if I’m going too far, okay?” He assured you while you simply nodded.

“Outside of this-” he started, gesturing towards the camera, insinuating that he was referring to you being a cam girl. “What is your goal? What job do you aspire to have?” He questioned and it caught you off guard. It’s not usual that one of your viewers even care to ask about how your day was, never mind what your aspirations are. “I want to be rich.” You answered, earning a deep chuckle from him. “What?! I’m serious. I don’t aspire to work. I just want to make money and be happy.” You said truthfully. He found your answer fascinating because it wasn’t one he was used to hearing.

“What if I can be the one to make you rich and happy?” He asked, his tongue swiping across his bottom lip, patiently waiting for your response. “Wh-what do you mean?” You questioned, feeling your body warming up from the tension. Although, he was miles away from you, he made his presence very known. “I’m an investor. I like to invest into businesses I know will be profitable and successful for me-” He started, before you cut him off, “you invest into people too?” You asked. “Not people. . . Just you.” He adjusted his glasses.

“I want you to be my sugar baby.” The comment had you puzzled. It wasn’t like people had never asked you to be their sugar baby, but it wasn’t normal for someone of his calibre to openly ask. “That means I get to spoil you and all I ask for in return is your time and attention.” He continued. You were still silent, debating on whether it would be a good idea as you only started your cam girl services to fund for your college tuition fees, not because you wanted to have close ties to the lifestyle long term. “You can continue your streaming services if you think that’s something I wouldn’t want you doing anymore. I just want you. I want to feel you and be close to you. That’s all I ask for, sweetheart.” He said as you thought deeply about the advantages of being a sugar baby.

“How do I know you’re really rich? You could just be lying to me to get me to meet you.” You pestered. He laughed before pulling out his phone, tapping a few buttons and showing you the amount of money he had in his bank account. You audibly gasped which caused him to laugh harder at the thought of you questioning his wealth. “Does that answer your question?” He asked. “I’ll do it. I’ll be your sugar baby.” You replied almost immediately. “Good girl.” He smiled once more. And with that, your relationship with Terry began.

Who would’ve thought that a year later, you would be walking around Chanel with a 6 ft 3 man, spending his money on whatever you touched. I mean, you had been in the store for less than hour and he already spent over twenty thousand dollars. Terry sat in the corner of the store, tapping away at his phone to handle some business dealings while keeping a close eye on you, knowing you get lost when you’re not in the right mind. “Daddy, come look at this.” You asked softly as he held one finger at you to tell you to wait a moment. “Just give me a minute, sweetheart.” He replied.

You hated when he wasn’t paying attention to you, especially because you knew that whatever he was looking at wasn’t more important than you. “Why do I even bother.” You pouted, grabbing your bags and attempting to leave the store without a second thought. Terry immediately followed after you and paused your movements, noticing your demeanour shift. “I’m here, princess. I’m sorry, you know how work is right now.” He grabbed your chin for you to look up at him. “You said you wanted my time and attention, whole time, you’re too busy on your stupid fucking phone!” You barked back, attempting to walk away before feeling your arm get yanked back.

“Who the fuck you talking to like that? I’ll fuck you up in front of everybody.” He started. “Tread lightly. This bratty attitude ain’t cutting it for me.” He warned. Yes, Terry was a sweet man who was never aggressive with you unless you asked him to be, he still would never tolerate disrespect and recently you’ve been having more bratty outbursts than usual. At first, he thought you were simply hormonal, but as it became consistently worse, he became more agitated that you thought your behaviour was acceptable. “Whatever.” You storm back into the store, ignoring glares from the workers and continue your shopping.

It wasn’t long before you were laying across Terry’s lap on your stomach with your camera angled just so your viewers can see his chest, but not his face as he spanked you in the room he dedicated in his house as your filming room, covered in Sanrio themed accessories after you told him you loved them. “You can take it, princess.” He spanked your plush ass again, watching it slowly bruise up as the live gained more traction with people sending more gifts and reactions. “M’ sor-so sorry, daddy! Please!” You pleaded, feeling yourself start to lose your vision as you stained your cheeks with wet hot tears.

“But you look so pretty like this, mama. Don’t y’all agree?” He questioned, almost taunting the viewers as he landed another harsh slap. Your live stream was gaining more views by the minute, but all you could think about was how much you needed his touch. “Pl-pleasee, daddy. Touch me- I want it so bad.” You cried out. “I nee-ed you.” You breathed out. “That’s all you had to say, princess.” He lifted you to straddle him, facing you towards the camera as he spread your legs open for them to see. “Look at how wet you are.” He slapped your clit harshly, causing you to yelp and jump forward from the impact.

You covered your mouth with your hand as he continued to slap your clit four more times, chuckling after each slap. “Dadd-ah pleasee!” You squealed, knowing your body was giving up on you. Terry used his left hand to grab you by your throat, applying a little bit of pressure to assert dominance. “You know I don’t like brats. Why do you keep playing with me?” He whispered in your ear, rubbing your clit in a circular motion, slowly. “M’ sor-” you were cut off by him applying more pressure to your throat. “You’re sorry? Were you sorry when you embarrassed me today?” He questioned, his grip on your throat getting tighter as he fastened the pace of rubbing your clit.

You couldn’t even respond due to the pressure he had on your throat. Terry moved his left hand up into your mouth as you attempted to catch a breath. He stuck his two fingers in your mouth, watching you suck them softly. He almost forgot you were on your live stream until he heard a ping from your computer which indicated you had reached over fifty thousand viewers: a new milestone. “People like seeing me use you, princess. Should we do this more often?” He asked, pushing his fingers further down your throat while you simply nodded.

He pulled his fingers out your mouth, watching closely as a string of your saliva creeped out. You coughed at the feeling of your airways being free. “You’re my filthy little slut. Aren’t you, angel?” He teased, using both of his hands to rub your clit aggressively. You gripped onto his biceps, your face contorting from the mixed pleasure that you were receiving. Your pussy ached from the heat and you felt yourself losing consciousness. “Aww, you gonna pass out on daddy? But I’m only just getting started, baby.” He cooed. “You can take it.” He bit your shoulder.

The lewd sounds of your pussy squelching, your inconsistent moans and your sweat dripping from all parts of your body made viewers wish they were Terry right now. It was fucking disgusting. You practically losing yourself and he hadn’t even fucked you yet? You were pathetic. He slowed down his pace when he saw you squirting and your juices nearly hitting your laptop camera: truly cinematic.

He groaned at the feeling of his cock aching just from the sight. Terry knew when you started squirting like this, you weren’t far from cumming. “You close, bunny?” He teased as your legs trembled in response. “M’ c-close, pa!” You squirmed, closing your eyes shut while he rubbed you gently, still ensuring his touch was firm. You felt yourself slipping away into your own headspace as you knew you would cum any moment now. That was until, he moved his hands away from you, earning a loud whine.

“You think I’d let you cum after how you acted today? Nah, get on all fours.” He pushed you off him, causing you to fall to the ground. Your legs were still wobbly, but you knew better than to argue with him. After all, it was your mouth that got you in this position in the first place. You sat up on the bed, getting into his preferred position. “Stretch that ass out.” He ordered, watching you spread your ass hole open, ready for him to stuff your ass, whole.

You knew you were in for a long night.

[yoon-kooks]

if you dont know what community labels are, here's a helpful post about it!

[barnacles34]

Professional Hazard (And Blue Tongues)

Karina x Male Reader

9k words

18+ smut

'I expected you to have...'

'Grey hair? Glasses thick as tank armor?' You lean back. 'Let me guess—ancient and decrepit?'

'Something like that.' She toys with her iced americano, ice cubes clinking.

'Get that more than you'd think.'

'Can't imagine why.'

'Sure you can't.'

She straightens in her chair. 'Well? Are you going to ask your questions or what?'

'Did you have something specific in mind?'

'I thought you'd at least come prepared.' The sharp edge in her voice softens, adapting. 'After that email you sent.'

'I am prepared.'

'Do you know who I am?'

'I know you're Karina. I know you agreed to fund my little Italian vacation.' You keep your voice flat, unimpressed.

She laughs, short and sharp. 'They really sent someone who knows nothing.'

'Biographers aren't exactly growing on trees these days. Most of them are busy dying off.' [1]

'That's comforting.'

'About as comforting as your enthusiastic response to my email.'

'Ah.' She smirks. 'My monument to hubris?'

'Your words, not mine.'

'Christ, you're not exactly sunshine and roses, are you?'

'If only you knew.'

'Oh, I think I do.' She leans forward. 'People like me—we're your bread and butter. Desperate enough to take the abuse just to get that book written.'

'Quick study.'

'Experience, darling.' She draws out the last word like stretched taffy.

'If immortality's what you're after, we're off to a rocky start.'

'Not even grateful for the Italian holiday?'

You meet her eyes. 'Bribery's nothing new. Don't expect it to polish your image.'

'Tough nut to crack, aren't you?'

'I have what I need.'

'Meaning?'

'Let me put this delicately: my last subject bought me a year at New York's finest.' [2]

'Fantastic.' She rattles her ice cubes harder.

'You know what I think?' She sets down her drink with deliberate care.

'Enlighten me.'

'I think you enjoy this. The whole "unimpressed biographer" act.'

You pull out your notebook, unhurried. 'That'd make a great chapter one. "Local girl psychoanalyzes writer, lives to regret it."'

'There it is again.' Her smile doesn't reach her eyes. 'Tell me, do your subjects usually last long enough for chapter two?'

'The interesting ones do.'

'And the boring ones?'

You flip open to a blank page. 'They get a lovely rejection letter.'

'Which I didn't.'

'Yet.'

She leans back, studying you. The late afternoon sun catches the edge of her glass, throwing prismatic shapes across the table. 'You really don't care that I could walk away right now.'

'The door's right there.' You click your pen. 'But we both know you won't.'

'Because?'

'Because you didn't spend three months negotiating with my publisher just to storm off over hurt feelings.'

'Maybe I just like wasting time.'

'Maybe.' You meet her gaze. 'But people who like wasting time don't usually have a dozen designer brand sponsorships.'

Something shifts in her expression—surprise, maybe, or respect. 'So you did do your homework.'

'I always do.' You position your pen over the blank page. 'Now, shall we begin with the real questions?'

'Shoot.' She shifts in her chair, the late afternoon sun warming the cafe corner we've claimed.

'Tell me about your sister.'

Her eyebrows lift slightly. 'Not starting with the obvious questions?'

'Would you prefer those?'

'No.' She smiles, genuine this time. 'She's a nurse. Like our mom.'

'Close?'

'Very. She's the only person who still calls me Jimin.' She stirs her americano. 'Probably the only person who can get away with it, too.'

'Why's that?'

'Because she knew me when I was just the quiet kid who'd rather read in corners than talk to anyone. Before all of...' She waves her hand vaguely. 'This.'

'Still prefer corners?'

'Sometimes.' She considers the question. 'There's this tiny bookstore in Seongnam. When I go home, I still visit. They have this perfect spot by the window.'

'What do you read?'

'Whatever catches my eye. Last week it was about sharks.'

You raise an eyebrow. 'Sharks?'

'Don't look so surprised.' She laughs. 'They're fascinating. Everyone thinks they know them, but they don't, not really.'

'Speaking from experience?'

She takes a long sip of her drink instead of answering.

'You don't have to do that, you know.' You set your pen down.

'Do what?'

'Deflect. Turn everything into a metaphor.'

She meets your eyes for a long moment. 'Force of habit.'

'Bad one.'

'Says the person who's been matching my deflections word for word.' A half-smile plays at her lips. 'We're quite the pair, aren't we?'

'Difference is, I'm paid to be difficult.'

'And I was raised to be.' The words slip out before she can catch them. Her fingers tighten around her glass.

You wait.

'You're good at this,' she says quietly.

'At what?'

'Making silence comfortable.' She looks out the window. 'Most people try to fill it.'

'Most people aren't trying to understand.'

She turns back to you, something shifting in her expression. 'Is that what you're trying to do? Understand?'

'Would that be so terrible?'

'No,' she says.

'Progress.' You pick up your pen again. 'Though I've just realized something deeply troubling.'

'What's that?'

'Your americano's been empty for ten minutes, and you're still pretending to drink it.'

She glances at her glass, caught. 'Method acting.'

'Ah yes, the classic "I'm too invested in this conversation to pause for a refill" performance.' You wave to catch the barista's eye. 'Oscar-worthy.'

'Says the person who hasn't touched their...' She leans forward to peek at your cup. 'What even is that?'

'Green tea.'

'Pretentious.'

'Says the person who ordered an iced americano in winter.'

'It's barely spring.'

'Case in point.'

The barista arrives with fresh drinks. Karina raises an eyebrow at your cup. 'Still green tea?'

'I'm consistent.'

'Boring.'

'Strategic.' You take a deliberate sip. 'Can't blame caffeine jitters for whatever honesty slips out.'

'Sneaky.'

'Professional.'

'Same thing.' She stirs her new drink, ice cubes clinking. 'So what's next in your strategic interrogation?'

'Thought we agreed to drop the deflection thing.'

'Old habits. Ten seconds at a time.'

'That's oddly specific.'

'It's how I learned to swim.' At your questioning look, she continues, 'Ten seconds of courage. Then you can panic all you want.'

'Does that work?'

'Got me here, didn't it?' She gestures between you two. 'Letting a stranger with a notebook and suspiciously consistent beverage choices pick apart my life.'

'You could always run.'

'To where? Croatia?' She laughs at your surprised expression. 'What? I have dreams.'

'Of Croatia specifically?'

'Of anywhere that doesn't know my name.'

'That's rather poetic for someone who just called me pretentious.'

'I contain multitudes.' She mock-bows in her seat.

'Walt Whitman now?'

'See? You're not the only one who can be insufferably well-read.'

You make a show of writing something down. 

You flip to a fresh page. 'Tell me about Croatia.'

'Nothing to tell. Just a place.'

'There are plenty of places that don't know your name. Why that one?'

She traces the rim of her glass again, a habit you've started to recognize as her thinking gesture. 'Have you ever seen those old coastal towns? The ones with narrow streets and buildings that look like they're having conversations with each other?'

'Been to a few.'

'I want to get lost in one.' She looks up. 'Properly lost. No GPS, no itinerary. Just... walking until my feet decide to stop.'

'Most people want to be found.'

'Most people haven't spent years being findable.' The sharpness in her voice surprises both of you. She softens it with a smile. 'Sorry. That sounded more dramatic than intended.'

'Don't apologize. It's the first time you've stopped performing since we sat down.'

'I haven't been—' She stops. Laughs. 'Okay. Point taken.'

'Progress. Again.'

'You're keeping score?'

'Always.' You tap your notebook. 'It's kind of the whole point.'

'And how am I doing?'

'In being honest or deflecting?'

'Both.'

'You're averaging about fifty-fifty.'

'Generous scoring.'

'Strategic encouragement.'

'You're good at that.' She stretches slightly. 'Making people think they're in control of the conversation.'

'Are you not?'

'Please. We both know you've been steering this ship since you sat down.' She pauses. 'Though I will say, you're the first interviewer who hasn't asked about my routine yet.'

'Your routine?'

'You know. "What time do you wake up? What's your skincare regimen? How many hours do you practice?" That whole song and dance.'

'Would you like me to ask?'

'God no.' She grins. 'But I'm curious why you haven't.'

'Because routines are what people do. I'm more interested in who they are.'

'And who am I?'

'Still figuring that out. But I know you crack your knuckles when you're nervous.'

She stops mid-crack, caught. 'Observant.'

'Professional hazard.' You lean forward. 'Tell me something real. Not about routines or schedules or practices.'

'Like what?'

'Like what you think about at three AM when you can't sleep.'

She's quiet for a long moment. 'Sometimes I forget what my natural speaking voice sounds like.'

'What do you mean?'

'You spend so many years modulating everything—your voice, your laugh, your reactions—until one day...' She shrugs. 'One day you catch yourself using your "public" voice to order coffee at 3 AM in an empty convenience store, and you realize you can't remember what you used to sound like.'

'And that bothers you.'

'Wouldn't it bother you? Losing something that fundamental without even noticing it was gone?'

'Is that why we're here? Trying to find it again?'

'Maybe.' She smiles, but it's different now. Unpolished. 'Or maybe I'm just tired of having "public" and "private" versions of everything.'

'Including your voice.'

'Including my entire existence.'

'Right.' You snap your notebook shut. 'We're getting gelato.'

—

[1] The suspicious rate at which biographers are "dying off" has become something of an industry joke. Three prominent biographers mysteriously retired after attempting to write about a certain K-pop company's CEO. Totally not suspicious.

[2] The Plaza Hotel, to be specific. Said subject was a tech billionaire whose autobiography mysteriously never made it to print. The hotel suite, however, maintains legendary status among New York's housekeeping staff for its impressive collection of empty green tea bottles and rejection letters.

—

She blinks. 'What?'

'We're walking.' You stand, gathering your things. 'Unless you have somewhere to be?'

'Are you actually asking, or is this another strategic move?'

'Both. Neither. Whatever. Does it matter if there's gelato involved?'

A genuine laugh escapes her. 'Fair point.'

The early evening air hits your faces as you step outside. She pulls on a cap—more habit than disguise.

'Left or right?' you ask.

'You're the one who lives here.'

'Technically, I've been here three days.'

'And you already know where to get gelato?'

'First thing I do in any city. Professional secret.'

'Ah yes, the biographer's handbook. Chapter One: locate ice cream immediately.'

'Chapter Two: never reveal your sources.' You turn left. 'Unless they're wearing a questionably large cap and hiding from their own voice.'

'Low blow.' But she's grinning. 'Also, my cap is perfectly sized.'

'For what? Smuggling library books?'

'That's... oddly specific.'

'Says the person who just quoted Walt Whitman in a cafe.'

You find the gelato place tucked between a bookstore and a vintage shop. The owner, an elderly Italian woman, lights up at your approach.

'Due?' she asks.

'Sì,' you reply, then turn to Karina. 'What's your poison?'

She studies the flavors intently. 'What's the most unusual one?'

'Professional or personal answer?'

'There's a difference?'

'Professional would be something elegant. Personal...' You point to a vivid blue flavor. 'That one tastes like your childhood imaginary friend made a pact with a Smurf.'

She doesn't hesitate. 'Two scoops of that, please.'

'Really?'

'What?' She raises an eyebrow. 'Scared of a little blue tongue?'

'More scared of what my editor will say when the interview notes are stained cerulean.'

Ten minutes later, you're both leaning against a stone wall, gelato dripping in the warm evening air. Her tongue is, indeed, impressively blue.

'Yah! Why are you taking a picture?”

'Your tongue. I need photographic evidence for my editor.'

She complains, ‘self-respecting people would’ve walked a long time ago.’

‘And let me guess-’

‘Correct. Take a picture if you want.’

'Pulitzer worthy.' You take another bite of your considerably more dignified pistachio. 'So tell me about the sharks.'

'You're still on that?'

'You brought up marine biology in a cafe and then mysteriously changed the subject. I'm invested now.'

'There's nothing mysterious about it.' She licks a drop of blue from her knuckle. 'I just think they're neat.'

'That's the worst deflection yet.'

'Fine.' She pushes off the wall, starting to walk. 'When I was younger, I used to think they were lonely.'

You fall into step beside her. 'Sharks?'

'Mm. Always swimming, never stopping. Everyone afraid of them.' She shrugs. 'Stupid kid logic.'

'And now?'

'Now I think they're just... misunderstood.' She grins. 'That was terrible, wasn't it? Like a bad movie line.'

'Terrible. But honest.'

'You and your honesty fetish.'

'Says the person who just admitted to emotionally relating to sharks.'

She snorts, nearly dropping her cone. 'When you put it that way—'

'Oh, I'm definitely putting it that way. It's going in the book.'

'Absolutely not.'

'Chapter title: "The Shark Whisperer”. I can see it already'

She tries to hip-check you, but you dodge, protecting your gelato. 'I'm revoking your creative license.'

'Too late. The mental image of baby Jimin crying over shark documentaries is seared into my brain.'

'I did not cry over—' She stops. 'Okay, maybe once. But it was a very sad documentary.' [1]

The sun is setting now, painting the cobblestones gold. You pass a street musician playing something soft and acoustic.

'Your sister know about the sharks?'

'Of course. She bought me the books.' Her smile turns fond. 'Still does, actually. Sends them to me randomly.'

'Recent ones?'

'Last week.' She finishes her cone. 'She has... interesting timing.'

'Interesting timing?'

'Mm.' She wipes her hands on a napkin. 'Right after I told her about the interview. She sent me one about great whites. Said something about facing fears.'

'Subtle.'

'About as subtle as your interview techniques.' She eyes your notebook, still tucked away. 'Not writing anymore?'

'Memory's better when I'm walking.' You tap your temple. 'Also, harder to write about blue tongues while walking.'

'Still blue?'

'Devastatingly so.'

She sticks her tongue out at a passing window, checking her reflection. 'Oh god, it's worse than I thought.'

'Crisis?'

'Please. I once had to perform with my hair half-green because of a dye mishap. This?' She gestures to her mouth. 'This is nothing.'

'Half-green?'

'Not going in the book.'

'Already mentally drafting the chapter.'

She groans. 'I'm starting to regret this whole walking thing.'

'Because of the blackmail material or the exercise?'

'Both. Neither.' She pauses by a small fountain. 'It's just... nice.'

'Nice?'

'Yeah.' She sits on the fountain's edge. 'No schedule. No plan. Just... walking and talking and eating questionably colored gelato with a stranger who probably thinks I'm having a quarter-life crisis.'

'Are you?'

'Having a crisis or eating gelato?'

'Now who's deflecting?' 

And she pauses again, caught.

She dips her fingers in the fountain water, watching the ripples. 'Maybe I just wanted one normal evening. One conversation that wasn't prepackaged and pre-approved.'

'Mission accomplished, I'd say. Your tongue is literally blue.'

That startles a laugh out of her. 'You're never letting that go, are you?'

'It's going to be a running metaphor throughout the book. Deep, meaningful parallels between blue gelato and the human condition.'

'You're terrible at your job.'

'I'm excellent at my job. I got you to walk around Rome with blue teeth.'

'Is that the measure of success?'

'For this chapter? Absolutely.'

The street lamps are starting to flicker on, and the air has that peculiar Roman evening warmth that begs for a drink.

'Know any good bars?' she asks, as if reading your mind.

'Thought you'd never ask[2]. Fair warning though—my Italian's terrible.'

'Better or worse than your interview skills?'

'Much worse. But I can order Aperol Spritz in seventeen different ways.'

'Useful life skill.'

'More useful than relating to sharks.'

She shoves your shoulder lightly. 'One more shark joke and I'm leaving.'

'No, you're not.'

'No, I'm not.' She grins. 'Lead the way, worst Italian speaker.'

You find a tiny place tucked away from the main streets. The kind tourists don't know about, with mismatched chairs and a bartender who looks old enough to have served Caesar himself.

'Due aperol spritz, per favore.' You ask.

The bartender raises an eyebrow. 'Americano? Il tuo italiano è buono!' (your Italian was… apparently… good.)

'Peggio,' you say. 'Giornalista' 

(‘Worse. Journalist.’)

He laughs, already reaching for glasses. Karina slides onto a barstool, looking around with genuine curiosity.

‘He seems pretty impressed by your Italian.’

‘Oh trust me—he wasn’t. He just wanted to be nice. That’s all. The inflections are quite easy to catch.’

‘Alright, whatever you say. Giornalista—.'

You grin at her cute prod.

'How'd you find this place?' She asks; needless to say, she likes it here.

'Got lost my first night here––five years ago. It was either come in or keep pretending I knew where my hotel was.'

'And?'

'Woke up knowing exactly where my hotel was. And how to say "I'm sorry" in Italian.'

She laughs. 'That bad?'

'Let's just say there's a reason I stick to green tea now.'

The drinks arrive, vivid orange against the dark wood of the bar.

'To blue tongues,' you raise your glass.

'And bad Italian,' she clinks hers against it.

—

[1] The documentary in question was "Blue Planet II." Her sister still has the receipt for three boxes of tissues and a plush shark from the aquarium gift shop. The plush shark now sits in her studio, wearing a tiny version of her debut outfit. Her company has tried to mass-produce it twice. She's vetoed it both times.

[2] You were never this humble about your Italian until you talked to an Italian nonna. "Qui giace la dignità di un giornalista" (Here lies a journalist's dignity).

—

'Speaking of bad decisions—'

'We weren't.'

'We are now. Tell me about the green hair incident.'

'Absolutely not.' She takes another sip of her spritz. 'Some secrets I'm taking to my grave.'

'Come on. Half-green hair? There's got to be a story there.'

'There is. A great one. You're still not hearing it.'

'I'll trade you.'

'Oh?' She turns on her stool to face you fully. 'What could you possibly have that's worth my green hair story?'

'Remember when I said I learned to say sorry in Italian?'

'The plot thickens.'

'Let's just say it involved a fountain, three angry nuns, and a very patient carabinieri.'

She nearly chokes on her drink. 'You're making that up.'

'Want to bet your green hair story on it?'

'You know what?' She signals the bartender for another round. 'Fine. But if you're lying, you're buying drinks for the rest of the night.'

'Deal.'

'And no taking notes.'

'Now that's just cruel.'

'Professional hazard,' she mimics your earlier tone, then grins. 'Okay, storyteller. Dazzle me.'

The bartender sets down fresh drinks, and you lean in conspiratorially. 'So picture this: my first night in Rome, about five years ago...'

'Wait.' She holds up a hand. 'We need to establish stakes. If this story doesn't involve all three elements—fountain, nuns, and police—you're not only buying drinks, you're telling me where you actually learned to say sorry in Italian.'

'Counter-offer. If my story checks out, I get the green hair story plus whatever happened at that music show in Busan.'

Her eyes narrow. 'What music show in Busan?'

'The one you just reacted to.'

'That's... that's actually impressive.'

'Five years of professional nosiness at work. Deal?'

She clinks her glass against yours. 'Deal. Now stop stalling.'

'Right. So. Five years ago. I'd just finished an interview with this ancient countess at the bar. I mean, it’s the bar. Who else gets to interview a countess at a bar? That’s like crazy Bourdain-level shit right there.’

She nods along. 'Of course you did.'

'Anyway, she invited me to this wine cellar...'

'Oh no.'

'Oh yes. And mind you, I was already quite drunk. And she was very, very insistent about hospitality...'

Twenty minutes and much laughter later, you finish: '...and that's why you should never trust Google Translate to help you apologize to Italian law enforcement.'

She's wiping tears from her eyes. 'The part with the cat—'

'Hand to god. Still have the scars.'

'Okay.' She catches her breath. 'Okay, you win. That was worth it.'

'Time to pay up. Green hair. Spill.'

'Can I have one more drink first?'

'For courage?'

'So I can blame it on the drink.' She waves at the bartender. 'I still can't believe you showed those nuns your interview notes to prove you weren't a street performer.'

'Desperate times.'

'Speaking of desperate...' She takes a fortifying sip of her fresh spritz. 'Ever tried to fix green hair with grape juice?'

'No.'

'Don't.'

'There has to be more to this story than grape juice.'

'Oh, there's so much more.' She settles into her seat. 'Picture this: it's two hours before a live broadcast. I'm sitting in the makeup chair, feeling pretty good about life. You know, like that particular moment where your face just… shines. Then my stylist walks in, takes one look at my hair, and just... screams.'

'Screams?'

'Full horror movie scream. Turns out the hair dye we used was... let's say "not exactly approved by management."'

'Let me guess. DIY job?'

'Worse. My sister's friend's cousin who "totally went to beauty school."'

'Oh no.' You snort, taking a hefty drink of the remaining spritz.

'Oh yes. So there I am, one side of my head this bizarre shade of swamp-thing green, and everyone's running around like it's the end of the world.'

'Which is when someone suggested grape juice?'

'Actually, that was my idea.' She grimaces. 'I'd read somewhere that grape juice could neutralize green tones. What they failed to mention was that this works for swimming pools, not hair.' [1]

'So what happened?'

'Picture a very expensive wig, three cans of dry shampoo, and me trying to explain to the camera director why I couldn't turn my head to the left.'

'Did it work?'

'Define "work."' She takes another sip. 'If by "work" you mean "did I make it through the broadcast without anyone seeing the grape-juice-tinged disaster," then yes. If by "work" you mean "did I maintain any dignity," then absolutely not.'

'The fans never found out?'

'Oh, they did. Someone leaked a backstage photo three months later.' She grins. 'By then I'd managed to fix it. Mostly.'

'Mostly?'

'My sister still has a strand of green hair she saved. Threatens to post it whenever I don't answer her calls.'

'Effective.'

'Terrifying.' She raises her glass. 'Your turn again. What's the worst interview you've ever done?'

'Besides this one?'

She kicks your chair. 'I'm delightful and you know it.'

'You're something, all right.'

Three drinks in, and the bar's emptied enough that her laugh echoes a little too loudly. She covers her mouth, but it's too late – the old bartender shoots them an amused look.

'Sorry,' she stage-whispers.

'For what? The laugh or the fact that it just shattered three ancient Roman wine glasses?'

'Shut up.' She kicks your chair again. 'I don't always laugh like that.'

'Let me guess – there's a public laugh and a private laugh?'

'There's a whole taxonomy.' She sits up straighter, counting on her fingers. 'Interview laugh, variety show laugh, fan meeting laugh, oh-that's-not-actually-funny-but-you're-my-sunbae laugh—'

'Please tell me you're joking.'

'I wish.' She slumps forward, head on her arms. 'I once had to attend a laughing seminar.'

'A what now?'

'A laughing seminar. Professional instruction on the art of the public giggle.' Her voice is muffled against her sleeve. 'There was a PowerPoint and everything.'

'You're making this up.'

She lifts her head. 'I spent three hours learning about laugh-adjacent breathing techniques while a woman named Mrs. Kim hit a triangle every time someone laughed "inappropriately."'

You stare at her. She stares back.

'That's the most horrifying thing I've ever heard,' you say finally.

'I know.' She dissolves into another too-loud laugh, this one definitely not seminar-approved. 'God, I can still hear that triangle.'

'Is that why you're here?'

'Getting drunk with a biographer in Rome? No, that's just poor life choices.'

'Speaking honest truths to a stranger?'

'Oh.' She straightens up, but there's still something loose in her smile. 'Maybe. Or maybe I just really needed to tell someone about Mrs. Kim and her triangle of terror.'

'Triangle of terror.' You shake your head. 'That's going in the book.'

'Along with the blue tongue and green hair? You're really painting a picture here.'

'It's called character development.'

'It's called character assassination.' She signals for water. 'What else are you putting in there?'

'Wouldn't you like to know.'

'Actually, yes. That's literally why I'm asking.'

'Fine.' You pretend to flip through your mental notes. 'Chapter One: Sharks and Empathy—'

'Oh my god.'

'Chapter Two: The Grape Juice Incident—'

'I'm starting to regret everything.'

'Chapter Three: Laugh Taxonomies by Aespa’s Karina—'

'I hate you.'

'Chapter Four: Why Romans Don't Trust Her With Fountains Anymore—'

'That was you! That was literally your story!'

'Was it? Everything's getting a bit fuzzy.' You tap your temple. 'Must be all that professional memory I was bragging about earlier.'

She throws an olive at you. The bartender clears his throat.

'Sorry,' you both say in unison, then look at each other and start laughing again.

'You know what's really funny?' she says, once you've both contained yourselves.

'Mrs. Kim's triangle?'

'Besides that.' She accepts the water from the bartender. 'This is probably the worst interview you've ever done.'

'Oh, definitely.'

'And yet...'

'And yet?'

'It's the most honest one I've given.' She pauses. 'God, that sounded way less cheesy in my head. Must be the spritz talking.'

'Blame it on the altitude.'

'We're at sea level.'

'Blame it on the sea level.'

'You're ridiculous.' She's grinning though. 'Is this how all your interviews go?'

'Usually there's less gelato. More gravitas.'

'Gravitas is overrated.'

'Says the woman who attended a laughing seminar.'

'Hey, I'll have you know my triangle-approved giggle is very dignified.'

'Prove it.'

She sits up straighter, arranges her features into something serene, and lets out the most artificial laugh you've ever heard. It's so pristine it's almost disturbing.

'That was horrifying.'

'That was three hours of professional training.'

'I'm concerned about your profession.'

'Join the club.' She relaxes back into her natural posture. 'We have meetings every Tuesday. Bring your own triangle.'

The bartender slides over the check with a knowing look. Last call came and went without either of you noticing.

'Well,' you say, reaching for your wallet. 'I suppose this is—'

'Wait.' She puts her hand on your arm. 'I have a confession.'

'Another one? The green hair wasn't enough?'

'I read your book.'

'Which one?'

'The one about the ballet dancer who quit to become a motorcycle mechanic.'

'Ah.' You sit back. 'And?'

'And I maybe, possibly, completely changed my mind about this whole interview when I read it.'

'Because?'

'Because...' She fidgets with her empty glass. 'You made her sound so... human.'

'As opposed to?'

'A story. A headline.' She traces a pattern on the bar top. 'Most people would've written about the scandal, the career she "threw away." But you wrote about how she names each motorcycle she fixes. How she still dances in her garage at midnight.'

'Ah. That.'

'That.' She looks up. 'Is that why you haven't asked me about any of it?'

'Any of what?'

'Don't play dumb. The headlines. The speculation. The—'

'The triangle-approved responses you've probably rehearsed?'

She laughs, caught. 'Something like that.'

'Here's the thing about headlines.' You start gathering your things. 'They're usually more interesting than the truth.'

'And what's the truth?'

'That sometimes people just want to eat blue gelato and tell embarrassing stories in a bar and talk a biographer’s ears off.'

She kicks your chair again, barely noticeable. 'Even if those stories end up in a book?'

'Especially then.' You stand, offering her jacket. 'Though I might need you to sign a waiver about the grape juice incident.'

'I knew it! You are using it!'

'Chapter title: "The Perils of Amateur Chemistry: A Cautionary Tale."'

She shrugs on her jacket, shaking her head. 'You're impossible. That AI flair was so intentional'

'Says the woman who legitimately attended a laughing seminar.'

'I'm never living that down, am I?'

'Not as long as I have a functioning memory and a publishing contract.'

The Roman night is warm as you both step out of the bar. She stumbles slightly on the cobblestones.

You offer a hand which she quickly grabs.

'Don't you dare put that in the book,' she warns.

'Put what? The graceful interpretation of contemporary dance you just performed?'

'These streets are rigged.' She steadies herself. 'Also, your hotel's this way.'

'How do you know where my hotel is?' You’re not exactly one to remember locations, probably the reason you were able to gain such a repository of ridiculous stories.

'Because it's my hotel.' She grins at your expression. 'What? You think you're the only one who does research?'

'I'm concerned about your stalking tendencies.'

'Says the person who somehow knew about the Busan incident.'

'Professional hazard.'

'You really need new catchphrases.'

The walk is quiet, comfortable. Rome at night feels like a different city—all golden lights and shadow play. A cat watches you pass from its perch on a window sill.

'Don't even think about it,' she says.

'About what?'

'Making some poetic comparison between me and that cat.'

'Please. I'm a much better writer than that.'

'Sure you are, shark whisperer.'

You reach the hotel entrance. She pauses.

'Well,' she says. 'This has been...'

'Professionally catastrophic?'

'I was going to say enlightening.'

'That too.'

The hotel lobby is all marble and soft lighting. Your footsteps echo slightly.

'I have a balcony,' she says suddenly. 'And a really pretentious coffee machine I can't figure out.'

'Is this a cry for help with appliances?' 

'This is...' She fidgets with her room key. 'This is me not wanting the interview to end yet.'

'The interview ended somewhere between blue gelato and the triangle story.'

'Then what's this?'

‘Believe or not, some people just like having fun on their Italian vacation.’

‘Haha. Very funny.’

'This is...' You pretend to consider. 'Two people who might be friends if one of them wasn't writing a book about the other.'

'Complicated.'

'Professional hazard.'

'There's that phrase again.' She presses the elevator button. 'Come on. I'll teach you how to laugh properly.'

'With or without the triangle?'

She steps into the elevator. 'Depends on how good you are at making coffee.'

'Now who's the impossible one?'

The doors start to close. She holds them.

'Coming?'

You join her in the elevator. 'For the record, I'm excellent at coffee.'

'For the record,' she mimics your tone, 'that's going in the book.'

Her room is on the top floor, with a view that makes you understand why people write poetry about Rome.

'So,' she says, fighting with the coffee machine. 'This button makes it angry, and this one makes it hiss.'

'Move over, amateur.' You reach around her to press a combination of buttons. The machine purrs to life.

'Show off.' But she's smiling as she heads for the balcony. 'Bring your coffee wizardry out here when it's ready.'

The balcony is small, just enough room for two chairs and all of Rome spread out below. She's curled up in one chair, shoes off, looking more real than she has all day.

'Your professional opinion,' she says as you hand her a cup. 'Is this going to be a good book?'

'Depends.'

'On?'

'On whether you let me keep the shark metaphors.'

She laughs into her coffee. 'You're never letting that go.'

'Never.' You take the other chair. 'Though I might be willing to negotiate.'

'Terms?'

'Tell me something nobody knows. Something that won't make the book.'

She's quiet for a moment, looking out at the city lights. 'I sing in the shower.'

'Everybody knows that.'

'No, I mean...' She turns to face you. 'I sing the old songs. The ones I used to practice when I was just some kid in Bundang with a dream too big for my voice.'

'And?'

'And sometimes I still feel like her. That kid. Especially at night, in foreign hotels, when the city feels like it belongs to someone else.'

'Especially at night, in foreign hotels, when the city feels like it belongs to someone else.'

'Wow.' You let out a low whistle. 'That was incredibly profound.'

She groans, covering her face. 'I know. I'm sorry. That was straight out of a drama script.'

'I was thinking more indie movie. You know, the kind where people have deep conversations on balconies in Rome at—' you check your watch, '—one in the morning.'

'Oh god, we're living a cliché.'

'Complete with coffee and two chairs overlooking Rome.'

'Quick,' she straightens up, 'say something unprofound. Save us from ourselves.'

'My tongue is still kind of blue.'

She peeks at you over her coffee cup. 'Mine too.'

'Better?'

'Much better.' She slouches back in her chair. 'Though now I'm thinking about how this would look in your book. "Two idiots with blue tongues have existential crisis on expensive balcony."'

'Don't forget the part where one of them somehow charmed a coffee machine.'

'And the other one used to sing in her shower.'

'Still,' you correct. 'Present tense.'

'Still,' she admits. 'But if you put that in your book, I'll have to tell everyone about your fountain incident.'

'Mutually assured destruction. I like it.'

She yawns, then looks embarrassed. 'Sorry. It's not the company, it's—'

'The five Aperol Spritzes?'

'That. And the emotional toll of remembering Mrs. Kim's triangle.'

'Tragic backstory,' you nod solemnly. 'Very character-building.'

'Speaking of character-building...' She sets down her empty cup, turns to face you fully. 'This is usually the part in your books where something significant happens.'

'Is it?'

'Mm. Chapter twelve. Always a turning point.'

'You really did read my books.'

'I told you that already.' She's closer now, somehow. 'What I didn't mention was that I figured out your pattern.'

'My pattern?'

'The way you write moments like this.' Her voice is soft. 'When everything gets quiet, and the city's just background noise, and someone's about to do something...'

'Inadvisable?'

'I was going to say brave.'

'Brave is just inadvisable with better PR.'

She laughs, barely a whisper. 'You're deflecting again.'

'Professional—'

'If you say "hazard" right now,' she cuts in, 'I'm going to throw you off this balcony.'

'That would be...'

'Inadvisable?'

'I was going to say "terrible for my book sales."'

She's definitely closer now. 'Your book sales are about to be the least of your problems.'

'Because you're going to kiss me or throw me off the balcony?'

'I haven't decided yet.'

'Well,' you murmur, 'for what it's worth, one of those options would make a much better chapter twelve.'

She closes the distance between you, smiling against your lips. 'Professional hazard.'

You and Karina shared an instant spark that neither of you had experienced. Ever. The moment that first tease left your mouth, it was over.

—

[1] The sentiment of grape juice being able to eliminate green tones turned out to be completely unfounded. Despite this, wine sommeliers around the world have complained about Koreans with their distinct accent asking about grape juice’s ability to change colors.

—

The kiss tastes like coffee and Aperol and something sweet—probably the remnants of that ridiculous blue gelato. It's soft and quiet and perfect, the kind of moment that would sound made up in a book.

She pulls back slightly. 'Your editor's going to hate this.'

'Definitely.' You tuck a strand of hair behind her ear. 'Completely unprofessional.'

'Thoroughly inadvisable.'

'Absolutely perfect for chapter twelve.'

She kisses you again, and Rome keeps existing below, indifferent to your small moment of magic. Somewhere in the distance, a church bell chimes twice.

'You know,' she whispers, 'this is usually where you'd write something profound about the city of love.'

'That's Paris.'

'Now who's deflecting?'

'Still you. But I'm starting not to mind.'

She laughs, soft and real—definitely not triangle-approved—and rests her forehead against yours, your breaths intermixing, plenty of intimate eye contact. 'Is this going in the book?'

'What do you think?'

'I think...' Her fingers find yours. 'I think some stories we get to keep for ourselves.'

'I think some stories we get to keep for ourselves.'

'Even after I charmed your coffee machine? That's cold.'

She makes a face. 'You're really bringing up coffee machine prowess right after—'

'Right after you thoroughly compromised my journalistic integrity? Yes.'

'Your journalistic integrity was compromised the moment you let me eat blue gelato.'

'My journalistic integrity was compromised the moment I saw you.' You run your thumb across her knuckles.

Her eye contact wavers and her voice falters, ‘Gosh, you’re such a player.’

‘Flirting has never come so easily before.’ You whisper against her mouth.

'Oh really?'

'Obviously.'

'Which was?'

'Stare at that blue tongue some more.’'

She shoves you lightly. 'You're terrible.'

'And yet.'

'And yet.' She settles on your lap, the forehead to forehead more natural now. 'So what happens now?'

'Well, traditionally, this is where I'd write something about dawn breaking over the eternal city—'

'Please don't.'

'—with golden light catching on ancient stones—'

'I'm begging you to stop.'

'—as two souls find each other under the Roman sky—'

She claps a hand over your mouth. 'I will literally pay you to not finish that sentence.'

You kiss her palm before she pulls it away. 'Isn't that technically bribery?'

'Add it to the list. Right after "compromised journalistic integrity" and "suspicious coffee machine expertise."'

'Speaking of compromising situations...' You glance at your watch. 'It's almost three AM.'

'Worried about your reputation?'

'Worried about your triangle-approved schedule.'

'Bold of you to assume I ever sleep.' She stands, stretching. 'Want to order terrible room service and you can tell me about all the other journalists you've scandalized?'

'That's a very short list. Very enticing regardless.’ 

'Good.' She holds out her hand.

The night air has turned cooler, carrying the faint scent of jasmine from somewhere below. Her fingers trace the collar of your shirt, hesitant but deliberate.

'What happened to room service?' you murmur.

'It can wait.' Her eyes meet yours, playful but wanting. 'I'm conducting my own interview first.'

This kiss is different from the first. Slower, more certain. The city hums below, a distant lullaby of late-night cars and echoing footsteps. When she sighs into the kiss, it's the softest sound you've ever heard. When she falters against your forceful touches, it’s the softest you’ve ever felt a woman.

She pulls back just enough to breathe, her forehead resting against yours. Her heartbeat is quick under your palm.

'Better than chapter twelve?' she whispers.

You catch her lips again in answer, feeling her smile. The wind stirs her hair, sending strands brushing against your cheek. Everything smells like jasmine and coffee and her perfume—something subtle and expensive that you'll probably spend the rest of your life over-romanticizing.

Because that’s what Karina deserves.

Rome stretches out endless and ancient around you, but all you can focus on is how perfectly she fits against you, how real she feels away from cameras and crowds.

Your lips find hers in the dark, soft and certain now. Her fingers trail up your neck, threading through your hair, pulling you closer. There's an art to the way she kisses—deliberate yet desperate, like she's trying to memorize the moment. Your hands settle at her waist, and she makes a small sound that you know you'll remember forever.

Her lips part against yours, deepening the kiss until you're both breathless. The balcony railing presses into your back—when did that happen?—and her body is warm against yours, fitting perfectly in all the spaces between.

Her teeth graze your bottom lip, teasing. You respond by trailing kisses along her jaw, feeling her pulse jump under your lips. When you find that sensitive spot just below her ear, her sharp intake of breath makes you smile against her skin.

She pulls back just enough to meet your eyes. Her lips are slightly swollen, her careful composure beautifully undone––hair spread everywhere, but just so that she looks ethereal rather than messy. You brush your thumb across her lower lip, and she catches it with her teeth, playful even now.

‘Still planning to put this in chapter twelve?’ she whispers, breathless.

Your answer gets lost somewhere between her lips and… her lips.

Her laugh vibrates against your lips when you finally break apart. ‘We should probably—’

‘Go inside?’ Your lips find the curve of her neck again.

‘I was going to say breathe.’ But her head tilts back, giving you better access. Her pulse flutters under your kiss like a trapped bird. ‘Though inside works too.’

You pull back just enough to look at her. Hair mussed, eyes bright, that perfect composure completely undone. She's never looked more beautiful than she does right now, with the city lights catching in her eyes and her professional smile nowhere to be found.

‘What?’ she asks, suddenly self-conscious.

‘Just thinking.’

‘About?’

‘How this definitely isn't going in the book.’

Her smile turns mischievous. ‘No?’ Her fingers trace patterns on your chest. ‘Not even a little mention of how you completely forgot about journalistic integrity the moment I—’

‘Then chapter 12 would entirely consist of me betraying my profession in order to catch your lips with my teeth.’

‘Wow. You’re bad. Like, real bad.’

‘You have no idea.’

You cut her off with another kiss, swallowing her laugh. Her hands slide up your chest, around your neck, pulling you impossibly closer. The world narrows to just this: her lips on yours, her body pressed against you, the soft sounds she makes when you run your fingers down her spine.

‘Inside,’ she murmurs against your mouth. ‘Before we really give Rome something to talk about.’

You let her lead you through the balcony doors, both of you stumbling slightly, unwilling to break contact. She tastes like promises now, like stories yet to be written. Her hands are everywhere—your hair, your chest, your face – like she's trying to read you by touch alone.

‘Wait,’ you manage, as her lips find that spot below your ear that makes thinking difficult. ‘What about—’

‘If you mention room service right now,’ she warns, ‘I'm going back to my original plan of throwing you off the balcony.’

‘I was going to say 'what about your triangle-approved image?'’

She pulls back, eyes dancing. ‘Oh, that?’ Her lips brush yours, teasing. ‘I think we thoroughly compromised that at the first meeting.’

"Professional hazard?"

"Shut up," she whispers, and kisses you again.

She sighs into your mouth, a soft, vulnerable sound that makes your heart stutter.

Her fingers tangle in your hair, nails scraping lightly against your scalp, sending shivers down your spine. You walk her backward until she's pressed against the wall, her body arching into yours.

You trail kisses down her neck, learning her— the spot beneath her jaw that makes her gasp, the curve where neck meets shoulder that makes her fingers tighten in your hair. Her pulse races under your lips, a rapid drumbeat that matches your own. When you find a particularly sensitive spot, her sharp intake of breath is the sweetest sound you've ever heard.

She tugs you back up to her mouth, kissing you like she's trying to tell you something words can't capture. Her lips are soft but insistent, moving against yours with a rhythm that makes you dizzy. One of her legs hooks around yours, pulling you even closer, and you groan into her mouth.

Her hands frame your face now, thumbs stroking your cheeks as she kisses you deeper, slower, like she's trying to memorize every second. You respond in kind, pouring everything you can't say into the kiss—how beautiful she is like this, how real, how perfectly she fits against you.

When you finally break apart, you're both breathing hard. Her lips are swollen. You rest your forehead against hers, sharing the same air, neither of you willing to move away.

"Still thinking about the book?" she murmurs, voice husky.

You answer by catching her lower lip between your teeth, gentle but playful, and feel her smile against your mouth.

Her smile against your mouth turns into a soft laugh. "I'll take that as a no."

‘Take it as whatever you want.’ Your lips find her temple, her cheek, the corner of her mouth. ‘I stopped thinking about the book long ago.’

She hums contentedly, her fingers tracing patterns on the nape of your neck. ‘Good.’ Her other hand is still tangled in your shirt, keeping you close. ‘Because I have a confession.’

‘Another one?’

Instead of answering, she kisses you again, slow and deep. Her tongue traces your lower lip, and you respond by pressing her further into the wall, swallowing the small sound she makes. One of her legs is still hooked around yours, and when she shifts slightly, the new angle makes you both gasp.

‘That wasn't a confession,’ you murmur against her lips.

‘No?’ Her teeth graze your earlobe. ‘I thought I was being pretty clear.’

Your hands slide to her waist, steadying her. She's intoxicating like this, all careful control abandoned, her public persona nowhere to be found.

‘Jimin,’ you breathe, and feel her shiver at the sound of her real name.

Her response is to pull you closer, kissing you like she's trying to say everything without words. Her lips are soft but certain against yours, and you lose yourself in the feeling—the warmth of her body, the subtle scent of her perfume.

The city continues its nighttime symphony outside, but in here, the only sound is your shared breathing and the soft, desperate noises she makes when you find that sensitive spot on her neck again.

She pulls back slightly, just enough to meet your eyes. In the dim light, her gaze is soft, unguarded. Her thumb traces your lower lip.

‘What?’ you ask, voice rough.

‘I'm trying to decide something.’

"Whether to throw me off the balcony? Because I thought we moved past—"

She cuts you off with another kiss. Her hands cup your face, holding you there as she explores your mouth with a thoroughness that makes you dizzy. You respond by feeling her firm and perky ass.

‘No—,’ she moans when you break apart for air. ‘I'm trying to decide if this is real.’

Instead of answering, you trail kisses down her neck, feeling her pulse jump under your lips. Her head falls back against the wall, giving you better access. When you reach her collarbone, she makes a sound that's half-sigh, half-moan.

‘Feels real enough,’ you murmur against her skin.

Her laugh is breathy, unsteady. ‘I meant—’ She gasps as you find a particularly sensitive spot. ‘I meant this. Us. This whole night.’

You lift your head to look at her. Her lips are swollen from kissing, her carefully styled hair a mess from your fingers. She's never looked more beautiful.

‘If you think I did all of this for the fun of it, you’re clearly missing something.’

‘A gear in the head?’

‘Definitely—’

‘Gosh, how do I allow this sort of petulance?’

‘Because it’s me.’

‘You’re a player.’

‘Only for you.’ You catch her lips, even more wanting—and she forfeits it all. 

You pick her up, mussing up her perfect outfit, mussing up her perfect lips. And you finally throw her against the bed.

‘You’re really roughing up Prada’s global ambassador.’

‘And ambassador to a dozen other brands worth billions—couldn’t care less.’’ 

She smirks, and her arms open, waiting, pliant, obedient.

You rip off your buttoned shirt, tear off your pants; now, there’s truly no way of going back.

‘Wow. That scar is a lot larger than I imagined.’ She’s referring back to the scar that you received during that drunk haze of a night.

‘It was dark. Might’ve even been a lion.’ 

‘Mm. Heroic. Come here.’

Now, who could ever resist that?

You rip off her clothes, each layer even more decadent than the other. And then, she was there. bra barely containing her breasts, and a layer of dampness along her sexy panties.

‘That was expensive, by the way.’

‘I’ve got a payment plan on course.’

‘Mm. Enlighten me.’

You pull her panties to the side.

She’s dripping wet, nectar spooling right on her pink core. A glorious sheen that makes you stare far longer than you should’ve. She’s red-faced at this point, and her forearms cover most of her sight, and yet, she doesn’t move, doesn’t retreat. 

The first lick you place, just a brush against her engorged clit, crumbles every self-regulated triangle-approved behavior she has. Two pants turn fifty, one lick crumbles everything. Her hips coax you in ways gymnasts can’t even replicate, and of course, you oblige.

Soft licks, teases around her outer lips, swollen from all the anticipation and arousal; tonguing at her inner lips, just at the crux of her clit, gets her screaming in ways her deep voice would never register; and above all, she’s orgasming, squirting, losing every pretense in favor of her built up lust. 

‘Oh~fuck—’

Her fingers find purchase in your hair, and she softly pulls you in—rides your face like it was all that she ever desired: her eternal wish.

‘Ohmygod! Imcumming!’ Her voice turns mousy, and her pupils go back in pure pleasure, coupled with hip movements thought impossible: this was the greatest pleasure of her life.

You grab her chin, squeeze softly, her cheeks molding to your grasp, and you press a soft kiss right on her kiss-bruised lips. You let her taste herself on your tongue.

‘Good. Right?’

And she nods. A complete personality switch from the playfulness she displayed earlier. Delicate.

Her hands land on your boxers as she melted into your kiss. Once you felt her palm your cock, you groaned right in her ear. She starts softly, stroking. But her strokes grow more all-encompassing as you press harder into the kiss.

‘Fuck. You’re so good for me.’

She mewls back, on the gradient slide of unadulterated pleasure.

Softly, you release your shaft from the boxer. And you press your cock right on her core. Feeling the wet heat, the sticky nectar that pooled to a mindbreaking degree. 

‘It goes without saying.’

‘That I’m head over heels for you?’

You grin, ‘Well, that too, but you’re hopeless.’

‘Maybe if we weren’t so compatible.’

You grab a breast, palming it, ‘Well that, that too, goes without saying.’

She smiles, so warmly, every trace of everything else melted off her face––the sort of smile you’d never forget, and the sort of smile you’d want to wake up to… forever.

Finally, you press into her, and her wet heat envelops you, enough to make you groan, enough to make her moan like there’s no greater pleasure––because really, there’s nothing else.

Her pussy clings onto you, a wet suction that is immeasurably soft and yet, a vacuum-seal-like tightness that gets you groaning after every thrust.

Her arms cling to you, and her eyebrows knit, her small face full of emotion—all of it processing how good you fuck her.

‘Oh god. Would it be bad that I want you to declare to the world that you own me?”

‘Chapter 12—’

She cuts you off, ‘Something along the lines of: “Chapter 12: Karina is my fuckslut”’ 

‘I don’t tolerate Karina disrespect.’ You say, truthfully.

‘Even if it’s by myself?’

‘Especially for that case, sweetheart.’

‘Oh… you’re too good.’

‘You’re blind.’

Most popular idol in the world, and… she’s hopelessly down bad for you.

‘If I’m blind. Then you don’t have eyes—complete darkness.’

‘We’re two of the same.’

‘I’m your biggest fan.’

‘We’re two of the same.’

‘I love you.’

‘You have a way with words, Karina.’ You reply, pressing soft kisses along her jaw, whispering sweet nothings into her ear, thrusting into her harder, sharing breaths.

‘You’ve inspired me.’

And you lock lips with her, the thrusts were becoming a blur, and her moans music to your ears—it was all just… heaven.

There was no technique. Nothing too purposeful. It was all just pure affection, pure love guiding all your actions. And the fact that she’s cumming again was no coincidence.

‘Oh. My. Fucking. God!’ Her head goes back deep into the pillow and you follow suit. Pressing soft kisses that covered every square centimeter of her beauty, kisses that made her giggle even in her most orgasmic moment of her life. 

‘If I knew anything that felt like this… I’d be doing it constantly.’

‘Well—’

‘That’s right,’ Karina gives a soft peck, ‘I have you now.’ 

You could feel her heartbeat, her skin precipitate, and her cunt pulse—it’s just heaven at this point. 

‘Are you trying to convince me to follow you?’

‘2 years, finest in New York.’

‘Deal. Though you overbid a little.’

‘Meaning?’

‘Means anything you want, dear.’

The soft slick of her cunt made it nearly frictionless, just pure pleasure for both parties. Her hips gave way every time, an identity of its own, retreating when you thrust too hard, giving in when softer.’

‘Is this like a sugar mommy situation?’

‘Two words I never expected you to say.’ You both share a laugh.

‘I mean that’s what it is right?’

‘A power imbalance? Please. I can get you to buy a New York penthouse for me at this point.’

‘Well. You’re right. But—’

You bring your cock to the hilt inside of her, whilst stealing her lips for a deep kiss. She moans and mewls and gasps—music to your ears. You change positions. You bring her legs to your shoulders, and you begin kissing along her ankle while thrusting inside of her.

This time, you can see the full view. How her breasts bounce against the thrusts, how her slick has completely covered your entire length at this point, and how beautifully her face is framed between it all. 

Her mouth’s agape, moaning, giggling intermittently with the jokes shared through eye contact. You bite softly at her ankle then down her legs, to her calves, then releasing her legs altogether to kiss her again.

She fits perfectly against you, small and delicate but the perfect puzzle piece under you. She’s absorbent, aware of your needs, placing soft kisses along the ridges of your eyebrows, rubbing away the day’s fatigue along your jaw and temple. 

‘I love you.’

‘I love you too.’

‘I didn’t hear.’

You press against her, feeling her breasts spool against your chest, bring your thrust to the hilt, the wetness of her loins pressed against yours, all of them vividly apparent. ‘I love your beauty. I love your humor. I love how clever you are. I love how authentic you are. And I could continue on and on but I’m about to cum.’

Karina sniffled, ‘God, I was about to cry and then you say that.’ She softly smacks your shoulder, ‘just cum inside me and let’s cuddle.’

You oblige, the thrusts turn into a haze of pure pleasure, a desperate moment chasing the local maxima, and finally, you burst inside of her. Cum spooled, all inside her, and she moans so gracefully, staring at you with all the affection in the world.

‘We can worry about this tomorrow.’ She palmed your jaw.

‘Of course.’ You fall onto her, cuddling her.

Both of you are a mess, gross, bodily fluids spread everywhere, and yet, the both of you fell into a deep slumber.

A/N: I'd like to apologize for switching up styles so much (But if you enjoyed this dialogue-heavy work, then lmk!)

[kikixreverie]

Your boys

Bucky Barnes x Steve Rogers x Female reader

Summary - The war has been a brutal reality check for you in more ways than one, the first being that life is far more fragile than you thought, and the second that you were deeply in love with not one… but both of your best friends.

Word count - 8k

Warnings - (18+) Smut, threesome, oral sex, handjob, mentions of war and homophobia.

A/N - Hi, im still here kinda. Suffered a pretty rough, year long writers block and then was finally able to edit this one shot I wrote ages ago. I hope you enjoy it and all its filth.

________________________________

The half-empty bar rings with laughter and the clinking of glasses as its patrons drown out their sorrows with liquor, a temporary haven for those seeking distraction from the heartlessness they've seen in the past few years. The smoke in the air was thick, but better than what you were used to, the scent of tobacco, not fire out on the field, though it lingers in your nose all the same. 

The music, a familiar jazz tune carries through that thickened air, paired with deep laughter from rowdy men trying to ignore the sickening sense of dread they all pretend not to feel. Your attention however, is divided. Humming softly to the tune you can only half remember, your focus stays fixed on him—Bucky Barnes, gazing from afar at his wide, mirthful grin, those blue eyes of his reflecting the low lighting of the bar as he sips at yet another beer. 

You watch as Steve walks over to rejoin them, more drinks in his hands which he passes to the surrounding men with a nod, which they each take from him, too distracted with their chatter to thank him. Bucky chuckles, shifting back from the group to say something to Steve, a sly grin gracing his lips, smirking as Steve laughs softly at his joke, sadly too far away for you to be in on it.

You get lost in the sight of the men you've known far longer than you haven't, and have seen sink into themselves more and more in recent years, weathered by war, and yet, beneath the surface, your heart can still manage to find a lesser problem to dwell on—feelings you never even asked for becoming even more known to you the more you watch them, both so pretty. They’d always been pretty.

"Come here often?" 

You sigh at the unexpected voice, an instinctual reaction at this point, and regretfully you looked away from the two men, staring down at your glass for a moment before you tilted your head to the left and eyed her with fake annoyance, staring deadpan at the mischievous smirk playing on her red lips. You both know she caught you staring.

You look down at your drink again, watching the amber liquid swirl in the glass as you lift it to take another sip and wince, "No, should I?" 

Her smirk grows wider, resting her elbow on the sticky bar top. She shrugs, "Depends what you're here for."

You pause for a few seconds, squinting at her as if flicking through the possible reasons to be in this dingy bar, other than an easy escape from the war outside. "Alcohol?" You ask, raising a brow. The only reason you were in this bar would be for Bucky and Steve. 

"Ah, well in that case, no. The beer here is watered-down and overpriced." She quips, clinking her glass with yours before taking the seat beside you.

"Oh, that explains it." You respond, sighing dramatically as you take a swig from your glass. Peggy hums softly, her fingertips drifting over the lip of her glass. You can feel her eyes on you, as usual, watching, assessing the situation, and you take a risky glance at her, slightly apprehensive, not looking forward to the way she's going to read you like a goddamn book. "What?"

"Why are you over here, all by yourself?" She asks, her head tilted with curiosity.

You take pause at her question, setting your drink back down with a sigh, gaze drifting back over to the group of men talking loudly with warm grins on their faces, all the happiest you'd seen them in weeks if not months... actually years. 

"I don't know, I just needed some time alone I guess." You shrug, which immediately earns you a disbelieving scoff.

"Bullshit, the one thing no sergeant would want at a time like this is to be alone. It's a tough job, we all survive on these rare few moments when we get to feel some resemblance of normal. Now tell me why you're sitting here alone."

You don't respond for a long moment, eyes flicking over to your childhood best friends again, as they often do when you find yourself in any room with them. "I'm just in my head. I can't stop thinking about what could happen... and what will. I just- I wish I could go back just for a moment, just to remember what it was like before everything went to shit. I'm sick of thinking the worst every time it falls quiet." 

She listens quietly, then nods, her hand moving to your arm to give a reassuring squeeze, "I think we all understand that feeling." 

You nod too, chewing nervously on your lower lip, feeling that sinking feeling like you've ruined the small moment of fun you’d been granted by taking notice of those anxious thoughts. Bucky's hand rests on Steve's shoulder as he talks into his ear, his lips curling up as he laughs through his own words, Steve blushing beside him, shaking his head and looking down at the floor.

"I'd give anything to go back." You whisper, eyes glued to them, thinking about the times Bucky would drag both you and Steve out dancing with him, and Steve would always step on your feet, and then apologise with pink cheeks each time as you reassured him you lost sensation in them two songs ago. 

"I'm guessing you're talking about your boys." Responds Peggy and you nod before your eyebrows furrow, turning to her quickly with a confused frown on your face.

"My boys?" You repeat, ignoring how the notion of it makes you feel, because it just sounds completely ridiculous - and yes, they are your boys.

"Yes. I mean, they are your closest friends, aren't they?" She laughs, and you give your sad attempt at a normal laugh back to her. 

"Yeah, of course. We've been best friends since we were kids." You say back, cringing at your awkwardness and sipping on your drink to try hide it. 

It falls silent for a moment, which was a nice respite to the conversation that was making you anxious enough. Peggy obviously breaks it again. "You miss them." 

It wasn't a question, so you don’t answer, just stare down silently at your glass, swallowing the lump in your throat, that anxiety just getting worse, weighing you down onto your seat. You nod because it's true. With how hectic and scary the past few years have been, all three of you have changed in some way, and you've not had time to get to know those differences. You'd barely spoken to them about anything other than mission plans in weeks, everyone just more than eager to win this war and get home.

"Go talk to them, I'm sure they miss you too." Peggy offers softly, patting your shoulder again before giving you a smile. She slips off her chair, finally leaving you with your thoughts, walking across the bar to sit with the howling commandos with a half-empty drink in her hand, saluting the very boys you were just talking about, and you fight to ignore the stupid jealousy you feel when they both return the gesture to the gorgeous woman.

You’re in way over your head.

You’d hate to admit it, but she’s right, you miss them, very, very much. Things haven't been the same since the war started, and you know it'd be naive to think it will ever go back to how it was. You feel that breath-stealing sadness whenever you look at Steve, a feeling you know is mutual for Bucky too. You still don't always recognise him when he's facing away from you, searching in a crowd for a small, delicate Steve that no longer exists, before you remember the beast of a man he'd become and feel a different kind of warm flutter when you see him. 

Bucky is different too, quieter, rougher around the edges, darker. You miss that boyish charm of his, the easygoing, easy-loving James Barnes everyone knew. He always wore his heart on his sleeve, but he guards it now, keeps it locked away for safekeeping. He barely spoke for weeks after Steve got him out of that place, barely ate. You haven’t seen him cry in months either, which is somehow much more worrying than if he were to break down into tears each night like a lot of the boys do in secret. 

It hurts when you think back to before, a time when the three of you were so close you spent most nights sleeping at each other's houses, a time when your biggest worry was that the neighbours were gossiping about your 'morals', despite how many times Bucky reminded you that the old lady next door's opinion shouldn't matter to you. 

But it did. Sometimes even you worried about your 'morals', a socially-expected guilt clouding the thoughts you'd have about them, both of them. It's always been more. A part of you always knew there was a deeper understanding the three of you had for each other, like how soulmates would be described in the romance books you had read, only it couldn't be so easy that you were in love with one of your best friends, it had to be both.

A person sits beside you again, and you roll your eyes with a small smile, turning towards them and expecting it to be Peggy back to drag you over to everybody else, but you quickly drop the expression at the sight of a man you had never seen before, smiling at you as if you'd invited him to sit there.

"Come here often?" The man asks, not sounding the slightest bit ironic, as amusing as that is for you. You hide your laugh behind your almost empty glass, which doesn’t help you one bit seeing as the glass is clear. You resort to biting your cheek when he just stares back expectantly, apparently waiting for you to swoon and faint into his arms. 

You shake your head, reminding yourself to definitely not come here often. "No, sorry." You respond, mentally scolding yourself for apologising for no reason, and then scolding yourself for scolding yourself. Can he just fuck off maybe?

"That's okay. Pretty dame like you in a bar like this, you here with anyone?" He sounds like Bucky, you think to yourself, only its not charming one bit when this stranger calls your a ‘dame’. He moves closer to you, his arm almost touching yours, which was immediately enough for you to shift away, feeling uncomfortable and annoyed that he was in your space. You scoff, deciding you've seen far too much to give a shit about upsetting some creepy guy in a bar. You open your mouth to shut him down.

"Yeah, she's with us." 

For fucks sake why can't I do the fun part? 

You already know it’s Steve's voice, strong with that Brooklyn accent, even stronger with the distaste in his voice. You don’t turn to look at him, still trying to keep the distance between you and the guy who’s staring wide-eyed up at Captain America.

"Maybe go and bother someone else." Bucky adds, moving in behind the guy, his tone much less polite than the Captain's.

The man doesn’t say a word, much to your amusement, just puts his head down and stands, walking away, probably going to find some other poor woman to bother, or nurse a stronger drink and lick his wounds.

They sit either side of you, Bucky's hand moving to your back. "You alright, doll?" 

You sigh and nod, rubbing your forehead and smiling softly at him "I'm fine, Buck. You know I could've easily scared him away." 

Bucky nods, smirking softly. He's seen you shut down many a guy before the war,

"I know, just making sure." 

It falls silent for a moment, Bucky doesn't break eye contact with you and you can't bring yourself to do it for him, his gaze soft and inviting, almost as distracting as the way he wets his lower lip the way he often does. 

"Why are you sittin' over here?" Steve asks, and it finally draws you to look away from Bucky, clearing your throat before turning to Steve on your left.

"Just lost in thought I guess." You respond with a shrug, deciding not to disclose the fact that you were lost in thought about them, as per usual.

Steves cheeks remain a little pink and you don’t get why, wondering if he had noticed the weird staring going on between you and Bucky, which only makes you blush just the same in embarrassment. 

"Thinking 'bout what, doll?" Bucky presses, his warm breath brushing against your shoulder. You don't let yourself look at him again, staring straight ahead as your stomach flutters with nerves and something else you don't want to think about yet.

You shrug, breathless as Steve inches slightly closer to you too, as if he and Bucky had some nefarious plan to make you want them impossibly more, his shoulder pressing against yours. 

"I don't know. Just lost in thought about... how bad the beer is." You say, sheepish at your stupid response, but Steve laughs sweetly, which only makes you smile. 

Bucky only hums in response though and you look over at him again, that enticing look in his eyes, "How about we get out of here? Just us three, we can swing it like old times, got a fairly decent bottle of whiskey in my room that's waiting to be drank." 

You inhale softly in surprise and excitement. It certainly wouldn't be the first time the three of you had gotten drunk together alone, but it's been a while, and for some reason, it seemed like something different now, something new.

You glance over at Steve to see him waiting for your response, seemingly already aware of Bucky's idea, so you nod, not trusting yourself to speak and not look stupid.

You all leave the bar together after gathering your things, purposefully ignoring the smirk Peggy gives you as you walk past, just wanting to get out of the stuffy bar and away from the noise for a while.

It was a silent taxi ride the whole way back to the hotel you were all currently staying at, though not awkward. You sat between the two men, Bucky's thigh pressed against yours while you and Steve sit shoulder to shoulder. 

You'd always thought that taxis were fairly spacious until you had to share one with a super-soldier and James Buchanan Barnes.

Steve pays the taxi driver with the best tip he can afford and soon enough you were all piling into Bucky's room. 

You sigh when you walk through the door, not giving a second to hesitate to go to the bed, falling forward with another sigh as you stretch out across the mattress, kicking off your uncomfortable shoes and letting them hit the floor with a soft thud. It wasn’t often you had access to an actual bed.

You can hear Bucky and Steve laughing as they take off their jackets, which you didn't have the nerve to watch them do.

"Comfy?" Steve asks, walking over to the small radio on the bedside table and switching through the channels till he found some decent music to have on quietly in the background. 

You nod, humming softly and closing your eyes, "You try wearing heels for a whole night only 3 days after getting off the field." 

Bucky sits beside you on the bed, looking down at you as you hesitantly peek your eyes open to look at him.

"Can't imagine the pain, doll. Want a foot rub?" He teases, a lopsided smirk playing on lips.

You scoff in response, laughing softly and definitely not considering his most likely joking offer. Instead of putting your sore feet on his lap, you just blush and sit up, shoving at his broad shoulder. "Shut up. Where's that decent whiskey you promised, hm?"

He laughs, picking something up off the floor from beside the bed and holding up a full bottle, passing it to you as he takes a glass from the bedside table near him, holding it out for you to pour the liquid into it. 

"Hey guys, I'm gonna go change, then I'll be back, okay?" Says Steve, a smile on his face as he walks back towards the door, and you and James both nod, watching the tall man duck slightly through the doorway and leave room gently shutting the door behind him.

Its comfortably quiet in the hotel room, though the atmosphere slightly different. You sip at the strong-tasting, barely decent whiskey, the liquid burning its way down your throat to settle in your stomach, warm and familiar.

Your gaze again drifts to him, watching over the rim of your glass as Bucky moves to sit against the bed frame after pouring his own drink, shoes kicked to the floor, watching you right back, his head resting against the dark wooden frame, a soft look on his handsome face. A strand of his dark hair falls onto his forehead, and you follow it like an arrow pointing down to the white shirt he's wearing, the top few buttons undone as some sick way to punish you even further.

"You're always so sweet on him." He murmurs quietly, breaking the silence. He doesn’t sound one bit jealous, only fond, his head tilted slightly, his tongue casually dragging across his lower lip.

"Aren't we both?" You tilt your head at him as you ask the question. It feels serious, despite the sweetness of his smile, theres something more hidden in the words, but neither of you are ready to say something like that out loud, the denial comfortable for a moment longer.

He goes quiet again, chewing on his lip as he stares down at the bed sheets, sighing softly. "I guess it's hard not to be. I know he's all tall and macho now," He pauses to huff a laugh, you watching and listening quietly and intently, him looking up to the ceiling as he continues, the smile fading to something softer, "But he's still Stevie."

A hint of a smile pulls at your lips, and you nod, holding your drink up to not spill anything as you shuffle over on your knees to sit beside him against the headboard, huffing softly at the movement, then propping up pillows behind you to be more comfortable as Bucky watches with an amused smile.

"And you're still Buck." You add once you’re settled, looking at his gorgeous face, your chin tilted upwards, and his down. He swallows softly, and you notice the movement of it, his adams apple moving in a distracting way that you swear makes you feel thirsty, so you take another sip of your drink, hoping it will settle the feeling it obviously wont.

"You sure about that?" He asks, his eyes flicking down, watching the whiskey swirl in his glass, lips set in something closer to a frown now. You know he's hurting, even if he hasn't felt ready to confide in you about it yet.

"Very." He looks at you when you say it, and you hold his gaze this time, his stare so intense, eyes so blue, lips so pink. 

It takes your dumb, denial-stuck mind a moment longer to realise that you were looking down at his lips and that he was looking at yours at the same time, and there was no actual effort to either of you leaning closer, just a magnetism and a feeling spreading through your chest and butterfly filled stomach that you don’t even question it, don’t think once about the consequences, and technically its Bucky that ends up closing the tiny gap you’d made for him to do so, putting his glass down at the bedside table closest to him as his soft, warm lips make contact, eyes drifting closed,his hand then reaching across you and taking your glass too placing it down.

With his hands free, they move to cup your face, lips moving against yours, the kiss soft and sweet as your fingers drift up to the nape of his neck, his right hand reaching down for your thigh, grabbing flesh and trying to pull you closer as your lips move faster, a realisation that this kiss can’t last forever and you both swear you need it to.

It shifts from sweet and soft, to passionate and fast-moving, an almost desperate feeling urging you to press closer, your lips coaxing Bucky's to open as his hands grip your skin, your hips, waist, thighs. You just want to taste him, just like you'd always dreamed of doing. It barely feels real, but you barely think about it when you slide your tongue against his lips and earn yourself a soft, heated groan in response.

The booze doesn’t matter, you were drunk on him, butterflies in your stomach, heart hammering in your chest, an ache forming between your legs.

You'd never experienced a kiss like this before, never this intense desperation, so needy for more, clutching at eachother and shifting on the bed, breathing against his cheek.

Time is far lost to you both, only warm skin and hot mouths and soft lips, but the noise at the door breaks through the goodness of the moment, and you and Bucky quickly pull away from each other, panting for air as your heart hammers in your chest. Steve stands at the door wide-eyed.

Bucky licks his lips wordlessly as he tries to calm himself down, sighing and pushing his hair back, looking down at the bedsheets. 

"Steve?" You ask when he doesn’t say anything, anxiety clouding the heated memory replaying of the kiss, as you wait for any reaction from Steve.

Steve couldn’t look more shocked, unable to look either of you in the eye, standing sheepishly at the door as he flushes pink.

"Sorry." He mutters, reaching for the door handle and making his turn to leave, and your heart lurches, sitting up to stop him, but Bucky speaks up before you can remember what words are. 

"Steve." He says softly, and the blonde pauses, looking over at Bucky and waiting to be chastised for entering the room without knocking, but Bucky only offers a small, hesitant smile, "C'mere." 

Poor Steve stands frozen for a while, face only getting redder as you and Bucky stare back at him, the image of the two of you kissing, Bucky's hand squeezing your bare thigh under your dress, yours tugging on his hair, its heavy in the forefront of his mind, and it sets something off in his stomach, something he likes the feeling of.

Bucky gesturesfor him to sit on the bed with them and slowly, Steve does. 

"I didn't mean to-" Steve begins, but Bucky cut him off and you watch dumbly as he handles the situation.

"It's okay." He assures, falling silent for a moment as he tries to find the words to say what he really wanted to, "We're all friends, right? It shouldn't be awkward." 

It’s actually incredibly awkward, but denial was a much easier option, and so you simply avoid eye contact with either of them as you think you’re so good at doing, as you reached over Bucky for your drink again, taking a long sip of the alcohol, focusing on the burn in your throat rather than the ache between your thighs.

"Yeah," Steve responds, sounding as breathless as you feel.

"Maybe-" Bucky stops himself, and you lookover at him, waiting with bated breath for him to say 'Maybe we should just forget it ever happened' but his mind goes elsewhere, "Maybe you two should kiss. You know... make it even." 

The tension in the room couldn’t be any thicker, and so completely silent, not a breath between you. You chance a risky glance at Steve and he stares straight at Bucky, mouth agape, eyes wide.

You feel like you need to say something, feel like you’re fighting between your mind, your heart, and your… The nerve builds up quick and words rush out of your mouth, just needing to escape this awkwardness, "Bucky, I don't think Steve would-" 

"C'mon, I'm not blind, I see the way you two look at each other. You're telling me neither of you is at least a tiny bit curious what it would be like?" Bucky cuts you off, looking between you and Steve with a raised brow, "Don't feel forced to do anything, of course. Just... I don't know... Think about it?"

Oh, you’re thinking about it, you have been thinking about it, for years, in fact you’re imagining it in way too much detail, but acting on it like this, rather than a random, heated frenzy like with Bucky, is much more nerve-wracking.

Its when you risk a glance at Steve that the doubts starts to slip away slightly. its so painstakingly obvious, the blush on his face, the way he can’t look you in the eye and he seemed just as deep in thought as you. You remind yourself who you're with, though much taller now, he’s still Stevie. Your teeth catch your lip, nerves fading enough that you feel less awkward and more anticipating. It already feels like it's the end of the world anyway, actions tend to feel much less consequential. 

"I don't know, Steve..." You start, watching with rising butterflies as he looks over at you, his lips parted, "Maybe he's right."

James grins like you’ve joined the dark side, smirking down at his glass, just listening to you shift into a second devil on Stevie’s shoulder.

"P-pardon?" He almost whispers, and you smile softly, still polite Stevie.

"Maybe we should kiss." You manoeuvre onto your knees, and James wordlessly takes your drink again, placing it back down and inhaling softly, leaning back against the bed frame again and just watching quietly. Steve breathes in, watching you move closer. "Only if you want to, of course." You add for good measure, and Steve gulps, lips parting as he looks over at Bucky, as if for reassurance, Bucky just stares back. You crawl over, settling in front of him, "Do you want to?"

He takes another moment, before softly, he nods, taking a deep breath. 

You look into his eyes, scooting close enough for your thigh to touch his, and you reach for his broad shoulders, biting your lip softly. You can’t quite wrap your head around the idea of kissing either of them ever, especially not both... in front of each other in the time span of five minutes... but there’s no room for regret, just you and your boys...

Your hand glides over to his face, holding his jaw softly as you tilt his head down to you, pressing your lips against his.

This kiss was softer, slower. You knew Steve had kissed before, you were the one who heartbreakingly caught him with not one, but two USO girls, but hes certainly not as experienced as Bucky, nervous and shy, so you stay as gentle as possible, not pushing him to go any further than the gentle touch of your lips until he presses for more, tentative, but he follows your lead, his right hand hovering over your waist before he pulls it away, and you kiss him once more before breaking the contact. You can tell how nervous he still is. 

The room is still as you and Steve pull away from each other, Steve's focus stuck on you as you sit back slightly, looking over at Bucky, as your lips tingle from the kiss, curious to see his reaction, and the sight of him makes your stomach flip.

He sits rested back against the headboard again, legs splayed out in front of him as he watches the two of you with a clearly lustful gaze, his lower lip caught between his teeth, this dark desperation in his eyes, and its like you can read the dirty thoughts clouding his mind.

You don’t think at all when the words left your mouth, but they do, "Your turn."

Buckys lips part, eyes widening slightly and Steve takes an audible breath from beside you.

"What?" The blonde gulps.

You swallow your nerves again, Bucky was right, he could see the way you and Steve look at each other, because you've always looked at each other that way, just like you and Bucky look at each other, just like Bucky and Steve.

It's something that none of you had ever addressed until now, something you'd never let yourselves act upon, but who cares what people think at this point, who cares where this could lead you. If the war has given anything but trauma to you, it's shown you how fucking fragile life is, how much you'd regret it if you never acted upon these feelings, how much they'd regret it.

"You two should make it even, right?"

Steve stares at you, not letting his gaze drift to Bucky, but Bucky stares right at him, something intense in his eyes, something between realisation and surrender, and its clear that he’s waiting for Steve to reject it, to reject him, to wrinkle his nose at the disgusting notion of a man kissing another man, just as everybody else would do, but Bucky knows that wasn't a fair assumption to make about the golden-hearted man he knows their Stevie to be. He still waits though, preparing himself to have to have to take the rejection.

"I-" Steve starts, the very same worries as Bucky filling his head.

"Steve, aren't you at least a tiny bit curious?" You ask gently, using Bucky's previous words in hopes of lightening the mood slightly, which seems to work when Steve huffs a small laugh, though he gives no response. 

You look at Bucky, seeing the heartbreaking disappointment and acceptance in his eyes. You nudge his foot, giving him a soft smile of encouragement when he looks up at you.

He gives you a small smile back, before looking over at Steve, wetting his lips.

"Stevie." He almost whispers his name, and his gaze is soft when it meets Steve’s, "Come here." 

Steve decides not to give himself the chance to hesitate, moving towards Bucky before he can think about what he’s doing, and Bucky leans forward to meet him halfway, his palm sliding across his cheek, thumb smoothing along the skin before he closes the space and Bucky and Steve are kissing right in front of you. 

Its gentle for a few seconds, hesitant on both parts before Steve’s reaching out, hands clutching the material of Bucky's shirt, pulling him forward, pulling him closer. 

Their kiss was rougher, all tongue and teeth and the sight was a lot to try to handle, all you could really do was squeeze your thighs together and enjoy the sight of your two favourite boys, enjoying how eachother kiss. 

Bucky detaches his mouth from Steve's to meet your eye, pulling you closer as his hand holds the side of your neck.

He kisses you, open-mouthed and needy as his tongue glides across your lip, steve groaning softly at the sight, his hand once again hovering over the curve of your waist.

"It's okay, Steve." You murmur against Bucky's lips before you pull back to look at Steve, gripping his hand with your own and guiding him to touch you where he had wanted to, "You can touch me. You can touch me anywhere you'd like. Both of you." 

"Fuckin’ Christ, doll." Bucky sighs, lips mouthing across your jaw, his head dipping lower to kiss your neck, "You want that huh? Want both of us to touch you?" 

You nod as you kiss Steve, Bucky giving you a hickey just below your ear like a goddamn teenager. Bucky makes his way to Steve's neck then, curious to what noises he could pull from Captain America himself, and he chuckles against Steve's neck when he sighs softly into your mouth, as sensitive and worked up as Bucky had always wondered he'd be. 

When Bucky and Steve start kissing again, you take the opportunity to catch your breath, sitting back for a moment to watch the way Bucky pushes Steve down against the mattress, everything escalating so quick and yet feeling exactly like the way it should be. He adjusts his hips over Steve, pressing against him, and Steve groans softly, his rising up to meet bucky’s.

You bite your lip at the sight, your hand almost subconsciously sliding between your thighs, applying slight pressure against your underwear as your thighs squeeze together again. 

It just feels so right, and your body is reacting like it never has before, all reservations out of the window when you fingers press against your clit ever so slightly, breath catching when Bucky starts talking.

"Y'see that Stevie? Look how desperate our girl is for us. She just has to touch herself, doesn't she? Think we should help her out?" He murmurs, speaking the words into Steve's ear, though saying them loud enough for you to hear them too, and Steve nods quickly, no more hesitation, panting for breath, lips a pretty shade of kissed.

Our girl. 

"God, yes." Steve answers.

Their attention turns to you, Bucky with that mischievous, knowing glint in his eye, "Why don't you help her out of that dress, Stevie."

Steve nods, following orders like this was a part of his training, moving closer towards you, more confident though a bit sheepish.

"Go on, honey." You say to him, kissing his jaw as his fingers brush against the zipper at the back of the dress. He somehow manages to unzip you as slow as physically possible, fingers dusting along your back in a way that brings on a shiver. He finally pulls the dress off over your head and Bucky gives a low whistle at the sight of you, their pretty lady just in her undergarments.

Your head tilts back when Bucky leans towards you and kisses your collarbone, the kisses trailing lower and lower until he was kissing across the tops of your breasts. You sigh at the sensation, loving the attention on you but it doesn’t seem vert fair you’re in your bra and panties only and these two were fully dressed. You tug at both Steve and Bucky's shirts until they get the hint and both start pulling them off, Steve's going over his head while you help Bucky undo the buttons on his. 

From then on the clothes seem to keep coming, and you chuckle softly as Steve helps Bucky unbuckle his belt and pull his pants off. It doesn't take long before they're both left in only their underwear, and neither you nor Bucky give Steve the chance to blush or second guess anything when you lean towards him, kissing his shoulder and Bucky kissing his lips. 

You'd think it would be overwhelming, but god it just feels so right. 

You hum as fingers drift across you back to the clasp of your bra, Bucky looking at you, waiting for your permission, which you quickly give, nodding your head breathlessly before he quickly undoes the clasp, helping you out of the straps and then finally pulling the bra away. 

"Fu-" Steve stops himself, staring down at your uncovered breasts, your peaked nipples, soft pretty skin, waiting desperately to be touched and he forces himself to close his eyes, convinced for a second that that was it, he was going to come right here and now in his briefs. Bucky chuckles, that cheeky grin on his face as he dips his head and kisses his way across your now bare chest, cupping your left breast gently and mouthing over your nipple, smirking as your fingers thread through his hair, swirling his tongue.

"I think we're corrupting our sweet little Stevie, love," Bucky murmurs, and you hum back at him, looking over at the blonde who sits in amusing deep concentration, trying desperately hard not to lose himself. 

"I don't know, Buck. I reckon Stevie's much less innocent than you think. Plus, he's not so little anymore..." You tease, knowing he’s listening, so you reach over, your palm against Steve's thigh, "Why don't you show us, honey? Get out of that head of yours, and come play with me and Buck."

Even Bucky groans at that, pressing his face into the crook of your neck as he continues to kiss you with a bit more hunger now.

Steve looks wrecked already, opening his eyes to look down at the two of you, skin against skin, waiting for him to come back to you. 

"Why don't you tell us what you want, Steve?" You ask him, moaning softly when Bucky rubs his thumb over one of your nipples.

"I want.." He licks his lips, looking down your body, eyes lingering on the one place you’re still covered, "I want to touch you." 

"Then touch me, Stevie." You respond and his hand drifts slowly to your thigh, Bucky still busy paying attention to your chest.

Steve's fingertips brush against the edge of your underwear, looking up at you for reassurance, "Even here?"

You sigh when Bucky grazes his teeth across your skin, tugging on his hair, "Especially there."

"Go on, Steve, I think she's still a bit overdressed," Bucky adds, encouraging him to strip you of your final layer, and Steve does so, feeling his cock throb as your bare pussy comes into view. 

You part your legs for him, your inner thighs already showing how wet you are, waiting patiently for someone to finally touch you where you needed most, and when Steve brushes his fingers through your folds, tentatively exploring, nudging against your swollen clit as he did so, you moan openly. 

Bucky leans back, looking down at you laid out across the mattress, completely bare beneath them as you lift your hips to meet Steve's hand, needing more pressure. Bucky reaches down for Steve's hand, pressing a soft kiss to the corner of his mouth as he assists him. 

"Touch her right here with more pressure. Make small circles." Bucky directs, and Steve gladly follows the instructions given, watching as you get more and more breathless as he touches you, his fingers getting covered in your slick as you whimper softly, "Just like that, Steve."

Steve bites his lip at Bucky praising him like that, his cock throbbing so hard in his briefs as he focuses on trying to make you feel good, before Bucky takes a hold of Steve's fingers, guiding them lower and lower until they were sliding into you. You gasp softly, head tilting back at the slight relief of no longer being empty, but you’re still no way near full, needing more and more, still, you enjoy this, shifting your hips as Bucky instructs Steve to curl his fingers. 

A pretty sounding moan slips from your open mouth when Bucky really starts participating, leaning on one arm as the other hand moves down to you, his thumb almost softly rubbing over your clit, watching in gentle awe and focus as him and Steve’s hands take good care of you, Steve's two fingers fucking into you as Bucky builds a steady rhythm on your clit. It doesn’t take long of the repeated pattern before your hips roll forward unknowingly, getting closer and closer to coming, the heat in your body rising, every nerve tingling... so close.

"James, I'm-- Fuck, Stevie." You moan, enjoying having two names to beg to, feeling your body tighten up as they both continue until you’re over the edge, coming on your best friend's fingers, your body vibrating as they ease you through the strong orgasm, Bucky not stopping until you reach down and gently move his hand away, bordering on overstimulation as your body becomes overly sensitive. 

"Holy fuck." Steve murmurs, and Bucky laughs at him, nudging his arm.

"Language." He teases. 

"Shut up, punk." Replies Steve, pushing Bucky’s shoulder back. You lay there catching your breath, humming with a gentle smirk as you watch them act so casual after both giving you the best orgasm of your life, so far.

"God, just make out already." You joke, grinning at the two, your body relaxed, and Bucky gives you a look as you sit up. 

"Oh, you'd like that wouldn't you." He nips at your shoulder, and you roll your eyes playfully, enjoying seeing him like this again, the happiest and most like himself you'd seen him in weeks, "Good, thing I'd like that too. Steve?" 

Steve looks over at Bucky, nodding and moving closer to him, kissing softly.

You give yourself a moment to gather yourself, catching your breath, relaxing in the afterglow of the first orgasm you’ve had in a while, admiring them for a short while, and then eventually joining them, kissing across Bucky's shoulder, raking your nails through Steve's hair. 

"Think Stevie's ever had someone's mouth on him before?" You murmur into Bucky's ear, feeling pride in the sigh he gives in response, pulling away from Steve's mouth, humming against your skin as he leans into you, head laid back against your shoulder, nose tucked against your neck.

Steve just couldn’t stop staring, his erection straining against his underwear, both of you watching him with those eyes. None of it feels quite real, like it’s all too good to be true, yet so much better than he imagined. He groans softly when Bucky moves his hand down, watching him as he presses his palm against his cock over the fabric.

"How 'bout it, Stevie? Think you could handle someone's mouth on your cock?" God, the words are so obscene, yet so natural as they fall from Bucky’s lips, Steve all but whimpers when the both of you start kissing on his neck, "Ever done that before, Steve?"

He shakes his head, hands reaching to touch both of them in any way he can, "God, please."

"Not God, angel." Bucky starts, the pet name rolling off his lips, smooth as butter, sweet as honey, "Just us."

His briefs were off, his cock springing up when it was finally released from the far too tight confines of his underwear. Bucky leans forward, kissing Steve as he guides him to lay back on the mattress, hovering over him. 

The sight couldn’t be more mouth-watering, his cock a deep shade of pink as he leaks pre-cum onto his stomach, so desperate, kissing Bucky back like his life depended on it. 

His stomach tightens when you start kissing your way down his chest until you finally reached the tip of his cock, wrapping a hand around the base, kissing the tip, hearing Steve moan into Bucky’s mouth.

You lick along the underside of his shaft, swirling your tongue over the head and liking the salty taste it left you with. Steve’s an utter mess, bucking his hips and squirming beneath you and Bucky when you finally put your mouth around him, no longer having the focus to continue kissing Bucky, instead just letting his head fall back against the pillows, breath laboured and heavy as you start to suck. 

"C'mon, sweetheart. You can go deeper than that." Bucky purrs, tilting his head as you look up at him through your lashes, and you pull off of Steve, using your hand to make lazy strokes up and down his cock, shaking your head at the brunette.

"He's so big, Bucky," You bite your lip, and Steve whimpers softly at your compliment, watching as you fake a look of innocence, giving Bucky those doe eyes as you brush your thumb across the tip of Steve's cock. "D'you wanna taste him, Buck?"

Bucky already knows the answer to that, his cock was throbbing at the sight of you and Steve alone, but he glances up to Steve, meeting his distracted gaze and waiting for some sort of permission, which was given almost immediately, Steve frantically nodding his head. 

Bucky smirks, winking at you as he adjusts himself on the bed, moving beside you, giving your lips a chaste kiss before lowering his head, your hand still holding his cock for Bucky to enjoy, his tongue circling the head just as you were doing only seconds ago, as you continue to stroke Steve's remaining length while Bucky starts to take him deeper into his mouth. 

Steve couldn't hold back on the sounds he’s making, he's never been so vocal, never been so sensitive to touch, but he can’t help himself, Bucky's mouth felt so warm, so wet, and when he opens his blue eyes to look down at the two of you, he know he wont last much longer. 

You bend your head down when Bucky comes up for air, tracing your tongue against Steve's cock as you meet Bucky's eye holding his heart-stopping gaze as Bucky started doing the same, both of your mouths on him at the same time. 

It’s filthy, an act of sin no doubt you'll never come back from, but you wouldn’t want to anyway, humming when Steve starts panting, his abs constricting, you wrap your lips around the tip, pumping his cock with your hand until his cum filled your mouth, hearing the deep groan that reverberated through his chest as he came.

You swallow as you pulled away and a hand finds its way to your neck, Bucky pulling you closer. “No fair, you’re supposed to share, sweet girl.” He chastises softly, almost pouting, before he closes the gap to capture your lips with his own, his tongue sliding into your mouth. He moans softly at the taste of Steve's cum on your tongue, the pretty sound so perfect on your ears, only reminding you that Bucky was yet to be touched, focusing on yours and Steve's pleasure instead of his own. How very like him.

You rest your hand on his stomach as you kiss him back, gliding your fingers lower and lower until you reach the waistband of the underwear that he was still somehow wearing. You ping the elastic against his skin, smiling into the kiss when he only leaned closer. 

He shudders as your hand finally slides past the band, wrapping around his cock and pulling him out. Neither of you made any move to remove his underwear, you both knew he was far too gone, too desperate to wait any longer, so you squeeze the base of his cock, pulling away from the kiss only to look at him.

Hair mussed, light eyes the darkest you'd ever seen them, as he watches every little move you make for him, his lips red and swollen, cheeks flushed pink. He finally looks as wrecked as Steve, who was still getting over the fact that he just came in his best friend's mouth. 

You move your hand slowly at first, stomach fluttering with every strangled moan that caught in Bucky's throat, "You're all talk, ain't you Buck?" 

"Fuck, doll- please- I need to come." He groans, eyes fluttering shut when you kiss his neck, his forehead dropping to your shoulder, arm wrapping around your waist.

"You look as desperate as our Stevie right now, James." You tease, but still speed up your hand for him, swirling your thumb across the slit to hear his breath hitch in his throat. 

Bucky looks over at Steve then, giving a light-hearted scoff at the sight of him rock hard again, stroking slowly at his cock as he enjoys the show in front of him. 

"Fuckin' super soldier." Bucky laughs, laying his cheek on your shoulder, groaning softly as his eyes flutter closed.

You can tell how close he is, moving his head to tuck right into the crook of your neck, talking himself away like he tends to do, "Fuck, feels so good, sweetheart. 'M so close- Never felt this good before, doll." 

You were used to his nicknames by now, years of him calling you 'doll' more than he used your actual name usually had you rolling your eyes, but now, like this, it makes your stomach flutter. 

It wasn't much longer till he was coming onto both of your stomachs, hot spurts painting your skin as Bucky's hips twitched forward with every second he comes, groaning as you continue to stroke him.

Steve follows yet again not long after, and a glance over to him laid against the headboard with his abdomen covered in his own spend has you blushing, never mind the fact that he'd just had his fingers inside you, and his cock in your mouth. 

Bucky quickly cleans up your stomach with his discarded shirt, along with his own before he tosses it to Steve with a chuckle. 

You’re all glowing, surprised by the complete lack of awkwardness despite all the things that had just happened in Bucky's hotel room. Instead, you all huddle together on the bed, your head laid on Steve's shoulder as Bucky rested his on your stomach, your fingers naturally finding themselves threading through his hair. 

"Well, that was fucking amazing," Bucky murmurs, a content smile on his face as he looks over at you and Steve, his arms around your waist.

"Yeah, it was." Steve agrees, moving one of his hands through Bucky's hair too, before draping his arm above your head. 

You go quiet for a moment, the afterglow not quite enough to keep the anxiety at bay anymore, "I just wish we'd done this earlier."

They know what you mean, they know what you’re insinuating, and the room falls silent. None of you could deny the dangers, the uncertainty ahead of you, but that didn't mean you couldn't enjoy the time you had up until that moment you’d all have to risk everything again.

"We can't think like that, baby," Bucky speaks first, his voice soft, gentle and yet serious, "I know it's hard not to, but we can't focus on the regrets. If anything, we just need to live the best we can with what we've got... and if I've got you two, I don't need anything else."

You nod, pressing your face into Bucky’s hair, although you can’t see Steve's face, you know that he agrees, his fingers brushing against your arm affectionately. 

"Bucky's right. Let's just enjoy this, lord knows we've all been pining for each other for years." 

You chuckle softly, having needed this soft moment for a long while, feeling warm and loved between them, hoping they feel it too.

[andwordsarefutiledevicess]

press relations

stanford!artdonaldson x sportsjournalist!reader

summary: assigned to write a profile of stanford's rising tennis star, you get to know art better. much better.

warnings: smut, dry humping, b0ner alert, implied consent

a/n: this does have a *hint* of art x patrick x reader undertones at the end! any (constructive) feedback is appreciated :)

you get the message as you exit the lecture hall and head to the cafeteria for lunch. “other writers are busy. can you take the art donaldson profile?” reads the text from your editor. having written for the stanford daily as a sports reporter for the past year, you’re no stranger to turning a dull interview with a rather dim-witted football player into an oh-so-riveting piece. however, this is out of your comfort zone.

tennis is…boring. sure, you’d happily tagged along to a couple of tashi duncan’s matches, unwilling to pass up the opportunity to see an olympic-bound athlete in her prime, but it isn’t your ideal way to spend a saturday afternoon. 

and yet, that is exactly what you are doing. the donaldson interview is lined up for directly after his match with a ucla player. “he’s got a tight schedule, so we need to accommodate him,” said your editor when you questioned why you had to sit through a match and then manage to cram in an interview in the men’s fucking lockerroom. 

art donaldson is a year above you, living in the same dorm. you recognize most athletes at this point—in part because they’re constantly (obnoxiously) sporting team merch, and because of your job—but art is known by most for his friendship with tashi duncan. neither are particularly social, keeping their circle tight amongst fellow tennis players, both at stanford and professionals. 

it’s difficult not to stick out in the bleachers. while other players, including a brown-haired boy cheering quite loudly, observe the game, it’s by no means packed. as donaldson pauses for water after the first set, he catches your gaze, giving an awkward wave in acknowledgement as he wipes the sweat from his face. you silently pray that he knows you’re the reporter he’s supposed to speak to, and doesn’t just think you’re some crazed tashi duncan fangirl. 

his playing is statuesque, long limbs sweeping across the court (but not entirely stripped of the boyish energy that defined his success as a high school student). after beating his opponent 2-0, donaldson steps off the court, dramatically embraced by the brown-haired spectator, who you have since realized is his former doubles partner, patrick zweig, and you take this as a signal to get this interview started before he becomes swept up in celebrations. 

climbing down the bleachers, you see art duck down into the hallway, making his way into the locker rooms. in all your time as a sports reporter, you hadn’t had such an…unconventional… interview location, and you feel a bit sick as the sound of the shower draws closer. 

“art donaldson?” you say, standing just outside the open door of the locker room. 

“yeah” he calls back, as though he was expecting you, but not entirely welcoming the intrusion. the shower turns off, and the soft sound of his steps on the tiles echo. “well, come in,” he calls again. 

you step into the steam-filled space with your eyes directed down. “i understand you have physical therapy shortly, so i’ll try to keep this quick—,” you say, taken aback as you finally draw your eyes upward. he’s managed to pull on a pair of checkered boxers, fabric sticking to his still-damp body. 

you can’t imagine you look particularly composed, hair sticking to your face from the steam with a burning blush spread across your cheeks. you watch as art bites his cheek and awkwardly motions for you to sit on the bench across from him as he methodically changes the overgrip on his racket. 

“so,” you say, clearing your throat, “how did you first become interested in tennis?” he glances up from his task. “my parents needed someone to watch me, and my grandma was busy, so they stuck me in a local tennis camp. i doubt they realized that they were signing up for over a decade of tennis running my—and their—lives.”

you hum in agreement. “and what specific areas of your game are you hoping to improve on this season?” you follow up. his gaze becomes more intent—more focused. setting the racket to his side, art stands, before quickly realizing he’s still only boxer-clad. you stare at the opposite wall, hoping to save him the embarrassment, and you see him fumble to slip on shorts out of the corner of your eye. he clears his throat. “ – um – yeah, i’m trying to get faster on my feet. sorry, i—” he says, before you cut him off in protest. “no, no, i should have given you a moment to clean up after your match, it’s my fault,” you say, rising off of the bench awkwardly, avoiding his gaze. 

but with the lingering steam, and your downward gaze, your fumble to exit the locker room instead lands you into direct contact with his chest. “shit! sorry,” you exclaim, drawing your chin up. a wash of heat cascades from your head, nipples taut, despite the warmth of the room, as your body reacts to the sudden proximity. art is equally flushed, pink lips slightly parted and chest rocking as he concentrates on breathing deeply, trying to lower his racing heart. you can smell him, fresh with a hint of that post-game sweat, a droplet of water falling from a blonde curl. 

he brings a calloused hand to your hair, brushing it behind your shoulder, as if to ask permission. the slight nod and glaze of your tongue over your lips is enough for him to understand, his breath heavy against your face as your noses are close enough to touch. that final centimeter is finally closed, and it’s as though air rushes back into you while inhibition is tossed out. without thinking, your hair tangles into his mess of damp hair, and you feel his soft moan against your lips. you gasp as his hand grabs your ass, drawing you into contact with his erection (for how much of that interview was he hard?). 

“you—ah—you have physical th-therapy,” you say, breathless as he works his mouth down your jaw and neck. “just…five more minutes,” he says in between kisses, like a teenager wishing to sleep in, causing you to chuckle. bringing your left knee up, your hips are suddenly flush against his, and the new contact sends you both reeling, his cock twitching in his shorts. you tentatively rock, again, against his groin, and you both seem to realize that that hit the spot. pushing your back against a locker, art draws his groin against yours again, and again, his soft pants becoming near whimpers as your lips meet for a desperate, sloppy kiss. 

you’re lost in the rhythm the two of you have found, ignoring the rattle of the lockers with each thrust. fuck you’re embarrassingly close (that’s what a two month dry spell will do for you) but before you have to worry about coming too early, you hear his strangled voice in your ear. “ – f-fuck, s-sorry i’m close, was so pent up.” before you’re able to reply, your body has taken this as permission to let the orgasm wash over you at last. still reeling from your own orgasm, you feel the warm spread of art’s cum seep through the thin fabric of his shorts, as he continues to rut against you. 

bringing your arms up to hurriedly fix your now-tangled hair, you draw away from art. a fresh blush comes to your cheeks at the realization of how silly you feel, grinding like a pubescent teen. art seems tired, yes, but not embarrassed, slipping off his pants and boxers and replacing them with clean ones. before he’s got his wits back, you’re out the door, praying no one managed to overhear the encounter. to your dismay, patrick zweig, smug as ever, sits outside the locker room.

[hannieehaee]

BAD HABIT (teaser)

18+ / mdi

summary: hiding his secret crush on you was already hard enough for jungkook, and after getting bit by a spider, he'd now have the grueling task of hiding his brand-new superhero identity from you.

content: spiderman!jungkook, f2l!jungkook, based on mcu's spiderman and is supposed to take place during/after civil war but with an aged up spiderman, college-aged Jungkook and reader, picture tattoo-less 2019 jungkook, pining, slow burn-ish, afab reader, smut, dry humping, fingering, penetrative sex, etc.

(^ no actual content warnings in the teaser)

wc: 878 (teaser); 9.4k (full fic)

RELEASE DATE: august 6th

or you can check it out on my ko-fi or patreon today by subscribing to either one!

a/n: writing a spideykook fic is a right of passage for every jk fanfic writer

masterlist | kofi/patreon

support me through a one time tip<3

"Oh my God, did you see what he did last night?", you excitedly shoved your phone in Jungkook's direction, showing him yet another news article detailing Spiderman's newest act of bravery.

"What, did he stop another bank robbery?", Jungkook showed disinterest in your interruption, continuing to pay attention to what was playing on the TV.

"Okay, booo! Why are you so lame about him? He's so cool," you complained, setting your back against the couch again with a frown.

"I dunno," he shrugged, "Just don't see what the big deal is about him. There's cooler superheroes out there."

With the light from the TV shinning on the two of you, you allowed the content from the movie to consume you for a bit before arguing back. You always argued back when it came to Spiderman. This was practically routine to Jungkook by now.

"Like Iron Man? Sure, Tony Stark's cool, but think about it — Spiderman's probably just a regular person like you and me. Can you imagine doing all he does while keeping it all undercover?", you rambled on, "Also his body's crazy," you added as an afterthought, almost whispering it to yourself.

Jungkook couldn't help but chuckle at this, inadvertently looking down at his own abdomen before responding, "How do you know he's got a nice body under that suit?"

"You can literally see his abs through the suit! Duh!", you tutted at him as if he were an idiot to question you.

"Ah, right. My bad," he chuckled, "Okay, whatever. Just pay attention to the movie. You can ramble about him all you want after we finish, okay?," he held up his pinky towards you in a childish fashion, grinning when you giggled at him and intertwined your pinky with him, grumbling a 'fine' in mock annoyance.

Now with you both putting your focus on the movie, — Jungkook's all-time favorite, Back to the Future — Jungkook had the opportunity to lose himself to his own head, thinking about your recent obsession with Spiderman — New York's newest hero.

After Spiderman's recent appearance at an encounter with the Avengers in Germany, followed by a more prominent presence in the streets of New York with a revamped suit, you had instantly formed an intense interest in the masked man. Prior to that, the hero was mostly a man hidden in the shadows — a myth to all those in Queens. Almost immediately upon his return to New York he became a sensation across the world, but specially around the area in which he'd serve the people and fight all evil around.

Among all those fans stood you, maybe the biggest of them all.

It didn't take you long to develop a liking to the masked man upon his sudden resurgence. Jungkook had known you to get overly invested in your interests (there had been a few instances throughout your friendship where you'd demonstrated as such), but he never thought you'd be the type to develop such a blatant crush on someone you virtually knew nothing about. Past the fact that he was the youngest addition to the Avengers, there was not much information about Spiderman out to the general public, yet you were quite loud about your crush on him to everyone you knew — especially to Jungkook, who just so happened to be your best friend.

Unfortunately to Jungkook, you were entirely unaware that the man you were actually crushing on was your best friend in disguise.

And even more unfortunate to him, you were even more unaware of Jungkook's own crush on you.

Did this count? Were you technically crushing on Jungkook?

He chose to go for the most pesimistic answer and assume that your interest in Spiderman would immediately die upon finding out his real identity. Throughout your many years of knowing each other — all through the ups and downs of middle school and high school all the way to university — you'd never once shown anything but platonic interest in him.

To be fair, Jungkook also never gave you any clear indication of his feelings for you. He liked to think that he was discrete about it; that you had no idea of the embarrassing crush he'd been cultivating since freshman year of high school. Fortunately, you appeared to be far too oblivious to it, leaving Jungkook to hold not one but two life-altering secrets, never once considering letting you in on either of them.

For now, all Jungkook could do was make up lame excuses for his sudden absences and to grumble any time Spiderman's name was brought up. Part of him held disdain for Spiderman due to having to keep him a secret from you, but most of his dislike was born out of jealousy over your interest in him. What did he have that Jungkook didn't? Nothing! But he could never tell you that, leading him to a never-ending dilema that he could entrust in no one.

The movie left his mind for the next of the night, much more so when you seemed to become disinterested again, cuddling against him as you prepared to let yourself fall asleep. This was common in your relationship, though it was always strictly platonic. It always left Jungkook wanting more, but still content at having you by his side.

...

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[starryhyuck]

under his desk. (m)

pairing: ceo!johnny x afab!reader

words: 7.4k+

summary: you discover your new boss has a secret hidden up his sleeve.

genre: smut, fluff

warnings: talks of violence, reader is jaehyun’s sister, rough sex, slight breeding kink, sir kink, public sex, creampies, multiple orgasms, hair pulling, mentions of throat fucking

“I need a job.”

Jaehyun’s mouth is wide open, spoon hovering over a bowl of soup, inches away from sitting on his tongue. His eyes dart up to see your anxious expression, eyebrows pulled together. He sighs, resting his spoon back down before leaning back in his chair.

“So this is why my sister finally reaches out to have dinner with me,” Jaehyun says, running a hand down his face exasperatedly.

“Come on, Jae,” you plead, fingers twisted in the napkin on your lap. A large chandelier hovers over the two of you, illuminating the disappointment gracing Jaehyun’s face. “You know I would never ask you for a favor like this unless I really have to.”

He observes the serious look on your face. It’s been years since you’ve reached out to him, the two of you losing touch after you parted ways when graduating from university. Your brother set off to a successful career in finance, climbing rank until he was nearly at the top, making an enormous amount of money that he had no clue what to do with. You were the opposite, chasing your dream of writing at a huge publishing firm, only to be met with disappointment by a few odd jobs and barely enough cash to cover the bills. You never asked Jaehyun for help even though you both knew you needed it.

He has a contemplative air cast around him, fingers rubbing at his chin lightly.

“I don’t know anyone in the writing world-“

“It doesn’t have to be that,” you immediately interject. You don’t care if he can smell the desperation across the table. “I’ve given up on that dream. I just need something stable, something I don’t have to make backup plans for if it falls through.”

He sighs again. “There is something, but it’s not easy-“

“I’ll take it, Jae. Please, I promise I won’t fuck this up.”

He stares at you for a while, taking in the hunger in your eyes. He hasn’t seen you like this since you graduated, proclaiming that you would become a best-selling writer before the year’s end. Now, you’re simply a girl crushed by the weight of your dreams and chasing a solid figure in your bank account.

“Let me see what I can do.”

—

You straighten your skirt for the umpteenth time, clutching the clipboard to your chest for dear life. The stiletto heels are digging into your feet but you keep your toes as straight as possible, trying your best to look like you know what you’re doing.

The door flies open and you take a deep breath. Johnny Suh walks by you without a word, taking his seat at his desk before finally sparing you a glance. His eyebrow raises at your appearance but he says nothing else.

“Good morning, sir,” you say with a smile. “I have your morning reports here and your daily schedule. Which would you like first?”

“My coffee.”

You pause, the smile slipping off of your face. “Y-Your coffee?”

He’s not amused in the slightest. “Black, no sugar. I expect it on my desk as soon as I walk into this room.”

“Yes, sir.”

A few beats pass. “Well?”

You stumble, racing for the door and exiting his office. You calculate there is absolutely no way you could make it to a coffee shop and be back on time, instead heading for the break room. You exhale as you place an empty cup under one of the high tech machines, waiting patiently as it brews for you.

“You’re the new assistant, aren’t you?” A voice questions. Another man walks into the room, taking a cup for himself and occupying another machine. He outstretches his hand to you. “I’m Doyoung.”

You shake his hand and smile politely, offering your name.

“Nice to meet you,” he says, watching as you carefully take the brewed cup of black coffee from the machine and search for a lid. “How’s the boss so far?”

You chuckle dryly. “Well, it’s my first day and I already forgot his coffee, so I can confidently say it’s not going well.”

He throws you an apologetic look. Before you can exit, he speaks again. “In my experience, Johnny favors resilience over anything. If you can show him that you’re serious about this without making a fuss, then he’ll reward you for the hard work.”

You smile thankfully. After bidding Doyoung goodbye, you make your way back into Johnny’s office, grateful to have met someone willing to help you navigate this job. Jaehyun warned you it would be difficult since Johnny was a particular man, to quote your brother, but you’ve handled much worse than a snooty CEO. You’re not one to back down this easily.

You slide the warm cup across his desk. His eyes are shifted downwards, shuffling through mountains of paperwork. He doesn’t glance up at you as he takes his first sip, lips twisting in a grimace. He turns his torso and points out the windows covering the back wall of his office.

“You’ll pick up my coffee order from that shop going forward,” he instructs. You have no idea what location he’s referring to as the view is just out of your eye line, but you make a mental note to check it later.

You nod obediently before taking your clipboard back into your hands, reciting his schedule for the day.

“You have a meeting with the board of directors at ten, a one-on-one with the CFO of Kim Enterprises at eleven, lunch at twelve, and back-to-back meetings regarding the Baek acquisition after lunch,” you say, handing him the sheet from your clipboard. He takes it roughly, sighing as he glances over it. “Here are the morning reports as well. Anything particular you’re craving for today?”

He regards you carefully, and you squirm underneath his judging gaze.

“You’re Jaehyun’s sister, is that correct?”

You swallow. “Yes, sir.”

He says nothing else in relation to the topic. “A sandwich from the Kim’s shop down the street will be just fine.”

“Yes, sir.”

—

After a few weeks of trial and tribulations, you can safely say you have found your footing as Johnny Suh’s assistant.

He is particular, yes, but you can see now that it is only due to the success of the business. When sitting by his side during his meetings to take notes, you’ve noticed how fast he is to shut down any propositions that seem like a waste of time and only approve ideas that are carefully constructed and thought out. Employees appear to equally fear and respect him, which Johnny was well aware of.

You can’t quite tell if he’s pleased with your work, but he hasn’t issued any complaints since the first day you joined. You ensure a cup of warm coffee from Min’s Market is on his desk every morning and a warm sandwich from the Kim’s is delivered to him by lunch. You made an effort to reorganize the filing system his prior assistant had tried to keep up with, which made both your and Johnny’s day easier whenever you needed to access an important document. You have his work schedule texted to his phone every morning instead of using the old paper route, which you find a lot more efficient, yet unsure if Johnny expresses the same sentiment.

It’s conflicting. You feel as if you’re doing a good job but your boss makes no effort to display praise. The only thing you keep reminding yourself of is Doyoung’s comment about resilience, and how you can expect Johnny to reward you in due time.

A call of your name disrupts your typing on your computer, and you’re quick to rise on your feet as you enter Johnny’s office.

“Yes, sir?”

“Ten just called me on my personal line. Make arrangements in my schedule for me to meet him today.”

“Yes, sir,” you say, writing down the instructions on your clipboard. “Anything else I can do for you?”

He pauses, staring at you thoughtfully. You hate it when he does this because you can never read what’s swimming in his head.

“You’re going to Jaehyun’s engagement party, I assume?”

You were ecstatic when your brother called with the news a week ago. He had known Miyeon since university and they stayed together through all the hectic chaos of Jaehyun’s career. He told you they were holding a small party at their penthouse this Sunday, and you were happy to attend in celebration.

You smile and nod. “Yes, I’ll be there, sir.”

He bobs his head once before waving his hand, dismissing you. You leave in confusion, but that was a normal emotion you felt around Johnny nowadays. You return to your desk and pull up his schedule, locating an empty slot for his meeting with Ten.

“How are you holding up, champ?”

You laugh when Doyoung approaches your desk, twirling a pen in his fingers. He’s made it a habit to check up on you every now and then. Another tidbit you learned when you began working here is that most people did not envy you for your position as Johnny’s assistant. If anything, they pitied you. Doyoung told you bets had been made around the office for when you would quit, to which you replied, “He’s not that bad.”

Doyoung chuckled and said, “Give it a few more weeks.”

Ever since then, he’s been spying on you for the rest of the employees, trying to see when your resolve would crumble.

“I’m still here, Doyoung,” you reply to his question, raising an eyebrow.

He grins. “That you are. Still having a hard time reading him?”

“Who doesn’t?”

He snickers. “Well, if it lifts your spirits at all, we’re heading out for drinks this weekend to take the edge off. Come and join us.”

You normally decline such an invitation as your weekends are reserved for catching up on some much needed rest. However, now that you’ve gotten a solid grasp on Johnny’s workload, you feel like a night of alcohol is exactly what you crave to wind down.

“You know what, I’ll be there.”

His grin stretches wider, and he’s about to speak again before another voice startles you.

“Mr. Kim, what are you doing?” Johnny’s stern voice asks, standing in the doorway of his office. He scrutinizes the both of you and your shoulders tense.

Doyoung scrambles. “M-Mr. Suh! I was just speaking with-“

“I can see that,” he cuts off Doyoung. Johnny narrows his eyes. “Is there a reason you’ve decided to interrupt my assistant’s work for mindless fodder about after-work events?”

“N-No-“

“It’s best if you return to your desk now, hm?”

Doyoung nods frantically, tail tucked between his legs as he nearly sprints out of the room. Johnny turns his attention to you, lips flattened in a straight line.

“I expect you not to waste time by flirting with other members of the work staff.”

Before you can protest, he’s walking back into his office, slamming the door behind him. You slouch in your chair, scoffing at his behavior.

What was his problem?

—

“I like this drink! Do you think they have tiny umbrellas behind the bar? It’ll make me feel like my life isn’t in shambles!”

You giggle at Joohyun, who is rambling loudly in your ear. It’s evident she’s had her fair share of drinks but she shows no signs of stopping.

You’re grateful Doyoung invited you to this outing because it feels like you can finally get to know your other co-workers without the walls of Johnny’s office blocking you. You feel light for the first time in weeks, and you’re not certain if it’s from the alcohol coursing through your veins or the absence of your ill-mannered boss. Either way, you’re reveling in it.

“Alright, truth or dare?”

You giggle, nearly spilling the shot of vodka in your hands. “Are you kidding me? How old are we?”

“Don’t be a sourpuss,” Doyoung says, nearly throwing his straw at you from across the table. “Truth or dare?”

“Hm, truth!”

“Boo,” Donghyuck from the marketing department yells. You pretend to throw your drink in his face and he ducks, making the whole table erupt with laughter.

“Okay, okay!” Sooyoung snickers. “Would you rather be an accomplice to a high profile murder case or fuck up Johnny’s coffee order?”

You shudder at the thought of delivering the wrong coffee to your boss, and the table is in hysterics over your expression.

“Definitely not the last one! He’ll have my head!”

The rest of the night is a blur, filled with more ridiculous dares from Donghyuck and silly questions from Sooyoung. You all part ways in the dead of the night, stumbling into taxi cabs as you wave goodbye. You elect to walk home since your apartment isn’t located too far from the bar. You shiver as the night chill nips at your arms.

You pass by another dimly lit nightclub, thrumming loudly with the sound of the bass. You know you shouldn’t, but you don’t want this night to end and crush the happy feeling in your chest. It’s the first time since university you haven’t had to worry about bills or how much the drinks of the night cost, and it spurs on your temporary foolish behavior. You enter the dodgy nightclub, convincing yourself that one more drink can’t hurt you.

The area is packed with people, namely older men with large builds and tattoos covering their forearms. You flag down a bartender.

“Hey, what’s going on tonight?” You yell over the sound of the music.

“Big fight downstairs,” he says, pointing to a staircase to the left of the bar. “Drinks down there are free for the ladies!”

Your eyebrows raise, and against your better judgment, your feet find themselves moving down the creaky staircase. The music dies down when you finally make it to the bottom, instead being filled with loud chatter from the bulky men around you.

“You’re insane if you think a newbie is going to come along and take out The Destroyer! He’s undefeated, you idiot!”

“All the greats have to fall sometime. Just watch and see!”

You make your way to the bar, which is a little more tattered and ruined than the one upstairs. The bartender’s eyes widen at the sight of you, which befuddles you until he asks, “Fan of The Destroyer?”

“Who?”

Three loud clanging sounds of a bell echo around the room, silencing the chatter. A man in a crisp tailored suit walks out, microphone in his hand. The crowd of people suddenly shuffle around until an empty square is left in the middle of the room.

“Welcome, everyone!” The man in the suit greets, the curve of his lips twisted into a smirk. “We have a great show for you tonight! For anyone looking to place their last minute bets, please locate Mr. Kim by the bar. Trust me, you won’t want to miss a fight this good!” The statement has the mass hollering while you look on in confusion. “Tonight, we have Payback in the left corner here.” The rallies grow louder as a young, lanky man comes forward, raising his fists in the air and encouraging the crowd. He stands to the left of the announcer, bouncing on the balls of his feet animatedly. “And in the right corner, we have the fan favorite, the undefeated, the legendary Destroyer!”

Your body locks up, breath caught in your throat while the room erupts in a deafening applause. Your hand covers your mouth in shock because the man who walks out, hands wrapped in red tape with his torso completely exposed, is none other than Johnny.

You nearly collapse into the bar from surprise, but the bartender reads your body language as something else.

“Incredible, isn’t he?” He says into your ear. “How much do you have on him tonight?”

You fail to respond, your mind whirling into a frenzy. There’s no possible way this could be Johnny — it had to be his long lost twin brother or you could be seeing it all wrong. From this angle though, it looks exactly like your boss, even as he wears nothing but a pair of baggy shorts hugging his waist. Your eyes drink in the litter of tattoos covering his chest, tattoos that are hidden in the daylight with his blazers and button-up shirts.

The announcer says a few more words that go completely over your head before ringing the bell, signaling the start of the fight.

You should go home. You should go home and pretend you never saw any of this. Staying here only implicates you, and you can’t imagine what Johnny would do to you if he found out you knew about his underground secret. You need this job, and staying here increases the chances of you losing it, so why can’t you move? Why can’t you pry your gaze away from the ripple in Johnny’s muscles as he lands the first blow, nearly knocking his opponent to the ground? Why does your throat go dry when he delivers punch after punch, eyes blazed with fury as blood begins running down the other man’s nose? Why do you stay rooted in place when the announcer declares Johnny’s victory, raising his arm high as the crowd cheers?

Then, he sees you.

His eyes lock with yours across the room, his victorious expression falling and shifting into something more grim.

That’s when you run. You sprint up the stairs and out of the bar, legs aching before you finally make it back to your apartment, shutting the front door and sliding your back down until you hit the floor.

What the fuck were you going to do now?

—

“Thank you all for joining us. This engagement is long overdue, and I’m grateful to Miyeon for sticking by my side even though I never deserved it,” your brother says, which causes Miyeon to bump his hip with hers jokingly. Guests chuckle at the small show of affection. “Please enjoy yourselves tonight and look forward to a Jeong wedding in the new year!”

Applause ensues, jilting you out of your reverie. You slowly clap with everyone else, trying your best to put on a smile.

You’ve been on edge since you walked into this party, and it’s all because of your idiotic actions from the night before. You contemplated showing up after being caught in the act at Johnny’s secret fight, but you knew it would be obvious if you missed your brother’s engagement party. Even though Johnny was here, you were determined to attend, albeit you having to avoid him like the plague.

In all fairness, you were succeeding thus far. You keep yourself on the opposite end of the room from him, never sparing a glance in his direction although you could feel his eyes on you during sporadic times in the night. Your plan is to leave at a time that wouldn’t raise any questions and go into work tomorrow and pretend you were never at the club that night. You hope Johnny would do the same.

For the sake of your job, you really really hope he would do the same.

You’re in the middle of assessing the charcuterie board, eyeing the various fancy cheeses. It’s just like Jaehyun to make this small party as extravagant as he could, knowing it would make no dent in his bank account. All the food is being carried around by various waiters walking around the floor to offer it to the guests.

“Having trouble making a choice?”

Your heart drops to the pit of your stomach. You slowly spin around to see Johnny behind you, one hand stuffed into his pocket while the other holds a flute of champagne. He’s wearing a more casual manner of dress, a silk burgundy button-up paired with baggy slacks. It makes his legs look longer and you swallow as he towers over you.

“S-Sir-“

“Johnny!” You’ve never been more grateful to your brother than at this moment. He approaches the both of you with a smile, clapping a hand over Johnny’s shoulder. “How’s my little sister doing as your assistant?”

Your hands twist around your back nervously. Johnny slips into a smooth, easygoing smile.

“She’s doing fantastic. I was actually coming over to tell her just that, especially since she’s the one carrying all of my secrets to the grave.”

Your heart thumps louder in your chest while Jaehyun laughs, taking Johnny’s statement as a joke even though you know better. Johnny’s eyes analyze you carefully, the dark halo in his orbs making you quake in your heels.

“And how about you, dear sister? How’s the scary boss holding up?”

You throw your brother a tight grin. “He’s wonderful, Jae. No complaints here.”

Jaehyun nods, pleased by your progress before excusing himself to mingle. He leaves you alone with Johnny, who stares at you like a predator assessing his prey. You’re about to bring up a comment about the weather before he says, “Pretty girls like you shouldn’t be lurking on the wrong side of town.”

A shiver shoots down your spine. “I-I live on that side of town.”

He raises an eyebrow. “I don’t pay you enough then.”

You exhale, certain he can hear the loud ringing of your heartbeat in your ears. He sets his champagne glass down on a nearby table before grabbing a bite-sized quiche, holding it out to you.

“I’m okay,” you decline and he hums, placing the treat in his mouth for himself. You can’t help the way your eyes linger on how his fingers graze his tongue, licking off any spare crumbs. You think about how those same fingers were pummeling into a poor stranger the night before. How the fire in his eyes couldn’t be tamed by the outcry of his fans.

You picture the same angry Destroyer hovering over you in bed, telling you exactly what he plans to do to you while his fingers wrap around your throat.

His mouth twists into a smirk and you shake yourself out of your daydream. He flags over another man and they shake hands, laughing as they exchange greetings.

“This is my assistant,” Johnny says, turning his attention to you as he offers your name. “She has big aspirations to work for a publishing company after she gets tired of me. Maybe Ahn Books has an opening?”

Mr. Ahn shakes your hand, telling you how lovely it is to meet you, but your eyes can only focus on Johnny. He’s staring at you with a knowing look in his eye and it takes you by surprise.

Was this a bribe to keep quiet about what you saw?

“Any worker who can handle Johnny is certainly a star in my books,” Mr. Ahn chuckles. “Let me know when this one starts getting on your nerves.”

You laugh anxiously and nod. “It’s an honor to meet you, Mr. Ahn.”

Johnny gives you one last look. “I’ll see you tomorrow?”

He doesn’t provide an opportunity for you to respond, throwing an arm around Mr. Ahn and guiding him away into the crowd.

You release a breath you hadn’t realized you were holding.

—

Johnny wants to fuck his assistant.

It’s plain and simple, but it’s very much against his wishes. When Jaehyun approached him with the ask to hire his sister, he didn’t hesitate to grant his friend the favor. He had known Jaehyun since they worked at their first company together out of college, and although Johnny had never met you, he figured you would be a good worker if Jaehyun vouched for you. Plus, his last assistant had just quit from being too “overworked.” Johnny thinks they weren’t trying hard enough.

You were pretty, way too pretty to be somebody’s assistant. You deserved to be the main attraction and Johnny is ashamed to admit he’s definitely salivated over the tight pencil skirts you’re always wearing around the office.

He convinces himself to put aside his own selfish desires considering you’re one of the best assistants he’s had in years. You’re incredibly organized and after he warns you once concerning something important, you ensure not to do it again. The only big thing that irritates him is how everyone in this office is clear about their desire to fuck you but you’re wildly oblivious to all of it. Do you really think Kim Doyoung comes to talk to you because he’s friendly?

It fuels him with jealousy and he’s not normally a jealous guy. And Christ, when he saw you in the crowd of his fight, blinking at him warily like a deer caught in the headlights, his heart stopped in his chest. He never intended on letting anyone know of his after-work activity, considering it was inappropriate for a man of his status to be engaged in such a violent act.

When Johnny first got into underground fighting, he had simply been a watcher. He was introduced to the scene by an old colleague and it intrigued him to observe random strangers beat the living shit out of each other for pure sport. He had practiced boxing growing up and the idea of finally discovering a place where he could put those skills to use drew him in. Most of the time, it gave him a spike of adrenaline when he won a match. It normally never gave him gratification to send his opponent home covered in blood, but he kept going because of the reputation he was building for himself.

And seeing you there, watching him win another match and once again being declared undefeated, it makes him feel... proud. Almost like he craves to prove himself to you, to demonstrate that he’s the kind of man that can take care of you.

He’s crossing a clear boundary line but his impulse to have you is overtaking the coherent part of his brain.

So when you walk in on Monday morning and squeak out a “Good morning, sir,” he swallows the need to bend you over his desk.

He greets you with a gruff “Good morning,” which has your eyebrows raising at the response. He normally ignores your attempts at chitchat, especially when it’s this early.

“I texted your schedule to you for today and I have your morning reports here,” you say as you slide over a stack of papers to him. “Can I get you anything else?”

You. Under the desk. On the desk. In the chair. Against the window.

“No, that will be all.”

You move to exit the room, pausing when your hand rests on the handle of the door.

“I-I just want you to know I haven’t told anyone about what I saw this weekend,” you murmur.

“I wouldn’t care if you did,” he replies frankly.

It’s true — he thought about it after leaving the nightclub on Saturday, and he wouldn’t be opposed if you went and told the rest of the work staff. Some sick part of him would actually be smug at the idea of you bragging about his wins to the other employees who so clearly want a taste of you.

“Oh,” you say, slightly startled. “Well, I still won’t tell. It’s your private business, after all. I shouldn’t have even been there in the first place.”

The nagging voice in the back of his head grows louder, desperate to learn what you think of him. “Did you hear what they were saying? How they were betting on The Destroyer?”

You squirm in your spot. “They said you were undefeated, that the newbie didn’t stand a chance.”

He wonders if you’re scared of him, frightened not only by his savage blows but his evident power over you. You must think that he intends to blackmail you to keep his secret, but he could care less what you choose to do.

All he wants is for you to feel the same way he does. He wants you to battle this warmth in your chest, to panic as your mind goes blank when you see him. And he can’t have any of that while you’re his assistant, working under him despite how much he would prefer you directly underneath him.

It’s why he introduced you to Mr. Ahn, an old family friend who owned one of the largest publishing companies in the country. Jaehyun mentioned to Johnny that your real passion was in writing, but the lack of funds drove you to your current spot. Johnny hates that your dreams were crushed because of something as trivial as money, which he carried an abundance of. He would fund your first book in a heartbeat if you asked, but he knows you well enough to understand your pride would never allow you to be indebted to him. He figures a job with Mr. Ahn would be more digestible for you, and it would provide him an opening to make his move.

“Do you ever get worried?” You ask him, chewing on your lower lip. “You could get seriously hurt fighting like that.”

An ache blooms in his chest. Do you care about him getting injured?

“I haven’t been hurt since I started fighting,” he shares with you. “I don’t give them a chance to get their hands anywhere near me.”

You swallow and he wrings his hands together under his desk. Does that turn you on? His office walls aren’t soundproof, but he could lock the door and throw a hand over your mouth to conceal your moans. His cock twitches in his trousers at the thought.

His fantasy shatters when you finally crack open the door.

“I’ll order a sandwich from the Kim’s for your lunch today, sir.”

“Why don’t you make it two and join me?”

You stutter. “I-I’m sorry?”

“Join me for lunch. I could use another pair of eyes on these awful spreadsheets.”

“O-Okay.”

—

Johnny is playing with fire.

He’s very aware of this, yet he can’t seem to stop himself. You’ve eaten lunch together everyday for the past two weeks, munching quietly in his office while he divulges his reasoning to you behind budget cuts and expansion decisions. In the beginning, you would nod and listen patiently. After his encouragement to speak up and voice your opinion, you slowly started coming out of your shell around him.

And he’s very well informed of what the office thinks about your private time together. Last week, he overhears Doyoung mumble to you, “You and the boss are getting close.”

A grin stretches from ear to ear on his face when he listens to your response.

“Oh, I guess we have. He’s been really sweet with me.”

An envious scoff from Doyoung is enough to make Johnny’s entire day.

Late that Friday, you both stay overtime in order to complete the documents required for the Baek acquisition that Johnny has to present to the board of directors on Monday. He insists that you finish your tasks in his office to be more efficient, although the real reason is that he wants to look at your legs while you work.

He watches as you roll your neck, humming when you finally hear the familiar snapping sound.

“Maybe we should call it a night,” Johnny sighs, tired of staring at you for hours without being able to discover what’s hidden beneath that skirt of yours.

You frown. “But we’re only on the seventh page.”

“I’m starting to think you enjoy this work more than I do,” he says with a smirk.

You look down bashfully, avoiding his gaze. “I just don’t think you’ll be ready by Monday if we call it quits.”

“Let me worry about that, hm? I’ll drive you home.”

Your head whips up. “Oh, sir, I couldn’t let you-“

“I want to,” he says firmly.

You smile softly and nod. The two of you pack up the rest of your things, with Johnny storing the paperwork in his briefcase to review for later. He escorts you down to the parking garage and you pile into his vehicle. He observes as you admire the sleek interior, and he’s conscious of the fact that the cost of this car could likely pay your rent for five years. He really does want to offer you a raise to get you into a better apartment in a more decent side of town, but he’s certain you would interpret the gesture as a bribe rather than an act of kindness.

As the vehicle merges onto the busy city road, you pipe up from the passenger seat.

“Are you fighting this weekend?”

The question startles him. You haven’t spoken about his fighting since the moment you told him you would keep his secret.

“Every Saturday,” he replies, sneaking a quick glance over at you.

You have a nervous expression painted on your face. He opens his mouth to ask why before you speak up again.

“Will you be careful?”

The car halts at a red light, and he uses the spare time to fully look at you. You stare back at him, your eyes filled with concern.

It’s completely inappropriate and out of line, but his hand reaches over the dashboard to grab yours. He raises the back of your palm to his mouth, lips brushing over your knuckles. The intimate gesture has you staggering your breath.

“I promise.”

Your words rattle around in his head the following day. He usually doesn’t need any words of encouragement before a fight, his music playlist being enough to boost his spirits. This time, however, he thinks about you tucked away in his car. He pictures your pretty face when he kissed your hand, how your eyes darted away from his in embarrassment.

You’re the reason why he walks into the crowd with a mission, clapping his hands together as he faces his mediocre opponent. When the bell rings, he doesn’t pull his punches as he strikes the first jab into the other man’s face. You’ve awakened something in him and the crowd’s cheers grow louder when he lands blow after blow. It isn’t long before his challenger is stumbling across the floor, falling on his back after Johnny delivers the final thwack against his abdomen.

A hand wraps around his arm and holds it high in the air. The announcer declares his victory, once again proclaiming him undefeated. The roars of the crowd fill his eardrums, but the only person he can think about is you.

His body moves before his mind can convince him otherwise, getting dressed and gathering his things as quickly as possible before exiting the nightclub. He nearly breaks into a sprint in the chilly night air, reaching your apartment within minutes.

When you open the door, your jaw drops open at the sight of him.

“Johnny-“

His hands cup your cheeks, pushing your body backwards until you hit the wall. His nose brushes against yours and your breath hitches, hands reaching up to curl around his wrists.

“Tell me I should stop,” he whispers against your lips. “Tell me I’m crossing a line and I need to walk out that door and never come back.”

He watches your chest rise and fall with each passing breath. Your expression crumbles before you press forward, locking your lips with his.

A frenzy ensues. He shuts the door to your apartment forcefully, almost rattling it off of its hinges. His tongue slips into your waiting mouth, fingers gripping your waist tightly. You’re whimpering against him, basking in the sweat and tanned muscles from his win.

“Sir-“

“Fuck,” he hisses, pushing his body against yours. You whine when you can feel his hardened member against the fabric of your shorts. “Do you know how much it turns me on whenever you call me that? Always parading around in these fucking tight skirts, calling me sir — you’re practically begging me to stretch you open.”

You pant. “I want you to. I really really want you to.”

You both clumsily move to undress the other, with Johnny’s fingers pulling down your shorts and your hands lifting up his shirt. There’s a little dried blood on his torso as evidence from the fight.

“Sorry, I didn’t shower before I came and-“

“Did you win?”

A pause. “Of course I won.”

Then your lips are on his, tongues swirling together. The kiss is sloppy with the two of you mouthing at one another, desperate to grasp at any physical contact you can. You squeak in surprise when Johnny lifts you up, wrapping your legs around his waist before pinning you against the wall.

He trails kisses down your neck, ripping your old university t-shirt in half and discarding it on the floor. Your sports bra follows after, and he gives you no time to complain before he takes your right nipple into his mouth, licking wildly. He shifts his attention between each breast, fingers flicking at the peaked bud if he neglects one for too long.

Your fingers tangle into his hair, whimpering softly.

“S-Sir-“

“Need me inside you?” He murmurs against your skin. “You’re so fucking tempting.”

“Please,” you beg, tugging at the strands of his silky brown locks. “I need you so badly.”

He’s quick to release his cock from the confines of his shorts, tip red and leaking. You whine when you see the evidence of his arousal. Johnny knows he’s bigger than most so he moves your panties to the side and runs a finger through your folds. He groans when he feels you practically dripping onto his palm.

“You really do need me badly, hm?” He remarks with a smug grin. “Tell me what’s gotten you so wet, baby.”

“Y-You,” you choke out. “Ever since I saw you fighting as The Destroyer, I-“

Your words are cut off by a piercing scream when the tip of his cock slides into you. He takes your arms and wraps them around his neck, stabilizing you as he cups his hands around your ass, rutting up into you. He can tell you’re marveling at his strength — his ability to lift you like you weigh nothing. He holds you close as his hips piston deep into your cunt.

“Look at what you do to me,” he bites in a venomous tone. “I can’t think properly when I’m around you. Want to bend you over my desk and let the whole office hear you sing for me.” Another sharp thrust has you tightening your hold around his neck, and he takes the opportunity to dangle your legs over his elbows. The angle fully allows him to fuck you perfectly, balancing you in his arms as he watches his cock disappear in and out of your weeping pussy. All you can do is hang onto him for dear life and take it. “Maybe I should invite Doyoung to come watch us. He’s always fucking chasing after you anyways.”

You unravel around him at a breakneck speed, pushed over the edge by the idea of him claiming you for all of your co-workers to see. He grunts when he feels you clench around him, offering a few more thrusts before he’s following suit. You whimper when he releases inside of you, painting your walls with his cum.

He finally sets you back down on the ground carefully, chuckling when your shaky legs cause you to stumble into him.

“Shut up,” you mumble bashfully, hitting his arm.

He kisses you again, hands resting on your lower back. “Do you think you’d be up for another round?” He whispers, eyeing his cum running down your thighs.

“I think you’re crazy,” you reply, which brings forward another bubble of laughter from him. You draw circles over his arm, admiring the swell of his muscles. Your voice shifts into something softer and lighter. “What are we going to do?”

He brushes his lips over your forehead. “I’ll figure it out. Just let me take care of you, hm?”

You giggle when he scoops you into his arms and carries you into the bedroom bridal style, preparing himself to make you moan for him all night.

—

Weeks after your passionate night with Johnny, you reach out to Mr. Ahn to see if there’s an opening at Ahn Books.

He offers a position as a junior editor and you accept it happily, eager to finally begin your career in the writing world. When you announce your departure from Johnny’s company, you’re surprised by the outpour of love you receive. All of the colleagues you spent a fun night out with bring you various flowers and stuffed animals, requesting for you to stay in touch. Johnny isn’t shocked in the slightest, huffing to himself as he tells you that they’re all in love with you. You simply roll your eyes at his jealousy.

At first, you kept your relationship with Johnny a secret in fear that people would assume you slept your way to the top. It proved extremely difficult to keep your boyfriend’s hands off of you, however. He ached to be near you at all times of the day, and you’re ashamed to admit your last two weeks in the office were mainly spent on your knees or bent over his desk.

“Ungh!”

A hand pushes on your lower back, arching your spine. Fingers tangle in your hair and your eyes roll to the back of your head.

“What do you expect me to do now, hm? How am I supposed to get my fill of this pussy everyday when it’s across town?”

A smack echoes throughout the room when his hand collides with your ass and you bite down on your palm to prevent the mewls from releasing. No matter how many times you warn Johnny that the staff outside could definitely hear you two, he never holds himself back. There could be articles written the next day about the CEO fucking employees in his office and he wouldn’t bat an eye. His only focus is you, how you feel around him, how fast he can get you to whine for him.

One particular push of his hips has you reeling, gasping as you clench around him. He groans when he feels your climax hit, sending him tumbling over the edge before his warm seed fills you.

“Johnny,” you scold, reaching back to hit him lightly. “You know I stopped taking my birth control.”

“I’m aware, baby. Why do you think we’re moving in together?”

You scoff. You were initially opposed to the idea, but Johnny somehow convinced you that it would be much easier for you to move into his million dollar house and let him drive you to work every morning. There were no downsides to his proposal, truth be told, but you didn’t want to make it seem like you were using him for his bank account. He asked if he could fuck your throat to call it even, and you agreed.

He sits back down in his chair, pulling you onto his lap. Various papers and pens are scattered across the floor from the aftermath of your intimacy.

“It’s going to be a really good thing for you that I’m leaving,” you say, massaging the back of his neck as he licks at your collarbone. His cock is still seated deep inside you. “You haven’t been productive at work in weeks.”

“It’s the job for the next assistant,” he says dismissively. “Let’s go out tonight in celebration?”

“Okay,” you hum in contentment. “I really do want to thank you, you know. I was about to hit rock bottom before I started working for you.”

“No need to thank me, baby. I would do anything for you. As long as you keep supporting The Destroyer, I’m happy.”

You frown. “I’ll only keep supporting you if you remain undefeated. I’d hate to see you seriously injured.”

He laughs at the idea, as if the thought of anyone taking his championship title is unbelievable. He squeezes your hips and slowly begins to rock you back and forth on his cock, and you whine when you realize he’s growing hard again.

“Don’t be silly. No one has a chance against me.”

“D-Do you think we need to tell Jaehyun about us?”

Johnny shrugs. “It’s the job for the next assistant.”

Then he throws you over his desk once more, grunting as he claims your body until the sun sets over the horizon.

this fic was posted for early access to the $5 tier on my patreon, which you can access here!

[little-diable]

Forever Mine – Harvey Specter (smut)

Y'all voted on reading my Harvey stuff, so here we go! I am so in love with this man, it's insane. Please like and reblog if you enjoyed reading this, your comments keep us writers motivated! Enjoy my loves. xxx

Summary: Harvey and the reader are best friends, but on the night when she asks him to pick her up from yet another horrible date, neither of them manages to hide their feelings any longer.

Warnings: 18+, smut, piv, jealousy, possessiveness, lots of feelings, friends to lovers

Pairing: Harvey Specter x fem!reader (2.4k words)

“Harvey?” Her voice rang in his ear, drawing his tired eyes towards the clock on his nightstand. It was far past midnight, and even though it wasn’t unusual for Harvey to be awake late into the night, it had been one of those nights where he had passed out the second he had found shelter in his bed, hours ago. 

“(Y/n)? What’s going on?” It took her a moment to reply, to let go of a sigh before finding her voice to answer her best friend’s question. 

“Could you pick me up from somewhere?” Harvey had already set into motion to put on his clothes with the phone balanced between his ear and shoulder. Heavy breaths left her, filled with a sadness that made his heart clench in his chest. 

“What happened, baby?” The nickname left him all too easily, even though it was something he hadn’t called his best friend in years. The sharp intake of air he heard urged him on to move even quicker to find his way out of his apartment.

“Do you remember the bar we went to last month with Mike?” Harvey gripped his car keys tighter, clenching them in his fist. A hum left him as he stepped out of the elevator, letting his shoes meet the cold ground while jogging towards his car. 

“I’m waiting there.” And without another word, (y/n) had ended the call. 

……

She shifted her weight from one foot to the other, with her coat tightly wrapped around her frame, and her hands buried in the pockets of said coat. It had been a stupid idea, a fucking stupid idea, she shouldn’t have listened to her friends and how they had urged her to go on that date to finally get over her best friend – Harvey fucking Specter. 

It had been an awful date, nothing but a waste of her time, but deep down she had hoped it’d finally manage to take her mind off her best friend, the man (y/n) longed for with every rising of the sun. The man who’d never be hers. The man who looked at her with a love only family members shared, and nothing more. 

A cry wanted to break out of (y/n) at the familiar pain in her chest, squeezing her heart with its all too familiar grasp. Shaky breaths left her as she saw his car approach, needing to prepare herself for an uncomfortable conversation where Harvey would scold her for meeting up with a man like this, while being all too oblivious about her reasons for that date. 

“Thank you for picking me up.” She pressed a kiss to his cheek before properly sinking into the comfortable leather seat. Harvey’s hand found its rest on her knee, and with his thumb running over the exposed parts of her skin, due to her dress, he began driving. 

“Do you want to tell me what happened?” (Y/n) could tell that he was driving her back to his place, taking the all too familiar route she could probably walk blindfolded. Her heart was racing in her chest as it whispered to her, begging (y/n) to finally tell Harvey about the emotional chaos growing deep inside of her, while her mind forced her to stay quiet, to not risk a friendship she couldn’t live without. 

“Just a horrible date, nothing special.” The hand resting on her knee stopped moving, frozen to the spot as his eyes flickered to meet hers. For a moment, an uncomfortable silence began to fill the car, it clung to her like a second layer of skin, crawling up its limbs like a parasite. Dates had always been a struggling topic between the two, uncomfortable conversations they both tried to avoid. 

“Do I know the guy?” His voice was husky, growing lower with every further word he spoke. His fingers no longer stroked her skin, they had a tight grasp on her knee as if he was making sure she wouldn’t leave his side, not daring to let go as if he was scared to be alone.

“No, the girls introduced me to him.” Nothing but a hum left Harvey as a reply, letting the sound buzz through (y/n). Only as they arrived at his apartment complex to park the car did they find their voices again, sharing a small “Thank you” while Harvey helped her out of the car and led her to the elevator, with his hand placed on her lower back and his jacket wrapped around her frame. 

“Why do you always go on dates with these men? By now we both know your friends don’t have the best taste.” The question hung in the air, it forced a shudder down her spine while her heart slowly began to win the upper hand to silence her mind. Harvey was intently staring down at her, while keeping close to (y/n) with his hand moving from her lower back to her waist. 

“Don’t ask me this, please, Harvey.” Sadness dripped from her voice, followed by something he couldn’t pinpoint. But something inside of Harvey began to shift, it was whispering to him as if he could tell that whatever he’d force out of her, would change the outcome of this very night, a turning point neither could run from.

“You know I’m not one to back down, sweetheart.” Her tongue kissed her teeth while (y/n) pondered over her choices. She was grateful for the few seconds of silence they were offered as they stepped out of the elevator and entered the apartment she knew like the back of her hand. 

“Talk to me, (y/n), what’s going on?” Harvey was towering over her, even as she kicked off her heels and shrugged out of his jacket to expose the dress he loved seeing on her. His hands held onto her to guide her towards the couch, and even as they sat down next to one another, his hands held contact with her body. 

“Harvey, please, don’t make me do this.” She could tell that whatever he was waiting for her to say was different to what she was about to confess. Harvey was too oblivious, he wouldn’t ever pick up on the love she fostered for him, a secret that would turn their friendship into something (y/n) would curse herself for. Uneasy waters that would swallow them both without giving them a chance to swim. 

“It can’t be that bad, sweetheart. Is there something I don’t know? Did somebody hurt you?” Her glassy eyes got lost in his. She allowed herself to study her handsome best friend for a moment before slowly rising to her feet, desperately searching the now growing distance between the. If she was about to lay this on him, she needed some space, enough room to prepare herself to walk out of his door any moment now. 

Harvey’s jaw muscles ticked, he was growing impatient, angry even – about something he had awfully mixed up. He would burn down the earth for (y/n), would hurt anybody who dared to come too close to her. And yet he still didn't know that he was causing her this pain, a biting sensation that made bile rise in her throat.

“You wouldn’t get it, Harvey. Let it go.” Her eyes found the city below their feet, allowing her to study the numerous lights filling the darkness, the high buildings growing nearby and far away. It was a beautiful sight, a sight that tried to calm her aching heart, though without any luck. She heard Harvey move, could watch in the reflection of his big windows how he rose to his feet and walked up to her. 

“Talk to me, baby.” His muscular front was pressed against back, and for a moment (y/n) allowed herself to imagine being held by him like a lover would cling to their significant other. A thought that guided her next movements as she slowly turned in his grasp to stare up at her handsome best friend. 

With her breath hitched in her chest, (y/n) shifted her weight to press her lips against his. It was a quick kiss, a simple kiss, and yet it carried more meaning than any other kiss (y/n) had ever given. She felt him freeze at the touch, seemingly not expecting his best friend to cross that invisible line. 

“This is why I don’t want to talk about it with you, Harvey.” A tear dripped from her eye as the words rolled off her tongue. Harvey stared down at her with something so intense, (y/n) couldn’t help but peel herself out of his grasp, set on leaving his apartment and the man she had been in love with for years behind. 

“How dare you!” His angry words made her halt in her steps. Slowly, (y/n) turned back towards Harvey who wore an expression filled with hurt and anger. (Y/n) could only imagine how his opponents in court must feel whenever he directed his anger at them, forcing them to back down from any fight they couldn’t win – not against Harvey Specter.

“How dare you act as if I have no say in this. Have you ever wondered for just a second if I feel the same? If I was forced to carry the same heartbreak for years whenever you called me to pick you up from shitty dates with men who weren’t me?” Even though her heart began to race once again, begging (y/n) to realise what he had just confessed, her anger managed to guide her, letting her voice grow louder just like Harvey’s. 

“Then why didn’t you say something?” He stalked towards her, with eyes so fiery, (y/n) feared he’d burn her on the spot. Almost no space was left between them, with his chest pressed against hers to push her against the door, and his hand pressed to the spot next to her head. 

“Because I’d rather suffer from this heartbreak for years than risk losing you.” She got no time to reply as his lips came down on hers in a stormy kiss. (Y/n) instantly allowed her lips to move with his, letting their tongues tangle while her arms found their way around his neck. Moans rumbled through the both of them, sounds that rang in their ears like a song solemnly composed for this night only. Harvey’s hands found their way down her frame to pick her up without breaking the kiss, guiding them towards the kitchen where he placed her down on his kitchen island. 

“Promise I’ll take my time with you later, but fuck I need to be inside of you now.” Her excited chuckles left Harvey smirking as he shuffled her dress up to her waist, groaning at the sight of her drenched panties. She was mesmerised by the sight of Harvey lingering between her thighs, something (y/n) had only dared to dream of. 

“I bet your date thought he could have you like this tonight, spread out and ready to be fucked. But let me promise you something, sweetheart,” without breaking eye contact, Harvey ripped her panties apart to expose her aching heat to the colder temperatures now stroking her limbs. “No other man but me will ever get to see you like this again, from now on, you’re mine, you belong to me, and I will never share you.” 

“I only want to be yours, Harvey, like you will always be mine.” (Y/n) pulled him down for a kiss while he freed his cock from his dark trousers and reached for a condom. The seconds kept blurring by until Harvey finally pushed into her, letting his cock stretch her walls as his thumb circled her pulsing bundle.

Both moaned at the new sensation, having to adjust to something they had longed for all these years. With her back arched off the kitchen island, she let Harvey fuck her, letting their bodies meet with every thrust as if they were magnets finding together. A storm was rocking through them both, binding them together to forge another bond so strong, neither of them would ever be able to shake it off again.

Harvey’s name rolled off her tongue like a prayer, filling the apartment that would forever keep their deepest secrets. Both clung to the other as if they were scared that this was nothing but a dream, about to evaporate into a bitter nothingness as they’d be ripped from their sleep. 

Wandering hands kept searching the other’s closeness, clinging to the reminder that this was real, that this was not a trick of their brains but something they could forever cling to.

“I love you, fuck, I love you so goddamn much, (y/n).” Harvey’s moaned words left her heart somersaulting, forcing her upper body off the cold top of the kitchen island to meet his lips for a kiss. They were a tangled mess, and yet a mess so sweet, both were high on all the different sensations. 

“I love you too, Harvey.” Her walls fluttered around his cock as he met her swollen spot, pushing her closer to the edge. (Y/n) trembled beneath him, wordlessly begging his thumb to move faster, to circle her bundle with more pressure to push her closer towards her orgasm.

“Cum for me, baby, show me how pretty you look when you cum on my cock.” Harvey’s gritty voice gave her the needed push to cum beneath him. Her moans rang in his ears, filling every part of his body with an unfamiliar kind of pride he hadn't ever felt with another woman. His eyes didn’t stray from her pleasure-drunken features while fucking her through her high, a high he chased with ferocious thrusts.

Harvey came moments later with curses rumbling through him. She clung to him while his cock twitched inside of her, filling the condom with his release. Neither spoke a word as they stayed connected in the most intimate way, clinging to each other while the hazy fog of lust slowly began to lift. 

“Did this really just happen, Harvey?” Her whispered question left Harvey laughing. Slowly, he pulled out of her to toss away the condom before cupping (y/n)'s cheeks with his warm hands. His eyes studied her for a moment before pressing his forehead against hers to let go of a deep, relieved sigh. 

“It did, and I’ll do whatever it takes to keep you with me forever, sweetheart.”

[cybrasigilism]

Hi!! I’ve been reading a few of your works and I love your writing sm!! I’ve never done a request to a writer before, so I hope I’m not too vague or ambiguous (but I’m thinking what I’m about to ask could be TOO specific 💀), but I wanted to request an NSFW writing of Choi Su-Bong (Thanos) as a sub (and if you can, could you add a thing or two about edging him and/or overstimming him?). Personally, I’d preferably have them written as headcanons BUT whatever works best for you is most important, so I won’t mind whatever you decide to do :)

And if you’re uncomfortable with the request, ofc feel free to ignore! I appreciate it in advance if you do decide to write it, and I do hope you have a lovely day ❤️❤️

you won’t ever catch me turning down a thanos request, not while i live and breathe 😈🙏

TYSM FOR YOUR KIND WORDS BTW!! hopefully i did your vision justice :>

Submissive Headcanons! (Thanos/Choi Su-Bong/Player 230)

warning: smut and all things of the like (if you’re not used to seeing this warning on my page idk what to tell you) | not proofread | lowercase intended | sub!thanos | overstimulation | edging | begging | mommy kink if you squint | these are my headcanons for this character, please be respectful even if my opinions on the character differ from your own

character: thanos/choi su-bong (player 230)

A/N: we as a squid game society need more sub!thanos content, i’m happy to contribute my fair share. idk if this is ooc or not, because honestly i can see this guy being a total switch, but do with that what you will! enjoy :3 (lowkey running out of gifs for these stinkabutts) PS this may not be a read for you if mommy kink stuff makes you uncomfortable! i have many other thanos works that don’t contain that bc i know its not everyone’s cup of tea, i just thought it fit for these specific headcanons

MDNI! 18+ content under the cut, readers discretion is advised

  ———‿‿ ༺ ♰ ༻ ‿‿———

➤ thanos did not strike you as the submissive type, the absolute 180 that his personality made from the public eye to the bedroom was so drastic you could have gotten whiplash

➤ he will for sure be on his knees for you, both literally and figuratively. this man will do anything you ask of him, just as long as it means he gets to please you.

➤ he’s definitely the type to beg. he’ll give you the puppy dog eyes and go the whole nine yards if you agree to let him between your legs

➤ makes the most whorish sounds when you fuck him, especially when you praise him, even if its the smallest thing. even if you say something as simple as “right there, fuck yeah” he’ll be all over that shit, thanking you for letting him please you like that

➤ speaking of his moans, he gets quite high pitched when you guys get into it. i’m not talking anything crazy, just a lot higher than what you could have been expecting.

➤ some of the things you may expect thanos to say while you guys fuck can include:

“oh god, please keep fucking my cock, just like that”

“am i making you feel good, mommy? yeah?”

will straight up just call you mommy through his whimpers and whines if he’s too far gone

➤ goes crazy when you give him hickeys or bite his neck at any point that you can, whether it be before you guys have even stripped, as your jerking him off or while your actively grinding on his dick, he can’t get enough of it

➤ cries during rough sex, no further questions

➤ needs you to be touching him at all points of the sexual journey, loves when you rest your hands on his shoulders/chest as you ride him

➤ likes getting whipped THAT DAMN WIND AGAIN—

➤ goes ballistic when you pull his hair, the slutty sounds really show up then

➤ acts like he doesn’t like being edged, but he’s a sucker for it.

“fuck please…mommy just let me cum, oh fuck”

“i’ll do anything, i just need it so bad, i wan’ it p-lease”

➤ loves when you restrain him, it can be with anything. handcuffs, rope, your own two hands, ANYTHING

➤ choke him when he’s close, better yet, choke him while you edge him.

➤ he will cry when being overstimulated (trust you guys have a safeword set in place for overstimulating, as can be said for any other experimenting)

➤ loves physical touch during aftercare, it doesn’t have to be straight up cuddling, but just you touching/caressing him in any way at all

———‿‿ ༺ ♰ ༻ ‿‿———

thanks so much for reading! as per usual, any advice/constructive criticism on how i can improve my writing is appreciated and requested!

have a fantastic night/day lovelies 💌

tags: @gongyoosgf @kvstjwonnie @pink-apples001 @fiicalapsiholoaga

[rerefundslocals]

CLOSER TO YOU

Summary : Jungkook missed your important merger event for your company and a promotion you've been anticipating, he's apologizing for the wrong things, however it makes you love him harder.

>>pairing : jungkook x fem!reader

>>genre : angst, smut , fluff

>>trope : established relationship

>>warnings : mechanic!jungkook (not mentioned alot), corporate!reader, unprotected sex, dirty talk(min), spanking, oc is a creamer and squirter,rough missionary, neck kisses, makeout sesh, very light dom/sub tones, they really just cute.

>>word count : I'll add later.

[a/n : I'm bacckkk, I wrote this all in one sitting,my writers block is over and I will be writing a lot more when I have a chance cause school is kicking my ass omg! thank you for all the follows, this is my little treat to you. Enjoy!! reblog, reblog, reblog, that's how Tumblr works, but anything will suffice for now! come talk to me and send requests, I don't bite<3 p.s this is heavily unedited]

[listen to : closer to you - jungkook. if I ain't got you - alicia keys. bloom - aqyila]

(^.~)(^.~)(^.~)(^.~)(^.~)(^.~)(^.~)(^.~)(^.~)(^.~)(^.~)(^.~)(^.~)

It's thick

The tension between you and jungkook.

You could not believe it yourself when Jungkook showed up an hour later after the merger event of your company, not when he promised to be there.

It was insufferable to face your colleagues without a plus one while their partners had held their hands the whole night. Marie did not bite her tongue when it came to asking you about where your partner was.

Yes, you were incredibly embarrassed and just contemplated staying in the bathroom stalls the entire night.

You have a scowl on your faces as you sit in the passenger seat of Jungkooks fucked Nissan Almera. Jungkook does not make attempts to apologize and it has been that way since he picked you up and quite frankly you're getting sick of it.

"Jungkook, seriously! Are you not going to fucking apologize for how you embarrassed me tonight?!" You finally let it out, screaming into the space of the car.

Jungkook avoids your question and simply presses on the gas to get  home faster. There's no traffic tonight.

You huff as you cross your arms and stare daggers at Jungkooks side profile. "So, I'm just gonna talk to myself then?" Again, no reply.

However the lack of response from your boyfriend does not stop you as you relay to give him a piece of your mind. "I just wanted you to show up, Jungkook for the one time I ask you to accompany me and this is how you fucking treat me?" You take a deep breath as you continue.

"Fine. Miss three dates that I've planned for us, but missing this important opportunity of my life...you must not love me, Kook."

"Don't say that." Jungkook finally whispers into the car. He just wants to fucking get home, But that's another 10 minutes.

You laugh, but its not full of humor, it's an annoyed breath of laughter. " and why not, Jungkook?" You question

He turns to look at you as you're stopped at a red light and his eyes look heavy and tired, hair disheveled and clothes wrinkled up. "If you wanna talk, we'll do it when we get home. Please. I'm begging you, baby."

You stay looking at him and your eyes never leave each other until the sound of a honk takes you both out of your daze as Jungkook drives off, not once waiting for your response.

A sigh is heard in the car and you turn to look at the city lights, hopefully he gets the hint that you'll have the conversation at home.

10 minutes later you're finally home and out of your heels, however you do not waste time getting back into the conversation.

"So why, Jungkook, why weren't you there? Did you know I got a promotion? And you weren't fucking there to stand by my side. Worst of all, Marie threw it all in my face. So where the fuck were you?" You've rambled but you're angry so Jungkook isn't mad in the slightest.

You've always loved the fact that he is incredibly understanding.

"I'm scraping the floors, ____. I'm barely getting by to pay our fucking rent so sue me for taking an extra shift at the workshop so you can get all the nice things you want." He responds to you, running his hands through his jet black hair.

You look around the gloomy apartment as you pretend to not understand what he had just said to you. The kitchen light shines on you both as you're both sat at the bar stools at your counter.

"I'llet you know that I don't need any nice things, I just want you. You're the only-"

"but I wanna give you all the nice things you want and I'll work twice as hard to give you anything."

It's as if he doesn't get it, he's the only thing you'll ever need.

Your head is hung low as tears gather at your waterline, you'd hate for Jungkook to see you cry cause you know how much he detests it. He fucking hates it.

"I-I love you so much, Kook. But as much as I do, I don't need nice stuff, I need you to be there for me, we just need each other. So stop taking extra shifts, I'm working as well and we can have nice stuff if we just love each other and be there for each other. Okay?"

Your voice sounds heavy, the tears have hit the counter and your back is being rubbed by Jungkook.

To avoid further arguments although he doesn't fully agree, he makes an oath to himself to get a better job and get you a life worth of all the beautiful things you want.

"Okay, baby. I'm sorry, I'll be there for you all the time. You know I love you, right? You're my favorite girl." It felt like years since you've heard Jungkooks heartful chuckle.

He lifts you by your shoulders and forces you to look at him, "I said you know that I love you, right?" You stare lovingly in his brown Bambi eyes as you nod.

Finally, he circles his arms around your waist, standing up as he brings your face into his chest.

You feel complete and whole as you melt into your boyfriends arms, there's no one like him, you don't think they'll ever be.

You lift your head as you hold out your pinky finger to him, eyes meeting once again, "pinky promise to never leave me."

Jungkooks lips spread into a wide smile as he locks his pinky finger into yours, "I pinky promise, baby."

After what seemed like years you both laugh lightly at each other, pinky fingers still interlocked.

"Mm, you know you can't break that promise." You teasingly say.

Jungkook chuckles and brings your locked fingers to his lips and laying a light kiss on your pinky, "wouldn't ever think of breaking this promise, Princess." He whispers against your pinky.

You sigh out a low 'okay' as you wrap your arms around his neck, bringing his lips unto yours. His soft pillowy lips meet yours and you both dive into a passionate kiss, Jungkooks head tilted to the side to deepen the kiss, his hands sliding down to your waist to grip the skin underneath your black bodycon dress.

Your kiss becomes a fury for passion and lovemaking as your tongue envelops Jungkooks mouth and a soft moan can be heard throughout the kitchen as you moan into Jungkook mouth.

Jungkook peels off your mouth, leaning in to attack your neck in a series of kisses.

"K-kook, please!" You need him so bad, your breath is hitched as you fight for air and your moans are being progressively loud from Jungkook eating your neck.

He lifts his head up, going straight to undress you, you're peeled of your seat and onto your feet. Your dress is stripped off and you're only left in your skimpy black thong, your plump ass all bare for Jungkook as well as your tits.

Jungkook takes your lips once again, leaning  down to pick you up and as he does, he balances you with both hands on your ass and wastes no time laying a slap upon both cheeks and greedily squeezing a handful as you let out moans into his mouth like a mad woman. "Fucking love your ass." He practically groans into your mouth.

Soon, you're backed into your shared bedroom and jungkook throws you onto the bed.

Jungkook tears his clothes off layer by layer until he's left naked and his dick fully hard and bare of any hair is on show.

He spreads your legs as he settles between them, and pulling your thong to the side as he swipes a finger between your folds. "You're so fucking wet, all this for me?"

You can't seem to focus when Jungkook pushes in two fingers into your puckered hole, his speed taking off as soon as he feels you around him. "O-oh fuck, Kook!"

"Mmhm, that's it baby, taking my fingers so well." He fingers you for another 10 seconds until he's pulling out and immediately replacing his fingers with his pink tip, slowly sliding into you tight and wet walls.

"Ohh fuck!" You both moan at the same time, the feeling of his dick deep into your stomach as he starts his strokes off slow.

Your eyes are barely open as jungkook goes at a relentless speed, thrusting into your pussy as if you owed him something.

"That's is baby, cream all over this dick, and spread your fucking legs higher." You're drunk on his cock as he fucks you missionary, feeling him in your organs.

"I'm gonna cum, Kook!" The knot is getting tighter as you feel your wetness trickling down your thighs and your creamy essence coating Jungkooks dick.

"Cum for me, baby. You deserve it. Cum all over this dick." That's all it takes for you to release all over Jungkook, as a scream is let out from the depth of your lungs.

"Good girl." He never stops thrusting as he chases his high, Jungkook presses onto your stomach as he groans, as he feels his high approaching. He's sweaty above you, his dry hair now wet and stringy.

Your moans and Jungkooks are in sync as you feel your tummy tightening once again.

"Fuckk!" Jungkook finally cums and releases his load into your pussy, and you follow right after, squirting all over his lower abdomen.

"Shit." You let out as jungkook rolls over you as he watches you gather yourself.

He gets up and gets a warm wet towel for you. Jungkook cleans himself up and you. Soon after he dresses you up in fresh panties and his shirt and for himself he gets boxers and joins you in bed after an eventful night.

Your head is on his chest as you play with is belly button and Jungkook is in deep thought.

"I'm sorry, baby. For tonight." He finally says and your heart relaxes.

"Let's forget about that. You're here right now, that's all that matters."

"Congratulations on your promotion, I love you, Princess." You're surprised he even remembers and all you can do is let out a squeal.

"Thank you, and I Love you."

"I know." His tone is cocky, not that you care but you're giddy as you lean up to lay a peck on his lips.

There's no where else you'd rather be. That's what you declare.

☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆

original work of @rerefundslocals do not copy, translate or repost as your own! est. 2024

[starriisarchives]

── ϧ𝑒 FILL ME UP

ᝰ.ᐟ rodrick heffley x fem!reader | duration 1.1k

description rodrick sees a perfect time to start the process of baby making.

content nsfw 18+ ﾉ breeding kink ﾉ dom!rodrick ﾉ sub!reader ﾉ lil praise kink ﾉ dirty talk ﾉ aftercare mentioned ﾉ rodrick’s is in his twenties.

thoughts ahhh, i know i did a slight rodrick smut headcanons before but this is my first full fic smut for him and i'm excited. i hope y’all enjoy this.

kinktober mlist 𐙚 masterlist 𐙚 previous fic 𐙚 taglist

“How was that?”

You ask, looking at Rodrick who has a smile on his face, you just got done singing a new song you wrote for the band. You were pretty nervous about it too, it was one that gave you writer’s block since you wanted to be perfect.

“You always sound good,” Rodrick comments, laying back on the couch manspreading; gripping onto the drumsticks he held in his hand.

“I’m happy you liked it.” You question, a smile tugging at the corner of your lips, you walk over to where he’s sitting, immediately taking your seat on his lap, taking his sticks out of his hand, placing it on the couch cushion, as his hands cups your waist, moving slowly towards your ass, squeezing it while he captures your soft lips with his after staring deeply into your eyes.

You knew what you two were doing was bad, intimacy between band mates was against the rules so no conflict were to ever happen if breakups were to concur but the magnetic pull that keeps bringing you two together since you met is so strong that you can’t just walk away from those feelings. Whenever he looks at you when he thinks you are not looking, it gets you all giddy inside, the butterflies that form in your stomach whenever you sing in front of him because his opinion always mattered the most out of everyone.

His hands grips the hem of your shirt, pulling it over your head breaking the kiss for only a second, he unclamps your bra, discarding to the ground as you grind over his growing bulge that you can tell was aching to be released from the restraints of his jeans. 

Your hands travel down to his lower waist, unbuttoning his jeans, zipping down the zipper while you lift your body for a minute so he can take off both his jeans and his boxers, his hard cock springing up once it’s released. 

“Let me check the waters,” Rodrick says, bringing his hand under your skirt, feeling the wet spot on your panties, a smirk tugs on the corner of his lips as he pulls your panty to the side, lining up his tip to your entrance. “Look at my princess, all wet for me.” 

Your face heats up at his comment as you sink down slowly, biting down on your bottom lip as you enjoy every inch until you flush against his pelvis.

You hold on to his shoulders as you start to grind your hips slowly to get used to his length briefly before you start to bounce up and down on his cock. You squeeze your eyes shut from how good he feels inside of you. It was like your pussy was made only for him as it fits perfectly better than your ex ever did.

His hands grip your waist tightly as he guides your movements, the sounds of your moans mingling with each other filling the garage as if anyone was to walk by, they would hear what was going on and it excites you more.

“Oh fuck,” he groans, keeping eye contact with you as you continue bouncing, loving the squelching noises your pussy was making. You moans spill out your mouth as you’re loving every second of this. 

Rodrick arms wrap around your waist stopping all movement as he holds you while getting up, placing you on your stomach near the edge of the couch not disconnecting from your greedy cunt.

“If only you can see how pretty you are as you take all of me,” He comments, admiring the sight beneath him as he rolls his hips into you, soft moans escaping out of your slightly parted mouth as you grip the couch.

“Perfect, little pussy suckin’ me right in,” He groans as he keeps his pace looking into your pretty eyes. “Fuck— please…” you whimper.

“Please what? Use your words, tell me what you want, love,” Rodrick watches you try to form complete sentences as he thrust deeper inside of you, your moans filling his ears. He smirks once again, knowing he got you too fucked out to talk. 

Your boobs bouncing with each thrust, he looks at your sweat-slick belly, he reaches down to your breasts and his mouth trails down the valley of your breasts, biting and nibbling on the soft flesh, tongue swirling on the marks forming on your skin as his saliva leaves wet spots behind.

"So soft for me, (name), look at you" he huffs out, trailing downwards, reaching your stomach and something in his eyes change a shade darker, pounding into your cunt, the mewls in response from you drives him crazy, his mind going to places he shouldn't but the only thing that came to his mind was you full with his baby, your belly so round and soft. It would be one way to mark you as his, to stop all the guys from flirting with you after shows.

“Please… let me come,” you finally get out as you dig your nails into his back. 

“Go ahead, come all over my cock,” he groans as he uses his fingers to rub on your clit. Your cunt clenching around his dick, and your body starts to convulse, painting not only his cock but his lower waist as well with your release. 

“Good girl,” Rodrick praises in your ear as you try to catch your breath. “Gonna fill you up real good, would you like that, love?” He pounds harder and deeper as his cock twitches inside your cunt loving the sight of you nodding your head yes to his question, your gummy walls gripping him tighter. “You’d look so beautiful while carrying my child,” He places his hand on your stomach as he is picturing the sight. 

The mere images made his cock twitch inside you, your lewd noises of overstimulation just making it hard to back off from actually doing it, the pace he set is ruthless, pounding inside your sopping hole, slippery with your juices as he chases his end. 

Your lips parted, whined spewing out of your mouth as he fucks you, hitting the spongy spot repeatedly, nearing his own orgasm as he fills you up to the brim with his hot white spurts of seeds, his breath warm on your neck, your legs tightly wrapped around his waist, perfectly fitting inside, hitting the spots in an angle never before, catching up with his depleted air levels as he looks down at your fucked out state, hands connected while your bodies connected as well with his cock still buried deep to the hilt inside your warm core, the images still plagued his mind. 

Rodrick slowly pulls out and as he does, he watches some of his cum ooze from your hole, he scoops it up and pushes it back into your pussy earning a whimper to escape your mouth. “I know baby, just needed to make sure none of it goes to waste, let’s clean you up,” he picks you up in bridal style, you snuggle in his chest while he carries you inside your home, leading you to the bathroom, happy of what’s to come in the future.

comments @cherriespopsicle, @rain-likes-purple, @lover-of-books-and-tea.

thank you for reading! © starriisarchives 2024. all rights reserved — do not claim, copy, repost or translate.

[myeuphoricmindset]

Let me remind you

(middle photo credit: @eddiemunsons-missingnipple )

Paring | Eddie Munson x fem!blind reader

Summary | Reader is blind and Eddie is utterly obsessed with you, going out of his way to play you music and read to you. It’s simply a friendship, but he can’t stop himself from crossing the line.

Notes/tags | That’s correct, the reader is blind. I do not mean to write this in any way that would be insensitive; I just loved the idea of seeing Eddie care for someone who has a disability. The way he would be so sweet and go above and beyond. If this fic rubs anyone the wrong way or makes anyone uncomfortable, please let me know, and I’ll remove it. My intentions are pure. It’s a very sweet fic with the vibes of what it feels like to be young and in love. — No smut, but there is making out, and it feels very sensual. Also, cheesy AF.

I do switch back and forth with povs, don’t expect this to go by the writers rules.

— Oh, I listened to Ceilings by Lizzy McAlpine while writing this. But what’s new? I always write Eddie fics to that song, even years later.

Word count | 2.1k

Eddie always met you outside. He waits on his porch, finishing his cigarette, and the moment he sees you approaching, he gets up quickly to close the distance, taking your hand to guide you to his place. He loves the excuse to touch you. He’s not greedy either; just your hand in his makes him secretly giddy. He’s focused on it the whole way to his room, even though he’s talking your ear off about a new song he wrote.

Nothing about this is new or different. Eddie inviting you over to play music and talk well into the night has become normal. A friendship that never crosses the line, but Jesus Christ, he thinks of crossing the line all the time. He wonders if your touch would feel different if it was reaching out with love instead of friendship. He doesn’t dare feed into his thoughts of how your kiss would feel and if his name would sound different if you moaned it into his ear.

He admires you as he strums his guitar, only half-focused on the song. By now he’s memorized every curve of your face and has counted every lash on your eyes. It feels wrong to stare, knowing he can’t be caught. Can you feel his gaze?

You’re lying in your usual spot on his bed, surrounded by his scent in the sheets. You try to hide the deep inhales you take as if it were the last time you’d be here. But, it’s not. You’ll be back tomorrow, as you always are.

He plays beautifully, and you try not to smile because he plays softer for you than he does during his shows. Is he nervous to scare you off? He never could.

“I love it,” you say as he finishes the song.

He smiles, and you know because it’s laced with his voice, “You do?”

The sound of his guitar being placed on the wall mount is familiar, followed by the radio on his dresser being turned on. It’s only for background noise. Eddie hates silence, and you can’t help but wonder if he just doesn’t like to sit with his thoughts.

You both lie on his bed in deep conversation with no sense of time. Eddie lazily plays with small strands of your hair with the hand draped behind his head. Does he realize that you notice every time he does it? It makes your stomach flutter.

“Read to me?” you ask as you shift onto your stomach, feet rising up behind you.

Eddie takes a moment to speak, but you hear his breath hitch, and when he does speak, his breath is warm against your face. He shouldn’t be surprised by your question as he reads to you every night, but maybe it’s the way you’re closer to him than before.

Your bodies aren’t touching, but there is a sense of intimacy with the way he’s lying on his back, most likely looking up at you, and the way you’re on your stomach, nearly looming over him.

Unsure if he’s uncomfortable by the way his breathing becomes uneven, you reach over to the nightstand and grab your water, trying to make it seem like you’re giving him a little space. When you return to your position, you’re a few inches away from him.

You realize you were wrong about him feeling uncomfortable because when Eddie grabs The Return of the King off his dresser, he returns to the bed even closer than before.

His arm touches yours as he lies back on the bed, and you can’t take your mind off of it. It gently moves against yours as he turns the page.

“Now, where were we?” he says as the sound of pages turning fills the room. “Aha, here it is.” His smile is audible in his words. “You’ll like this part.”

Eddie begins to read. His voice is like honey, sweet and soothing to your ears. He makes you giggle occasionally with his exaggerated voices for certain characters. His laughter matches your own, and even though he’s read this book a hundred times, it feels like he’s experiencing it for the first time with you.

As he continues, there’s a subtle change in his tone that you can’t quite place until you listen closely to the words. Two characters in the book kiss, and the way Eddie reads the description makes your stomach flutter more than the romance he’s narrating. You feel your cheeks heat up and lower your head to your arms to hide it.

Eddie chuckles softly, saying your name, “Are you blushing?”

“No!”

You bury your face deeper into your arms, breathing in his scent from the sheets. You would give anything to sink into the mattress, completely enveloped by his smell.

He calls your name again, clearly amused by your reaction. His fingers find your sides and he starts tickling you, forcing you out of hiding. You burst into laughter, trying to grab his hands to push him away, but your laughter only encourages him.

“Look at you. You’re so red you might pop,” he teases, continuing to tickle you.

“Stop,” you manage to say between fits of laughter.

You struggle to fight back, and Eddie laughs at your attempts. Your stomach begins to hurt from the laughter, your breathing becomes ragged, and your hair covers your face from the tussle.

Both of you finally give up, gasping for air. Eddie plops down beside you, the weight of his body next to yours so familiar that you long for it when you’re alone in your own bed.

“I’ve never seen you blush that hard before,” he says, amused.

You can feel his stare, which only makes you blush more. “Can you stop?” you groan, playfully shoving his arm.

“Stop what?”

“Staring at me. I can feel it.”

He scoffs, “I’m not staring at you.”

You sit up and demand his bandana. He protests in confusion, but once he understands, he relents. Sitting up directly in front of you, you lift your chin with a sense of victory.

“Because I don’t believe you, this is what I must do.”

Eddie lets out a sigh, pretending to be exasperated though he’s smiling like a fool. “If this pleases you.”

You ignore the flutter in your stomach at his words. Reaching out, your fingertips touch the corner of his mouth, feeling it curve up against your touch. His face is smooth, and you take advantage of the moment to trace your fingers across it, finding their way to his hair. He remains silent, but his breathing is slightly heavier—something only you would notice.

His hair is soft, and you resist the urge to twirl his curls around your finger. Instead, you wrap the bandana around his eyes and tie it tightly behind his head.

“Oh,” he says with surprise, followed by a chuckle. “A little tight, huh?”

“Can’t have you peeking.”

“Don’t you trust me?” he asks.

Your hands drop into your lap as you smile. “Mm, I’m still deciding.”

But that was a lie. You trusted him more than you cared to admit. There were many people you trusted to be alone with, but as you’ve spent time with him, he’s proven that you’re safe with him. The best feeling is being completely vulnerable and knowing without a doubt that the person you count on with your vulnerability handles it with care.

“So, this is what it’s like for you?” he asks softly.

“Something like that.”

The room is silent, the radio off since before he started reading the book you’ve both abandoned. The only sounds are his breathing and the soft hum of the air conditioning. But you notice the parting of his lips and the sudden, yet soft, intake of breath as if he were going to say something but decided not to.

“What is it?” you ask.

He clears his throat as if caught and takes a breath. “Can you…touch me?” You’re nearly taken back by that until he speaks up in a rushed sentence. “Uh, sorry, I —uh, I mean, my arm or face. Show me how it feels for you.”

Your heart warms at his request. And you gladly give him what he wants. Your fingers meet his face again and you admire all the softness. You trace the lines and curves, imagining if he’s as beautiful as he feels. Eddie sits there still for a while, softly breathing.

Then his hands grasp your wrists and lower them to your lap. “My turn,” he says as his fingers begin to move up your arms. Goosebumps break out over your skin, and you try your best to control your breathing, knowing he can hear if it catches in your throat.

His calloused fingers brush against your soft skin, but you don’t mind. One hand drops from your arm and takes hold of one of your hands. You fight back a smile, knowing his fingers tracing your features are close enough to feel your reaction. His hand cups your cheek, his thumb gently brushing against your cheekbone. It feels incredibly intimate, just the sound of his breathing matching yours as time seems to slow.

He breaks the silence. “You’re so beautiful.”

A smile breaks out on your face. “You can’t even see me.”

“I don’t need to. I know exactly what you look like.” His tone is serious yet soft, almost as if he’s in deep thought.

He lets go of your hand and cups your other cheek. Your face fits perfectly between his warm hands.

“Eddie…” you say, wanting to ask what he’s doing, what he’s thinking. But your words fall short as you feel his thumb brush over your bottom lip.

“Tell me you feel this.”

He doesn’t mean his gentle touch on your lips, and you know that. The electrical current between you two could light up Hawkins. He grabs one of your hands and brings it to his chest. Your breath catches at the feeling of his heart thumping wildly against your palm. It’s so strong that you think it might burst out of his chest and right into your hands.

“Yes,” you answer him.

“Tell me I can kiss you.”

Your stomach flutters so fast that you feel like you could float away. “Yes.”

There is a moment of stillness in the room, time frozen. The sound of you both breathing dulls out and you lose feeling in your cheeks at his touch as you await his lips on yours.

He’s so gentle and slow. His lips meet yours and you welcome it, nearly melting into him. The kisses are soft and lazy, as if you both are drunk off each other. Your hands are in his hair and he moans at the feeling. Heat forms in your lower belly and you can’t help yourself when you crawl into his lap.

“Yes,” he breathes as he welcomes you into his embrace. His arms wrapping tightly around your back, rubbing his hands up and down your back while still kissing you.

His tongue brushes your lower lip and you open your mouth to taste him. He’s perfect. He’s all you feel and taste, nearly drowning in him. His bandana is still tightly secured around his eyes and you wonder if he’s consumed by you as well.

Eddie starts kissing your neck and your head drops to the side in pleasure. His hand wraps around your head, keeping you in place as he begins to suck softly in the right spot. You moan and you feel his smile against your skin.

“There it is,” he mumbles, before finding your lips again. “Everything about you is so fucking perfect.”

“Stop.” You mutter against his kiss, fighting back a smile. Your cheeks turn hot and you bury your face in the crook of his neck.

His arms tighten around you and you sink further into his arms. You both stay like that for a few minutes, resting in each other's arms. You feel him inhale you deeply before he starts stroking your hair.

“You may not realize how beautiful you are,” he says as he begins to play with your hair. “But, I don’t mind reminding you every day.”

“Would you?” You whisper.

“I’ll take your hand, tell you in great detail about the world around us while reminding you how it doesn’t even compare to you.” He kisses your shoulder. “Not even close.”

The smile that spreads across your face is almost painful. “You have such a way with words.”

He takes your face in his hands, “I do write songs, sweetheart.”

With that, he kisses you with such passion that you fall back onto the mattress, giggles spilling from your lips as Eddie turns your darkness into light.

[senascoop]

꒰ DREAMSCAPE MASTERLIST >

WELCOME to the DREAMSCAPE MINI ENHYPEN series— a collection of seven unique fanfics that blur the lines between fantasy, crime, comedy, and romance. Each story dives deep into intricate plots, so if you were hoping for simple FLUFF or SMUT, you might want to look elsewhere. But if you're here for thrilling twists, complex characters, and captivating worlds, you've come to the right place! BUCKLE UP; it's going to be a wild ride!

WORD COUNT MIGHT RANGE FROM 10K—30K,

MINORS, please steer clear of the SMUT fanfics. However, don't worry—you’re more than welcome to dive into the fluff stories! They’re just as captivating and enjoyable, offering all the heartwarming moments without the mature content. Enjoy responsibly!

IF YOU’RE INTERESTED IN ANY OF THESE FICS, PLEASE LET ME KNOW WHICH ONE YOU'D LIKE TO BE TAGGED IN!

JUST REPLY WITH THE PREFERENCE, AND I’LL MAKE SURE TO KEEP YOU UPDATED. THANKS!

﹙ 🕊️ ﹚ ぃ ──── SHE HAS LOST EVERY CASE, HOW COULD SHE WIN MINE?

EXCUSE ME !

READ HERE

SUSPECT ! HEESEUNG × LAWYER ! AFAB READER

MATURE THEMES , LAW BASED & SMUT !

Heeseung is unexpectedly thrust into the center of a murder investigation, accused of killing an old school friend. The truth, however, runs deeper than it appears, leaving everyone questioning whether he's truly the suspect. Enter you, his defense lawyer, notorious for losing every case you take on. Against all odds, you're handed Heeseung's case, and let’s just say…it’s a recipe for disaster for both of you. As you dig deeper, unraveling layers of deception, you’ll have to confront your own doubts and insecurities. Will you be able to prove Heeseung's innocence, or will this case be another tally in your string of failures?

﹙ 🧊 ﹚ ぃ ──── DID I REALLY DESERVE TO BE CAUGHT UP WITH SUCH A TROUBLE?

OOPS, WRONG ERA !

READ HERE

TIME TRAVELLER ! JAY × STUDENT ! AFAB READER

20TH CENTURY AU , SLIGHTLY FUTURISTIC & FLUFF !

Jay was the epitome of a perfect student—charming, intelligent, and utterly dedicated. The only catch? He was a time traveler from the future, marooned in the 20th century and trying to blend in as a normal teenager. When you discovered his secret, you seized the opportunity. You blackmailed him into becoming your personal homework and assignment writer, using his advanced knowledge to help you ace your classes. Jay’s attempts to navigate high school life while fulfilling his unexpected new role provided endless amusement and challenges for both of you.

﹙ ☁️ ﹚ ぃ ──── WHY WOULD YOU SHOW UP WHEN I MOVED ON?

WINDS CHANGE !

READ HERE

EX ! JAKE × EX ! AFAB READER

ANGST & SMUT !

It's been five years since you and Jake called it quits, each going your separate ways. Life seemed fine—until the dreaded wedding invitation arrives from an old friend. Reluctantly, you decide to attend, only to find Jake, your ex, waiting there like a storm on the horizon, ready to turn your calm into chaos. With unresolved feelings and past memories looming, the wedding becomes a battlefield of witty exchanges, accidental encounters, and a slow unraveling of what truly ended between you two. Are the winds of change blowing in favor of a second chance, or will they only serve to remind you why you broke up in the first place?

﹙ 🍁 ﹚ ぃ ──── I KNOW IT'S MY FAULT, BUT I WANNA MAKE IT BETTER!

GET WELL SOON シ︎

READ HERE

RACER ! SUNGHOON × ORPHAN ! AFAB READER

MENTIONS OF CRIME & ACCIDENT , OVERALL FLUFF & CRACK !

You’ve always considered yourself a good person—kind, forgiving, and patient. But Sunghoon tested every bit of that. One reckless, drunken drive was all it took for him to flip your life upside down, leaving you temporarily confined to a wheelchair. The inconvenience was more than just physical; it was a wound to your pride and independence. Sunghoon, however, refused to walk away from his mistake. Guilt-ridden and determined to make amends, he became a constant presence in your life—covering your medical bills, offering you emotional support, and sticking around even when you wished he wouldn’t.

﹙ 🦄 ﹚ ぃ ──── CAN'T YOU TAKE CARE OF YOURSELF BY YOURSELF?

LIKE PINK !

READ HERE

GUARDIAN ANGEL ! SUNOO × CLUMSY ! AFAB READER

FANTASY & PURE FLUFF !

You’ve always believed you were cursed with the "unlucky girl syndrome." From tripping on flat surfaces to losing your keys every other day, it seemed like misfortune followed you everywhere. But was it really a curse, or just bad luck? You never quite figured it out. When a guardian angel was sent from above, you hoped your luck would finally turn around. Instead, you got Sunoo—a messy, clumsy, and utterly unhelpful angel who seemed more like a walking disaster than a divine helper. All you could think of was asking God for a refund, because with Sunoo around, your life was about to get a lot more chaotic… and maybe a little brighter, too.

﹙ 🔥 ﹚ ぃ ──── I KNOW A TRICK TOO!

SIZZLES OF HIM ᯾

READ HERE

CLASSMATE ! JUNGWON × AFAB ! READER

FANTASY ELEMENTS , MAGICAL AU & SMUT !

There was always something about your quiet, mysterious classmate Jungwon that piqued your curiosity. You couldn't quite put your finger on it—until the day you accidentally peeked into his room and saw him hovering mid-air, surrounded by sparks of electricity. It all made sense then; he wasn't just your average student. Little did he know, you were hiding a secret of your own—one that mirrored his in more ways than one. Two forces of nature, each with powers as different as night and day, destined to collide. As they say, opposites attract, but in your case, they might just ignite.

﹙ 🍫 ﹚ ぃ ──── THIS MIGHT SOUND CRAZY BUT TRUST ME IT'S TRUE!

TIED UP IN YOU !

READ HERE

PHONE GUY ! NIKI × STUDENT ! AFAB READER

CRACK & PURE FLUFF !

Niki was a good guy, no doubt about it. The only problem? He was your phone. How, exactly, did your phone transform into this strikingly handsome guy? It was baffling, frustrating, and, honestly, a bit overwhelming. Here you were, trying to navigate a world where your device had somehow become a charming, infuriatingly attractive human being. And to make matters worse, he was as stubborn and endearing as any person you'd ever met.

﹙ 🍒 ﹚ ぃ ──── THANK YOU FOR READING!

SENA’S NOTE— I’m not sure when I'll finish these seven fics, but I hope it’s soon. I’m unsure if anyone will be interested, but this was a preview of what’s coming.

[rosewine-5]

Baby Come Over

Wolverine/Logan Howlett x black fem reader

gif made by blursbian

Summary: Wade is hellbent of getting you to meet his new roommate, but what is his motive? (Note: I am not the best writer, but I had motivation, and the title is definitely not taken from Virgo’s Groove)

Warning: drunken asshole, Wade Wilson, cursing, unprotected piv smut (wrap it before you tap it) fingering, riding, soft!dom Logan MDNI 18+

Word Count: 4.2

-

Wade encouraged you to meet the new man in his life, not knowing if it was a new friend, a boyfriend, or someone he wanted to pursue romantically. Knowing him, it was probably both, but you agreed anyway. "Come on, sugar. I'm a vigilante, you're a fine-as-wine vigilante, and he's an old but good-looking mutant who needs some TLC— he'll love you immediately," Wade insisted, bringing it up again as you two talked over a late dinner while sitting on his couch.

Wade, I have to work all next week," you said, trying to get out of it. "Yeah, bartending is so hard. When was the last time you got laid? The pink vibrator doesn't count," he added for extra measure, almost making you slap him. "None of your business. Besides, I don't ask about your business even though we, unfortunately, share a wall. And why did you go through my drawer?!”

“My point being said, he needs friends, you need a new one, and if you won’t be with him I will! And besides, I'm Marvel Jesus, there's nothing I can’t do!” Wade insisted, emphasizing his statement with his hands and ignoring your question.

You knew better than to argue with him because he could go on for hours, so you agreed. You had pulled your braids into a ponytail and walked next door, where you saw the small get-together Wade had arranged. “Sweetie! You made it!” he cheered, answering the door, and dragging you in. He put you in front of him as he walked you to the back of the apartment, where Logan wasn’t facing you.

“He’s a bit grumpy today, but I’ll talk to him. Hey, three-pronged wolf!” Wade said, trying to get his attention.

He got it all right.

Before you could even introduce yourself you felt something pierce your arm, three things. You were met with the face of a man who looked like he was ready to knock someone out, it was Logan. His face quickly changed when he realized he hadn’t stabbed Wade, and immediately tried to cover the wound he made. “Ah, shit!” He cursed, looking you in the eyes.

“Now this is not how we greet potential lovers, gramps! Shame on you.” Wade scolded playfully, looking between you and Logan. “Well that’s a good icebreaker, or skin breaker I should say.” He said, looking at your already healing skin.

“Well, Logan, this is my best friend, she heals like us, curses like me. Sugar, this is Logan, the old good-looking man you should kiss for helping save the timeline. Do not fuck on my bed, and I don’t babysit.” He said, patting your cheek before walking away. You watched him leave and then leaned on the wall.

“Hell of an introduction, neighbor,” You said, trying to start a conversation. He didn’t respond but kept looking over your features as you did the same. Wade hit one thing on the mark: He was fine as hell. “How long have you known him?” Logan asked. “Ehhh, a couple of months, he’s good people, but he can be annoying as fuck some.” You said, that you two agreed.

It turns out that you both had something in common, besides the healing factor. Both of you were no strangers to drinks, and pain was a familiar feeling for both of you.

And that was how the foundation of the friendship was built. You didn’t talk much, mostly just passing each other in the hallway, a short greeting when you left for work and coming back home. That was until he found the bar you worked in. It was 5 minutes before closing, and you heard the man sit down. “What’ll it be buddy?” You asked, still wiping down the table with your back towards him.

“Whatever’s left.” Logan’s voice said, cutting through the faint sound of Sade’s voice coming through the jukebox. Your head snapped around at the familiar tone of the voice. “Wade mentioned you worked in a bar, been wondering which one it was,” Logan said, sitting down at the bar. “You didn’t think to look at the closest bar which is only a 15-minute walk from here?” You asked, leaning on the bar, a laugh leaving your lips.

He reached over, grabbed a bottle of beer, and shrugged, “Good point.” He said while taking a drink, a long one. “Let me guess. Roommate annoyance?” You asked, seeing him set down the bottle, and bringing him another one. “Yep. He made me leave the place today.” Logan explained. “Any reason for him kicking you out?” You joked, meeting his ever-so-serious eyes.

“He said either I try and make friends, or he walks around naked until I leave.” He said, almost making you cringe, “No one wants to see that.” Logan let out a short hum, before downing the beer before putting it down. As

You reached for the bottle your hand brushed his, and your eyes met in an awkward look. “Sorry-.” “My bad.” You both said at the same time. Logan then held your hand, moving it completely taking it off the bottle, and set it down behind the bar for you with his other hand.

“There. Less confusion.” He said, sitting back down. You nodded and looked at your still joined hands, noticing how his completely covered yours. You allowed yourself one more look before slowly sliding it out of his hands. As you finished cleaning up and locking up the bar, Logan stayed. As you walked back to the apartments, he walked beside you, in total silence, and both of you did.

That’s how it continued for almost a whopping 2 months. He’d show up for the last call, talk until closing, and walk you home in silence.

Until one night Logan walked in 1 hour earlier than his normal time. “You’re here early.” You pointed out, looking at the clock above the door. “Well, Wade mentioned something about you hating thunderstorms, thought you might want a familiar face around.” You never froze so fast in your life. “Oh? He told you that?” You asked, passing him a beer, Logan nodding in response.

“What if I told you he lied?” You asked, seeing him stop mid-drink to look at you, eyes with confusion. “I’m gonna strangle him,” Logan said. “He’d probably like it,” then you thought for a moment, “No, he’d love that.” He dropped the beer just in time for you to see a chuckle leave his lips with the taste of a smile, and your heart jumped. You already found him attractive, but that smile could’ve made an entire country swoon and sigh.

You looked away just in time for him to not catch you staring. “So, what do you do other than work?” Logan asked. “Vigilantism.” You replied, holding up another beer, switching up his empty bottle for a new cold one. “What did you do in your universe?” You asked. “Was a part of a team, had a suit and everything,” Logan explained. “Did they have abilities like you?” You asked, cleaning up some glasses while he talked. “Better. Way better than these claws in my skin.” He said, looking down at the counter harder than he should've.

You heard a little bit of how he was “the worst Wolverine” from Wade, and given how he was acting right now, he might have told the truth. “You remind me of one of them too. You don't look like her, but your mannerism reminds me of her.” Logan added. You took a chance and put a hand over his, “I won't pry, but if you ever want to talk, let me know.” He looked up at you with a greatful gaze, nodding his head and letting his hand hold yours.

You then looked at the clock and took your hand away from his “Closing time. Imma lock up real quick.” You said, wiping down the tables. As you were about to lock up, one man stumbled in. “We’re closed man. Go home.” You yelled. “One beer, sweetheart, it’s all I ask.” The random drunk asked, now grabbing onto your sleeve. “Were closed. Let go.” You said in a harsher tone. Trying to get your sleeve free.

“Come on sugar, just one drink.” He asked, eyes looking you up and down. “Dude. Let go!” You yelled, now trying to get his hand off you, but he had a strong grip on your wrist. Before he could respond Logan grabbed his arm, freeing you and walking him out. “Hey man what are you-.” Before he could finish Logan put his claws under the man’s neck. “The lady asked you 3 times to leave. I’m giving you 3 seconds to bounce before these find a home in your neck.”

The man stumbled back before slipping out the door. “You alright?” He asked, looking at your torn sleeve. “I’m alright.” You sighed, putting your jacket on. He walked next to you that night, almost arm and arm with you while you both made small talk. “I could’ve handled that asshole you know?” You asked him, bringing up the drunken man again. “I know, just wanted to do it.” He said, lighting a cigar, smirking, making you chuckle. “There she is.” He said, looking down at you. “What there? You asked, now across the street from the apartment. “That smile.” He said, still smoking the cigar.

As you opened the door to the building, you missed the faint blush on his cheeks. But you didn’t miss that look in his eyes and the way he looked over your body. But as he tried to open the door to his shared apartment, it was locked. “Are you fucking serious?” Logan said, now banging on the door. “Wade! Open the door!” he yelled.

Wade locked me out, and he’s not waking up.” He said, looking over at you. “I’ll try and call him.” You said, pulling out your phone and trying to call him, only for it to go straight to voicemail. “This son of a bitch.” you sighed, and put your phone away. You could tell what Logan was about to ask, so you beat him to it.

“I got a couch,” you said, unlocking your door. “I don't want to-.” “Logan, come over,” you interrupted, moving. so he could get in. You could tell he wanted to protest, but he knew he didn’t have a choice or another place to sleep. He gave the space a once-over and nodded. “Nice place,” Logan said.“I'm gonna take a quick shower, and I’ll be right out,” You said, he nodded in acknowledgment.

You turned on your heel, went down the hallway, and hopped in the bathroom. After 15 minutes you put on an oversized shirt and sleep short and walked to your close. You grabbed an extra pillow and top sheet for him.

“Here I got-.” Before you could finish you saw Logan with his shirt off looking you up and down. It was then you remembered you had gotten out of the shower, only wearing an oversized shirt and your shorts, that barely covered your thighs.

You saw his eyes staring at your legs, and then back up at you. His eyes were hungry with desire, and it was safe to say yours were too. His and was clenching and unclenching by his side. “Honey,” he breathed, “go to bed before I make a mistake.” You didn’t move, you didn’t dare. You moved closer, setting the blanket and pillow on the couch, your eyes never leaving his. “Please, walk away,” Logan said, licking his lips. “Why? When we both want the same thing?” You asked.

You swear you saw his breathing stop.

That was all he needed. He surged forward, claiming your lips with his. You could still taste the beer on his lips. His hand found your waist and then your thighs, lifting you, and groaned, looking up at you with a wolfish grin. Before he could say anything, you kissed him, your nails running through his hair as your tongue fought for control against his. His hands mapped out your skin, going over every contour and gripping your ass as he rolled his hips into yours.

A shiver ran through your veins, your thin shorts doing little to hide how much you wanted him, and he knew it. “Already? We’ve barely even started and you’re soaked?” He teased, one of his hands leaving your hips and dipping under the fabric. His fingers ran over your folds, his lips forming into a smirk as he sucked another mark into your neck. A soft moan left your lips as you felt two of his fingers dip into your cunt, “Oh fuck.”

“That’s it, honey, let me hear you,” Logan whispered. You let out a loud moan when his fingers hit your G-spot, your nails digging into his skin, emitting a groan from his lips. “Sorry.” You whispered, looking at him, only to see a feral smile on his lips. “You have no idea how much I loved that.” Logan groaned, his fingers working another finger in, making you bite down on his shoulder to muffle your moans.

“I wish you would.” He grunted, grabbed a handful of your braids, and pulled your head back, assaulting your neck with bites and kisses. “Logan!” You squealed, feeling his thumb find your clit. “Cum for me baby, let me hear it,” Logan whispered. Your hands made crescent marks on his back as you came undone, feeling his lips soothe you down from your climax.

You felt his fingers slowly come to a halt before Logan pulled his fingers out of you, his other hand letting go of your braids. “Still there, honey?” He asked, peppering kisses across your neck. You couldn’t even speak, your brain was still fogged from the orgasm you just went through. “Holy shit,” You breathed out. You finally cracked your eyes open, meeting Logan’s hungry eyes and seeing his fingers disappear in his mouth.

His tongue swirled around his digits, his eyes trained on yours. “Taste like heaven.” He said, licking his lips before claiming your lips in another kiss. You snapped out of the trance you were in as the taste of your juices hit your tongue.

You need him. You needed him now.

Your hand went to his pants, slipping under his jeans and finding his cock. He was rock-hard. He shuddered under your touch, a deep moan leaving his lips. Logan helped you get his jeans on the floor, his cock springing free and hitting his chest. “Goddamn. Someone’s blessed.” You whispered. “Is that someone you?” Logan asked, his hands slipping under the waistband of your underwear.

“Hold still for me baby,” he sighed and your arms framed his shoulders. You heard his claws come out and slice your bottoms off. “Someone’s done that before.” You teased, watching as his hand threw the fabric on the floor. Logan didn’t respond as he started to pick you up, but you held him firmly on the couch. “Nope, stay right there.” You breathed you, stroking his cock a few times.

He watched your hand pump him before positioning yourself above him. Logan’s eyes were trained on your pussy as you eased onto him. As you finally bottomed out, Logan let out a loud moan, and it almost made you cum on the spot. “Goddamn, you trying to kill me?” He asked, his hands going back to your hips. You didn’t respond as you started to move up and down, riding his cock.

Logan did little to stop the moans that were leaving his lips. “Fuck, honey. You’re squeezing me like a goddamn vice,” Logan sighed, letting you set the pace. You kissed his neck and sucked marks into his neck, not giving a damn that they wouldn’t be there tomorrow. As you bit one spot closer to his collarbone, he let out a whine. You focused on that spot and bounced on his cock a little faster.

He suddenly gripped your hips as a broken moan left his lips, “Fuck, wait.” He sighed, holding you still on his cock. “Why’d you make me stop?” You asked, looking at his screwed-shut eyes. Logan suddenly grabbed you and picked you up, still keeping you on his cock. “Which one is your room?” He asked. “Down the hall to the left,” You said. Logan walked down the hallway and you thanked god you left the door open.

He laid you and climbed over you, kneeling on the bed and pulling you closer, his cock moving between your thighs to rest on top of your belly button. You leaned up and rested on your forearms, and looked back down at his cock. “To answer your question from earlier,” Logan said, leaning down and tilting your chin up to look at him, “I stopped you because there’s more room on a bed than a couch.”

He looked down at you and licked his lips before catching your lips in a passionate kiss. Your hand cupped his cheek as you returned it, your tongue finding its way into his mouth.

You were so caught up in his kisses you didn’t register the head of his cock tapping your clit until you felt it slam into you, a scream falling out of your lips. Logan laid you back in your sheets and let his hand that wasn’t holding your thigh trail in between your chest and down your stomach as he fucked you. “Keep those eyes open for me, ya hear?” He asked, you nodding in response.

He didn’t waste a second after. Logan’s cock began to thrust in and out of you, sliding almost all the way out of you to only slam back in, emitting a moan from you every time. You writhed under him, looking up at his wild and feral expression. His mouth was open, looking down at your fucked out one, moaning loudly as you held the pillow behind you.

You could hear the sound of your headboard hitting the wall, the grunts coming out of his mouth, and you didn’t give a damn if anyone heard. All you cared about was the amount of pleasure he was giving you. As he hit that one spot that cut your breath off, you bit the pillow and screwed your eyes shut.

Immediately you felt Logan stop and he grabbed your wrist with one hand and pinned it beside your head, his own hovering over yours. “I said eyes open, darling. And don’t even think of hiding those pretty fucking moans from me.” He whispered. He then dropped his hand from your thigh and put it over his.

He now used one hand to wipe the sweat off your forehead, “You still here honey?” He asked, you nodded in response and opened your eyes. Logan was grinning down at you, taking in your tired face, “There’s my girl.” He softly kisses your lips before picking up his bruising pace, making you scream again, “Logan!” Your nails found their way to his back, making marks on his skin. “That’s right honey, let everyone on this goddamn floor who’s fucking you,” Logan grunted, using his free hand to hold your hip, his fingers digging into your skin.

The bed was creaking more as his thrust picked up, one of his hands starting to play with your clit. You instinctively let out a high-pitched whine and you swore he growled for a moment. “Logan, I’m gonna-, oh fuck!” You moaned, your hips bucking into his as you writhed your bed. “Yeah that’s it, let me see you come.” Logan cooed, His hand working your clit faster.

It didn’t take long for a long moan to erupt out of your mouth, your orgasm hitting you like a freight train. Your walls squeezed him like a vice as his free thumb caressed your chin. “Now that’s a sight I need to see more of.” Logan moaned with a smile on his face. You felt his hips pick up the pace and his moans getting louder as he was on the verge of his orgasm, both of his hands now holding your legs open.

“Tell me where honey,” Logan asked, looking down at you. Your legs only pulled him closer, and that was all the confirmation he needed. A sinful whimper left his lips as he spilled into you, his eyes screwing shut. Logan held himself up and let the waves of the orgasm wear off before he moved, flopping down in your bed next to you. “Goddamn.” He sighed, catching his breath.

You nodded, looking up at the ceiling. “For a 200-plus-year-old, you fuck like you’re 30.” You said, looking over at him only to meet his gaze, “I don’t hear you complaining.” Logan teased, pulling a chuckle from you. “After the two orgasms you gave me, I’d be a goddamn fool too.” You said with a laugh. A yawn soon came from your mouth as you turned on your side, “Wore you out that much?” Logan asked, leaning over and looking down at you with an amused smirk on his face.

“Yeah, and I’m, once again, not complaining,” you said, feeling yourself drifting off to sleep. That night was one of the best you ever had, followed by one of the best mornings. You awoke to the sound of someone breathing in your ear and an arm around your waist.

Logan slept in your bed last night, and you slept in his arms. As looked down, his hand was rubbing your hip through the sheets. “You’re awake?” You asked, turning around and meeting his eyes, “I’ve been up for a while.” You felt his thumb caress your cheek, a tender touch matching the emotion in his eyes. “I know this is probably a stupid to ask, given the circumstances, but would you like to grab a drink with me? Ya know, outside of work,” Logan asked.

You only leaned up and kissed his lips before pulling back and looking at him, “I’d love to.” Logan broke out into a grin that could rival the sun and returned the kiss. After a quick shower and getting dressed, you were about to make breakfast when a loud knock hit your door. “Who is it?” Logan asked, coming out of the bathroom with a towel wrapped around his waist. You couldn't stop your eyes from wandering down his chest, but you refocused, “I don't know, I didn't answer it.

The person knocked harder a second time, almost startling you. Logan walked forward and opened the door, only to find no one there. You peeped out the hallway, saw Wade’s door open, and heard music coming from it. “I think I know who it was.” You recognized the song coming from inside too: Sexual Healing. As you walked in, Wade was singing along before he saw you walk in and popped a confetti cannon.

“Congratulations!” he yelled, and Blind Al popped hers as well. “I guess Christmas came early because I know you did last night,” Wade then looked over your shoulder, and nodded, “Both of you did.” Logan was standing behind you and closed the door, only in the towel. “What the hell is all of this?” Logan asked. “A small celebration for you finally getting laid. All part of my plan last night.” Wade explained. Logan immediately walked past you, “What the hell does that mean?”

“Well come on man, I knew it was bound to happen when you took more than 15 minutes to get back, you think I locked you out by accident?” Wade grinned, and it all clicked. “You knew I would let him crash?” You asked, seeing the shit-eating grin grow on his face. “Oh I knew you would let him do more than that, sugar, besides that's what you both fucked on wasn't it?”

You and Logan shared a look, confused about how we knew. “First of all, neither of you tried to be quiet, at all, especially you Donna Summer,” Wade said, pointing at you. “Two, I could hear the headboard hitting the wall thanks to tall strong big dick vintage-rine over here,” he continued. “And three, someone with claws made a little hole in the wall, and trust me, I heard it all.”

Logan’s mouth was open while you wanted the ground to swallow you whole. Wade then went to the fridge and pulled out a cake and got candles. “Happy first fuckiversary, my friends,” Wade said, putting the candle in the middle, above a gel doodle of two stick figures. One of them had boobs and was on her back with her legs in the air while the other with claws was in front of her. “Made this little doodle last night,” Wade said as he lit the candle, “go ahead, blow it, you’ll be doing a lot of that later.”

You didn't miss the wink he gave Logan as you blew out the candle. You took the cake and looked at Wade. “Thanks for the cake,” You said, hugging him, “and thanks for locking the door.” You took the cake and then left, Logan shutting the door behind him as you both went back to your apartment. “He’s never gonna let that go is he?” Logan asked, you shaking your head in response. “Nope, now go back over there and get dressed.”

He had a quick, confused look on his face. "Why?" you explained, throwing him his pants and shirt. "You made a damn hole in my wall, you're helping me fix it." "Yes, ma'am," he chuckled, walking back over to his and Wade's apartment.

You never thought you would see the day you would thank Wade for bringing you a man, but I guess Marvel Jesus works in mysterious ways.

[simpee9000]

Super random but I’m a writer and I’ve been stuck on an idea I can’t get going😅 if you’re willing to/interested I’d love to see what you can do with the idea. I’m a domestic kinda girly so don’t judge 🫣🤣

Idea:

Bakugo coming home to retired ex-hero wife who’s excited to tell him about the new recipe she learned or something like that and it makes him feel frisky because she’s still so devoted in everything she does it just all goes to him now

I can try! I'm really rusty at smut so bear with me here! (Don't ask me how I'm writing a smut story despite only writing it maybe three times before)

Despite the smut not being the best I hope I did well enough. I've never done a request before so this is a first! Thank you <3

Word Count 2k~ Smut, and slightest gore at the beginning

Katsuki Bakugo x retired pro hero reader

Your leg was blasted off from under you. Making you collapse as you buckled under your weight. A silent scream of pain coming from you. Landing onto your stomach before falling onto your side, confused from the amount of pain. Your hero suit was torn in every spot possible, ends being burnt off mid-thigh.

From the knee down your left leg was gone, the pure gore of it made you fall back, head on the ground as you stared up at the dusty sky. It is covered with debris and ashes from the collapsed buildings nearby.

It was a simple fire earlier, quickly turning south when a villain was found on the lower levels. Flattening all buildings nearby. Back-up was called of course, but they were far too late. You were basically gone the second you made contact with the villain. Getting thrown through several walls by an air quirk. Mind going fuzzy just from that, but to make matters worse, a grenade was thrown with you.

You heard the sounds of other heroes and took it as a sign to back down. Resting into the concert underneath you as you tried to stabilize yourself. Ultimately passing out from the pain.

-

Waking up in the hospital sent you on another trip, you thought you were gone. Dead. The haze that surrounded the hospital consumed you as you looked around. The sterile air, empty with chemicals that dried it up. Beeping coming from your heart monitor, a steady pulse made everything feel even more surreal.

Your arm was in a sling and your left leg was gone. Same as before you passed out. Your ribs hurt as you tried to breathe. Panicking from the pain, a doctor rushed in.

Telling you all the things wrong with you, all the options you had.

Nothing felt good enough. Your body was broken, caved in. You lost not only your leg but most of your mobility, everything hurt. You were told everything would continue to hurt. Physical therapy and healing quirks could only do so much.

You tried to listen as the doctor droned on and on about how they had the best doctors. How they could get you a prosthetic that could help you walk again.

The fact that you wouldn't be able to walk without it stunned you.

How could you ever continue to be a hero in this state? You knew Mirko had done it, even your teacher Aizawa did it. But this felt life-changing. It was life-changing.

You thought you died. You didn't want to die.

"Fucking hell," you turned your attention to Katsuki, who just barged in. Pausing in the doorway as he looked you over.

You could say something sappy and it'd be true. As you looked at him you thought over everything. Barely hearing the concerned questions he asked you before turning to the doctor.

Raising a kid as two pro heroes would be impossible. Katsuki and you wanted kids, you couldn't let them see you like this, or worse. They couldn't live without a mother or father.

You couldn't be a hero.

"I'll take a prosthetic," you spoke out finally.

They both looked at you, the doctor labeling your options, "There are a lot of good options for hero work-"

"I'll just have a normal one," you avoided looking at Katsuki, almost ashamed. You loved hero work. You loved saving people. Working harder each day alongside him as you aimed to be your best.

"Okay, I'll file the paperwork," the doctor excused himself, leaving the room to you and Katsuki.

He stared at you for a while, waiting for you to speak. "I think I'm done," you said softly, "All this hero work, consumes my life."

He grasped your hands in his, "Okay."

"I'm sorry, I know that's not what you wanted-"

"But it's what you want," he shot down your apology, "It's okay."

"I don't know what I'll do-"

"We'll figure it okay together," he got rid of your doubts, "I don't think I could stomach seeing you like this again anyway," he confessed.

-

Quitting was difficult, it changed your life drastically. You stayed home more often, picking up smaller hobbies that you never had time for before.

Reading more often, baking, cooking, you were even starting to learn how to crochet. You had so much time and it was freeing. Leaving you with a flexible schedule. Helping Katsuki out on cases he needed a second opinion on, or what event he should go for to help his publicity.

Devoting your time to things you loved freely, rather than just hero work. You missed it sometimes, after all, you have been doing it since you were 15 and only stopped a year ago when you were 26.

It made things easier, schedule easily aligning with Katsuki and giving you more time with the spikey blonde. More time together allowed you to get closer, him engaging on your three-year anniversary.

You thought about your wedding, planned for next year, as you flipped through your new recipe book. Stumbling on a delicious-looking meal that you thankfully had all the ingredients for. Grabbing the ingredients absent-mindedly as you thought about the type of wedding you'd have.

Katsuki didn't care much, telling you to go nuts with it. His mom wanted to help though, and you warmly welcomed it. Excited to be close to his family at any opportunity.

Cutting each ingredient carefully as you mix it into the full meal. Humming in thought when you heard Katsuki's keys on the other side of the front door.

He walked into the kitchen after smelling your cooking, every day you offered him a new meal. He loved that you shared this hobby with him.

"What y'making?" he walked behind where you stood at the stove. Wrapping his arms around your waist as he buried his chin into your shoulder, looking at what you were doing.

"I just found a new recipe! The cookbook I bought has so many good things," you shared excitedly, "Lots of protein and vegetables, just the way you like it."

"I fuckin' love you," he kissed your neck and hugged you tighter.

You rolled your eyes, grabbing a hand towel and wiping your hands off before you turned in his grip, wrapping your arms around his neck. He had his hero mask pushed up over his eyes, holding his hair back. "How was work?" you asked, swaying lightly with him.

"Work," he replied back, leaning down to kiss you.

Your lips connected for a moment before you pulled back, "You need a shower," you tried to smack away the taste of charcoal that was left on your lips. Concerned about how he even had that happen.

He rolled his eyes, squeezing at the fat of your hips, "As long as you join me?"

You looked over your shoulder and at the food, "I don't know, food just got done."

Without another word he pulled away from you and grabbed a pan lid, placing it over the pan filled with food and taking it off the heat. "We'll reheat it later, let's go," he grabbed your hand and put you in front of him as he walked behind you to the shower.

You giggled as you matched the forced pace he was making you walk, "Impatient much?" you teased.

He didn't answer, just pulled his shirt right off your body. He stared at it enough already and wanted more. He groaned when he noticed you were only wearing panties, the cheeky ones that he loved. "Fuckin' knew today was gonna be a good day," he mumbled before kissing you roughly, scaling kisses down your neck and onto your chest. He didn't seem like he could be happier at the fact you weren't wearing a bra, pressing kisses at every bare inch of you.

Nipping at your bud before sucking your tit into his mouth. His hand taking care of the other. "Kats," you whined, pulling him away by his hair when he mumbled a 'what' into your chest, "Shower."

Reluctantly he pulled away, flipping the shower on before ripping his shirt off, pushing his pants and boxers off as well. His hairband had fallen off when he was kissing you earlier. Despite being with him for three years, you still flushed at him bare.

He was built amazingly, sheer hard work sculpted him into a Greek god. You watched his arm ripple in muscle as he checked the temperature of the water before moving to grab you and push you into the water with him. Connecting your lips once in.

"I mean it Kats," you pushed his chest away, making his hair start soaking with water, "Shower."

Making a show of following your orders, he quickly washed his hair. Probably taking the fastest shower of his life before taking his time to run the soap over your body. Not nearly as rough as he washed his own. Kissing your shoulder blade before washing your back, "Beautiful," he murmured into your skin.

You twisted in his hold, deciding you were clean enough before you leaned into him locking his lips in a passionate kiss. You were only human after all, it's impossible to refuse him for long

Bringing your hands up to tangle into his hair, pulling him closer to your height. Easing the strain on the prosthetic, thankful that it was waterproof.

He took anything you gave him, following your lead as you backed yourself into the shower wall. His hands grabbed at your thighs and lifted you, pressing you into the cold tile as he held you up. Kissing his marks over your chest. Layering over where he had already kissed.

"I love you so fucking much," he murmured into your skin, taking a moment to back away and look over you. Soaking in the look you were giving him, full of devotion.

"I love you more," you whispered in reply, pulling him into another kiss. Leaving him to squeeze your thigh, frustrated that you shut him up with a kiss.

He pushed you more into the wall with one hand while he moved his other between you. Trailing it between your folds "It's been too fucking long," he groaned when he felt you, wet and wanting him.

"Can I just have you?" you whined, moving your hand into his hair and pulling desperately. He'd tease you for hours if he could. And with the colding temperature of the water, you couldn't handle that.

"Need me that bad?" he smirked down at you, circling his fingers over your clit meanly.

"Please?"

He wasn't lying when he said it had been too long. The second he gave in and lined himself up, the strain of just his tip was enough to force your head back. The push of him into you felt relieving, it was something you had missed without even knowing.

"Oh fuck," he moaned, head falling into your shoulder as he stilled. Letting you adjust for just a moment before he pulled his hips back. Slowly building pace as he works you both up to the climax.

Breaths tangled together as the steam from the shower clouded your vision.

Your hands were moving over his back and up his shoulders, trying to steady yourself despite his constant thrusts. Knocking the breath out of you each time.

His hand stayed on your clit, moving in sharp circles over you as he knew he wouldn't last. He hasn't had you in so long and wouldn't be held back. Yet he wouldn't be the only one to cum.

He was already close, he was worked up the second he saw you in the kitchen. Seeing you in your home together, cooking for him while wearing his clothes. It made him feel like everything would be okay, he had you. Everything was an effort together rather than alone, and he welcomed it.

The small grunts and moans he was making right next to your ear was sending you up the wall.

"Gonna cum baby? Feel y'fuckin' squeezing me," he panted, working his hips harder into his. You whined in reply, nodding your head frantically. He knew all your spots, bullying his cock straight into your spot.

He felt like he was falling in love all over again any time he looked at you, even now. Your eyes squeezed shut in pleasure and your head lolled back, your body relying on him to stay upright as you blabbed for more. Knowing he'd give anything to you if you just asked. Your legs locked around him when you came, completely losing yourself in his hold as he worked his dick into you. Groaning at you tightening around him before he gave in and met you where you were.

Filling you up, not caring if it got you pregnant or not at this point, he knew everything would be fine.

You looked fucked out, eyes half-lidded as you looked at him, he was melting inside. Reluctantly letting you gain your footing back and letting you clean yourself fully.

It was a blur of a shower afterward. He could only focus on you, mind filled only with love as he crowded you after you dried off.

"You okay, kats?" You spoke softly as you hugged him back.

"Just fuckin love you, got an issue?" he snapped back as he hugged you tighter. He was just as devoted to you as you were to him, even if he didn't always get the time to prove it.

(I'm very meh about this work but I decided to post it anyway, I need to write more and challenge myself. If you have any ideas or requests you should send them in, I'll try to write them!)

You should read my Bakugo x reader if you liked this work!

[cvntluver444]

movie night ellie williams

ִ ࣪𖤐. you just want to have a movie night with friends. ellie just wants you.

ִ ࣪𖤐. warnings : smut minors dni, new writer so please be kind :), language, dirty talk, reader and ellie are kinda switches? 🤨 idk, fucking in front of sleeping people 🤪, intended lowercase, idk i think that’s about it please let me know if i missed any!!

ִ ࣪𖤐. a/n : hi beautiful people and happy sunday ☀️ it feels so good to be excited to write my third fic :) you guys have shown me so much support and i appreciate you so much! if you’re new here, give me a follow and you won’t regret it 🫡 i still have a lot more nasty thoughts to share, but would love you hear you’re requests as well!! i’m really trying to switch it up and write something different, but smut is just TOO GOOD 😊 i’m working on some angst and fluff fics too so stay tuned! love you all so much!

requests are open

🇵🇸 as always, please keep supporting and spreading information on Palestine! 🇵🇸

daily click

⊹ ࣪ ˖ִ ࣪𖤐◞ ꙳ ๋࣭ ⭑ `⋆⭒˚｡⋆ִ ࣪𖤐◞ ꙳ ๋࣭ ⭑ `⋆⭒˚｡⋆ ⊹ ࣪ ˖ִ ࣪𖤐◞ ꙳ ๋࣭ ⭑ `⋆⭒˚｡⋆ִ

“drew baby nooo,” you groan, watching her characters unfortunate fate unravel on the screen. “you were so sexy.” you say frowning, earning laughs from the three of your friends.

“she always did look so hot running through those sprinklers.” ellie adds on, nodding her head slowly. you gave her a little scoff, followed by a light laugh.

“it was her who made me realize i wasn’t straight,” dina explains in a posh accent. jesse just rolled his eyes and pulled dina closer to him.

“i always thought sydney was the hottest.” you state, a look of betrayal on dina’s face for disagreeing with her.

“well maybe it’s because you’re into brunettes,” dina smirks back, telepathically communicating what she meant by it. you roll your eyes and see her line of vision look straight at the brunette in question next to you. you give her a little smile back when she turns to look towards you again. she turns her attention towards jesse and yours toward the movie, every now and again trying to turn your head to catch glances at ellie, her eyes always trained straight ahead towards the movie. you silently prayed that she didn’t pick up on you and dinas hints.

she did.

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you guys were about 45 minutes into the movie. dina and jesse were half asleep on the one couch, and you and ellie both fully awake on the other. sometime in between watching, ellie’s arm had subtly made its way around your shoulders. you didn’t think much of it, just her wanting to make you comfortable. now, your head was resting on her shoulder as her hand grazed up and down your arm, causing goosebumps to arise.

“they didn’t last long,” ellie giggles, pointing to the couple on the couch. your gaze follows to where dina and jesse quietly snore.

“aw, they’re so cute,” you say, your eyes softening at the scene. must be nice you think to yourself. you and ellie are once again quiet, the only sounds filling the living room coming from the screaming on tv.

you were zoning out again, the movie reaching the climax, when you felt another light touch on your naked thigh. you lightly jump, turning your head towards ellie, a nonchalant look washing over her features. turning your head, you decide to ignore it.

it gets hard to ignore though when she starts moving up. this time, when you turn to look at her, you meet her gaze. you stare at her for a second, mouth open slightly.

“ellie?” you breathe out. instead of responding, she slowly leans in and you’re breath stops when her lips meet yours. it started off as a slow make out, but soon turned hot in a matter of of seconds. you both stop quickly when dina and jesse stir awake.

“damn did we really fall asleep that fast?” jesse asks. dina looks just as confused as she sees how far into the movie you’ve gotten.

“yeah uh you guys were out.” ellie explains, scratching the back of her head.

“damn. well we already know what happens.” dina shrugs, turning over once more towards her boyfriend. you and ellie take a moment before light snores fill the room again.

“holy shit,” you breathe out. “i thought we were caught.” you say turning towards ellie. she shrugs, sucks her teeth, then leans in again, not before adding in a small ‘so close’.

you moan into the kiss, causing the hand on your upper thigh to squeeze. it then trails up once more til it hits your clothed pussy.

“god baby, you’re so wet all ready,” ellie teases, littering your face with kisses as her hand starts moving in slow circles.

“fuck ellie.” you moan out, head leaning back. she takes the opportunity to move to your neck. she lightly sucks, letting go of your skin with a light pop making you moan louder. ellie’s hand quickly moves from your shorts to your mouth. you hear a quiet stir from the couch across from you and you give ellie a scared look.

“sh sh sh (the one audio),” ellie quiets you down. “you gotta be quiet baby, or else our friends are gonna wake up and see me fingers deep in your pussy.” her words alone make you wanna cum but then that would mean it would be over.

“please ellie,” you beg. “make me feel good.” you sound drunk with how much pleasure you’re in right now. ellie smirks and looks around the room, eyes landing on a throw blanket on the floor and putting it over top of the two of you.

once settled, she brings her lips back towards yours and you’re back to your hot and steamy make out. this time, however; you feel ellie slowly start to pull down on your sleep shorts, causing you to be half naked under the blanket.

“commando. nice.” ellie smirks, bringing her fingers to her mouth. you watch as she slowly puts them into her mouth, licking and sucking each one so that it comes out followed by a line of her spit. she quickly goes back to running circles, slowly adding in one finger. you moan at how slow she puts it in, just wanting her to stop teasing you.

“ellie. please more.” you’re absolutely desperate. you lean into her again, this time wrapping your arm around to daintily drag your fingers under her shirt. the tips dance along her smooth skin, tones abs, and finally, her tits. you massage them a bit while looking into her eyes, a dumb look on your face from how good she’s making you feel.

“yeah baby? tell me what you need, and i’ll give it to you.” she pauses to lean in for a peck. you now move your hand under her sports bra, massaging her tits, then slowly teasing her nipples. “fuck yes. please tell me what you need. anything.” shes begging you now, and your both whimpering messes and you toy with one another.

“more fingers els. faster. please.” you’re just rambling at this point, anything to end the torture of her one digit slowly pumping in and out of you. she mocks your request a bit, before adding two more fingers and fucking you senseless. you can’t breathe as pleasure takes over your whole body.

“god you look so pretty right now. hopefully those pretty sounds don’t wake our friends up” she teases. you were so mad at how easy it was for her to make you such a mess. your hand that used to rest under her shirt, now moves down towards her boxers, slowly rubbing her pussy up and down. this causes her movements on you to slow down. you smirk, knowing that you now had the control. her eyes shut tight and her mouth fell open as you sped your movements up.

“you look even prettier when my fingers are in your pussy,” you say to her trying to sound strong, but her fingers still pump in and out of you at a perfect rate, causing it to come out in a soft whisper. your fingers now covered in her slick, you copy her by adding in a couple fingers. she spreads her legs apart move, which forces you to do the same.

you two practically laid on top of each other, fingers deep in each others pussy’s and lips locked. the tv now being tuned out by the sounds of penetration and moans.

“fuck ellie, you’re gonna make me cum” you whine.

“i know baby im right here with you. fuck you make me feel so good,” she moans out, “cum with me,” she demands, and two sinfully cum together. you almost forget about the couple sleeping next to you, causing you to let out a loud groan. ellie smashes her lips on yours and you ride your highs out, lips not stopping until you’re breathing had slowed and the movie credits started running.

for a second time tonight, you two quickly pull apart as dina and jesse slowly start to wake up.

“what a great movie!” dina jokes, causing you and ellie to laugh. dina’s head turns towards the two of you and her eyebrows furrow. “did you guys pass out too?”

you and ellie give confused looks before answering, “no why?”

“ah, you guys just look disheveled is all,” she shrugs, causing your eyes to go wide. “anyways we’re gonna go to bed.”

jessie chimes in, “you two coming?”

you give him a quick yeah and slowly start getting up with ellie, but realizing you forgot about your shorts in the make out session. you quickly grab ellie, pulling her back down.

“oh wait,” you quickly try to come up with an excuse. “ellie and i were just talking about how we wanted to watch the second movie!”

nice

“oh uh well ok,” dina says with a small smile, “we would totally join you guys but we’re tired and since we just slept through the first one,” dina pauses before you all four laugh.

you say your goodnights ans sweet dreams while they head up the stairs. once you hear the door shut, you and ellie immediately return to where you left out and lock lips once more, only pausing when ellie pulls away.

“nice excuse, now we get a round two, and three, and four an-“

“ellie, we never put our shorts back on,” you tell her, joking rolling your eyes.

“oh yeah forgot about that,” she says as she looks up behind you and pretends to think, quickly snapping out of it before sinking down in between your legs, eyes trained on yours and mouth dangerously close to your bare pussy. “but i was hoping they would leave so i could have you all to myself.”

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࣪𖤐 note : i’m so sorry it’s currently 6:10am and i started this at 2 and for some reason it’s just now getting down so that why the ending for kinda lame buttt

HOPE YOU ENJOYED PLEASE LMK IF YOU DID

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have a fantastic week my lovies 🧡