#and it still lingers where you vaped | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

creamflix · 1 month ago

Text

various jujutsu kaisen men x reader; suggestive content. no reader gender specified, except in sukuna's part (use of "woman"). use of different smoking techniques and devices, vapes, weed, hookah, cigars, cigarettes, bongs. making out. established relationship. includes gojo satoru, geto suguru, ryomen sukuna, nanami kento, shiu kong, toji fushiguro, ino takuma. — masterlist here ☆

you never thought you'd see GOJO with a vape. he always seemed above that kind of thing, the type to make fun of anyone who’d whip one out in public. yet here he was, casually lounging on the couch, blowing out a cloud of sweet-scented smoke with the ease of someone who’d been doing it for a while.

you raise an eyebrow, staring at him, trying to process the image in front of you. “vaping? seriously?”

gojo looks over at you with that signature smirk of his, the one that always manages to get under your skin. “what?” he says, taking another hit, lips closing around the tip before he exhales slowly, a lazy grin spreading across his face. “it’s just a hobby.”

“yeah, a weird one,” you mutter, eyeing the slim device in his hand. “kinda thought you'd be above it.”

“what can i say, i’m full of surprises.” he leans in closer, his icy blue eyes flickering with amusement. “wanna try?”

you hesitate. vaping always struck you as... juvenile, but the fruity smell of whatever flavor he was using lingers between you, filling the air with a sweet, almost tempting aroma. strawberry, raspberry, maybe even a hint of cherry. your curiosity gets the better of you, and you give him a slight nod. "fine, just a taste."

gojo’s smirk deepens as he takes another long drag, his eyes never leaving yours. you expect him to hand you the vape, but instead, he leans forward, grabbing your chin between his fingers. before you can process what’s happening, he tilts your head up, bringing his lips close, and blows the warm, sweet vapor directly into your mouth.

your eyes widen, shock freezing you in place as the sensation hits — warm, soft, and strangely intimate. the flavor floods your senses, sweet and slightly tangy, making your tongue tingle as you instinctively breathe in. there’s a brief pause where your mind blanks, the closeness of gojo’s face, the taste of the vapor, the feel of his breath mixing with yours, and then it hits you.

you’re hooked.

he pulls back, watching you with a teasing glint in his eyes, his fingers still lightly gripping your chin. “how’s that?”

“good?” he interrupts, chuckling as he leans back again, clearly amused by your reaction. “told ya, you’d like it.”

you swallow, still tasting the fruity sweetness in your mouth, a little lightheaded from the unexpected intensity of it all. "that... that was —"

“you could’ve just handed me the damn thing,” you huff, trying to sound annoyed, but your voice comes out softer than you intended.

“where’s the fun in that?” he shoots back, his smile widening as he takes another drag. “besides, this way’s more... personal.”

you roll your eyes, but your heart is still racing. there’s something addicting about the way he did it, the closeness, the way his fingers felt on your skin, the taste of him lingering in the vapor he shared with you. you know it's not the vape you're craving —it’s him.

you never expected NANAMI to be the type to use nicotine pouches, but the more you thought about it, the more it made sense. his job was stressful, and he had that quiet, restrained intensity about him — like he needed something to keep himself in check. still, finding out about it during a heated makeout session wasn’t how you imagined the discovery would go.

you were pressed up against him, hands fisted in his shirt as your tongues tangled together, his lips warm and firm against yours. everything was electric, your body humming with the connection, when you felt something odd in his mouth —something that definitely wasn’t his tongue. you froze, pulling back abruptly, eyes wide as you tried to figure out what the hell was going on.

nanami, ever calm and collected, looked a little flustered as he caught your confused expression. he didn’t say a word, just parted his lips and pulled his gum back slightly, revealing the small, white pouch tucked between his lip and gums. his face was flushed, a faint pink creeping up from his neck to his cheeks, and the sight of him like that — lips parted, a little breathless, and his mouth slightly open — had your heart skipping a beat.

“nicotine pouch,” he explained simply, his voice a low rumble, as if this was the most normal thing in the world. but there was something about the way he had his mouth open like that, the pouch still in place, his expression serious yet slightly embarrassed, that sent a wave of heat rushing through you. he looked... hot. unexpectedly so.

“oh...” was all you managed to say, your heart still pounding. there was a beat of silence, the tension between you both thick and heady, and then without thinking, you surged forward, kissing him again, harder this time.

his lips met yours eagerly, and as your tongues clashed again, you could taste it — the faint bitterness of the nicotine pouch, the strange, numbing sensation spreading across your mouth. it was disorienting at first, the bitter tang making your head spin, but it only seemed to heighten everything. each kiss felt more intense, more urgent, and the slight numbness in your mouth had your nerves firing in overdrive, making every touch of his tongue and lips feel electrifying.

nanami groaned softly against your mouth, his hands gripping your waist as he pulled you closer, his usually calm demeanor fraying at the edges. the nicotine pouch made his kiss feel different, rougher, and you found yourself addicted to the sensation, the bitter taste mixing with the warmth of his mouth, making your head swim. it was intoxicating, the strange mix of flavors and sensations, the way his lips moved against yours with more fervor than before.

you couldn’t get enough.

you had long grown accustomed to SHIU’s habit of smoking, but that didn’t mean it didn’t annoy you. the smell clung to everything — his clothes, the cushions, even the air felt thick with it sometimes. and the ash? you’d complain about it constantly, even though, in truth, he was pretty mindful about where he flicked it. but still, you’d nag him about it whenever you caught a stray bit of ash on the sofa or the faint smell of tobacco in the living room.

"you’re stinking up the whole damn place," you grumbled one day, narrowing your eyes at him as he took a slow drag, blowing the smoke out lazily as if you hadn’t just been ranting at him.

shiu, ever calm, just rolled his eyes, not even bothering with a response. instead, he grabbed you by the wrist, pulling you into him with more force than necessary. before you could utter another complaint, his lips crashed against yours, silencing any protest.

the taste of the cigarette clung to his breath, bitter and smoky, and it hit you immediately, flooding your senses. his kiss was rough, no room for softness or hesitation, and the faint burn of tobacco on his lips made it all the more intense. his hand gripped the back of your neck, fingers curling into your hair as he pressed you against his broad chest, trapping you in the scent of him, the smoke, the heat.

you felt like you were drowning in it — his scent, the taste of the cigarette, the force of his body against yours. your hands scrambled for something to hold onto, finding purchase against the solid muscle of his torso. his lips moved against yours with fierce determination, almost as if he was trying to overwhelm you with the very thing you had been complaining about.

and it was working.

his other hand slid down your back, pulling you even closer until there was no space left between you, and you found yourself melting into the kiss despite the lingering bitterness of the cigarette smoke. the more you tried to resist, the more intense he became, his hold on you almost possessive.

when he finally pulled back, his eyes met yours, a smug, knowing smirk tugging at his lips as you stood there breathless, still caught in the haze of it all. "still complaining?" he asked, voice low and teasing, cigarette hanging loosely between his fingers.

you didn’t have an answer, your heart racing too fast for words. the taste of him lingered, the smoky scent still wrapped around you like a second skin.

"it's the last vape, i promise!" CHOSO whined, eyes wide as you scolded him for the umpteenth time that week. but you weren’t buying it. he’d said the same thing last time, and the time before that. now, he was constantly smelling and tasting like a mix of artificial flavors — cotton candy one day, mango peach the next, and sometimes even mint chocolate chip. it was hard to keep up.

"you smell like a candy shop," you muttered, shaking your head, though there was a slight smile tugging at your lips. "and taste like one too."

choso, looking both guilty and a little pleased with himself, fiddled with the vape in his hand, giving you a hopeful glance. "but look, i learned something cool," he said, a spark of excitement in his voice that was hard to ignore.

you sighed, but when he lifted the vape to his lips, taking a deep puff and blowing out a thick cloud of smoke, you couldn’t help but watch. he exhaled in slow, calculated bursts, forming rings and shapes in the air, the vapor swirling and dancing in the soft light. he showed off, blowing the rings one by one, and even adding a little flourish, making them loop together in a mesmerizing pattern.

you tried to stay annoyed, but it was hard when he was so damn proud of himself, his concentration so serious as he perfected each trick. "see?" he said, glancing over at you with a hint of a smile, clearly pleased with himself.

you giggled despite yourself, watching the way his eyes lit up every time he blew a new shape. it was... addicting to watch, the way the smoke moved, the way his lips curled around the vape so effortlessly. and somehow, the more you watched him, the harder it was to focus on being mad. he made it look so cool, his dark eyes focused, his body relaxed but in control, and it was hard not to be drawn in by his excitement.

“okay, okay, show me how to do that,” you finally said, giving in, though you weren’t sure whether it was curiosity or something else entirely that had you asking.

“just take a deep breath,” he murmured, his voice low and smooth, as he slowly blew the vapor into your mouth, guiding you through the motions. the taste of the vape, some sort of tropical blend, flooded your senses, sweet and almost overwhelming. but it wasn’t just the vape — it was the way he was holding you, the way his eyes stayed locked on yours, the rough press of his fingers on your skin.

he smirked, clearly enjoying your change of heart. “here, lemme show you,” he said, stepping closer as he took another drag. this time, instead of showing off, he cupped your chin in his hand, pulling you closer as he leaned in. his thumb brushed over your lower lip, his grip firm but gentle as he held you in place.

you could feel your heart racing, and as the smoky sweetness coated your tongue, the intensity of his presence left you dizzy. you watched as he pulled back, his lips curling into a small, satisfied smile, and you swore you had never been more turned on.

his grip tightened on your chin, just enough to send a shiver down your spine. "now blow it out slowly," he whispered, his voice almost teasing, his gaze heavy as he watched your lips part.

it wasn’t the vape that was getting to you — it was him. and the heat pooling low in your stomach told you he knew it too.

“don’t be ridiculous, woman. kings smoke hookah all the time,” SUKUNA scoffs, leaning back in his seat, the hookah pipe resting casually between his lips. his body sprawled in all its intimidating, masculine glory, he looks utterly unbothered by your complaints.

you cross your arms, glaring up at him. “doesn’t mean you need to clutter your whole chamber with that thing,” you huff, gesturing toward the ornate hookah. “it takes up way too much space. i just want to lie next to you without knocking into it every time.”

he exhales a thick cloud of smoke, the rich scent of double apple filling the air around you, making it impossible to escape. his gaze shifts to you, eyes narrowing slightly as if your complaints are nothing but background noise. “always whining,” he mutters, rolling his eyes. “you sound like a child.”

before you can protest, one of his four arms snakes around your waist, pulling you onto his lap in one smooth, effortless motion. you gasp, your body tensing as he cages you in with his other two arms, his grip firm, possessive. “maybe if you weren’t so annoying, you’d get what you wanted,” he murmurs, the hookah pipe still dangling from his lips as he takes another long drag.

the sweet, intoxicating smell of double apple lingers thick in the air, clinging to his skin, his breath. you squirm slightly in his lap, trying to make yourself comfortable, but his grip tightens, leaving no room for movement. “sukuna, come on,” you start, your voice slightly breathless. “that thing smells so strong... and you smell like it too.”

he chuckles darkly, ignoring your complaint. instead, he takes another deep inhale from the hookah, his eyes watching you with a dangerous glint. without warning, he leans in, capturing your lips in a heated, overwhelming kiss. the taste of the hookah smoke floods your mouth immediately — thick, sweet, and strong.

you gasp into the kiss, the sharpness of the double apple flavor coating your tongue. it’s so intense, it’s like you’re tasting the smoke itself, your senses overrun by the sweetness and the warmth that lingers in his breath. your head spins slightly from the sensation, the smoky flavor mixing with the heat of his kiss, and it makes you dizzy.

he pulls back only slightly, his lips brushing against yours as he murmurs, “pathetic.” his tongue flicks out, licking a slow, deliberate stripe across your lips, making you shiver. “getting all worked up over just a kiss.”

you groan, trying to regain control, but the lingering taste of the double apple still clings to your tongue, overwhelming your senses. “it’s not just the kiss, sukuna,” you manage to say, breathless. “you’re practically drowning me in this stuff.”

he laughs, low and mocking. “then maybe you should learn to enjoy it,” he says, his voice dark, teasing. his grip on you tightens, pulling you even closer as he takes another drag from the hookah, exhaling the smoke slowly, deliberately, right in your face. the sweet, thick scent curls around you, and your body reacts involuntarily, your heart racing as you breathe in the intoxicating smell.

“sukuna…” you whisper, your voice faltering as the warmth of the smoke and the heat of his body press in on you from all sides.

“what’s wrong?” he asks, voice laced with amusement. “can’t handle a little smoke?” his lips curl into a smirk as he leans in again, this time pressing a rough, possessive kiss against your lips, tasting the sweetness of the hookah all over again.

you knew when TOJI bought himself a cigar, it meant one of two things: either he was in an unusually good mood, or there was some extra cash to burn. and you weren’t about to deny him his little vice, even if you didn’t love the smell of it. it wasn’t like he smoked cigars every day, after all.

he lounged on the couch, the thick, earthy smell of the cigar curling in the air around him. “gimme a kiss,” he mumbled through the cigar, his voice low and lazy, the words barely audible over the haze of smoke.

you frowned, glancing at the cigar still hanging between his lips. “toji, can’t you at least finish that first?” you complained, waving your hand in front of your face to clear some of the smoke.

he rolled his eyes, taking the cigar out of his mouth for a moment. “stop fussin’. c’mon, get over here.”

before you could argue, his hand was on you, fingers gripping your waist and pulling you in close. you barely had time to protest before his lips crashed against yours. the taste was immediate and overpowering — strong, bitter, earthy. the flavor clung to his mouth, rich and smoky, and it filled yours as his tongue invaded your mouth without hesitation.

“toji —” you tried to pull back, but he only deepened the kiss, his tongue pushing further, rough lips moving against yours with a messy urgency. his breath was thick with smoke, and the cigar’s pungent scent was almost suffocating. it clung to him, to his clothes, to every inch of space around you.

“tastes good, doesn’t it?” he murmured against your lips, his smirk evident even through the kiss. his lips moved to your jaw, then down to your neck, leaving hot, open-mouthed kisses in his wake. each kiss was sloppy, wet, the taste of smoke and bitter tobacco lingering on your skin as he dragged his tongue along your throat. “didn’t hear ya complainin’ now.”

you squirmed slightly in his grip, your head spinning from the intensity of the taste and the sensation of his lips on your skin. “toji, it’s — ugh, it’s too strong,” you protested, pushing at his chest lightly. but he didn’t budge. instead, his arm tightened around your waist, keeping you firmly in place on his lap.

“you’ll get used to it,” he muttered, taking another long drag from the cigar before blowing the smoke out slowly, deliberately, right in front of your face. “now stop whining, yeah? just kiss me.”

you groaned softly, torn between wanting to pull away and giving in to the dizzying combination of his rough kisses and the strong, smoky aftertaste that lingered in your mouth. the smoke was so thick it felt like it was inside you, clinging to your tongue and lips even as he kissed you again, sloppily, his lips moving against yours in an almost overwhelming rhythm.

“see? not so bad, huh?” he teased, pulling back just enough to look at you, his thumb brushing over your swollen lips. “still think i should finish the cigar first?”

you shook your head, dazed from the taste and the way his lips had practically devoured you. “you’re impossible,” you muttered, but the way his hands roamed your body, keeping you pinned against him, had you too flustered to argue further.

he chuckled lowly, leaning in to press another open-mouthed kiss to your neck, the smoky scent now permanently etched into your senses. “nah, you love it,” he murmured, his voice smug as ever, his lips trailing back up to claim yours once more.

GETO’s idea of a perfect date night wasn’t fancy dinners or movie nights. no, for him, it was simpler — just a bottle, a bowl, and some weed. the process itself was almost meditative for him, and it filled him with pride when he saw the way your eyes lit up with curiosity as he sat cross-legged, calmly constructing the bong. his hands moved with practiced ease, carefully assembling each piece — filling the bottle with just enough water, making sure the bowl was secure, and showing you how to pack the weed tightly. “you plug it here,” he explained, guiding your hands with his, “and then inhale slowly.” his voice was always so steady, but tonight, there was a hint of anticipation as he showed you the ropes.

it didn’t take long before the two of you felt the effects creeping in, your bodies growing heavier as you both lay back on the soft mat spread out in your bedroom floor. the earthy, herbal smell of the weed lingered in the air, a little pungent, but somehow comforting in the dim light of the room. the soft glow of the led lights cast a calming atmosphere, making the entire scene feel surreal as you both stared up at the ceiling, giggling at nothing in particular.

“you’re really pretty,” geto mumbled, his voice slower, softer than usual. his words dragged a little, the high hitting him just enough to make his movements feel sluggish. he lifted his body up slowly, moving to cage you beneath him, his long hair falling over his shoulders as his dark eyes met yours, glazed with a soft haze.

you giggled in return, your body relaxed and pliant beneath him, making no effort to push him off. the way he looked at you with that sleepy, soft expression made your heart skip a beat. “you’re not so bad yourself,” you teased lightly, reaching up to brush some of his hair back from his face.

he didn’t respond with words. instead, he leaned in, his lips hovering just above yours, but not quite kissing you yet. his tongue was the first to make contact, a slow, lazy swipe against yours, and for a moment, you were just staring at each other with half-lidded eyes, the two of you sharing that quiet, intimate moment. his mouth felt slightly more hydrated from the water-filtered smoke of the bong, but the familiar smoky taste still clung to his breath, mixing with the sweetness of the weed.

finally, his lips crashed into yours, the kiss slow and sensual, his tongue pushing into your mouth as he groaned softly against you. the warmth of his body pressed against yours, and you instinctively wrapped your legs around his hips, pulling him closer. the pressure made him grunt, his hands gripping your waist as he kissed you with more intent, his movements lazy but filled with desire.

the taste of smoke lingered on his breath as he kissed you deeply, the earthy flavor filling your mouth and making your head spin just a little more. his body was heavy, but you didn’t mind — it felt like you were sinking into him, the two of you melting into the haze of the moment, surrounded by the smell of weed and the warmth of his skin.

“you’re everything,” he murmured against your lips, his words slightly slurred as his hand traced slow, lazy circles along your side, pulling you impossibly closer.

TAKUMA smirks, his eyes heavy-lidded and lazy, his entire body relaxed against the couch. “spit in it then,” he says with a grin, voice low and teasing.

“your mouth’s kinda dry, taku,” you tease, straddling his lap and running your fingers through his hair. you knew exactly why — cottonmouth from smoking weed. he’d lit up before coming over to your place, and now his lips and mouth felt dry, making each kiss feel rougher than usual.

“you serious?” you ask, raising a brow, slightly taken aback by the request. but there’s something about the way he says it, his tone dripping with lazy confidence, that makes you consider it.

“dead serious,” he mutters, punctuating his words with a firm squeeze to your ass, his hand gripping you hard enough to make you squeal. his smirk only widens, his gaze burning into yours, daring you to do it.

you bite your lip, trying to hold back a giggle, but the way he’s looking at you, all hazy and laid back, makes you want to give in. “fine,” you mutter playfully, gripping his chin between your fingers as his mouth falls open obediently, his tongue outstretched. you let a thick glob of spit fall onto his tongue, watching it pool there before he swallows, his lips curling into a satisfied grin.

the smell of the weed is overwhelming, clinging to his clothes and his hair, a strong, almost musky scent that fills the air around you both. it’s thick in the air, almost as if you can taste it just from breathing. you can feel how relaxed and mellow he is from the weed, his movements slow and lazy as his hands roam over your body, gripping you firmly but without any rush. it’s clear he’s in no hurry to end this moment.

before you can say anything else, he’s pulling you back into another kiss. this time, it’s slower but wetter, the spit helping ease the dryness from the weed. his lips still carry that earthy, herbal flavor, mixed with the tobacco wrap of the blunt he’d smoked earlier. the taste is strong — pungent and skunky from the weed, mixed with the sweet, smoky flavor of the cigarillo wrap. it clings to his breath, lingering on your tongue as you kiss him deeply.

you break the kiss for just a second to catch your breath, but takuma’s lips follow yours instantly, whining softly in protest as you pull away. “no, don’t stop,” he mumbles against your mouth, his hands gripping your hips tighter as he pulls you closer, keeping you locked in place on his lap. “feels too good.”

you smile against his lips, the taste of smoke still lingering between you both. “you’re such a brat,” you tease, but you don’t stop kissing him. his breath is still warm, still heavy with the pungent mix of weed and tobacco, and his lips are just a little softer now, but the kiss is no less intense.

thank you all for 5OO followers, here is a little treat. i had this idea lying around for a while and finally got to work to it on seeing @/sugoroo's loserboy, plug sukuna fic `(*>﹏<*)′ make sure to check out her work too!

257 notes · View notes

aeliuss · 6 months ago

Text

kiss me or hate me (kiss me)

when god made you, he built you all wrong. sown your heart on three times too large and your lungs three times too small, and you knew it was so because although you knew he was bad news, you couldn’t quite catch your breath around him. he is something holy, you swear he is. when he carves his hips into yours, when his lips linger on the soft flesh of your throat—he could tear you open.

you would let him. let him love you the way a vulture loves a carcass, neck dipped low in worship as it feasts.

your parents hate the way you’ve stopped going to church to be with him. hate that your even with him, but what do they know of love? you try to explain it to them, but the words get tangled in your throat, coming out wrong. they see only rebellion where you see revelation, only sin where you see sanctity.

you spend your nights wrapped in his arms, your days lost in thoughts of him. the world narrows to the beat of his heart against your ear, the whisper of his breath against your skin. his presence is a prayer you never learned, a hymn that rises unbidden in your throat. you abandon the familiar pews and hymns for the unknown verses of his touch, and every kiss is a communion, every whispered word a confession.

you start to think that maybe love is its own kind of faith. you wonder if god made him just for you, a test of your devotion, a challenge to your beliefs. you wonder if redemption could be found in the curve of his smile, if salvation could be written in the lines of his hands.

“I don’t love you,” he is sitting up on the bed, back to you, hips still tangled in the white sheets as he smokes a vape. “you know that, right?”

you know. you tell him so from where you lay on the bed, a foot away from him. naked, if not for the duvet. you swear you can make out a halo from the curls of smoke around his head.

he exhales sharply, shoulders shaking with laughter, twisting to face you. “god, you’re fun.” he murmurs against your lips. “did you know that? how fun you are?”

you don’t answer. don’t get the chance to, because he is pressing against you, and your blur into him once more. you don’t know where he ends and you begin.

“do you believe in redemption?” you ask him one day, your voice barely a whisper.

he snorts, a short, sharp sound that cuts through the silence. “redemption is for people who think they need to be saved,” he says, his fingers tracing patterns on your skin. “do you think you need to be saved?”

“do you?”

“do I look like I need to be saved?” his touch is not unlike a feather against your hip. it makes it difficult to focus. “I don’t know,” you murmur, cupping his jaw. “sometimes, you look very sad.”

you’ve never caught him off guard before. but that night you swore you saw the glitter of tears in his eyes, though you don’t feel them when he buries his head into the crook of your neck.

“maybe we can save each other,” he mumbles after a while.

you hum softly, considering his words, the weight of them sinking into the silence between you. maybe it's true, maybe you can save each other. the idea flickers like a candle in the dark. fragile.

but as the days pass, you realize that love alone cannot mend all wounds, cannot erase all sins. he is still the same flawed, broken boy you fell for, and you are still the same church girl with a heart too big and a faith too fragile. you cannot save him, no matter how desperately you try.

yet you try. because god has sown your heart on three times too big and his three times too small and when you are together, you are clashes of teeth and elbows, of long limbs and wandering fingers, of sanctity and sin.

because he is your religion and you, a dutiful worshipper. because it was always meant to end this way. his teeth on your throat. a vulture feeding on a corpse.

434 notes · View notes

hoseoksluna · 9 days ago

Text

THE BALL OF LIGHT, ii. | jjk

pairing: friend!jeongguk x fem!oc

genre: angst

word count: 4.2k

summary: inside jeongguk's apartment is where you meet the possibility of life.

pin: ball of light / taglist: join / discord: join / masterlist: run

cp: ao3 / wp

warnings: mentions of smoking and vaping, described nudity, oc feels a lot of emotions and she's overwhelmed, guilt.

note: i really enjoyed writing this chapter and it opened my eyes actually to where it's going. i hope you like the chapter as well. writing about jungkook is my biggest comfort. i feel at home. i love you, guys. happy reading. don't forget to tell me what you think. i'd appreciate it if you tell me ur expectations. <3

side note: i also want to update my taglist because i feel like most of the people i tag haven't allowed themselves to be tagged on this app. if you want to be tagged in my works, let me know. in comments below or my askbox.

It seems as though Jeongguk is still turning your words over his heart once you arrive at his apartment and the sullen grayness of his personal space greets you. A certain pensive look, embellished with a wrinkle between his brows, paints him in the shades of stark reclusiveness, the unapproachability of that façade the blue highlights that make the current inertia of his usual hyperactivity uncannily animated. It’s an oxymoron, the stillness of his being, despite the fact you very vividly sense the turmoil happening inside his chest.

Turmoil must be second-nature to him. Almost like a friend.

You don’t know what to say. The downturned corners of his mouth are so engraved into your vision that when you look away, you can still see them. Sad and pouty, caused in most probability by the truth you uttered. War happens, Jeongguk, if Yoongi and I see each other outside of the walls of our home. Those were the most heart-felt, authentic words that were flung out of the chambers of your heart because—yes, if Yoongi were to know that you smoke one cigarette a day with a boy with a nicotine-addiction, a motorcycle and a tendency to go back to people who have spread agony down his lungs like the white fumes of his cigarettes, he would get up from the kitchen table and grab the nearest knife, start a war for your dream that, according to him, got interrupted by temporary, meaningless things.

But Jeongguk isn’t meaningless. You thought for the longest time that he was temporary, but his lingering presence through high school and now through uni convinced you of the opposite. You believe now, now as he bends at the waist to place a pair of pink, fuzzy slippers with a yummy fried egg on top in front of your icy-cold, socked feet, that he has more shape—the eyes of an angel born wrong, born human, the mouth of a saint that fears to say the wrong thing—than your dream does.

Your dream doesn’t have a face.

Your dream doesn’t have a meaning, either.

Yoongi knows this, pretends he knows the contours of that dream when he tells you to go study. Pretends he knows the color of its flesh, all the greens, purples and blues, when the only words he throws your way are of commanding nature. Come eat. Go shower. Go study. Don’t. You can’t recollect the last time you had a genuine conversation with him that did not include those very words.

It’s exhausting. Your bones are burdened by it—by being treated as a student and not as a human being. But you ignore this because you respect him, hold him in high regard because of his own burden, laid heavy across the length of his shoulders that have become too thin, too skeletal, that have once been broad, beautiful and ogled by those, who had the luck to encounter him.

He doesn’t go to the gym anymore, to fill the mass of his muscles with exercise. He works long hours doing food delivery to fill your tummy instead.

And it’s hard—balancing your respect for him and your ostensibly inner desire to go in search of the things you read about in your books. You can’t help but expect to dig them out, selfishly, in Jeongguk. The kind, now somber, boy who has been by your side for so long. With words and simultaneously without.

Would Yoongi understand? Doesn’t he, also, have a need for company?

You push those thoughts away and focus on the clandestiny. On Jeongguk’s frown, on his adorable pout, on his emotions. Because perhaps in it you shall find your destiny.

Jeongguk walks forward and you swell with the guilty need to fix what you’ve broken, to glue back the pieces that put together his traditional cheer. The tree in you shivers in cold. Your own bones are still frosty like that bus stop you both escaped from. But glancing at the span of his shoulders, drooped and rolled forward, the guilt expands, making you think that maybe you shouldn’t have said something, despite the fact the truth made a dent in the birdcage you have been dwelling in since the death of your parents.

He empties out his pockets. Wallet, keys, phone, a pack of cigarettes, lighter and a pink, fat vape that you’ve never seen him smoking before. He places those essentials on the kitchen counter, stretching his hands backwards and ridding himself of his beige hoodie. The T-shirt he wears underneath rides up, exposing the smooth and muscled skin of his back, and your throat dries up at the sight. The tree stills, pacified by the movement of his shoulder blades. It puts a spell on you, this innocent yet consumingly heated view of a male’s body, one that continues burning down your body even when he grabs a hold of the hem of his T-shirt and pulls it down.

Somehow, the act made it hotter.

Your fingers wrap around your throat, a habit of yours that helps you compose yourself, ground yourself in the severity of the moment. Jeongguk reaches his hand towards the kitchen counter again and as you swallow with great difficulty, he fills his lungs with that scented fume before discarding it.

It isn’t until your breath comes out in pathetic staccatos that he turns around. Large eyes heavily lidded, clouded by that white smoke as he exhales. He purses his lips, dimples on full show, in order to make the smoke thinner. And that, the eye contact while blowing out the fumes, his full attention on you, the element that you’re here—in a boy’s apartment, all alone, for the first time, that warms up your bones, the frost melting away. You feel your body form little pearls of perspiration, overwhelmed and so suddenly overheated by his boyish beauty.

He’ll never know—just like Yoongi. He’ll never know what he does to you.

“I’m gonna make you some tea so you can get warm,” he says, softly, and shuffles his feet towards the brightly lit kitchen. You hear the water running, the clapping noise of the kettle being shut and then the boiling bubbles, but you’re frozen—red-hot and frozen—in the place you’re standing, unable to move, unable to breathe, unable to be a normal human being. “You’re free to take a shower if you want.”

A headache pierces through your undeveloped frontal lobe. Nothing about this is normal to you—being over a guy’s place, using his shower and his towel, drinking his tea. Being at home all the time never prepares you for this and while you feel so out of place, it also evokes the feeling of thrill.

This is thrilling.

And it should stay feeling that way, but your guilt eclipses it so quickly. Your guilt and your self-pity. Due to Yoongi, due to the fact that this should feel normal and that you should act normally. How many girls must’ve been in your place and how well they were able to talk to him and accept his kindness and hospitality without being weird about it.

You run a hand down your face. Feel like crying. Feel like screaming. Feeling like slapping yourself so you snap out of it and act normal. Yoongi flickers in your chest, however, and you’re reminded that you should let him know where you are. Usually, at this hour, you’re settled in your cage. Right there in the corner, the only warm spot because you sit there all the time. But you’re not there. You fit your body through the slivers, your feet rubbing against the different, more warmer floor than the one inside your birdcage, while your wrist remains chained to the center.

Your bus, the number 59, never came. Jeongguk’s, number 60, was the last one that came due to the thickness of the snow and he said that you should get on with him so you don’t freeze on the bus stop. I’ll drive you home on my bike, he promised. I got a helmet for you. And you agreed, despite the fact your thumb was ready to dial Yoongi’s number, because it came natural to you to follow a male’s order.

You scratch your fingernails through your scalp, waking yourself up from the stupor, and you take a deep breath. You’re here and you’re safe. Jeongguk is the safest person you can go behind Yoongi’s back with. These are the words you internally repeat to yourself as you lift one leg and the other, watching where they take you.

You wind up at the very edge of the counter where all of Jeongguk’s essentials lay scattered. You go to study all the charms hung over his keys when your fingers, somehow instinctively, take a hold of his pink vape. Light and pink, fitting just right in the palm of your hand. Your clandestine habits are invariably seen by Jeongguk, however.

“Don’t puff on that,” he says, pouring the boiling water inside the kettle over your cup of tea. A Christmas-themed one, evidently for adults only. The taupe Gingerbread man has a raging, bare boner that sticks out to the side whilst his hands are lifted, cheerfully, in the air. Your mouth parts, blush coloring your cheeks in dusty pink, and your brain, bizarrely, connects the Gingerbread man’s emotion to Jeongguk—both emotions, in fact. So bizarrely that anger begins to grow in you because a picture of Jeongguk’s own happy boner pops up before your eyes. Big, hard, leaking. Your stifling heat descends to your lower regions and you have to rub your eyelids in order to stop seeing it, your cheeks scalding, embarrassingly hot. “It’s not good to mix it.”

Without asking, he places one spoon of sugar inside that obscene cup, stirring it diligently. And the clinking noise rams a clapping monkey inside your brain.

You’ll die. From this headache, from the heat, from how irresistible this boy is.

You’ve never felt this way before towards him. Never seen him in this lustful light before. And you don’t know what to do—it’s towering you, so much bigger than you and you have very little strength to stand up to it.

It’s not good to see your so-called friend like this.

Jeongguk brings the cup over to you, placing it before his stuff. The Gingerbread man faces you, smiling ever so gleefully, and the blush of your cheeks deepens within this proximity. Jeongguk takes his vape from your hand and puffs on it—and your brain remembers what he just talked about.

“But you mix it,” you say, your words dripping with confusion, and Jeongguk places the device back into your palm, the tips of his fingers brushing against your flesh. You regard it as intimate, that brief physical contact, and it speeds up your heartbeat.

That touch-starved you are.

“I shouldn’t, but I do,” he responds, his pretty eyelashes static, unblinking, those macadamia chocolate pools of his penetrating your pupils. “I try to stick to just one from time to time, but my nerves are asking for more.”

You look down at the pink device, imagine it’s his hand that you’re closing your fingers over. Think his explanation has zero backbone, and so your confusion drips on.

“Nerves?” you inquire, a wrinkle appearing between your brows akin to his, even though his has been smoothed out. It seems his act of service to you is slowly easing his sombreness.

Jeongguk doesn’t want to elaborate, though. He flicks his eyes towards the cup and nods, just once, encouraging you to drink. You let out a quiet huff of a scoff. Consider it strange that he’s so unwilling to expand on this matter when he has shared with you in the past the reason behind his smoking habit. Trauma from his relationship with Ka-eun and the difficulty of his field. What else is behind those nerves of his that you can’t know about?

You follow the trace of his gaze towards the cup, feeling smaller than you are. Incompetent, inexperienced for the vivacity, immensity of his life that looks nothing like yours. Your pointer finger pokes out, clicking against the emerald green handle.

“Am I supposed to really drink from this?” you murmur, meaning it as a joke that would fix what you cooked in this situation, but it comes out much sadder than you planned, the hollowness from all of your lacks coating your vocal cords.

Jeongguk scowls and turns the cup around, his brows springing upwards as he glances at the naked and aroused Gingerbread man. You begin to anticipate his laughter that would make you feel worse about yourself, but it never breezes through.

Actually, Jeongguk apologizes. Makes a big deal out of it.

“My God,” he sighs, adding your name, running his fingers through his hair before he puts the cup away, but you stop him by enveloping your fingers across the warm, naked skin of his forearm. His eyes widen en route to yours and he holds the misting cup in his hand, immune to its hot temperature. The good ones don’t get burned, your mother would say with hatefulness whenever your fingers would get burned by steaming cups and hot running water in the sink, and she proves you right in this moment. You bet she smiles in her grave, seeing from the afterlife that you are indeed bad while the others are good. “I didn’t notice. I have one just like this, but he’s dressed. I thought I’d pulled out that one. I’m sorry.”

But you’re not scandalized by it. As a matter of fact, you like the little Christmas man—there’s something oddly comforting about his own comfort in his sexuality, smiling as gleefully as he is. What you said was a stupid joke, one that shouldn’t have left your mouth.

“No, I don’t mind. It’s fine. It was just a joke,” you say, hurriedly, sweeping your eyes over his in the same pace whilst he remains calmly staring at you, a steady stream of thoughts filtering through those features of his that you wish you knew the contents of.

You always said you’d die for knowledge, and right now you’d die to discover what he’s thinking about, looking at you the way that he is.

He flattens his lips. “I’ll make you another one.”

He turns around and you yelp your disagreement, cupping your hands around his. And the greater intimacy of this physical contact consumes you whole.

The heat grows, your spine wet with perspiration. Jeongguk swivels his head back, the shorter pieces of his hair swooshing past his forehead, landing on those pretty, pretty eyelashes. And it’s his turn to part his mouth, for blush to creep up his pale cheeks, and your heart—it melts.

You’ve never held hands with a boy before. And right now, you’ve come very close to doing it. In fact, the tender grip bears the resemblance of hand holding and you can’t take it.

A pained, indistinct pout quivers on your lips. A characteristic expression of yours, which conveys that something has hurt you. Your mother would give you a hard time because of it and that’s how you learned that you do it. That’s how you learned how to fleetly hide it, too.

This is the closest you’ll ever get.

Tears rush to your waterline. You blink it away, stretching your lips into a little, neutral smile. The scent of cinnamon and cloves from the tea hits your nostrils and from the edges of your palms, you feel how hot the cup really is. It sobers you up quite rapidly.

“It’s hot, set it down,” you breathe and don’t let go of his hands until Jeongguk complies, the pensiveness back to shadowing his face, but he’s not unapproachable, not at all. The entirety of his dispirited and contrite aura is welcoming, pastel blue instead of that grayish undertone, and he looks at you as if you held the entire world in your palms and he was content with just being near it, silently hoping you show him grace and give it to him.

But that’s not you. You’re too small to cup this world. Too stupid, too unfledged.

It’s him who’s flown around it, deeply acknowledged with it. Who’s smart, who’s a full-fledged bird, unlimited and unhindered.

It’s you who should be looking at him like that and drinking from his vulgar cup.

And you shall.

“I’ll drink it, it’s cute.”

He doesn’t trust it, though, and that’s the scar Ka-eun carved into the flesh of his mind. You brush the pads of your fingers across it, however, when you take the scalding cup to your lips, blow on it and take a small, hesitant sip of it. And the wintry taste of cinnamon and cloves, it is the sap to your tree.

You hum in delight, taking another sip, even though the temperature burns the tip of your tongue. You watch as Jeongguk’s brows twitch and as a certain glimmering glint of endearment laced with unbelief fills his eyes with the canvas of stars. He straightens his spine while you swallow, his lungs inhaling and exhaling slowly but surely.

It is a sight to behold, the entirety of his boyish beauty. And you hate that you regard him this way, that your forced visit caused this because you’ll walk out of this door with a longing entwined around your heart.

A longing for him to be yours.

You set the cup down, cradling it in your palms, your sweat clinging to your body. Jeongguk averts his gaze and rubs his chest, roaming his eyes everywhere but on you, landing on the pink vape you placed on the counter before almost-holding his hand.

But he doesn’t take a puff of it. Not this time.

And you want to heal that scar of his even more. Only because he pushed you very close to the things you read in your books and always wanted to experience.

“I think the tea tastes so good because you made it in this cup,” you chirp, tenderly, giving him a genuine smile, one that Jeongguk doesn’t reciprocate. That one corner of his mouth doesn’t lift, the long cleft of his dimple doesn’t appear. Your heart trembles for a brief moment. In a foreign kind of emotion that feels like fear but isn’t because the turmoil in him rages on and you’re useless. Completely and utterly useless in your efforts.

His stare is deadly, marked by the depth of his thoughts.

“Why did you say war happens if you and your brother see each other outside?” he asks, his tone low and grumbling.

A frightening question. Because no one has ever asked you that. Because you’ve never had the chance to answer such an intimate, personal question. Because no one has ever cared about your home situation.

The trembling of your heart reaches your entire body and you hide your hands behind your back. Lament that you can’t cradle the cup. Lament that you can’t drink it and postpone your response. Lament that you don’t have a normal life. One worth talking about happily, that is.

You don’t know what to say. How to begin, how to string the words together in a way that he would understand. And it’s not that you fear that he will judge you; it’s that you fear that the way he looks at you, regards you will forever change.

You were never the cool girl and you never were the weird girl, either. Somewhere in the middle you stand, solitary and detached, regardless.

You open your mouth, willing the words to spring out of you on their own, without any careful thoughts to cover them.

“Yoongi wants me to live a life that doesn’t look like this,” you start, mirroring his tone, unable to look him in the eye. You sense the demons of your guilt and your ungratefulness cornering you, coming closer and closer—and you can’t walk away, you can only speak.

Jeongguk, however, is quick and curt with his following question.

“Like what?”

The pearls of your perspiration thicken on the planes of your throat, which constricts. You blink, thinking that you don’t wish to offend him with any formulation of your sentences. So you go around it, hoping he understands. The demons inch closer—and you can’t breathe.

Jeongguk doesn’t blink, focused intently as he is on the emotions written on your form. It creates a delicate, yet protective ring around you that keeps the demons outside. And he lessens your strange fear owing to that.

“He wants me to focus on school and focus on my dream while he takes care of everything else. It was a deal he made between us. I study, he works. Nothing else,” you continue, and Jeongguk bites his lip, nodding in understanding as he glides his eyes down your face to your sweat-coated neck. For some reason, that little act of his acknowledgement dispels those demons—and you no longer feel guilty, you no longer feel ungrateful because Jeongguk validated those emotions, didn’t scrunch his nose at them. And that heals, little by little, your wounded, flightless bird wings.

“What does your dream look like?” he asks once again, and you wonder at the formulation of his question. It’s not what’s your dream; he’s asking for a description of the biggest mystery of your life.

And you chuckle, humorlessly. Jeongguk flicks his gaze back to your eyes, seemingly not knowing what to expect.

“That’s the thing,” you say. “I don’t know what it looks like, and Yoongi doesn’t know either.”

The roundness of his eyelids spasms, as if the truth you just uttered irks him. The validation grows and buds of blossoms sprout open, in the middle of this sunless winter, upon the twigs of the tree within you.

“He doesn’t know what your dream is and yet he decided how you should live,” Jeongguk scoffs, shaking his head, and you marvel at the light bursting in your sternum. It is the sun to your growth, to your tree’s growth.

A moment of bliss that is too brief, for you begin to sense an uncompromising responsibility to stand up for your brother. He means well—he’s doing it out of the love and kindness of his heart as the root of this declared problem is literature.

And literature is your life. It’s all you know.

You begin to say these words, but Jeongguk interrupts you.

“I understand, but you need to live a life that you want to live,” he rasps, standing taller than he was a minute ago, greater and powerful than he ever was. That confident and assured he is in his opinion and you gawk at him as if he were a cult leader, about to change the course of your life. Maybe, just maybe, the cinnamon tea was the kool aid—and you want to drink again, but you’re ashamed of the trembling of your hands. “And if you feel like you’re indebted to him, you shouldn’t. You’re an adult. It’s your life, it’s not his just because he’s older.”

Your throat dries and you risk it all, enveloping your fingers around the cup. Jeongguk’s all seeing eye notices your movement and his powerfulness drops. He sighs, rubbing his eyes.

Bare, bare you are all for him to see. For anyone for the first time in your life—and at this point, you don’t even know how it makes you feel.

Where light and so many emotions were inside you, emptiness falls like fine dust. You’re reminded of that one sentence in White Nights and, quietly, you reflect on it while your fingers tremble on.

My God, a moment of bliss. Why isn’t that enough for a whole lifetime?

Jeongguk makes space, like the ring of protection he created around you, by taking a few steps back and leaning against the counter. He crosses his arms over his chest and simply looks at you, reads your body language, and lingers at your hands. At the fact you don’t drink. At the fact you don’t speak. At the fact that nothing will ever be the same after this conversation.

When he asks his last question, he softens his voice. His demeanor, too. Allows his arms to plummet down to his sides. Sags against the counter.

“He doesn’t know we’re friends, does he?”

Something that resembles a cry leaves your mouth and you’re so shocked by the freedom of your emotions that your hand leaps to cup your mouth, as if to hold back any more outpouring. That is your reaction.

Jeongguk’s is more earth-shattering.

By his instinct, he lengthens his spine and his hand… his beautiful, strong and veiny hand jerks towards your direction, as if to catch your hand, prevent it from hiding your outpouring—or as if to catch your outpouring alone.

And it is so heartbreaking to you that you mutter the first thing that comes to your mind and run away.

And you don’t realize where you are until you get a glimpse of yourself in the mirror. A mascara tear stains your cheek in blackness, and the smallness of the bathroom encloses around you.

You want to wash it away. Feel like the decision is yours to make, a right one at that. Feel like it’s the first step in the new way Jeongguk bestowed over your life by his wise words. And so you undress.

And you don’t lock the door.

And you don’t hear your phone ringing ten minutes later.

𓂃 ౨ৎ LOVE-KISSED BABIES: @jjk7k , @tkslovechild , @euphoricmyth, @cinmmongirl , @ririkookiemonster , @perfectiondazesworld , @https-mei , @bangtansonyeondanue , @jungkoock , @cinmmongirl, @hoseokkie-caeks , @kam9404 , @fr0ggieth1nk , @parkinglot-nights

BACK to masterlist | BACK to series masterlist

268 notes · View notes

jedi-luca · 9 months ago

Text

What if...Y/N Cheats?

Summary: A What if spin off of Avenger Lane.

Parings: Natasha Romanoff x Top!Reader

Warnings: Drugs, Cheating, Reader has a Penis, basically smut

A/N: Just a little something for the wait of Avenger Lane Ch. 13.

(Has nothing to do with 'What if... we live a perfect life.)

It’s your birthday night

“Hey I was wondering where you went off too.” Natasha smiled seeing you in the kitchen.”

“Just needed a breather.” You muttered vaping your weed pen.

“Sure it wasn’t because Rachel is singing with Quinn?” The redhead kinked her brow.

“…No.” You muttered drinking the rest of your drink. You were crossfaded and ready to get shit faced.

“Hmhm.” She chuckled sitting on the counter where you were leaning.

You grinned looking down at her dress covered legs.

“I got you something.” She said softly, taking it out of her pocket.

“Whhhat? You shouldn’t have.” You chuckled, taking the small box in your hand. You opened it and took out a necklace with the names of your daughters on it.

“If you look through the top you’ll see them.” She smiled watching your jaw drop. You could see a picture of you and your little girls from the time you were in Natasha’s pool.

“Nat this is… thank you. I love it.” You chuckled, hugging her tightly against you. “It’s a really thoughtful and sweet gift. I love it.” You blushed, handing her the necklace to place on you. She leaned in, unclasping the hook before placing it on you and leaning back again.

“You’re welcome.” She said softly, you were both close and you don’t know if it’s her scent or being crossfaded but you have an urge to take her. God, you get so horny when you drink. Her arms are still loosely hanging around your neck. You’re so close between her legs she can feel your bulge growing she leans in lightly kissing your cheek. “Happy birthday.”

“Where is Bruce?” You ask softly, stepping closer feeling her legs nudge you closer.

Natasha shrugs, she doesn’t have the energy to lie, not when she’s buzzed and can smell your scent.

“He doesn’t deserve you Nat.” You say boldly caress her cheek.

She’s just going to tell you. Tell you her marriage is a sham, and tell you that Quinn is the one that doesn’t deserve you. The words are on the edge of her lips when you start leaning closer “Y/N-” She husks arching her back ever so lightly to lighten the ache between her legs.

“You deserve so much better.” You say softly.

“The same could be said for you.” She whispers her hands now cupping our cheeks. You both hold eye contact as your hands hook beneath her legs bringing her close against you.

“Nat.” Her name slips from your lips feeling her nose rub against yours. It’s such a small thing that ignites the fire in your belly. You feel your cock throb as the blood rushes down.

Her lips touch yours letting the fire spread. You both moan finally unleashing your emotions that have been lingering for too long.

Her legs hook around you and suddenly her hands are reaching for your belt and yours reach below her dress dragging her soaked panties down and shoving them in your pocket.

She takes your meat in her hand gently tugging you. You break the kiss bringing her closer by the hips feeling her rubbing against your hard cock.

She sighs and you groan feeling her hot juices against your cock. “Y/N!” She husks feeling your tongue against her neck. “I’ve wanted this for so long!” She husks pushing you inside.

“Oh my God… oh Natasha oh fuck!” You moan as the toe of your shoes bang against the bottoms of the cabinets. You pivot your hips hitting her spot.

“Ohhh!” Natasha’s mouth opens with a loud moan as she pulls you closer feeling you deep inside her womb.

The cabinets bang as you thrust harder and harder. She pushes your shirt up to feel your skin.

“I wanna feel your body against mine so bad.” She husks. You shove her dress was far up as you can hold her against you. You can feel her meeting your thrusts.

“Fuck I can’t hold on much longer.” You moan feeling her hard nipples and soft skin against yours. “I’m sorry you just feel so fucking good.”

“Oh baby I’m gonna cum it’s been a really really long time.”

“Good cause I can’t hold on im gonna… I gotta-“ you tried to pull out but she kept you there and you exploded. “Ohhhh!” You groan feeling the coil inside of you spring to life. Emptying your seed deep inside of her.

“Fuuuck!” She moans her pussy twitching, milking you for all your worth.

You're both panting as you come down from your high. “Fuck.” You breathe out remembering your wife, the women of your children and the one who threw this party for you is right outside. You let go of Nat laying a hand against the top cabinet. “Fuck.” You say again before looking up.

Natasha feels her heart fall and you look disappointed. She can’t tell if you regret it because you're married or if you regret it because you’re not into her.

“Hey.” She says lifting your chin.

Your eyes are Wild.

“Kiss me.”

She leans in taking your lips once more. Your breathing is still heavy from having hot sex against your kitchen counter.

You both are silent as you break the kiss. Your cock is still inside of her. You gently pull out grabbing paper towels you wipe your cum that seeps out of her pussy. You have half a mind to clean her with your tongue but the whole you debate the idea. There are voices right outside asking where you are.

You stuff your cock back in your jeans and Natasha steals one last kiss from you. “Hmm.” You hum squeezing her close and breaking when the back door opens.

Natasha purses her lips gripping the counter as you take a few steps back.

“Hey there you are, come on Quinn’s looking for you.” Mike grins, gripping your shoulders as he pushes you along outside.

Your birthday night was the start of a torrid love affair.

The next time you and Natasha fuck is the day after your birthday. You spent the next day thinking about what you did. You were racked with guilt in the beginning but as time wore on that day all you could think about was the way her velvet walls felt against your cock. The sound of her moans and groans as you stretched her out.

You were bricked and needed her to help you. Quinn sadly thought it was for her.

“You are insatiable. Don’t worry, I'll take care of you tonight.” She husked winking at you as she continued on with dinner.

That night your wife sucked on your cock in a way that used to have you coming in minutes. You tried to focus on her hazel eyes as she choked on your staff, but your mind would pan to Natasha. You wanted her so bad you feel the way your body aches for her. Quinn rode you like a cowgirl and still all you could think about was the way Natasha’s body would arch into yours. You wondered how’d she taste, and how wonderful she would feel writhing on top of you.

You pictured her and came with a grunt.

You satisfied Quinn as she was getting tired of being the only one to have orgasmed so many times.

The next day Quinn went to work and took Beth to school. You went straight to Wanda with Fin.

“Do you mind watching her for a bit? I need to do something real quick.”

“Oh of course.” Wanda nodded, taking your daughter. “Thank you, I'll be back.”

As soon as Wanda shut the door you ran towards Natasha’s. You banged on her door leaning both hands on the panels of her door breathing heavily as your heart thumped against your chest. You shouldn’t be here. You shouldn’t be doing this, but you couldn’t fight it anymore. You wanted her so bad you just had to have her again.

“Y/N.” She said eyes widening as she opened the door.

You don’t say a word, you just bring her in your arms kissing her as passionately as you did the day before yesterday.

“Hmm.” She hummed, slamming the door shut. You lift her up and pin her against the door.

“I can’t stop thinking about you.” You muttered as you both gasped for air.

“You haven’t left my mind. I thought you regretted it.” Natasha’s chest heaved.

“I don’t.” You shook your head leaning in to kiss her lips softly this time.

“Take us upstairs.”

You nod, kissing her once more before running up the stairs.

“Left.” she mumbles taking a break from kissing your chest.

You hang a left and rush through the door plopping both of you on her bed.

“Hmmm take it off.” She husks pushing against you.

You both shed your clothes quickly, unable to contain the sexual energy you both feel radiating around you.

“God you’re so fucking beautiful.” You say biting your lips as you look down at her porcelain body.

“I’ve wanted this for so long.” She says bringing you down by the necklace she got you.

“I’m here now baby, daddy’s here. I’m gonna take care of that ache between these delicious legs.” You say laying between her legs.

She moans at the sight of you so close to licking her pussy. She thrusts her hips up tangling her fingers in your hair. “Please!” She begs. “Please fuck me daddy. I need you so badly.”

You pin her legs down, and inhale deeply before feasting on her sweet tangy pussy. “Fuck you taste so good!” You mutter. Your tongue is flicking her bundle of nerves so perfectly. She takes your hands placing them on her breast moaning as you massage both.

Your lapping her up and her body is twitching against you she’s getting closer.

“I need you daddy.” She shakes her head. “I need you to stretch me out in the best fucking way!”

“I wanna keep tasting you.” You smirk hearing her whine.

“Please daddy! Please fuck me right. Please Y/N fuck me into this mattress!” She pulls you up and you lay between her legs humping into her as your teeth clash in a battle for dominance.

Her nails scratch your back as you slip right into her. “Ohhhh!” Her body tenses tightly around you as she moans. “Ohhhh fuck!” she sobs feeling you slam into her your abs rubbing against her taunt stomach.

“You feel so fucking good baby.” You groan. “You’re taking me so well.” You lift yourself up so you could see the way her tits jiggle with every thrust into her. You let one hand go around her breast, flicking her nipple and the other rubbing her clit.

“Oh Natasha! Oh baby, you look so good with my dick inside of you. Look at that bulge baby! You’re such a good girl taking all of me like this.”

The redhead moans reaching for your neck but you pull back and pull out.

You flip her over and she groans as you sit on the back of her thighs lifting her ass up. You lean down licking her tight little asshole as your fingers play with her pussy. She moans drooling against her pillow. “Ohhh fuck!” She sounds muffled against the pillow.

You slap her ass cheeks before slapping your cock against her puffy pussy. “You want my cock baby?”

“Yesss!” She screams into the pillow. “Please daddy!”

You smirk, pushing your thick long cock inside of her..

“Oh Y/N you feel so good daddy! So good!” She moans wiggling her ass against you.

“Hmm you feel good too Angel. I haven’t stopped thinking about you. The way you sound. The way you feel. My God Natasha I’m so addicted to you already. All I want is you.”

Natasha made sounds that would put a porn star to shame. She pushed into you using her elbows to arch her back. You help her up against your body. “Oh detka.” She moaned against your lips. “I’ve wanted you for so long.”

You push in deeper then out then back in as deep as you can getting a guttural moan from her lips.

“That’s it baby you can take it. You can take this dick can’t you?”

“Yes daddy! Yes! I love your big cock so fucking much!”

“This is the best pussy I’ve ever had. The fucking best.” You say cumming deep inside of her. “Ohhh fuuuck!”

She can feel the air from her lungs rush out feeling your heavy muscled body against hers. You grunt in her ear before rolling off of her. She pants lifting herself up and rolling on her back. “Fuck that was so good baby.” She pants before looking over at you. Your cock is still rock hard and your looking at her like you never have before.

You reach out for her, bringing her on top of you.

“I’m still aching for you Natasha.” You say pushing her hair back before bringing her in a kiss.

“Then let me take care of it.” She smirked against your lips.

She makes her way down bringing your twitching cock in her mouth.

“Oh my- oh your mouth is amazing.” You breathed out feeling your toes curl. Her eyes never leave yours as chokes down your length.

“Fuuuck baby that’s enough I don’t wanna cum yet.” You groaned.

“Can I ride you now daddy?” She straddles you, rubbing her pussy against your length as you grope her breasts.

“Of course baby…That’s it princess rub yourself against daddy.”

Her eyes start to flutter close as she picks up her pace. She’s rocking against your throbbing cock as she falls against you kissing you.

“Hmmm!” You hum gripping her ass cheeks. “Fuuuck your ass is so perfect baby.”

Natasha reaches below angling her pelvis as before sinking against your cock.

You both hiss at the heat between your legs and she starts to rock slowly.

“That’s it, baby ride me.” You husk before she bites your lip.

“So good this dick is so fucking good. You’re so thick and long I can feel you stretching me out daddy.” Her pace starts to pick up and soon she’s bouncing on your cock. She loved watching how your body reacted to hers.

“Your pussy is choking and stroking me in the best fucking way.” You grunt.

“Ohhh Y/N!” She cries out steadying herself with both arms as she rocks as fast as she can. She gasps and gasps for air as she cums around your meat once again.

“That’s it baby take it and keep cuming on daddy.” You lift her up with ease before thrusting up inside of her faster and harder than she could do herself.

“Oh yesss! Oh fuck yesss daddy just like that don’t stop! Don’t stop fucking me!” She moans against your ear.

“Fuuuuck this you feel so good I’m about to cum… cum with me?” You ask and she nods quickly. Looking into her eyes you cum hard with her.

You both twitch in each others arms. “That was so damn good better than good it was fucking fireworks and shooting stars my God.” You pant feeling her kissing your neck before trailing up towards your lips languishly kissing as she tangles your legs.

She moans feeling you hump inside of her gently letting her ride out her high still.

She sighs against your chest her finger nails dragging softly against your abdomen.

“I could wash my clothes with these abs.” She smirks against your skin before repositioning her head to see you better.

“You can use them any time you want, angel.” You chuckled letting your one hand thread your fingers in her red tresses and the other graze her skin on her back.

You both lay in pure bliss not wanting it to end.

Her hair curtains around you as she kisses you softly. Your hand palming her perfectly sculpted ass.

“How is it that you are so beautiful, sexy, cute, and a naughty little good girl all at once?” You ask, breaking the kiss. She blushes looking away. You gently move her chin towards you.

“To lure you in my arms of course.” She smirked, kissing you once more.

“I have to go and pick up Fin from Wanda’s soon. Wanna join us for lunch? I’ll cook for you.” You ask, pushing a lock behind her ear.

Natasha whined into your neck. “I don’t want this to end yet.”

“Hey come on it doesn’t have to-“

“I want you to keep fucking me all day long.” She hums humping you.

“Hmm.” You hum at the feel of her tight walls.

“Please daddy one more time?”

You roll over on top of her fitting right between her legs. You slowly start to thrust into her.

“Dadddy! Oh Y/N.” She moans pulling you down against her body.

You take in the way she feels around you, and the way she looks blissfully full.

“You're so beautiful, Nat, you're gorgeous. I’ve never seen a woman like you.”

She was falling so hard for you. She just hoped you would catch her.

“Maybe we could go somewhere? Get out of town and not out of bed.”

The redhead smiled, kissing you softly. “I’ll go anywhere with you.”

You sighed digging your face into her neck sucking and nibbling as the pace of your thrusts increased.

“Oh baby.” Natasha groaned, feeling you twitch inside of her as you kiss her spot.

“I can’t believe we’re doing this.” You sighed.

“I’ve wanted you from the moment I saw you moving in. The way your muscles flexed. The way you smiled at me.”

You kiss her pushing yourself deeper and deeper.

“Especially when I caught you fucking your wife.”

“Wait what?” You chuckled pulling back and pausing your movements causing her to whine.

“Keep going don’t stop and I’ll tell you more.”

You chuckled darkly doing as she told you.

“Oh fuck yes babbbby.”

“Tell me more.”

“I saw how big you were and the way you’d fuck her. I would imagine it was me and touch myself with my toy.”

“My naughty girl.” You grinned kissing her once more.

“I’d wake up early just to watch you run so I could see the way your big dick would bounce in your shorts.”

“I saw you once. You had just gotten out of the shower your blinds were wide open. You bent over and all I wanted to do was show you how good I can be instead of your husband. I got in the shower and thought of you as I jacked off.”

“You thought of me?”

“Yes baby.”

“Oh my-“ Natasha moaned as she came around your cock.

“Give me two more baby.” You say picking up your pace.

“I’ll give you anything daddy.” She sobbed, feeling herself cum again almost too quickly..

“Shit that’s it love.” You both rolled around in bed until you finally pulled out, and turned her against you lifting up her leg from behind. You let your thick soldier enter her once more. She turned her head meeting your lips moaning at the way you felt around her body.

“Oh Y/N you make me feel so fucking good.”

“Yeah?”

“Hmhm.”

You leaned in kissing her before moving to her spine to her shoulders to her neck.

“I’m close, sweetheart.”

“Me too daddy.”

“Ladies first.” You whispered.

“Same time.” She shook her head.

“Okay Angel just tell daddy when.”

“Keep thrusting daddy just a few more.” She moaned as your hand explored her curves.

“You are the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen in my life. You’re so fuckin pure like an Angel.”

Her arm went back letting her hand scratch your scalp.

“I feel the same about you Y/N. I want you to fuck me like this every day.”

“Anything. I’ll do anything for you.”

“Come with me daddy.” She husked moaning against your mouth as you thrusted so hard you had to wrap both arm around her to keep her from flying away from you.

The moans and pants filled the room as your cum shot deep inside of her.

You curled into her kissing up from her arms to her neck and cheek.

“I love you.” She so desperately wants to say.

You’re both covered in sweat. Normally you’d want to cool off on your side of the bed but now you didn’t care. Truthfully you wanted to go again, but you know you really need to get Finley.

You both looked down at your combined juices seeped out of her tight little pussy.

She pulled you in a kiss slowly tasting your tongue.

“You’re so fucking perfect.” She husked. “Better than I imagined. I wasn’t lying about fucking you every day. I can’t go back to not having you at all.”

“I’m yours Angel I’m all yours.” You whispered, caressing her cheek.

You hold her for a while until you notice her sleeping. You eventually pull out and get up to clean her up a bit. You gently wipe between her thighs and get dressed.

“I don’t want you to go.” She says softly, startling you.

“Let me get my daughter and I’ll make you both lunch.” You smile.

She nods, sitting up.

You kiss her one more time after putting your shoes on. “I’ll see you in a few.” You smile before heading downstairs and out the door.

⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗

“Natty!” Finley squealed.

“Hi Finny!” She smiled brightly lifting up your toddler as she babbled away.

“Papa look! Natty.”

You grinned, throwing your cooking towel over your shoulder. “Hey Natty.”

“Hey daddy.” She smirked, biting her lip. She desperately wanted to kiss you.

“No Natty, that's my papa.”

“You don’t want to share.”

“I share with Bethy.” She shook her head causing Natasha to let out her melodic laugh.

After lunch you watch Natasha teach Fin ballet and until its nap time for Fin.

“She fell asleep while we were doing a bit of yoga.” Nat whispered, holding your daughter up.

“I noticed.” You grinned as you led her upstairs to put Fin in her bed.

You were both walking back downstairs when you held her from behind. “You look so beautiful when you dance.” Your hands ran down her hips.

She hummed in response pushing her butt into you. “You’re so hard for me.”

“I couldn’t hold it anymore.”

She wrapped her hand behind your neck bringing you down in a kiss. “Think we have time?”

“We can make time.” You nod in response.

“Take me baby.” she husked.

You push your joggers down letting your member spring to life as she pushes her tights down. You shuffle over behind the sofa letting her hold on to something as you begin to rub her pussy with your fingers.

“Oh baby.” She sighs. “I love the way you touch me.”

“I love the way you feel and the way you make me feel.” You breathe her in as she pumps your meat.

“I’m ready for you daddy.” She bites your ear as you push inside of her.

You both quietly groan at the feel of each other.

Natasha bends over the sofa stretching her back but you pull her back up using one arm around her tight little waist and the other raised up to wrap your hand around her neck feeling her nipple against your forearm. She practically melts in your arms as you thrust your hips.

“How is it each time feels like the first time in the best way possible?” She mutters.

“It's the way we make eachother feel.” you admit.

“Fuck.” she bites her palm as she meets your rhythm.

“Natasha.” You husk against her neck. You wanna say those three little words so badly. You’re in love with her. You just need to tell your wife. You have to tell her it's over. You snap out of your thoughts as she brings you back in a sloppy kiss. You’re both growing closer and closer with each short stroke.

“Ohh Y/N.” She bites back her moan. “Just like that.” She mutters feeling her eyes roll back. “Cum with me.”

You grunt, squeezing her tightly as you cum inside of her. You kiss her neck before moving to her lips with a heavy sigh.

Natasha looks at the clock and feels her heart tighten. Quinn and Beth should be home in a little over an hour. She knows it's time for her to leave. She desperately wants to ask you what this all means, but she's scared it will only make you want to stop whatever this relationship is.

“What's wrong angel?” you ask as she pushes away from you lightly.

She refuses to speak instead she points at the clock heading to the bathroom to clean up.

You anxiously wait outside wondering if she wants to stop this thing between the two of you when you hear the door open.

“Nat-”

“Don’t make this harder for me Y/N.” She whispers walking towards the door.

“Baby.” You say bring her against you.

“Y/N.” She says against your chest.

“I’ll see you tomorrow night right? At Thors?”

She nods and you kiss her softly and leave another kiss against her forehead before letting her go.

Halloween Party at Thors

After finding you out back and sitting on your lap at the behest of Carol and Val of course.

Natasha could feel how hard you were and would wiggle her ass against you when the gang would look away.

You took her hand under your jacket, setting it on your cock. She rubbed you slowly.

“Fuck I’m so hard for you baby.” You muttered near her ear. “You look so fucking good in this catsuit. I gotta have you now.”

“Meet me in Thors bathroom upstairs.” She muttered before getting off your lap and leaving behind your jacket to cover your hard on.

“How ya doing Y/L/N?” Val smirked.

“I gotta take a piss.” You muttered walking back inside with your jacket.

“Oh they’re totally fucking.” Val muttered in her wifes ear.

“I can only imagine the steam coming off their hot bodies.”

“Call it a night and-”

“Yes.” Carol quickly said, pulling her wife up and out of the party without as much of a goodbye.

You watched as Quinn talked to Christine so you made a beeline for Thor’s bathroom upstairs.

“I told you Nat hasn’t stopped hooking up with Y/N.” Wanda huffed looking around.

“Maybe Y/N will tell Quinn and let her go?”

“I hope so.”

Meanwhile upstairs

You knocked and Nat opened the door bringing you in. Your lips and teeth met with a clash.

“You look so fucking good in this cat suit.” You squeezed her ass, slapping it with both hands.

“I knew you’d love it.” Nat smirked pushing you back a bit before dropping to her knees.

You watched with hooded eyes as she licked your second head. Your hand wrapped around her tresses just as she began bobbing her head.

“Fuuuuck!” You groaned, you gently guided her all the way down your length hearing her gag a bit.

“Like this daddy?” Her voice was muffled.

“Don’t talk with your mouth full baby.” You smirked and her eyes darkened and she let out a muffled giggle. “Your mouth baby those lips… fuck.” You sighed holding on to the sink.

You watched as she worshiped your cock sucking the life out of you, and occasionally licking you up and down so slowly you’d twitch in her hand.

“Daddy will you lick me now? I’m so wet and sticky for you.”

“Fuuuuck yes come here baby.”

You lifted her onto the bathroom cabinet. Kissing her passionately before lowering her zipper letting your tongue lick all the way down her body. You slid her tiny little black thong out of the way feeling her tangy juices run down your tongue.

“Ohhhh fuck daddy your tongue is so good.”

“Hmmm.” You hummed burrowing a little bit deeper letting her legs drape over your shoulders.

She moaned humping into your mouth. “Oh daddy!”

You hummed in response, lapping her sweet juices up. You could go down on her for hours if you could. You could feel her fingers grazing our hair.

You began spelling out different things against her clit to make her jolt.

“Daddy.” She giggled, bringing your hands up to her breast. And the other she sucked on your thumb.

You began swiping your tongue just right she was like a fire hydrant ready to burst.

“Fuuuuck daddy right there… don’t stop, I'm so close! Ohhhh dadddddy!” She began humping your face, squeezing your hands against her as she came undone. She gasped for breath as you stood back up.

She licked herself off of you feeling your cock teasing her slit. You took her hand placing it on your member. “Slowly daddy.” She whined, inserting your tip causing you to hiss at her heat.

You barely push in before pulling out. Repeating it a few times hearing her mewing against your neck. “You’re so sexy Nat. Sometimes I can’t believe I’m here with you.”

She opened her eyes and brought your hand up from her chest to around her neck. “I love being your dirty little secret.”

“Oh my gosh.” You groaned, plunging yourself deeper and deeper.

“I love being your toy daddy. Fuck I love it so much.” She gasps at the feel of your hand.

You began thrusting into her at an alarming rate. Her moans grow so loud you cover her mouth to muffle the sound. Even though the bass of the music is loud you still don’t want to be caught.

“That’s it baby girl you’re taking me so well.” You moan seeing the tears in her eyes. You loosen your grip and let go but she keeps you there shaking her head. “I wish I had all night with you. I wanna keep going. I wanna feel you riding me like a cowgirl.”

She moaned, eyes rolling back as she came undone. You let go of her kissing her lazily as you thrust slowly. “Fuuuck I’m gonna cum soon.” She pushes you back getting on her knees.

“Fuck my mouth daddy. Fuck it how you please.” She brought you against her lips before opening wide.

She gripped your ass as you moaned, pushing deeper and deeper down her throat.

She gagged and you muttered. “Just a few more thrusts baby. Fuck your mouth feels sooooo good.” You tense feeling your cock twitch you give a few short thrusts before cumming in her mouth. “Ohhhh fuck that’s so good.”

You pulled and she stuck out her tongue showing you the thick cum that trailed down her tongue into her throat before she swallowed. You help her up before pulling her close against you.

“You're perfect.” You whisper, laying your forehead against hers.

“So are you detka.” She kisses you.

“We should probably get back down there.” You sigh.

“You should wash your face first you smell like me.” Natasha smirks.

You grin before doing as you were told. You bring her back against your chest.

“You go first.” She says against your chest.

You squeeze her one more time before kissing her lips and walking out the door.

You both inhale realizing the situation of it all. You’ve both been fucking behind Quinn’s back for the last month. Nat is all you think about. She’s all you want. You knew it was time to get a divorce lawyer.

Natasha turns and washes her hands and mouth.

You walk down the stairs and see Quinn laughing along with Christine. She definitely didn’t notice your absence. You grab a drink and watch Natasha follow suit.

A few days later at the fair

You look around making sure your daughter Beth is distracted. You lean in kissing Natasha softly. She squeezes your hand before breaking the kiss afraid Beth will see.

“This is almost perfect.” She says softly.

“Almost.” You agreed.

“Sing to me Paolo.” She smirks.

“I'll touch that fire for you

I do that three, four times again, I testify for you, I told that lie, I'd kill that bitch, I do what all of them around you scared to do, I'm not.

Long as you juggin' out here for me, I got it.

Mobbin', schemin', lootin', hide your bodies

Long as you dreamin' 'bout me, ain't no problem

I don't got nobody, just with you right now

Tell the truth, I look better under you

I can't lose when I'm with you

How can I snooze and miss the moment?

You just too important

Nobody do body like you do

I can't lose when I'm with you

I can't just snooze and miss the moment

You just too important

Nobody do body like you do, you do”

Natasha briefly checked for Beth’s attention before kissing you softly. You kissed her hand as the Ferris wheel started descending back down.

The rest of the night made Natasha feel like the two of you were together with a little family. It made her ready to finally tell you everything you deserved to know.

The next morning

“What’s wrong baby?” You ask.

“I can’t keep lying to you, we need to talk.”

“Okay…” you say.

“Y/N there’s some things you should know. One my marriage is a sham. Bruce and I married one another for my citizenship. He wanted to make his ex jealous and I just wanted to stay in the country.”

“Wait, you aren’t in love with him?”

“I never have been… are you mad at me?”

“No of course not I’m just confused as to why you never said anything I wouldn’t have told anyone.” You chuckled.

“I don’t know, I guess I was worried if I said anything you would have told Quinn and she definitely wouldn’t have let you be my friend. That’s not really what I’ve been scared to tell you.”

“Hey you shouldn't ever be scared to say anything to me.”

“Someone stole your chance at MIT, and I’m pregnant.” She word vomited all over you.

“Wait what?! No start over.” You shook your head.

“Tony checked with MIT to see why you got declined and found out you were accepted on a full ride but someone declined it.”

“What?” You said in disbelief.

“Could it have been Quinn?”

“Oh my gosh.” You sat back down in shock you couldn’t believe it. “I-…Yeah it could have been her.” You shake your head before holding it in your hands.

“I’m sorry baby. I’m so sorry.” She said rubbing your back. “You had your career stolen from you.l”

You began crying thinking about how Quinn could have done this to you.

“Oh, Y/N, baby.” Natasha brings you in her arms.

“Did/ Did you just say you’re pregnant?” You sniffled.

“Maybe.” She squeaked.

You looked at her as if to say ‘tell the truth’.

“Yes. I took 3 tests Y/N.”

“Wow. I thought you… couldn’t?”

“I was told all my life I couldn’t.”

“So this is a miracle baby?”

Natasha’s eyes started tearing up as she nodded with pursed lips.

“Nat, that's amazing.” You said softly, bringing her back in a hug.

“You’re not upset?” She asked.

“That you’re pregnant? No of course not that’s no one’s fault it just happened. It’s not our baby’s fault-“ Natasha cut you off kissing you as she straddled you.

“Hmm Nat hun we-“

“Make love to me Y/N.”

“Let me get a divorce first.”

“Wait-“ Natasha looked down looking for any lies.

“We’ve been sneaking around and I’ve sort of been feeling guilty about it. Quinn is the mother of my children even though she is semi evil she still deserves to know, and you deserve someone who isn’t married.”

“Baby.” She whispered softly, kissing your head.

“Natasha I’m in love with you.”

“I love you too!” She smiled leaning down to kiss your lips and her body began rocking. “I’m not sharing you with her anymore.”

“Hmm Nat no baby we should wait.”

“You just told me you love me. I can’t help it if I really want you to make love to me all night long.” She threw her head back arching her back.

“Hmm.” You sighed feeling your cock grow with need. “I want to. Oh fuck you have no idea how bad I wanna worship your body right now. Take my sweet time making this tight little pussy squirt all over daddy.”

“Then do it daddy. Show mommy how much you love her.”

“I can’t believe I got you pregnant.” You chuckled, kissing her lips.

“I’m so happy Y/N.”

“Just let me divorce her and we can finally be together.”

“You can move in here with me. I have rooms for the kids.”

“We might need an extra one for the baby.”

“I can’t believe it’s finally happening.”

Natasha didn’t want to wait. She unzipped your pants, pumping your cock a bit before pushing your inside of her.

“Oh my-” She kissed away your moans as she rode you faster and faster. She was so unbelievably horny for you.

“Oh daddy.” She husked, leaning her forehead against yours.

“Go on baby cum around daddys dick.”

“I love you so much.” She gasped.

“I love you too baby. So damn much.”

She moaned loudly as her hips halted her walls clamping tight around you. “Say it again.” She whines.

“I love you Natasha. I love you so much baby.” You groan as you palm her ass cheeks. “I love you, I love you, I love you and this luscious ass.”

She giggled, kissing you as you quickly laid her down against the sofa. Her legs widen and lock around you. You begin humping into her, feeling your cock twitching as her moaning begins getting louder and louder.

“That’s it my love let go.”

“Fuck me harder daddy.” She groans as you nibble her nape slamming down against her hips harder and harder as her hands grip your ass.

“Oh fuck I’m gonna cum baby.”

“Me too daddy. Keep going!”

You groan as you increase your motion going faster and harder with each stroke.

She locks you in place as she cums around your cock and you groan feeling her walls milk you dry.

“I’m telling her tonight my love I promise.” You pant.

A year later you divorced Quinn and now have a little bundle of joy in the next room with your soon to be wife.

“I can’t wait to marry you.” You sigh, holding Natasha from behind as she looks down at your baby.

“Me either.” She sighed leaning against you.

Finley was happy to have Natasha as a step mom. Beth wasn’t too keen on it but she will with time. As for Quinn, your relationship with her is strictly about the girls. She’s still sad you’re gone and upset that she lost you. But at least now she has Rachel to hold her when she cries.

You’ve never been happier with a great career ahead of you at Stark Industries, two beautiful daughters, a gorgeous wife, and a little baby in her arms.

Like, comment, and reblog 😘

#natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff x you #avengers lane #Natasha Romanoff x Top reader

467 notes · View notes

s4lv4tions · 1 year ago

Text

innocence and the art of losing it;

pairing; kamo choso x fem!reader (modern!au) wc; 1.1k cw; suggestive content, making out, post-makeout clarity, second hand embarrassment ? lol an; no thoughts just loserboy choso. a virgin who's never kissed anyone who literally hands his heart over the second u bat your eyelashes at him :3

Choso kisses you once — drunk, high, more teeth than lips — in the wish-wash strobe lights of a college house party, and is thrust face-first into obsession.

It’s his first kiss. Yes, he's 22, and his first kiss is a sloppy, intoxicated mess, and he doesn't care. He’s covered in glitter from when someone had thrown a glitter-bomb at the wall above his head, sweating off his eyeliner and face paint, delirious enough to wonder whether his cup is still in his hand or not. But you’re real. Firm and sweet-smelling and voice husky when you bow your head towards him, just as drunk as he is but wearing it far better. Dark kohl lines your eyes, lashes big and dramatic. The kiss is messy and bitter with the lingering taste of vodka, but he presses himself further into it, cheeks hot and ears hotter.

He doesn’t really remember the rest of the night. He remembers the kiss, and your face, and the untrained, inelegant way his tongue had explored your mouth; he remembers how you’d patted his arm after and told him you were gonna go crash in the bath tub upstairs and try to sober up — extended an invitation to him, too — before you disappeared around the corner. It was an invitation he would’ve taken if not for the sudden tugging on his sleeve.

Mahito — grinning all sleazy at the smear of lipstick on Choso’s face — steadies a blacked-out Jogo against one bony shoulder. He whines something about not wanting to take care of him, and Jogo slurs something else (most likely about Hanami, who he'd never had the courage to ask out, and was now dating a "ripped lifeguard"). They’re annoying at best and assholes at worst, but (begrudgingly) Choso admits they’re his friends. He’s never been able to refuse a friend in need.

He mournfully leaves the party — and you, upstairs, lying in the empty bath with a warm blanket and open arms — to help Jogo regurgitate his guts in Choso's apartment. He sobers up pretty quickly between retches, only left with a passing headache and a deep lethargy; still, when Jogo and Mahito collapse on his pull out couch (fully dressed, might he add), he lays in bed, bloodshot-eyed and blushing. He doesn’t know how he found your Instagram — your name’s not even in your username — but he’s staring at your pretty face and scraping his tongue piercing against the back of his teeth. He shouldn’t be doing either of those things. He’s so fucking tired, but he can’t look away.

An OOTD. A coffee cup and a fancy looking pastry. You and your friends hugging each other at a party, grinning and glitter-eyed. Another of you on your own, at a Halloween party last year — because that’s how far he’s scrolled — dressed as Morticia Addams, dark and sultry and smiling all the while. His heart is thudding so hard in his chest he swears it’ll erupt and splatter over the ceiling.

Fuck. Fuck. It’s the alcohol pooling in his stomach, he’s sure — the alcohol rushing from his head to his, uh, smaller head. The faint synthetic taste of your lipstick and the smell of your perfume — sweet and dizzying, good enough to eat — they cloud his head in the same way those incessant clouds of vape and weed had earlier. He remembers how your long, pointed nails had scraped through his hair and brushed against his scalp, shivers rolling down the hunched length of his spine. The softness of your chest against his. You’d been so funny, made him feel so comfortable where he’d normally shut down and go silent. Fuck.

He scrolls further, fixated on every detail — who’s that man standing just beside you? Why is that girl’s hand so tight on your waist? You were part of the Art Society two years ago, he wonders if you’re not anymore. That same year you visited Vienna in the summer, snapping photos in front of the Hofburg in a dark summer dress. Your jewellery makes your eyes look even more sparkly than they are in real life. He’s about to scroll further, when—

❤️ You liked this post.

“No,” Choso mutters to himself, shooting up in bed. “No, no, no, no—”

He fumbles with his phone — drops it out of his hands and then scurries to pick it up again, dread settling over him like a threadbare blanket. Nope, his brain wasn't playing tricks on him. Shamefully, he unlikes the post and turns his screen off, pressing his palms into his eyes.

A post from two and a half years ago. 30 whole months. And he’d liked it accidentally. His stupid fucking thumbs — and it wasn’t like he could play it cool. Even with unliking it, you’ll see the notification. You’ll know that he was snooping. That he was thinking about you.

Fuck. He shouldn’t have drank so much. He shouldn’t have gone to that party in the first place, he had exams to study for and this wasn't the example he wanted to set for his brothers, but — if he hadn’t, he wouldn’t have kissed you. And he’d liked it. A lot. He liked you.

Choso stares at his home screen — his brothers and him, all huddled up at one of the tables of their favourite restaurant, taken before he’d left for college. Big grins and glassy eyes and Choso steels himself. If this happened to one of his little brothers, he knows what he’d tell them — to not think too deeply on it, and that everyone makes mistakes. That it’s not the end of the world no matter how much it feels like it. He has to make mistakes so his brothers don't — and how can he preach emotional maturity if he can’t follow through on it himself? Especially over something as small as an Instagram like.

So Choso sets his phone aside and ignores the half-hard problem in his pants, shutting his eyes with a little more force than necessary. He’s going to sleep. He’ll be able to think — and have a cold, cold shower — in the morning. Everything will be fine. You probably won't even notice, who is he kidding. He's sure you get a gazillion likes every day — surely his will be lost in it all.

(Except the morning comes with an Instagram notification that pulls his heart into his throat.

[01:22] stxrgxrl: like what u see? :p

Fuck emotional maturity. Choso’s gonna be sick.)

#choso x reader #choso x you #jjk x reader #jjk x you #choso smut #choso fluff #jjk smut #jjk fluff #jjk drabbles #jjk fic #anime x reader #anime fic

687 notes · View notes

crystallinesilk · 6 months ago

Text

✧ “My Precious Lightweight…”✧

Synopsis: After a trip to the laundromat, Choso and his girlfriend [you!] settle on the couch. You previously discovered your misplaced THC vape pen before the wash, and playful teasing turns into an intimate, loving, and intensely passionate encounter as you trade vape hits and become consumed by each other.

Pairings: Choso x f!reader

Content: Explicit content { { MDNI } }, switchy/ lightweight/ possessive Choso, established relationship, post-laundry relaxation, new living arrangements, fluff, teasing, some biting, kissing/ making out, shotgunning THC vape pen, heavy petting, pet names (baby, baby doll, pretty princess, etc.).

Word Count: 2.3k+

Author’s note: This is my first one shot. I’ve been pretty obsessed with Jujutsu Kaisen lately so I hope you guys will enjoy what I think Choso would be like in this specific situation! I love him ,_,

You and Choso bustle around the apartment, sorting out the last bits of laundry before heading to the laundromat. As you shake out one of your hoodies, a small object tumbles out and lands on the floor. You pick it up, realizing it was your long-lost THC vape pen.

"Look what I found!" you exclaimed, holding it up with a triumphant grin, “And it’s still got a lot in it!”

Choso glances over curiously. "What? Where did you find that?”

"Found it in my hoodie! Just in time before it went through the wash," you say. "Want to get a little zooted when we get back?"

“Zooted?” he laughs and then nods while giving you a tentative smile, eyes sparkling with intrigue. "Sure, why not."

✧✧✧

After finishing the laundry, returning home, Choso adamant on not letting you carry the heavy basket, you two come up to the door. “You don’t always gotta be such a sweetheart, you know that, right?”

Choso smirks contentedly and leans in to give your nose a sweet lingering kiss, “I’d do anything for you, my pretty princess.” He kisses your cheek. A sweet loving kiss that seems to everlast.

✧✧✧

As you both walk in, he sets the basket next to the couch arm and plops down. His left arm splayed to make room for you. You set your keys down on the coffee table, toss your sweatpants off and plop down right beside him, cuddling into his large masculine frame. He pulls you closer, his lips brushing against your cheek. His nose– tickling your ear. He kisses your temple firmly and leans his forehead against yours. You both let out a relieved sigh as you press your face into the nook of his neck.

Choso runs his fingers through your hair, “So about that vape pen?” he asks.

You straighten your posture a bit as you fish the pen back out of your short pockets. You held it up again, your excitement palpable. "Ready?"

He nods, watching you intently, curiously, innocently. You took the first hit, savoring the uplifting effects of the hybrid strain. The plumes escape your nostril and his eyes glimmer watching your eyes dilate and your shoulders lax.

Leaning forward, you align your face and cradle your boyfriends’ face in your hands as you kiss him, lingering on his bottom lip. You trace his lip with your tongue, eager for him to taste the herbal citrus of your recent vape hit. He eases his lips into yours and slips his tongue against yours. Velvety smooth and hints of orange citrus saliva intertwine with the sweetness of him..

You pull away, leaving that sloppy saliva strand that you lick back up to give him a more clsoe mouthed, tame kiss. Choso shifts constantly under your kiss and holds back a moan as you ask in a whisper, “Can I shotgun it into your mouth from mine?”

He looks at you hesitantly before a wide smile forms on his sweet pale face, “Of course, my pretty girl.”

He pulls you closer by your waist as you take a heavy pull off the vape. You align his face with yours, kissing him once. He opens his mouth eagerly for you as you exhale the vapor back into his mouth, the intimate shotgunning making him slightly dizzy. His eyes become glossy, a dreamy expression takes over his features, “Oh, ahah–aa Y/n, this is what it feels… like.. huh?” he stammers out.

You dote on him as you plant kisses on his face again. He’s sweetly delirious just from a single hit. You tease him, your lips lingering on his as you playfully nip at his lower lip. "My precious lightweight, already so affected..."

Choso's breath hitches, his body responding to your touch as you palm his already growing hardness. His heart flutters wildly. “Cho… already worked up, huh?”. He tries to murmur back something, but the feeling of his cock twitching underneath your hand leaves him effortlessly docile, hot under his clothes, and too flustered to string together words. He nods, swallowing hard.

You sits more firmly on his sharp hips, dragging back as you begin to kiss and nip down his jawline, finally finding a spot to leave your love bites. Between moments of him squirming and your acute hickies, you ask, “Think you can handle more?”

He shivers, his hands roaming your sides, switching between gentle caresses and needy gropes. "I can handle more than you think," he murmurs, his voice husky with desire and intoxication. His hands starting to wander from his iron grip on your waist.

You coo softly, “I know you can handle more, my sweet Cho", giving his hardness a firm grind between the heat resonating between your legs… He let out a low whine, his need for you intensifying.

His hardness pressed against you through his pants, and you began to grind against him, moving back and forth with deliberate, slow movements. His breath hitched, and his hands found your waist, gripping you as if to anchor himself.

Leaning down, you took another hit from the vape and held it as you looked into his delicate doe eyes. His eyes lock swift yours and he leans in for another shotgunned hit.

Choso complied, his eyes half-lidded and filled with desire. The intimacy of the act makes you both shiver. He deepens the kiss, the shared vapor making your heads spin. He ruts sloppily up against your clothed cunt with a suppressed moan into your mouth.

"You're doing so well, baby," you murmur against his lips, feeling his hips buck more beneath you. "You’re my sweet lightweight, huh?"

Choso groans at your words and his breathing deepens as he stammers out, “Yo–your sweet light weight”. He grips on your waist, suddenly tightening his fingers as they digging into your skin with a possessive need. You huff pushing your ass onto his lap even harder as you lick and kiss up the side of his face, “All fucking mine…”

You pull back, following his hazy glazed eyes of need. His hands snaking from your hips, over your cute tits, to your neck, "And you're mine," he growled softly, his voice a mix of sweetness and feral intensity. "And I.. mm.. w–want all of you, baby"

You felt a thrill at his words, your own desire further heightening– unable to contain yourself. The daze makes your eyes half mooned. They close as you lean against his toned chest, "All yours, Cho," you whisper back, leaving fervent love bites on his chest. He grabs your jawline for a savory kiss reminding you both of how stoned the two of you are– the taste of citrus lingering . Still, his response was immediate, his mouth moving against yours with a sloppy hunger that made your toes curl and his grip slip against the fabric of your shirt.

You continue to grind against him, feeling the friction build between you. His breath hot and heavy as he moved down. In turn, he bites and sucks the divots of your collarbone and shoulders. His need for you evident in every hazy twitch of his cock, and every dizzy whimper that escapes your mouth, you could feel him grow below, “You do things… to.. me.. baby girl..”

You smile slyly as you reach between you, tugging down his pants and boxers just enough to free his hardness. The sight of him, swollen and ready, slapping against his meticulously chiseled abs make your eyes completely mesmerized– your need to touch, lick up and kiss and and and…

With a deep breath, a tight readiness below your stomach, you lean in closer, almost face-to-face with his sleeper of a hardness. Your fingers and palm centimeters away, the heat emanates wildly off him, matching your own fire.

As you reach out to grab his burning hot cock, he smirks deviously and grabs your wrist, “Tsk, tsk, I think we both need a little more…” his voice trails off as you watch him pull the vape pen out again, “don’t you think?”. He smirks as you watch him take a heavier hit than you did before. “Cho– don’t– be careful with that!”

He nods his head– a signal to veer closer. He grabs your chin, his finger trailing the underside of your jaw. You ease against his lips and breath in the sweet citrus. He follows by giving you a sloppy fucking kiss, his tongue eager to fight against yours. The smoke plumes between the subtle empty spaces between your interlocking lips and tongue. Both of you melted in the deliberate kiss– making your hearts zuzz, your minds’ empty, your bodies lost, and your eyes further reddened.

You sat back on to his firm hips, trapping his freed hardness between your wet thighs and soaked panties. Neither of you broke away until you felt the pulsating of his eager member against you. You breathed unsteadily with the feeling. He gasped, barely audible, but his stoned doe eyes looking down in disbelief and then back up to you tells you everything. So eager, so excited, so ready to burst already.

“Y/N, p– please?” Choso sputters out. You reach for both his hands at your waist. Bringing his left to your sacral, making him hook his fingers at the waistband of your panties, and his right hand, a shaking mess, back to enrich his fingertips and palm with your soft tits. He traces over your nipple softly, overwhelmed with the plethora of sensations.

“Slide ‘em to the side f’me, won’t you, Cho?” you says with a breathy, twice as eager moan. His half lidded eyes, opened wide, “You uh–ya sure, baby?”. You nod, your hands wandering down his iliac crest to meet his left hand stammering as he pulls your drenched panties to the side.

Positioning yourself, you slowly guided him into you, the sensation making you both gasp. His eye lids barely closed, the white of his eyes noticeably reddened… You moved with deliberate slowness, wanting to savor every inch as he stifled his moans. His hands gripped your hips, helping to guide you as you take his entirety, barely with ease. Your wetness making it easier, but his size makes you stretch. He lets out an uneven breath as you start to set a steady rhythm.

Choso's breaths were ragged and completely broken, each movement driving him closer to the edge. "You’r— you’re fucking mine," he repeated, his voice trembling with need. "I– I can– never get– enough– of you, my slutty pretty–"

You grinned, leaning down to kiss him deeply. "I– I can’t either, Cho.." you say, your voice filled with affection and sultry desire. You increased the pace slightly, the friction sending waves of pleasure through both of you.

As you rode him, you could feel his body tensing beneath you, his breathy moans filling the room. You slow down each time he seems a little too close to release, edging him and drawing out the pleasure. "You're so fucking responsive," you murmur, your lips grazing his ear. "I love how you react to my touch."

Choso lifts his shakily head from ecstasy, his mouth slightly agape from watching as his cock disappears and reappears covered by your needy pussy with your slick honey. He smiles so fucking wide, quickly changing into dark desire as his hands roam your body, his thumb tracking over your clit, his other hands groping at your plump ass, his touch desperate and reverent. "Please," he begged, his voice barely audible. "I need you."

"I– I need you too, my love," you reply, your movements becoming more urgent. You could feel the pressure building within you, the need for release becoming almost unbearable.

You continue to edge him, the sensation of being so close yet not quite there driving him wild. His moans become more frantic, saying your name, your full name between his sloppy pumps up, his grip on you tightening more and more and more and more and…. "Please," he groans again, his voice evidently breaking. "Baby– girl– I– I can't hold on much longer."

“Hold on, baby… just.. alittle..” , you moan back reaching for the vape pen once more, taking a quick hit as he watches in further disbelief. His mouth still agape, you lean in and blow it into his mouth.

He breathes in and then out, “F-f–fuck”, our own release just within reach. You move with him, your bodies perfectly in sync as you finally allow yourselves to tip over the edge. The release— he caves first, pulling you close to him, his hands grabbing all over you searching for nowhere in particular just as long as you're close… The release so intense, waves of pleasure crashing over both of you as you held each other tightly. The sun fluttering on your skin from the window, a realization of his cum deep in you, connected in the most intimate way possible. You grind against him, dead set on making his face completely red, “S–so.. S–so sensitive, baby girl…”

As the aftershocks subsided, you collapsed onto Choso's chest, both of you breathing heavily, hearts still a racing, pounding mess. He kisses you softly, his lips tasting you. "You did so fucking well, my girl" he murmured, feeling the love and connection between you.

You smile with ease, biting his lower lip. His eyes still glazed with the remnants of the high, still lost in your tender space. "Still needy, my sweet girl?," he whispers, his voice filled with gratitude, adoration, and intrigue.

“Should I manipulate the blood back into my cock?” he smirks breathlessly.

You slap his chest lightly with a smiley giggle knowing he isn’t joking… because you can feel him twitching even more still buried in you...

(dividers by @cafekitsune)

179 notes · View notes

strangererotica · 4 months ago

Text

EXPLICIT CONTENT | MINORS DNI

Gator Tillman x Reader

Summary: Your husband has a problem with alcohol, which creates problems with the law. His latest stunt just might put him behind bars for a long, long time. Luckily for you, Deputy Sheriff Gator Tillman has offered you a way to save your husband from such a fate. But serving justice Gator’s way may be a tight fit…

This shouldn’t be happening. You hated Gator Tillman, and he was, at the very least, indifferent about you.

“Got yourself in a tough spot, don’t ya?” he grinned down at you, his breath dusting your nose. It smelled like that disgusting vape he was always puffing on, some kind of mango/pineapple combination. The smell reminded you of Fruit Stripe, except instead of smelling like a single stick of gum, it smelled as if Gator had crammed the whole pack in his mouth at once. Too sweet, so sweet it was nauseating. And yet…

“Aren’t ya gonna answer me, pretty girl?” Gator pressed, leaning in till the tip of his nose brushed yours. “I mean, you can still say no if y’want. I’ll be a gentleman about it...” The corner of his mouth rose in a grin. “…Promise.”

You believed him. Gator didn’t scare you; he pissed you off. All the times he’d arrested your husband, the way Gator had talked shit about him to his face…it made you sick. Your husband may have been the most infamous drunk in Stark county, but he was a human being, too, a fact Gator cruelly ignored.

This time, your spouse was facing more than a couple of nights in county jail. The Tillmans had warned your husband that their generosity was running thin. After countless failed attempts at maintaining sobriety, your husband hadn’t been able to stay out of trouble. This latest incident, which had happened last night, was his worst infraction yet: he’d beaten one of his drinking ‘buddies,’ so severely, he’d put him in the hospital.

“It’s really none of my business anyway,” Gator continued. “Whatever happens to your old man, I mean. That’s in your hands-.” Gator took your hands in his, rubbing his thumbs in little circles over your skin. Your cheeks warmed instantly, a heat pooling deep inside you. You hated yourself for wondering what the same action with his fingers would feel like rubbing circles over other parts of your body. Gator clicked his tongue to get your attention; your eyes flicked up to meet his.

“Now listen,” Gator added, his eyes and tone now darker with impatience. “I ain’t got all day. I can clean up your old man’s mess if you want-.” Gator smiled lecherously. “-But you’re gonna have to make a little mess of your own, first…”

You bit your lip, wondering how exactly this was going to go down. Because you knew it was going to happen-you were going to do this-but how would Gator expect you to pay your husband’s debt? In what way?

Gator answered your question by reaching in the back of his truck and pulling out a tattered blanket, which he tossed onto the ground. “No sense in gettin’ your knees dirty, sweetheart,” Gator murmured, taking another drag of his vape. “Told ya I’m a gentleman.” He tipped his vape toward the ground, indicating where he wanted you-“Go on now; you know what to do,”-and you went down on your knees.

Gator removed his utility belt and let it fall to the ground beside the blanket. He unbuttoned his cargo pants and pulled the zipper down, cock pulsing when his hand grazed it, stopping just short of revealing it. He watched the look of confusion color your face when he didn’t go further. “Use your mouth to get it out,” Gator said flatly.

You complied, scooting closer on your knees so your face was level with Gator’s crotch. He didn’t smell sweaty and disgusting ‘down there,’ like you’d assumed he would. The lingering scent of sandalwood body spray mixed with Gator’s natural scent blended into something heady and masculine. You pressed your nose against the soft cotton of his blue boxer briefs and inhaled, deeply.

Gator grunted contentedly, his big hand closing over the top of your head, fingers threading your hair. “Y’like it down there or somethin?” he murmured above you. The metallic click of Gator’s vape pen sounded as he clicked it on, followed by the raspy pull of him taking a long drag. His fingers tightened in your hair, another grunt leaving his throat as he rubbed his crotch against your lips, prompting you to instinctively part them.

Gator was big. You massaged the outline of his cock through his underwear, his thickness spreading your lips wide apart. His tip was pointing upward, confined by the waistband of his underwear, making his full, heavy balls even more prominent. You’d have been lying to yourself if you’d said his cock didn’t intimidate you a little.

Enjoying himself and your submission at his feet, Gator lazily rubbed his crotch against your face. He wasn’t in any kind of hurry…he didn’t have to be. Gator had brought you out to the middle of nowhere, and ‘nowhere,’ was easy to come by in a place like Stark County.

“Goddamn,” he murmured, exhaling another cloud into the country air. “Your other set of lips this good?” His language was crude and tacky, and for god knows what reason, you were loving it. Gator pocketed his vape, then pulled off his jacket and shrugged it aside. You were dripping all over your panties, saturating them with desire.

Slipping your teeth over the waistband of Gator’s boxers, you tugged them downward. Once free, Gator’s massive cock landed heavy against the top of your head and bounced back, a sticky string of precum clinging to your hair. You let his underwear slide down around his ankles. Gator shuffled out of them, his cock bobbing just out of your lips’ reach as he moved. The precum still connected his tip to your hair, breaking only when you lifted your head to close your lips around him.

You gingerly suckled at Gator’s tip, preparing yourself mentally for the task of taking him down your throat. You curved your tongue under the first couple of inches, stroking the veins that bloomed at the ridge where his tip met his shaft. Gator clutched your hair more deliberately, his eyes now closed, lips parted softly. He pressed his hips forward slowly, urging you deeper onto his cock. Your throat constricted as his tip met your gag reflex. Saliva bubbled from your lips around Gator’s cock as your throat rejected him, but you forced yourself still. Gator had established a slow rhythm at this point, thrusting gently in and out of your throat with one hand still locked in your hair, and the other on his hip.

You were able to take him about five inches deeper before choking, the threat of vomit forcing you to push off of Gator’s cock. Rather than be pissed off, as you imagined he’d be, Gator knelt to the ground, meeting you at your level. His eyes were trained on the space where your t-shirt tucked into your leggings, like he was contemplating the quickest way to get you out of them.

“Get on your back,” Gator told you, his hands reaching for your thighs, his eyes fixed between them. “Wanna see if it tastes as good as it smells.”

He yanked your leggings down so forcefully they ripped at the sides, but you couldn’t have cared less. He’d tugged your underwear down at the same time, revealing your wet, glistening pussy like a treat to be devoured. Gator hooked his arms under your legs, locking your body in place, and buried his nose between your lips. You gripped the fabric of his shirt like a vice, your body wracked with the electricity of his tongue licking in and out of you aggressively. Gator groaned hungrily into your cunt, moaning soft words against the moist heat his tongue couldn’t swallow enough of to satisfy his craving for it.

After eating you to orgasm twice, Gator suddenly rose to stand over you, breath coming in bursts, unsteady on his feet. His typically slicked-back hair was completely disheveled, wet with sweat and fallen against the sides of his cum-soaked face. Gator reached forward and took you by the hair, lifting your face to meet his crotch. “Open your fuckin’ mouth,” he panted, his voice a pretty mix of authority and desperation. “You’re gonna take it all and thank me for it after, understand?”

You nodded, your eyes heavy-lidded in the dumb, blissful afterglow of climax, Gator’s hand gripping your hair so tightly he could have nodded your head for you. Groaning through his release, Gator emptied himself over your tongue, semen spilling down your chin and collecting in the fabric of your shirt. You worried immediately about the stains it might leave behind. How would you explain them to your husband? Regardless of the consequences, you decided that having to wash the deputy sheriff’s cum from your clothes was a small price to pay, in exchange for your husband’s freedom...

@justmeinadaze

#gator Tillman #Fargo #fargo fx #fargo season 5 #gator tillman x you #gator tillman x fem!reader #gator tillman fanfic #gator tillman smut #gator tillman x reader #gator tillman x y/n #joe keery #gator tillman fic #gator Tillman x reader smut #gator fargo #fargo fic #fargo s5 #gator Tillman x reader fanfic

144 notes · View notes

heich0e · 1 year ago

Text

yakuza!suna/escort!reader bonus bit #1 - a little moment that doesn't rly fit in anywhere else in the series, just fluff, tw juul!suna rides again (off-brand juul edition) series masterlist

"What's that?"

Rintarou pauses with the slim little cylinder poised halfway to his lips, the tapered end facing him. He glances over at you as you watch him from his bed, setting his pants (where he'd pulled the strange little device out from one of his pockets) back down on the chair positioned in one corner of his bedroom.

"An eCig," he replies.

He reads the little furrow of your brow as confusion.

"Like a vape," he explains further. You watch as he wraps his lips around the tip, taking a small puff as a light on the device glows blue and bright underneath his fingertips. After taking a drag, he blows a long plume of white vapour out from the side of his mouth.

"I know what an eCigarette is," you remark, a little indignantly. Your huffy tone seems to make Suna smile a bit to himself. "I'm just surprised you have one."

Suna pads across the room towards you, setting the vape down on the table next to his side of the bed. He kneels at the edge of the mattress, leaning over in your direction.

"Well,"--he cranes closer to you, and from this near to him you can see the quiet mirth swimming behind his eyes--"someone told me smoking's bad for me."

You purse your lips, rolling onto your back and looking away.

"Well, they must be pretty smart."

"Yeah," he laughs under his breath, "she's both."

Suddenly he reaches over, slipping an arm beneath your waist and dragging you out from the cover of his bedsheets until he's got you caged under his body--still poised on one knee at the very edge of the bed. He blinks down at you, his gaze soft, and you try to mentally follow where his eyes are looking as they sweep across your features.

You lick your lips, and there's no mistaking just what place his eyes hone-in on next.

He dips down slowly, slotting his mouth against your own--like he hasn't spent the past few hours getting his fill of you. There's a little bit of sweetness lingering in Rintarou's kiss, from the vape you think, though you can't quite make out a distinctive flavour--just a subtle, saccharine taste gracing your tongue as his own presses further into your willing mouth.

It's nice, you can't help but think. You crane up, like you're chasing it-- eager for more.

Suna responds in kind, slipping an arm underneath your waist again and helping you sit up to meet him properly. You wind your own arms up around his neck, and in this newfound hold he sits down with his back against the tufted headboard and pulls you into his lap.

He kisses you, wet and noisy and hungry, until you're breathless. So much so that you have no choice but to pull away after a few heated moments to draw in shaking gasps of air.

"You're good at that," Suna murmurs, nosing at your temple as you rest your forehead against his shoulder. You think about remarking that you've had plenty of practice, but suspect it's not the kind of comment he'd find particularly funny.

Plus, the compliment seems awfully rich coming from him--who just managed to kiss you within an inch of your life.

You tilt your head to the side so you can peer up at him, chest to chest, your head resting on his shoulder.

"What flavour is that eCig?" you ask him idly, your voice quiet since you're still a little short of breath. You watch as he reaches down to play with your fingers where your hand rests beside his own.

He pauses for a moment, the tips of his fingers pressed against yours. He searches your face curiously, as though confused by your simple question.

"It's flavourless."

#suna x reader #suna rintarou x reader #yakuza!suna #yakuza!suna bonus bits #hq drabble #hq writing #writing

354 notes · View notes

bitchlessdino · 2 years ago

Text

TPC: Mingyu's sloppy ex sex

Series

Pairing: ex!mingyu x afab!reader (wearing a skirt)

Genre: smut

Word count: 2.1k

tags: toxic themes, villainized reader, mentions of alcohol and vaping, reader makes out with man that isn't mingyu, high!gyu, yearning, voyeurism (kinda?), male masturbation, sex on a car, unprotected sex, degrading, spanking, choking, obvious hostility

Summary: Mingyu and his ex had be broken up for so long already and he was finally getting over them, but god be damned if you didn’t look so hot tonight.

author note: happy birthday to mingyu, hope you get laid. not like this tho, you deserve to be happy. Also to readers, don't romantize this IRL. be good people, be kind to your partners or loved ones. Enjoy smut as smut not inspiration for real life. be so fucking for real. ily

tag list: @iwouldbangchan @1uvlywon @just-here-to-read-01 @candidupped @minnie-mouser22 @shiningstar-byulxx @misssugarlips @tommolex @hoeforhao @honglynights @homerunhansol @dkakapizzaboy @junhui-recs @svtup @buffhoshi @meowmeowminnie @caratochan @lovebot4han @lovelyhan

Mingyu had been a single man for 7 months, 8 days, and 14 hours; but who's counting?

He didn’t miss you. He just missed your face. And your hair. Your perfume that reminded him of cotton candy and starbursts. And how your naked body would stretch like a starfish every morning. And the expensive coffee bean you insisted on hand grinding every day. See. He missed those things. Definitely not you.

At least that’s what he told himself when he saw you the first time since the break, standing in an impossibly delectable getup when you walked through that front door. God, did you know how to dress to impress the masses. You knew he couldn’t keep his hands off of you when you had on leather, his unspoken kryptonite.

He crushed the red solo cup in his hand as you shamelessly flirted with the man across from you. The blonde man maybe was as buff as Mingyu, handsome as Mingyu, but at least he wasn't as tall as Mingyu. Mingyu was hard to beat at height.

Still, your attention was on the stranger. Mingyu felt pathetic. He had every nerve in his body to pull you away from the bastard and stick you up against a wall and fuck you senseless, but things were over between the two of you. He had no right.

His doubt displaces as you lean against the man, their arm falling around your waist, as your eyes pierced back at Mingyu. They spoke volumes in each other's gazes. You simply watch the expressions on Mingyu’s face as the man begins pressing kisses lightly against the hollow of your neck. You feign moans that aren't audible from where Mingyu stands, but it is obvious as the stranger hikes up your leg and presses his mouth against yours.

Your eyes flit back at your ex through a heavy-lidded observation. You giggle the stranger’s name, loud enough for Mingyu to make it out this time, and he storms out at once. Mingyu could’ve done anything. Leave the party. Find a stranger to fuck. Drown himself in hard liquor. He did none of that.

Instead, he tried to find the nearest place to relieve himself. Unfortunately, he didn’t know where a goddamn restroom was, let alone a bedroom, which was probably preoccupied with some horny youths, anyway. Finally, he opens a door to a garage, a large one, in fact. Cars and motorbikes follow behind one another like an assembly line. It smells of metal and motor oil, but it would do.

His eyes land on a conveniently placed bench across from the door, and he takes a seat, immediately going to unzip his pants. It was probably the alcohol, or the puff he took from Vernon’s vape pen, but he was going to pull it out, he was going to stroke it, and he wasn't going to care.

He utters a soft, “fuck,” before shutting his eyes. He closes his palms around his shaft, rubbing himself, making use of that hand lotion you left behind when you left that stays resident in his front pocket. Your familiar scent lingers, making its way up his nostrils, and he whispers your name. “Fuck, Y/n.”

He slides down against the wall behind him, dragging up and down, squeezing to emulate the grip of your pussy, groaning loud when he finds the right pressure. “Y/n, Y/n, Y/n.”

He senses tension in his abdomen, taking the pace of his wrist up, and this goes on for a few minutes. The image of your sopping, dirty, little cunt wrapped around his cock is just enough to get him off. He’s so close. So close, he can taste the cum from where he’s sitting. His eyes flutter, ready to take the last gratifying stroke when he hears a door close. He looks up, your back and arms pinned against the door behind you, peering at him in amusement. “Whatcha’ doing there, Mingyu?”

And like that, he misses the high tide. His blown out eyes stare back at you, listlessness. He straightens up. “What are you doing here?”

“What are you doing here?”

Reminder that Mingyu wasn’t sober, let alone sane, especially seeing your legs cross over one another as you lean on the door. His hand has a mind of its own when it goes back to play with himself, sucking in a single breath. “What does it look like?”

“Are you high?”

“Yeah. So?”

You snort, crossing your arms. “You can’t just play with yourself in the middle of a fucking party. Mingyu.”

“Says who?”

You slowly approach him, one foot over the other, towering over him. “Have some decency. You look desperate fucking yourself. Cover it up.”

How dare you, he thought. You don’t get to tell him what to do anymore. He fucks himself hard in his grip–immeasurably slow and tight–hips thrusting up through his palms. “Like I give a flying fuck.”

You click your tongue at him. “I guess as a fellow party guest, I should show you how to handle yourself with other people around.”

You set your hands against both his shoulders. He swallows, already getting an idea of what’s about to happen. Your chest is to his face before you lower yourself and fill yourself out. A moan vibrates in your throat–following Mingyu’s guttural one–before claiming his lips and slowly grinding down in his lap. He indulges in your initiation, but catching a moment of clarity, the ghost of your lips still on his as he pulls away. “What are you doing?”

“You looked lonely,” you said softly, “And I can fix that.”

Hsi breath grows uneven as your raw core tightens around his girth, making him remember how you loved going commando when you went out together, and it seems you still do. His hands come up behind you, feeling your body underneath your clothes, pulling up your leather skirt higher. “I thought you were over me. You said we’re through.”

You roll your eyes, threading through his hair. “You were staring at me. I thought you’d want this.”

“Why?” His hand curls to the back of your head. “What happened with the guy?”

You let out a sultry chuckle. “He was too eager.”

“I thought you liked that kind of thing.”

Yo shrug, grinning. You lay your hands against the texture of his jean jacket before sliding it off, feeling the ridged shape of his sculpted body. He’s big, as you remember, if not bigger. Your hands slide over his smooth, olive skin, and grip his sides before rolling your hips to hear that gasp leave his lips. “I like it more on you.”

You force pressure against his lips, swallowing them. You catch his moan down your throat, your aching heat gets stretched from his pulsating muscle pushing inside you. His hands fall to your hips, palms covering up your ass as grabs balls of your flesh in reflex. “God fuck, Y/n.”

“How much do you want me,” you ask in harsh breaths, “paint a picture for me.”

“I definitely fucking want you.”

His arms loop around your body and lock you in place. His length comes up inside you by his force, fucking you with all his body can muster, while his grunts play louder than the sounds of music coming from the populated common area. Your arms rest over his shoulders, knees coming up the bench and kneeling.

You breathe rhythmically, soft moans coating your tongue, and you grow flush under his touch. Your bottom lip gets trapped between your teeth, but a smile still manages to stretch across your face. His thighs are hard beneath you, hitting against you like a slab of marble, but the warmth radiating off of them ebbs the arousal from out your body.

His lips find your neck, sucking over the spots the stranger kissed, bitting, stinging your skin, so you can only remember the presence of him. He held your thighs tight by his palms, raising your body up and bouncing you in his lap. The sounds of your skin slapping triggers amicable memories like the time he pulled you in that stadium storage closet or how he took underneath a beach towel at Daytona.

It’s riveting, titillating, just simply blood pumping. You feel like you could fucking burn the world and not give a single fuck, and that’s what fucking Kim Mingyu felt like.

You had every intention of getting to this point because you knew Mingyu and how fucking possessive he was, even when he didn’t act like it. If you were being honest, that was some of the wrong in the relationship, but not this–nor the back-breaking sex– was the reason at all why things ended. Never the sex. If anything, it was you, but you wouldn’t admit that.

“You feel so fucking good inside me.”

His second kryptonite, words of affirmation. He fucks himself seep inside you, intending to bottom out, which he succeeds. Your eyes flutter shut from the shock and simply take it. His torso pulls forward, holding you up from the ground. The deeper he plunges, the harder the release. His name is inevitable to leave when you cum, your knees come up to his side, locking at your ankles, and it only takes him a moment to return the favor.

It’s hot and full in your cunt, feeling his honey seep over your thighs. He clenches his teeth, feeling sweet and utter relief. It was just what he needed. You simultaneously sigh, dropping your head against your shoulder as you catch your breath. “That was nice.”

“It was.”

Seizing the opportunity of your weakness, he picks you up and folds you against the hood of a random car. Dangling off, your feet barely reach the ground. Your cheeks roughly make contact first with his hand on the back of your neck, startled against the cool metal. The head of his cock then contradicted the icy surface, sliding back and forth over your spent pussy that was already flooded with his cum. He coats himself in his own release, playing with the intensity of your whines, before he returns to his rightful place.

His hands come up over your ass in a deep-rooted crack to your flesh. You cry out in distress, hands flat pressed against the car and you feel him oscillate his cock, doing what he wanted instead of what he tolerated.

In came another crack of his palm. You whine his name once more, dragging your clit on the sleek surface of the car. “Yes, like that! Fuck me like that!”

God, you have a filthy mouth. And god, did Mingyu miss that.

Your eyes roll back when he gets rigorous, pounding into you like a mindless animal. The hand on the back of your neck squeezes hard, slamming you back into the car. “Feel so good for me. I knew you wanted me. Wanted my dick inside. Fucking your wet, dirty pussy.”

Another strike that makes you jump.

“I’m going to have you cum all over this car. You like that? You wanna cum while I fuck you up against this car?”

You nod into the metal, “Yes, give it to me, give it to me, Mingyu.”

He turns you on your back, he finally meets your eyes once again. He takes a leg to throw over his shoulder and his cock rocks back into you like perfection. He holds your gaze, hand coming to compress against the column of your neck. You feel it, the danger, the thrill, the toxicity. It almost causes you to black out, and maybe that's what you deserved. It’s like instead of blood running through your veins, it's venom. You could bathe in it.

Your hair flattens as you throw your head back on the smooth surface, reveling in the fullness, slamming your hands against the car, ready to come apart once again. Your legs contract, taking him, all of him like it was the first time. Oh sweet child, to go back to a time to like that again.

“Yes, Gyu, please, Gyu. Like that. Hurt me. Hate me.”

Your climax overwhelms you, not even processing his embrace as it envelops you when his climax follows soon after. Violent final pumps make way deep inside you, defiant of spilling out again. You feel his heavy pants on the skin of your cheek. He pulls away after some time to see your eyes, glassy and euphoric like the ones that deceived him before. He then follows to your lips, swollen, naturally pursed from the kisses. The same lips that told him lies and promised to not break his heart in a million pieces.

“Incredible, Mingyu…”

“I hate you so fucking much.”

It’s the last thing he says before kissing you again, triumphantly. If he was going to have sex with again, he would do it like it’s the last.

#svthub #smingyu smut #kim mingyu smut #seventeen smut #kim mingyu #mingyu #seventeen #seventeen kim mingyu #seventeen x you #seventeen x reader #seventeen x y/n #seventeen mingyu #seventeen fanfic

630 notes · View notes

angels-heap · 1 year ago

Note

I would love any advice you have for protecting yourself against covid in a work environment where no one else cares, because I’m in the same boat.

That really, really sucks, friend. As I said, I don't have all the answers, but here's what I've learned over the last few years and what's worked for me and my inner circle so far. Note that much of this advice will be US-centric because that's what I know best.

First, some light reading: This Covid Safety 101 flyer/infographic includes a ton of helpful info, and I've had some success using it as a conversation starter in my workplace. TL;DR: COVID is airborne, it's a SARS virus, its effects can be devastating, and your risk of Long COVID increases with each infection. We should all be taking steps to contract COVID as few times as possible and spread it as little as possible, with or without the support we should be getting from our public health institutions.

As for practical suggestions, many of them unfortunately cost a non-inconsequential amount of money because we live in a capitalist hellscape, but here are some things you can try, roughly ordered from least to most expensive.

Awareness: COVID is airborne!

A lot of folks, including people in the medical field (!!!) seem hesitant to believe/accept that COVID is airborne, even though this has been understood by researchers since fairly early on in the pandemic. Since most lingering "infection prevention" protocols focus on things like handwashing, disinfecting surfaces, and keeping a six foot distance from other people (all good for public health, but not particularly helpful for COVID), you'll need to gauge your own safety and comfort when around others.

As a general rule, if you're close enough to someone that you could smell their vape or cigarette smoke if they were engaging in such an activity, you're probably close enough catch COVID from them. Also, like smoke, COVID can linger in the air for a while after someone leaves a room. Adjust your habits accordingly and keep your mask on as much as possible (see below).

CPC Mouthwash and Nasal Sprays

I haven't had time to do a ton of research on these options, so take my recommendations with a grain of salt, but it sounds like there's some research coming out that suggests certain nasal sprays and mouthwashes containing CPC (Cetylpyridinium Chloride) may help neutralize viruses or block them from entering your body (or, at the very least, they may help reduce your viral load). I've been using Crest Pro-Health Clinical Rinse mouthwash before and after interacting with people for the last few months; I don't know how much of a role it's played in keeping me safe, but it might be helping, and even if it's not, it was cheap and my breath is always minty fresh. Here's some more info about nasal sprays, since I don't know enough about them to make any specific recommendations.

Testing

Keep a few rapid antigen tests on hand, if you can, but know their limits as a diagnostic or preventive measure, especially as new variants continue to evolve. My current understanding is that many new variants won't show up on a home test until day 3-4 of symptoms. What this means for you is:

Testing when you're completely asymptomatic and don't have any known recent exposures is probably not the best use of your resources.

If you have any unusual symptoms that might indicate illness, stay home (or wear a high quality mask, if you must interact with others). A negative test doesn't necessarily mean you're in the clear, and if you're sick, you can transmit COVID for several days before you test positive.

Swabbing your mouth and throat in addition to your nose (in that order, obviously) may increase the sensitivity of home tests.

Any sign of a positive test line counts as a positive! If the test line is very, very faint, that still counts.

If you feel sick, but your first test comes back negative, try again in a few days and keep testing periodically until you feel better and are no longer testing positive.

Vaccines

They're not perfect, and they won't get us out of this mess on their own, but if you have access to vaccines, get them. Any vaccine is better than no vaccine, but FWIW, I personally opted to get Novavax this year, after learning that it was the jab of choice for many COVID safety advocates and researchers. Pros of Novavax, specifically, include lower risk of side effects, possibly more durable immunity, and it's not an mRNA vaccine (great option for the vaccine skeptics in your life). But in the end, get whatever you can get.

Masks

If you're not already wearing an N95 respirator or similar, such as KN95, FFP2, KF94, etc., anytime you're indoors (or outdoors in a crowd), now's the time to start. One-way masking isn't perfect, but it's a lot more effective than no-way masking. As someone with a fairly petite face, I've had a hell of a time finding N95 masks that fit me. Through my many expensive mistakes, I have learned:

Avoid buying masks on Amazon, if at all possible. There are a lot of fakes out there.

If most masks fit you comfortably and you're comfortable wearing masks with headstraps (which tend to have a better seal than earloop masks), the 3M Aura is fantastic.

WellBefore sells masks in a variety of styles, sizes, and colors for affordable-ish prices. If you have a more petite face and have found that blue surgical masks and most N95s are huge on you, try their small or child sized masks.

BreatheTeq makes great masks in 4 sizes, and they sell a sample sizing kit for $7 + shipping to help you avoid wasting money.

Masks with headstraps generally form a better seal than masks with ear loops, but the most effective mask is one that you can/will actually wear semi-comfortably. Don't let perfect be the enemy of good. I've been wearing earloop masks for 3.5 years and have made it through multiple known exposures unscathed.

If you can afford to keep a few extra masks on hand to offer to colleages who have to be in your space, people who are coughing in public, or people who seem to be trying but they're still wearing inadequate surgical or cloth masks, do so. More often than not, people will take and wear them when offered!

Air Filtration

If we lived in a society that believed in public health and safety over profits, we'd have spent the last 3 years improving air filtration in public spaces. Alas, most places did not do this, so your next best options are as follows:

Open windows and prop doors whenever you can! Your goal is to keep fresh air moving through your space and minimize the amount of air that will be "re-breathed" by multiple people.

Build a Corsi-Rosenthal box with furnace filters and a box fan. Pros: Fairly cheap and easy to do; Cons: Boxes are large and can be loud. Some sites also provide instructions and/or sell kits to make smaller, more portable C-R boxes out of desktop computer fans.

Buy a HEPA air purifier (or 2, or 3), or try to get your workplace to shell out for one. While many brands sell small, portable purifiers that are around the size of a lunchbox, I would personally recommend that you buy the largest one you can afford. The smaller ones are probably better than nothing, but you really want a more room-scale solution, if possible. I've had good experiences with Medify Air and Coway air purifiers, but I'm sure there are other great brands out there as well.

If you buy an air purifier, you want one with a HEPA filter and without an ionizer, as ionizers aren't as helpful as the advertising would lead you to believe and they can pose health risks (ozone exposure, etc.).

Measuring Air Quality

If you can afford it, buy an Aranet 4 CO2 monitor. Yes, they're expensive, but I haven't heard of any cheaper products that compare in terms of accuracy or portability. (And they do occasionally go on sale on Amazon.) The Aranet 4 measures the concentration of carbon dioxide in the air around you. This reading is a great proxy for how much COVID might be in the air, and it can help you identify which areas of your home or workplace are the safest, and which ones would benefit the most from fresh air, an air purifier, or other safety measures.

#covid safety #covid #long post #god I hope I do not regret tagging this #I'm also probably forgetting important stuff but I know if I don't answer this tonight I won't get to it for 2 weeks #asks #anon

46 notes · View notes

zhivaoverdrive · 1 year ago

Text

Hana felt the line surge in her hand, felt the balloon it connected to twitch and bulge, struggling to find a home for the new fluid being forced in.

"But no one designed me that way, I’m not a collection of pre-fabricated pieces. I did it myself and I’d do it again” ---

Chapter 3

After they’d halved the remaining Pirska-2, and while the world seemed to make a little bit of sense, they talked.

“You’ve got a socket. I saw it. Everyone else on earth would have just plugged the vial right in, but you didn’t” said Candy, doing her best to sit up straight and affect a serious appearance, as much as her obscenely large breasts permitted. “This way is worse, that's why I’m…” she trailed off, contemplating the back room of The Bottom, which may as well be her whole world. “Whoever they made this stuff for, it wasn't us. The… miasmic death that comes out of a vape is not the way. They don’t make ANYTHING for me any more.”

Now, for the second time today, Hana knew the explanation must rear its head. She felt another gaze stare right through her.

So she tried to explain, tried to explain something she was only on the cusp of being able to remember. She spoke about thieves, the big score. About the 4th generation nanotech they all ran. Her dislike of bulky coats.

“I haven’t been able to talk about this. I would try to remember, then... I wake up hiding somewhere like a rat, or robbed blind. I can’t stop it,” Hana said. She breathed out slowly and deliberately, both unfamiliar actions.

Pulling her hair to the side, Hana showed her socket. “It’s burned. It’s all gone. Nothing fits. Just a big hole in my brain that I keep falling into.”

Candy opened her mouth to speak, but stopped herself. Hana saw the expression on her confidante's elegant face fall. “They… they say if it fails then… you’re called back home…” said Candy, slowly and carefully.

Hana didn’t know what to say. She’d heard the same thing about nanotech. But there hadn’t been much time to process its implications since waking in Vladok. “Yet here I stand,” she said, the words coming out bone-dry. She mustered a smile, but one equally bereft of hope, as the invisible pincers of hysteria had already begun to constrict her. —

“Oh hon…how about you ask me instead? I’m easy!” Candy said, cutting through the silence with a kind smile, again showing an acuity that remained hidden until needed.

“Why have I got two of these and none of those? It’s deceptively simple,” begun Candy, her eyes flicking over the still exposed socket on Hana’s neck. Candy ran a hand down the curve of her breast, all the way to her armpit, where it paused, lingering around what appeared to be a strip of tape securing one of the numerous tubes.

Hana should have used her fleeting moments of clarity to make peace with herself, but something in Candy’s sudden performative movements had monopolised her attention. It wasn’t pure curiosity anymore either, something about Candy was luring her in.

With exaggerated, elegant movements, Candy’s other hand reached behind her back and produced a small remote control.

After it was gently placed into her hands, Hana observed the single unlabelled button and rotary dial, numbered 1-10. Before she could ask, Candy’s warm hand reappeared and slowly rotated the dial to the right, until a soft click was heard and the marker rest on #6. A bewildered Hana felt the weight of the anachronistic control in her hand, and heard the omnipresent whine of background machinery increase. She saw an orgasmic expression on Candy’s face join the rest of the woman’s performance. “Ask…” Candy whispered

All thoughts of fissures and mortality were gone, Hana was once again in a powerless orbit around the incongruous woman. She may have deemed it preferable to another episode, she may have had no choice.

“OK. Maybe I do want to know. Because I can’t figure you at all Candy,” she began, after taking a moment to collect her thoughts and place the enigmatic control on the floor, just within reach of its owner.

“Maybe I’m young, but I’ve been around. Vas I get, his heavies I get, me and my crew I get. We’re archetypes, we fill a role. Corporations, thieves, fighters, con-men; these are the opportunities that are provided. We get the gear and we go use it” said Hana, simultaneously impressed at how coherently this was coming out and wondering if her rare cogent moment would fall on deaf ears. “Where do you fit? Who manufactures those ‘implants’, and why? What are they for!?”

Candy took a long moment, riding out a wave of something, then scrunched her brow with tremendous effort. “Credit where it is due hon, you’ve almost hit the nail on the head. I’ll give you a push” she began.

“That is everything I cannot stand about this new world. Do you see? The grey banality that has infected it all? And where did it come from? I bet you’re familiar with most of the major nanotech that have ever been produced. You can categorise the ‘heavies’ and reduce them down to a list of likely modifications, you know what they can and likely WILL do. “They look the same, for that’s what effective heavies look like. “They all wear the coat you hate, because it’s the best of the four astronomically expensive network-centric coats.”

Suppressing a moan, Candy composed herself and searched in vain for a sign her point was landing.

“So you were a thief. Looks like it. Thin build, head on a swivel, thiefs haircut, but oh it's a different shade of neon!” she laughed.

“Don’t take this to heart. Do I look very reliable?” she said, tracing the path of a huge vein on her bloated chest as she spoke.

“But I *saw* the nanotech roll-out, I saw people get put into their box. They got to choose which box, but they are in it. People like me? We’re done. We can’t compete, can't even scratch a living. I’m nothing compared to the other girls here, we all know it. But if those girls ever had a choice, they don’t any longer. They’ve got neural links? What now? Live their entire life as working girls, inside the box. They simply can’t do anything else”.

“So, what am I for, where do I fit?” Candy said, looking down the space between her breasts that might be called cleavage on someone else. “I don’t. I’m useless”.

“You asked who makes these implants” she said, giving one an ineffectual squeeze. “The design is ancient. A reconstructive device from a world that no longer exists, before they could just cure cancer. They were to make the unfortunate feel better about their disfigurement, I think”

“I … I don't understand,” said Hana slowly.

“I’ve repurposed them. They’re just a plastic water balloon inside my breasts. All analogue. I didn’t wait for a corporation to rationalise and build a product for my use case. I sourced the largest water balloons, the ‘dumb implants’, and I used them to change myself until I was happy,” said Candy

“You can call me vain, or stupid. You may be right. But these are what I said to the regressive ‘choice’ I was offered. I pick something else.”

“They’re not supposed to be filled this way. I don’t think anyone in a lab coat ever imagined that a crazy woman would pump her tits up until she could hardly move, until her nipples were stretched to nothing. Well here *I* stand.. or sit. “My nipples aren’t even in the original spot anymore. "But no one designed me that way, I’m not a collection of pre-fabricated pieces. "I did it myself and I’d do it again”.

“Turn it up… a special occasion” Candy continued, blinking slowly as she spoke. ‘You see now don’t you… water balloons. They’re full to bursting, but I love to feel them try. All the way...” she cooed, watching the control move beyond her reach in Hana’s shaking hand.

As the pumps peaked, Candy held each line in her hands and felt them tremble, felt them complain about the impossible task of pumping more saline into her giant implants. Moaning loudly, Candy finished her performance. “They're… so huge. I can’t… fill like I want to” she gasped. “I’m just.. Giant. 50,000cc hon. Each…weighsmore ‘n you”

She inaudibly gestured Hana in closer, guiding a line into the girls trembling hand before placing it face down on the huge stretched remnants of an areola. Locking eyes with the amazing creature called Candy, Hana felt the line surge in her hand, felt the balloon it connected to twitch and bulge, struggling to find a home for the new fluid being forced in. She felt Candy’s hand on her waist, felt her warmth penetrate through the hidden pocket sewn into her pants, but was too enchanted by the display to resist.

“They’re… 2 litres… it was on the box” Candy stammered, the time between her gasps shrinking rapidly. “Be… huge on you. But … keptgoin … overfilled…” Candy’s hand was a moment too slow to muffle the ecstatic scream.

Finally gaining the wherewithal to find the remote, Hana contemplated the button, but instead opted to turn the dial back to 1.

Watching Candy slow rouse, Hana released a breath she didn't realise she'd been holding. “I’ve taken some… wrong turns” Candy eventually said, casting her eye to the vaporizer and the room that contained it. “My girls weren’t one of them. I only regret that they’re full. “I’ll never let them put that shit in my head and trap me in a box. “No matter how stuck I am…”

They sat in silence for a good while. Hana tried to reassemble all she had heard with what she already knew. ‘Stuck’ is a bit different to working here. But Candy sat with a smile and her eyes shut, no explanation was forthcoming.

Suddenly, as if a relay had just now energised, Hana rotated the ideas around in just the right way.

Thieves boots, for fucks sake, she thought, looking down at her legs that poked out from lace up boots.

Muffled, sturdy, active noise cancellation when networked. She understood the point that the crazy woman was making, but what to do with it? —

“I think… I think I’m running out of time Candy. When it wears off… I can’t be here”. She was starting to notice the pulse of the display had quickened, not a good sign.

“I won’t be able to reason with him. I’m useless, remember. Especially in 10 minutes. “And.. I doubt you ‘get Vas’.” Candy said quietly, looking away and taking a sudden interest in one of the many exhaust fans on the wall.

Finally rousing herself, Candy turned back and looked her dead in the eyes. “Hon.. You’ll figure things out.” ”But don’t come back.”

To Hana, it felt as if no one had shown her real kindness for a long time, or through the survival mode she just couldn’t see it. But something kind had happened on the cold floor by the lockers.

She hugged Candy, spilled tears onto her exposed flesh, then stood up.

Got the money, there's the exit, now just don’t think about it. Ever. Back to the biting cold of Vladok, and the minefields of static.

#breastexpansion #breastimplants #saline #silicone #expanderimplants

38 notes · View notes

piffany666 · 1 year ago

Text

Ok just one more punk progeny won't hurt~

Chapter 4: the sun

TW: this Chapter contains purposefully induced PTSD flashbacks, self harm and smoking if any of these topics make you uncomfortable I recommend you scroll to below the red line, past this line is after the potentially uncomfortable situation ends.

Ftm trans Bright eyes (he/him pronouns)

Bright smoked as he sat on the roof of the solaire mansion.

Not so long ago he renounced smoking and demoted himself to vapeing but he made the compelling argument of 'its not like vampires can get lung cancer' besides, when he exhaled smoke protruded out of the bite holes in his neck and to him that was a compelling enough reason.

As he exhaled, the memories he'd made over the last few hours played in his head.

He did have a lot of fun with Vincent. It did feel good to hang out with another vampire that wasn't Sam, Fred or just some guy he met at a bar because his friends sucked.

So....why was he here?

He looked towards the horizon as he took a drag of the cigarette, in the direction of Wonder World.

The sun was creeping almost menacingly over the horizon but Bright had some time to kill before the sun came out of hiding.

He had a good day. He had found someone to talk to besides Tanker that truly understood him.

So why. Was. He. Here?

He asked himself again, eyes still attached to the horror movie set of a place he was made in.

Finally he closed his eyes, allowing the smoke to coil around him.

He remembered everything....he remembered everything as if it happened only yesterday.

The way the excitement melted away into dread and horror as the skull of Quinn's last victim rolled into view.

The way Fred ran, the way Bright lingered on a little longer than him.

Fred may have begun running before him but Bright was faster and it wasn't long before he overtook him.

Somewhere along the way Fred had fallen behind.

It was a good thing Fred told him to keep going because he probably would have kept running anyway and Fred would probably hate him even more than he already dose if that had been the case.

At least that's what Bright told himself.

Bright's heart rate began to increase so he instinctually took another drag.

He kept. On. Running.

Eventually the sound of his best friend's voice got quiet, whether or not it was due to distance or the fact that he was dead wouldn't be known until later on.

Because of this, Bright allowed himself to slow down. How many worst mistakes of your life can you make in one night?

Until eventually he heard a sound that could only be described as "woosh" and he was knocked to the ground along with his breath.

A low groan came from him before the ability to breathe was put into question.

Then HE appeared.

At first he was just a silhouette then his features became visible as he grabbed Bright's wrists and dropped his knees onto his stomach and chest.

He could still hear his voice...

"You should have listened to your friend little mouse~ didn't anybody tell you not to stay out late

On Halloween?~"

Bright scratched at his neck as if to swat him away, but he wasn't there.....all he did was reopen the wound.

The cigarette fell from his lips and onto the roof where he held his knees in his hands.

Nothing he did NOW would change what happened THEN so the memory played on.

He continued scratching at the bite mark as the situation played out in his head, desperately trying to get through the memory of the second most painful experience of his life.

Whether it was the blood loss or the sophistication, eventually everything just....stopped.

The pain....stopped.

Exept there was no breath left in him to let out a sigh of relief.

For what seemed like forever but upon looking back what was probably only a couple minutes, Bright just layed there, body numb from the feeling of nothing.

It felt....nice

Like he never had to feel any kind of pain ever again, physical or otherwise.

But then like a defibrillator to the neck, he was jolted back to semi consciousness.

He wouldn't describe himself as awake but he could see what was happening to him, his best friend, the one guy he least expected to hurt him in any way, in the same position as his killer,

Sucking at the bite mark left by him.

Bright felt himself wince as what was left of his bloody insides were slurped up into Fred.

When Fred's mouth left Bright's neck, Bright assumed it was over so he let himself go numb, which only made it sting more when Fred ripped his own neck wound and lowered himself so it flowed like a fountain into Bright's mouth.

At first he began spluttering and choking but then he gave up on struggling and allowed himself to drown.

He couldn't speak at the time, he knew that, but in his mind he heard himself screaming at Fred to stop and that he didn't understand what he was doing

But he knew he wanted him to stop.

But he did not waver till there was no more blood to give and when he drained himself dry he collapsed next to him.

They were both looking to the sky when they died together.

Bright's eyes jolted open as he began screaming in anger, agony and regret

The sun had finally made its way past the threshold of the horizon and the only thing protecting him from its burn was the shadow that the solaire mansion cast, so amongst the screaming that went unheard, he pulled back his sleeve and removed his glove that did its best to hide the battle scares from him and the sun's past encounters, and he shoved his arm into the light.

His screaming became more of a hiss as he felt his skin burn and sizzle

_________________________________________

He didn't know when he planned to stop

But luckily somone wasn't going to let him make that choice.

He felt himself being pulled backwards then he was swiftly turned around to face the figure that pulled him, however he wasn't able to see their face as his face was being held close to the chest of his saviour.

He could feel arms cover his body as if to shield him, he could hear a hiss come from the body that held him, almost to threaten the light that burned him.

Eventually the figure loosened their grip, allowing Bright to look up at them

It was William.

He didn't look angry, he just looked....protective...?

Like the sun had attempted to take somthing important from him.

After a moment of this, he no short of scooped Bright up and made a motion that could only be described as "wooshed" him down from the roof, sticking to the shadows.

Bright blinked and then he found himself in William's office again, still huddled in his arms.

William placed him onto the chair he sat in last time and looked him in the eyes.

"Were going to talk about what you were just doing, but before any of that I need to heal you, it will hurt more than it did last time, is that OK?"

Through tears that Bright couldn't prevent from falling, he nodded.

Before he began his work, William removed his belt and gave it to Bright

"You'll be needing this" Bright knew what to do.

He placed the flattened rope of leather into his mouth and felt his teeth press into it.

"Alright" William said to no one in particular.

The burn wound was very visible and within healing range but Bright was a very....skittish person so William wanted to be as careful as possible.

He slowly intertwined his fingers with Bright's and brought his arm up to him. He let go of Bright's hand and took his arm into both his hands to place it in front of him.

He looked at Bright one last time then began to work.

It was just like last time exept the feeling was throughout his whole arm, Bright tried his best to be still for him but he couldn't stop himself from kicking and squirming, he continued to bite into the belt he held in his mouth, tears now streaming down his face.

After healing his arm he moved onto his bite wound that now had a claw mark that was bound to scar.

After a good few minutes of that, William let go as fast as he could.

"There it's done"

Bright spat the belt out his mouth and a spluttering noise came from him as the tears continued.

After Bright had fully composed himself, he looked up at William who had a look of sympathy on his face, but not pity

Never pity.

"H-how did you know I was - that I would?-"

"Fred had told Sam that he could feel you feeling.....bad and that he worried you were going to 'do something stupid' Sam informed me of this and when I heard a scream come from the roof and given where the sun is currently, let's just say I put two and two together"

Looks like his literal cry for help didn't fall on deaf ears this time.

William looked Bright dead in the eyes, the look of sympathy still plastered on his face.

"I wouldn't describe what you just did as stupid, I'd describe it as....understandable but equally unfortunate"

Bright looked down

"Bright, I am older than you could ever imagine, I can recognise a cry for help when I see one"

At that, he picked the belt up from the floor and began to re applie it to his waist.

He then sat on the edge of his desk

"Talk"

This wasn't a command as much as it was an invitation but Bright still felt like he didn't want to know what would happen if he didn't do what he told him.

"W-well i-i" he took a moment to compose himself and breathed in

"I spent the day with Vincent"

"Oh?"

"Y-yeah, I had a lot of fun....it was nice"

"I'm glad"

"But i-i.....I don't deserve it....there is SO much I don't deserve...so i-i guess this was kinda like a...l-like a-"

"A punishment"

Bright looked up at him

"Y-yeah...I know it's stupid of me I just-"

"No it isn't. It's completely understandable, I mean since the very beginning of your vampire life everyone you have ever had to interact with has blamed you for what happened and since you agree with them, I can see why you wouldn't deem yourself worthy of happiness"

Bright was stunned, he knew he was old but he didn't exactly expect him to hit the nail on the head with this one.

"Y-Yeah..."

"Are you a man of faith Bright?"

Bright looked confused at the sudden seemingly off topic question.

"Why?"

"A few centuries ago there was a vampire I knew who was very religious and he believed himself to be worthy of hell, but since that was never going to be, he made sure his immortality, or what he called purgatory, would be filled with nothing but misery because he believed himself to be worthy of nothing but just that, misery."

William then got up and went rooting in one of his draws.

Giving Bright a minute to marinate on what he had been told.

William eventually pulled out a small piece of paper and then went over to Bright

"Here I want you to have this, but I want you to know that this dose not contribute to your decision, you may take this regardless of your decision"

Bright took the paper from him.

When he un-crumpled it he saw that it was a phone number and a name he couldn't pronounce but that didn't tell him much.

"What is this?"

"It's the phone number to the best therapist in the area, I'll pay for it however like I previously stated, I will do so regardless of whether or not you agree to be my progeny"

Bright's eyes became wide, he had wanted a therapist that actually knew what they were doing since before he died.

"Thank you"

He said breathlessly

"It's no trouble, I'll let you know when I inform him of the payment situation, now, it's time for you to sleep, I assume you've been having trouble with the sleeping situation so I recommend you start going to sleep at this time for now on"

"O-ok"

Bright had slept here many times before so he had no trouble finding his guest room but before he left, he thanked William one more time.

William nodded and smiled.

When Bright left William picked up his phone.

.........

"I trust you made it here safely then?~"

.........

"Good I'm glad to hear that, you're earlier than we agreed, miss your old home that much hmm?~"

..........

"Alright, Alright I won't jest, I suppose I just wanted to lighten the mood given the circumstances of your return"

..........

"Alright, oh! And there's somone I think you should meet, I think the two of you would get along very well~"

Taggs: @darlin-collins @anexistingexistence @you-think-i-care-mate

#redacted audio #redacted asmr #redactedverse #ok just one more punk progeny won't hurt~#redacted solaire clan #redacted bright eyes #redacted william #self harm comfort #comfort #tw self destructive behavior #tw self h4rm #tw smoking #redacted fanfic #redacted fic #redacted frederick

24 notes · View notes

magalidragon · 1 year ago

Note

I’m not proud! I want “hey” with a raspy voice. 😂

Sorry this took longer than I thought but naturally I got really into the actual plot when it should just be a Drabble, lol.

I hope you like it! It's set in a random universe not in any other current fic AUs.

“Hey.”

It’s said in a raspy voice, a simple word. “Hey.” Yet it causes her toes to curl, the hair on the back of her neck to stand on end, and her palms to sweat.

She swallows, glancing up over the top of her glasses. “Hey,” she replies, fumbling a little with the books and study guides, as he takes a seat across from her. He’s still in scrubs, his dark curls pulled back, and he’s tired, but manages a smile as he takes out his books. She shoves a packet of papers at him. “These are for you, I made you a copy.”

“Thanks.” The rasp is still there. He sometimes sounds like he smokes ten packs of cigarettes a day, but she knows it's just from fatigue and maybe the vape he sneaks when he thinks no one is looking. Then sheepishly admits to and says "I know I'm a doctor, but it's a bad habit."

She feels like a teenager around him, not a serious resident, preparing to take her boards. The sooner they were over, the sooner she could get back to focusing on her patients and not her study partner or the overwhelming threat of not getting board certified in her specialty of choice. Things like crushes were for children.

Also apparently her.

He looks up when the barista calls his name and gets back to his feet, rather wearily, trudging over to the bar, where he smiles politely. The barista looks like she's about to faint. He's absolutely clueless.

She's never met a man so oblivious to the effect he had on anyone around him, men, women, children, nothing. He just seems to go through life like a raspy-voiced, super sexy, slightly rumpled and incredibly kind saint. She has to wonder what lies beneath his perfect exterior. No one could be that perfect. There has to be a dark side. She's always wondered.

Her best friend insists he must have a secret family or he's a criminal on the run. Maybe he's gay, Missy had suggested, but then Dany remembers how a patient dumped a water cup on her shirt and his gaze had lingered just a second longer when she'd walked off to deal with the soaking white t-shirt she'd been wearing. Not gay, just extremely clueless.

They are the oldest in their residency class so they bonded a little over that. Fire and ice, their boss Olenna Tyrell had said on the first day. The tiny silver-haired pixie and the hard-as-steel dark-haired wolf. They've been working together for almost five years now; she in pediatric emergency medicine and he, in trauma medicine. They ended up bonding when he moved down to spend more time in the emergency room. Now, it's been months of prepping for the test that arrives in less than a week.

They'd be traveling together, she thinks, biting hard on the end of her pen, which is already chewed up. Saving money on that. The boards are taking place at a hotel in White Harbor. It's a five hour drive from Winterfell, Queen Alysanne's Memorial Hospital, where he's lived his entire life and she moved up from Dragonstone for her residency.

She thinks it may kill her.

Tension has been building for…well the first couple years she was lucky to have someone who just wasn’t out to stab her and betray her, residency was brutal like that. Then he became a friend and she feared ruining their friendship.

Now?

Now the crush consumes her, and each time he says “hey” with that raspy Northern accent she wants to jump his bones and give him mouth-to-mouth. Also to see if his arse is really as shapely as it appears even in scrubs, which should be criminal. No one should look good in scrubs. Yet he does. It’s so unfair.

He sits back down with his coffee, a massive cup that she knows is filled to the brim with steaming black tar, which is how he prefers it. He takes a long chug; coming off shift, no wonder he’s in need of the boost. “Alright,” he says, wiping the back of his hand over his mouth. He exhales hard. He flips to the part of their study materials they’d left off at and tugs his flashcards towards him. “Quiz me.”

Fuck me.

Her mind is horrific. She closes her eyes hard. “I can’t concentrate,” she mutters.

“It’s almost over Dany,” he says kindly, clueless to her angst. He pats her hand, his fingers lingering over her slightly upturned wrist, where she has three tiny dragons tattooed. “We’ll be real, official doctors once we pass these things.”

They sort of are “real official doctors” with medical degrees and white coats, but once they pass the boards, that’s when they get their license in their chosen field. It’s when they official end residency and become real life long coat doctors. Except she can’t think. She removes her hand from his and slams her books closed, taking a deep breath, her cheeks flaming, her brain fighting against this highly unnatural urge she has to just say it.

“Jon, I have something to tell you.”

He looks up, concerned, his dark brows furrowing. “Are you alright? Are you sick?”

“I just…I can’t concentrate on the boards on…on anything because…” She closes her eyes hard, and stutters out, fast and nervous: “Because I like you and it’s kind of killing me and I really just want to kiss you and I think once I kiss you, it will all go away and we can go back to being friends, forget everything, and then take these boards, and…and go back to normal.”

Normal, being whatever the seven hells it was between them once kissing was out of the way.

Once the crush went away.

He blinked at her, his lips parting slightly. She watched his gray irises widen around his pupils, before the pupil began to dilate. Attraction, her doctor brain began to tell her, going through the body’s biological response to sexual stimuli. Or maybe he was having a stroke.

Maybe she was having a stroke.

“A kiss?” he echoed. He waved his finger between them, swallowing hard. “You think…if we kiss…you can…you can end a crush you have on me and…and…then things…can go back to…normal?”

He’s piecing out the words, trying to fit it all together. She nods quickly. “Yes,” she blurts.

“Oh.”

They’re silent, and then he ducks his head. Oh gods. She’s truly ruined this. “Or,” she says, hurrying, and gathering her things, embarrassed, her face flaming hot, her palms sweating, and heart sinking. “We pretend that nothing ever happened and I go home and I jump off my roof and…”

Suddenly his hands are around her cheeks, scratchy palms on her soft skin, and his lips are over hers, and then she’s falling into him, and grabbing the front of his scrub shirt, before her fingers dive to his curls, pulling at them lightly. He’s gentle and mindful they’re in the middle of a bloody coffee shop, but she feels his tongue lightly brushing over her lower lip and she opens slightly to allow him to tease at hers, before they’re both pulling back, staring wide-eyed at each other.

And bloody hell.

The crush has now exploded into full on fucking love, she’s sure of it.

“Jon,” she breathes, holding onto his wrists.

He smiles, shy, and mumbles, “I’ve wanted to do that since the first day of residency, Dany.”

Now it’s her turn to be dumbfounded. “Oh.”

He nods and separates completely, hands dropping to their books. She does the same.

“Wanna’ get out of here?” they both blurt out at the same time.

“Yes,” they both reply.

Several hours later, as she stirs in his arms, waking from a lovely nap after finally discovering what truly lay under those scrubs– absolute perfection, of course– she hears a slight rasp in her ear.

“Hey.”

And she’s smiling, nuzzling closer, whispering, contentedly: “Hey.”

#jonerys #jonerys au #my fics #jonerys Drabble

29 notes · View notes

knownangels · 1 month ago

Text

walking at night (october prompt)

wc: 3732

Benji knows he doesn’t belong in this place. Clearly, he isn’t the only one.

When the double doors swing open (shiny, recently cleaned glass and gold accents he has to assume are real), several heads turn his direction.

The hotel bar is fancy. Except that’s not the best word for it. Doesn’t do the establishment justice; Benji just lacks the proper descriptive skill to take a crack.

He’s keen (and used to) to DIY places without a license. Where ‘dimly lit’ meant electric hadn’t been paid, not ‘mood lighting’. Dive bars. The nasty yet entirely self-legitimate sort of establishments that have a mysteriously consistent crust over every surface, no matter what bar, what country, what continent. The kind that make you balance on rotting subfloor to take a piss at a toilet without a tank lid. With stalls that sport not just sharpie cock and phone numbers area codes the world over, but good and proper tagging.

Good graffiti is hard to come by these days.

Certainly isn’t any here, Benji thinks, lingering next to a potted plant at the entrance that’s got several centimeters on him.

And there’s no crust to anything. In fact, the mood-lit bar has been recently cleaned; he can tell from the scent in the air. No harsh cleaners, but something like what Saha uses: all natural, essential oils, what the fuck ever.

The smell mingles (shockingly well) with the variety of scents worn by the bar patrons. At every glittering marble-topped table are a few rich blokes in nice suits. A prim businesswoman, here or there. At a hightop, two heiress types in expensive athleisure sneak pulls from a vape. Their designer bags sit out in the open, not tucked around a shoulder or tight between knees to prevent opportunity.

Benji shouldn’t be here. Not just that he feels so out of place, so alone in a total alien environment, but because both his moral compass and political foundation feel…itchy. It’s bad enough they’ve copped rooms at such a posh hotel. The bar’s gotta be like this?

He’s about to turn on his heel and leave when he catches one of the barteners’ attention. A handsome woman with short cropped hair; he supposes he hesitates because her smart white button-up and sleek black suspenders remind him of Bunny.

Bunny would do well in a place like this. He can imagine her sitting here for hours until a proper insomniac, toying with all this prey. Less networking. More making up lies for fun, picking apart their tiny insecurities, and boasting with just the right amount of ‘oh, it isn’t that impressive’ and ‘you should honestly just kill yourself right now in front of me’.

Thinking of her has his lips twitching, and the bartender must take that as a sign of her fish on the hook. She lifts a hand and waves in a way that seems…shockingly welcoming. Almost normal. Almost.

Benji meanders towards the bar, tucking closer to himself than he needs to. All of the tables and chairs are spaced well far apart, and somehow the place still seems intimate.

He’s a fucking cynic, of course, so all he can think is that it has to be a part of the gimmick. Some trust-fund psychologist turned interior designer had figured out how to design the place like a comforting venus flytrap for rich idiots.

Benji supposes he’s one of those: he sits at the bar. It’s unlike any he’s ever sat at before. The counter is solid rock of some sort, polished enough but not overly so; it’s grittiness seems purposeful. The counter encircles the bartenders and their stations, as well as a massive glass shelf unit in the center. It’s taller than he is, maybe three times so, and well fucking stocked.

He can’t recognize a single label past the lowest shelf.

“Are you a patron of the hotel?”

Benji must make a face.

The bartender is polishing a glass, but she pauses to hold up a few placating fingers.

“I know how that sounds.” She casts a glance down to the far end of the counter, where another bartender is focused on two patrons. “My manager gets so bent out of shape if we don’t ask.”

“I get it,” Benji says, because he does. He had the experience of a few shit retail jobs between meager residual checks, back when he and Lark had first started out.

“Give me just a second.” The bartender says. Her focus drifts to a newcomer. Maybe a well-tipping regular, judging from the eager little glint to her eye.

“No worries,” Benji says. He wonders if she’s really that good at her job: comfortable enough now, he lets his jacket slip off around the chair.

Are you manipulating me? He thinks at her back as she goes. Don’t feel like I fit here, but maybe you think I do. That’s fuckin’ horrifying.

She doesn’t take long. Benji decides he respects the honesty of chasing a tip, and the fact that she returns to chat shit seems a good sign as well.

“Mel,” she introduces. “What caught your attention?”

A glass bottle on the fourth shelf. Benji points at it, and she turns.

“That a cock on the label? Who fuckin’ picked that.”

Mel laughs, taps her nose. “Someone with great taste. Want a try?”

He balks a bit. “Uh.”

“On the house,” Mel concedes, already going for a rocks glass and a pair of ice tongs. The places Benji would usually go, ice just gets fuckin’ dirty palmed.

She pours him a generous two fingers worth. Benji doesn’t recognize the liquid or the label, so he isn’t sure at all how he’s meant to take the drink.

So he takes it like a shot.

It does not go down like one.

Mel slaps a hand over her mouth. “Oh fuck, I’m sorry. I should have — here.” She rushes to get him a pint, just something off tap. Benji glares at her without heat from the rim of the glass, eyes admittedly a bit teary.

“That was a test, a little bit.”

“For?”

She shrugs. “You already don’t seem like the type to come in here and pay fifteen for a shot of regular ass vodka. It’s…nice.”

Benji leans on the counter and assesses the room again. The newcomer is the only one who seems to be paying them attention. He can’t fully tell in the darkness of the bar, but he might be a redhead.

“Are you a musician?”

Benji smiles nervously. He hopes she doesn’t know who he is, hopes she isn’t playing at ignorance.

“Yeah, s’pose. Some might say.”

“Some wouldn’t?”

“Bunch more than some, I think.” He takes another sip.

“Controversial?”

Benji feels something cool settle in his stomach. Almost panic, but not quite. “We’ve had a bit of it, maybe.”

“Oooh.” Mel says. She closes one eye. “Band, then? We?”

“Right.”

She shakes her head. “Well. I hope you enjoy for now. You’re good company, so I might come bother you between scamming.”

Benji laughs. “Alright.”

“It was nice to meet you…” she trails off, and Benji realizes with an embarrassed blink he hasn’t introduced himself back.

“Benji.”

The newcomer at the end of the bar coughs. Mel casts a glance his way, and then smiles apologetically before meandering down.

After a few pints, Benji makes the mistake of checking his phone. He groans and pinches between his eyes.

“Ready for it?”

His shoulders tighten at the sudden intrusion on his quiet; Mel was a quick and decent reader of people, so had given him space. Now she’s back with that same apologetic smile.

“Tired of me?”

She shrugs. He likes how she does it. A bit of attitude there. Feels familiar. “Not trying to kick you out, promise. You just don’t seem like the until-closing barfly type.”

He’s tipsy enough to be loose, so Benji presses a hand over his heart. “Fuckin’ hell, thank you. I’ll take that compliment any day of the week.”

Mel is quiet a moment. Then her eyes narrow in a friendly sort of glint. “You know where else you might get those?”

“Hm?”

“Compliments.”

Benji blinks at her, shakes his head.

As sneakily as she seems able to manage, Mel points down the bar towards the other patron. He’s one of the last few people to linger, along with Benji and the heiresses. There are two rocks glasses beside him, and the remnants of —he tries to remember the drink that gets an orange peel and a cherry. Maran can down those little fuckers like no tomorrow.

“I don’t usually do this, but that guy would not stop asking what you were drinking.”

Benji blinks to clear the bit of fuzz to his vision. When he turns his head, he finds the other man is watching them with a hand propping his chin.

The second their eyes meet, his widen. Benji can’t tell if he blushes in the bar mood lighting, but he figures it’s a good probability: he ducks his head and tucks around himself.

Always been chum in the water for Benji — shyness.

He’s sweet, Benji supposes. Bit too awkward, maybe. His hands shake where they rest on Benji’s forearms as he gets both their belts undone, and he finds out his hunch was right. Redhead.

He can’t help but to think that it could be better, though. It could be a dingy, shitty bathroom in the sub basement of some warehouse turned DIY club. It could be a wood-paneled family owned place off in the country.

Rather, the hotel bar’s bathroom is all sleek lines and polished granite. There aren’t any knobs on the faucet of the sink Benji presses the man against.

Fancy.

The next morning, he wakes late to a text from Bunny.

Damage control working on it. Don’t freak out, it cost me too much money last time.

Benji palms his face, feeling groggy and sore. He squints at the message.

Then the anxiety smacks into him.

He finds the source of her cryptic (and more than a bit insensitive) message. It’s a post on some music subreddit making the rounds, talking about an encounter they had with ‘Ratspit’s own’.

His heart drops into his stomach at the title. Betrayal is a swift and brutal plunge of a blade, but the real twist of the knife is the post’s first sentence:

I don’t want to doxx myself, but I work at a bar and one of our guests last night was—

It goes on from there. What Benji had to drink as proof of the encounter, with several others commenting to chime in the alcohol choice ‘seemed like him’ and thus added credibility. The post even mentions him leaving with the stranger, coy assertions that he seemed very happy when he finally left. There’s a comment asking what he was wearing. A comment asking what hotel, specifically, for no worrying reason. There’s a comment where someone asks if anyone else in the thread remembers the drama in Montreal, the man he’d been pictured with in Houston, and on.

He texts Bunny back. They rarely do, so he fucking hope she doesn’t read too much into it.

I’ll handle it. Call off the dogs, creep.

Fuck you, comes the immediate response, but Benji doesn’t get a call from their PR lad, so he figures she at least listened.

That night, after rehearsals and a day on the town with Nomi that he thinks he manages to be normal through, Benji returns to the bar.

It hadn’t seemed particularly mysterious or magical the first time he’d been, but at least some of the intrigue has been lifted. It really is just an overpriced, pretentious bar for investment losers cheating on their wives.

He can’t believe he sat in this place so long. Had drinks here. Amongst a bunch of top-tier A-level pricks who were probably fiscally conservative, socially progressive liberals who would still suck Reagan raw given the opportunity.

Fuckin’ hell. He’d gone for two pints in the same room with investment bankers.

But he’s got a mission, as much as he’d like to leave and never return.

Mel is working again. She seems surprised to see him, but tentatively happy.

Benji doesn’t smile at her as he sits, or get friendly whatsoever. He orders a pint and waits for her to bring it. All the while, he stares up at that funny bottle. The label of that nasty whatever she’d recommended a taste. Benji stares at that medieval manuscript style drawing cock with wings.

Then he clears his throat. It’s a test.

Mel fails. She looks up too eagerly. Too much friendly, intimate comfort written all over her face.

Touched with a hint of guilt.

Benji imagines letting her have it. Getting rowdy. Loud, like half the people that hate him like to imagine punks get. Do get, really. It’s not a far-off stereotype, not without its edge of truth; there were times where they were the rotten, chaotic free-spirited young musicians who didn’t bat an eye upon receiving a bill of a solid grand for their trashed hotel room.

Go outside once in awhile, he wants to say to her. Do you think a normal person goes and posts every conversation they have with any average prick online? Do you think I wouldn’t find out? That I’m above it all like that? Or did you think I wouldn’t care. Or worse. Were you thinking at all about me?

Instead Benji stares at her. His breathing is even, deep. Relaxed, the way he doesn’t feel whatsoever.

Benji’s arms are crossed on the counter. He slowly nudges them forward until the pint glass tips off the inner edge of the bar and shatters at Mel’s feet.

“Oops.” Benji says. Then he drops a five dollar note on the counter, stands, and leaves.

Bunny had rented them the entire floor of rooms. They were there for a whole weekend, a music festival about thirty minutes out. Matilda advocated for no expense spared at some peace and quiet. Some safety.

Their floor is quite high up, but Benji avoids the elevator. Something about being enclosed in that glass box, alone except for the blinking dot of the security camera in the corner, feels a bit too on the nose for him right now.

When it dings for him to get off, he turns down the hall towards his door.

And then he pauses. He blinks.

At the far end of the hall, Xavier lifts a hand chest-high, as if he means to wave. It drops, as does the eager smile beginning to spread his lips.

Benji’s heart does something similar; plummets straight into his stomach with a cold chill of embarrassment. He turns towards his door, fumbling with the little plastic circle meant to get him in. He swipes and swipes and swipes it, as he hears long strides incoming.

It seems pitiful to chance a look over his shoulder. It feels pitiful, desperate, lonely. But he’s glad he does.

“Benji!” Xavier yells, and then slaps a hand over his own mouth. Wide green eyes dart side to side, pink peeking at his cheeks under the edge of his big hand. It lowers, and Benji is summarily stunned by the adorably sheepish grin hiding beneath.

“Shush.” He admonishes. The bloody door still won’t open.

Xavier falters for a moment, but only that. HIs gait slows, dripping rejection, until he realizes he isn’t being dismissed; Benji stands still, hands tucked in his hoodie and —

Waiting. He’s waiting. So Xavier comes towards him quicker, eager, excited.

Fuckin’ hell, Benji thinks, scrubbing a hand back through his hair. Fuckin’ hell, mate, have some self-preservation, you’ve got no idea — you’ve no idea what I’ve been thinking, are you serious?

Xavier stops several feet away. The hotel hall is dimly lit with fancy sconces lining the walls, orange glow turned soft for the night. He looks. Well. Benji, who is occasionally paid by the word if the lyrics are good enough, cannot manage a single syllable.

“Alright?”

“Yes.” Xavier breathes. That grin widens. ��I mean, hey.”

They stare at one another a beat.

“Can’t sleep?”

“No rest for the wicked?”

Their synchronization makes Benji toss his head back and laugh.

“Fuck off,” he says, unable to keep any bit of fondness concealed.

“I heard there’s a crazy expensive bar downstairs.” Xavier smiles, pats his back pocket. “And I just got paid.”

Benji winces. “Ah. Not really my style. Or yours, if m’honest.”

Xavier looks absolutely heartbroken for a moment. It’s tortuous.

So, even though he’s exhausted and buzzed with the adrenaline of a confrontation, Benji tilts his head back towards the elevators. “I was gonna turn in but. Fancy a walk, instead?”

“Sure. Yeah.” Xavier sounds winded, still.

The elevator ride back down is mostly silent. At the door, the hotel doorman gives Benji a nod and then says something into his earpiece; maybe making note of the time of his departure, or letting Tino know that he’s been spotted, has a chaperone.

Benji glances up at said guard. Only to find him staring down. He blushes when he’s caught, and Benji can only think of fucking chum.

“Been busy? If you’ve already done your laps tonight, no worries.” He gestures at Xavier’s heaving chest.

Xavier looks, as if unaware. He takes a big breath and lets it out slow; Benji catches his fingers shivering as he winds them together and pulls at knuckles until they pop.

Shaking? Nervous, Xavier? I make you fuckin’ nervous?

They escape the hotel, dancing awkwardly out its rotating doors and into the cool night air. Benji can’t help but admonish himself a bit; he hadn’t even checked for a crowd or the absurdly committed fan or two usually lingering wherever they went. He wonders, distantly, if Xavier’s presence had scared them off. At the last few shows, Xavier had developed a bit of a reputation.

Take no shit, is what Benji had overheard him say to Benny, voice clogged by a broken nose. You gotta establish dominance. Like, y’know. The hierarchy of nature. Like meerkats.

Meerkats? Benny had asked incredulously, prodding at the blood on Xavier’s upper lip.

Yeah, dude, you ever seen Meerkat Manor? Those little fucks are metal.

The hotel isn’t situated in a particularly busy part of the city, but its a big enough town to have cars out on the street this late.

Benji smiles at the memory, tucks close to Xavier against the chill. He’s so fucking warm, all the time.

“So I take it that’s a no?”

“No!” Xavier says quickly. Then his brows pinch. “Uh, I mean? No, it’s not a no. What you’re asking about. Um. What were you asking about?”

Benji snorts. “Asked if you’d gotten your exercise, if comin’ for a walk was a bother.”

“No,” Xavier repeats even faster. “No, this is — I kinda needed this.”

Benji feels his snide, half-sided grin turn genuine and is somewhat terrified of that. “Yeah? Me too.”

“Shit day?” Xavier asks it sincerely, but he’s also glued to his phone enough that Benji has no doubt he’s at least a bit aware of the latest gossip.

“Yeah, you could say.” He leans in conspiratorially, completely in the other man’s space now. “I like this, though. Feels better.”

Xavier trips over a rock or a crack in the sidewalk, yelping just as he’s about to respond. “Ah! Fuck. This?”

Benji pauses and waits for him to stop, too. They stop outside and open-late deli, whose flickering neon sign side casts Xavier in pretty reds and blues.

Mood lighting, Benji thinks with something far too soft lodged in his throat.

“Spending time with you.” Benji says. He doesn’t feel bold for the honesty; it’s just the truth. Why not tell him? What’s he got to fucking lose, the rest of his dignity? He can handle a rejection, after all that.

It doesn’t help that Xavier looks so sweetly startled by the admission. His cheeks are pink, little rosy thumb-sized dots of color high on his cheeks. They start to join in a flush over his nose.

“Oh.” Xavier says. He blinks rapidly before breaking out into a smile so bright Benji feels like he’s staring into the spotlight.

“I like spending time with you too, Benji. I’m —” he pauses here, hands coming up to lace in front of his stomach. They coil and knot and fret. His usual tell. Whatever he wanted to say gets pushed visibly down, and Benji mourns it for a moment.

Just a moment. Because Xavier goes on:

“You’re cool. I’m glad somebody cool wants to be around me.”

Benji shakes his head. He knocks his boot against Xavier’s calf. “Mate, wouldn’t pay the compliment if I didn’t mean it? Wouldn’t be out here walkin’ with anybody.”

Xavier’s smile grows. It’s sort of addicting to accomplish. So Benji goes on, too:

“Naw, Xavier, honest. Not just flattering you. Think I get along with people like this? Fuck no.” A laugh that he hopes doesn’t sound too bitter. “Sounds mad and probably egotistical to say, but it’s hard…y’know, making friends like this. Especially ones as fast with it as you.”

Xavier’s blush depends, and he ducks his head. Shyly. “Come on.”

“No, honest. Banter with the best of ‘em, swear you do.”

Xavier scuffs his shoe. Benji can’t help what happens. He leans in, chin tilted, eyes cast up Xavier’s chest to find his face.

“Not bad to look at either, if I’m honest.”

The smarmy little compliment is received exactly as he anticipated. Xavier, clearly too flustered to function, mumbles something that might be a polite, awkward Catholic fucking ‘thanks!’ before immediately trying to pull Benji’s attention away.

He oohs and aahs at the late night joint in front of which they’ve paused their walk, pulling Benji’s sleeve. Trying to convince him to go in, as much as he is trying to get a reprieve from the compliments.

And yet, when Xavier’s eyes get too big for his stomach (a fucking feat, if the stories Lark tells are anything to go by), it’s Benji, idiot, who carries the boxes full of wings and two different pizzas and a cookie cake and subs and massive potato fries back to the hotel.

Xavier’s blinding smile is worth it. Lights everything up nice and lovely.

#writing #band au #bp #xw #bp x xw

5 notes · View notes