#how you train an embarrassing Pavlovian response

[atsadi-shenanigans]

FSBE 9 - Date Night

You get some.

On AO3.

It don’t work.

“Yet,” Gale stresses. “Which is the entire point of testing. We’ll try again here in, oh, three days’ time? That’s all part of a research strategy. Documentation.”

Man is such a nerd. It’s adorable. Especially since it seems to be pulling him outta that shitty ass commandment from his bitch-ass goddess to blow himself up.

Gods ain’t fucking shit. Goddamn shocker.

Astarion waits at your tent when you stagger over. You’re only a little bleary-eyed, just enough to soften his features and sharpen your tongue.

“Fuck,” you say.

“Hello to you as well, my sweet,” he says. “I take it that means the wizard is finished with you?”

You reach the tent. He does seem to have cleaned up. His hair is in its usual floof, his camp shirt only slightly musty (not a lot of washing y’all can do between a lava lake and this dump).

You ain’t cleaned shit, and you’re a beat down dog, tonight.

“Well?” Astarion says. Waits while you stand there like a loser.

You know, intellectually, that Gale is right. Standardized testing documents changes in a gradual process. One test, especially the first one, don’t necessarily mean shit. If he’s right about the other thing (your lungs go tight trying to form the word because you fucking failed, goddamn worthless) it’ll take time. Like learning any skill. Like them rich bitches from Texas who pay a hundred grand to get a Sherpa local to haul their ass up Everest. Even they gotta spend time at base camp. Let their body adapt. Can’t double the red blood count overnight, and trying tends to cause swelling in the lungs or brain. And then, like, death.

“Still a dud,” you say and almost bite the inside of your cheek to distract from the way your throat tightens.

“A dud?” He sounds out the word like somebody taking a bite of foreign food. Slow. Careful.

Oh, the limits of dirt potion.

“Means I don’t work,” you say.

He cocks his head to the side. There’s something on his face, around the edges of his eyes…then it’s gone, slipped beneath the surface as his usual smarm ass grin spreads across his lips. “You work for me, darling.”

And you can’t help it. It’s so fucking cheesy. Punctures right through the balloon of self-pity and it bursts out of you in a high snort. “Oh my god, you’re such a dork.”

He don’t even lose his grin. “A what?”

You shake your head. The literal etymology aside, you don’t wanna ruin the mood explaining. Besides, the two of you standing out here all but screaming “hookup” to anybody with a set of eyes…

You lift the tent flap. Duck inside. He follows after you.

“No owlbear this time?” he says.

Just your bedroll and your bag. You ain’t got no fancy rugs or nothing. Even if you had been inclined to start hoarding (and you was), the Underdark took everything. You probably didn’t need half a dozen mismatched forks anyway, right?

“I asked Wyll to take him,” you say.

“Oh~,” Astarion fucking drawls. Gives a shoulder shimmy. “Wanted the two of us alone at last?”

There ain’t no goddamn reason for you to get shy now. You was alone with him for over a week down in them caves. Sleeping in his tent, going full Poo-bear. And yeah, he was blind for that one, but you was wrapped up in only his blanket, cooch out, as he lit a fire in his hand to warm you.

All that before he done stuck his fingers up inside you.

Yet here y’all are. You dropped the fur baby off with a sitter and brought home a man. Elf. Vampire. And it’s taking all you got not to squirm at his proximity.

Especially as he closes the distance between y’all.

“It’s been days since I’ve tasted your lips,” he says. Like a normal person. “It’s all rather distracting. All I can think of, when I ought to be paying attention in battle. Terribly dangerous if I’m lost in remembering the next time we’re attacked.”

Holy god, you wonder when he came up with that one. If he practiced it in his head. How many times he did to make it come out like that. Fucking weirdo. (Yet your insides do a little loop-de-loop anyways.)

He’s so close. Offering you, well, you ain’t quite sure yet. But being close is nice. His touch is nice. And you feel rotten. Tired and sore, and that’s before you get to anything physical. All you want is to lean against him and let everything else disappear for a bit.

“So you’re saying I should kiss you better?” you say.

“I wouldn’t want to presume,” says the man sliding his hands along your hips to draw you closer as goosebumps sweep up your arms and down your thighs.

“I mean.” Your breath ghosts over his lips and you also have to fight the urge to twist away. It seems too…intimate. Almost rude. “It’s to save your life, right?”

“Most certainly.”

He’s so hard to figure out. So many different facets. And some of them is downright nasty. Then he goes and does shit like this, and it tugs at something inside you. A fishhook you went and swallowed, reeling you in by the guts.

“We can’t have that,” you say.

He closes the last, lingering distance.

You kissed him all of what, three times? Does one count each session or each kiss? Cause it turns out they come in groups. All blending together into a moment. Lips gliding. The vibration of his voice as he makes small noises. The mortifying sigh that escapes your nose as you fucking relax into him.

And then his cool fingers circle your wrists (arms hanging at your sides like a dork because you ain’t sure what to do with them) (you are, you just…it’s too forward). Bring them up to place your hands at his neck.

You squeak. Can’t help it. Regress twenty years into a sitcom teenager.

He breaks off. Seems more softly amused than anything, thank fuck. “My sweet little treat. You’re flushed, darling.”

You try (and fail) to regain your breath. Without panting all over him. “That’s supposed to happen.”

“Mmm,” he says. Nuzzles against the side of your face like a man-sized cat. “Only when you’re with a talented lover.”

This one comes out a giggle. A soft huff. When he pulls back again, he’s wearing the softest smile you ever seen.

Then he’s sitting. Tugging you down after him. You straddle his lap and your pulse thunders in your ears. Your stomach does a somersault as his hands circle around to the small of your back and he pulls you close. Spread over his lap again.

He kisses you more. Slips a little tongue, this time. And hey! You still ain’t used to that! Still make weird sounds and then your skin burns as you shudder in his grasp.

His lips move, slide up the side of your face. Up to your ear. “How would you like it this time, lover?”

Holy fucking god.

Nobody. Nobody. Has ever said anything like that to you. Your mouth goes dry as all the moisture in your body seems to slam down between your legs.

Any way you want, you want to say. Barely stop yourself (as the ghosts of shameful past scream in your head).

You search his face. Soft. Smarm. All heavy-lidded. The fingers of his left hand brush softly up and down the back of your neck (should you mimic that).

He’s done this once with you. And he didn’t get anything…reciprocal with it. You ain’t sure it’s okay to ask again. Relationships is about sharing, right? So he should have a turn. Right?

“Do you, uh.” You start strong. Chicken out halfway through. Then force yourself to commit like a grown ass woman straddling a man’s lap. “Do you want a turn?”

Yes. Great. Excellent phrasing there, Ripley. So mature. So self-confident.

He leans away a few inches, you think so he can see your face. Something in his eyes…but then it’s gone. And he’s all liquid lust again.

“But what of you, my sweet?”

Oh jesus. God help you. Fucking talking is hard. This is bullshit.

“I mean. I got to. Y’know. Last time.” It’s not sexy to cringe while straddling a man’s lap. Nobody’s lap, but especially not his when y’all are, well, dating (holy fuck). “And you didn’t. I mean. Unless later you, uh. Which is fine! I’m not. It. It doesn’t bother me or nothing!”

He blinks at you. Doesn’t seem like he’s gonna laugh in your face? Just looks…puzzled. “Are you asking if I’ve touched myself?”

No. Cool. Y’all’re talking about masturbation now. This is fine. Totally okay. You’ll just collect yourself, wish him a good night, and then walk outside to join the legion of shadow puppets.

“You don’t have to answer that,” you say. You’re dodging. Covering. It’s stupid obvious, but you don’t care because you wandered into an area you shouldn’t be in, and you need to get out and get out now. “Sorry. I just thought. Um. If you wanted. Uh.”

But he leans in so close his features go blurry. Might as well’ve slapped a hand over your mouth.

“You want to know?” he says, voice gone silky.

Holy shit.

…has he?

Oh neat, now your own voice done left the chat room. You hope it’s having a nice fucking time hanging out with your missing social awareness, common sense, and thirty-five-years-old fucking sense of maturity.

Then Astarion pecks you on the lips. Pulls you flush against him. “Shall I tell you, darling? How I took myself in hand thinking of you? Imagining you just…”

His hips lift. Yeah, he’s hard. He grinds right up against you and it punches the air clean outta your lungs.

“Like this?”

Grinds again. That is an erection. Rubbing between your legs. Y’all are both fully clothed, but that don’t diminish the knowledge one fucking bit.

He did. Holy fuckballs.

He lowers his head to kiss your neck. The tips of his fangs graze your skin as he suckles. He’s gonna leave another mark. Goddamnit.

“Would you like to know how I pictured you? Taking me so sweetly? Singing so prettily as I filled you?”

You clap a hand over your mouth. Who even talks like this?

“Do you think of me, darling? When you touch yourself? When you retrieve that toy of yours?”

Good god almighty, the man is obsessed with your dildo. But, not in a bad way. You think. You heard of that. It, like, challenges some guys and their sense of masculinity or whatever. But this seems almost…envious?

You think of him sliding down, onto one of his own, mouth falling open and you accidentally grind down hard on him.

So now you have to cover for that. “I. I haven’t. Used that, I mean.”

He still rocks you against him. Jesus lord, y’all are dry humping. This is goddamn dry humping.

“Whyever not?” he says.

“C-can’t just. Drop it into the camp pot, can I? Need to boil that sunuvabitch. So I don’t get Faerun herpes.”

One hand stays on the back of your neck. The other slides down, across your hips. Over your thigh. Traces up to the juncture between your legs. He lifts his head to look at you, a silent question. Asking permission.

But he says it, too. “May I?”

This is crazy. He’s crazy. You’re more crazy. A couple hours from killing a man (thing) and going into shock, and it turns out tomfoolery really does turn the brain to scrambled eggs. Because while part of you know this is a terrible idea and you might be a horrible fucking person. The rest of you? Doesn’t really care right now.

“Yes,” you say.

His hand slips between your legs to stroke the outside of your pants. It ain’t nowhere near like him dipping under that blanket in his tent in the Underdark. But it’s still enough you gasp and arch against him.

His lips find your throat again. His fangs scrape. You shiver against him. Then the hand behind your neck moves. Comes around to the front of your stays. He don’t ask, this time. Don’t even try to get under them; he done went and picked up how you shy from that (though sweet baby jesus, the thought of his mouth on your nipple, teeth nibbling…)

“It sounds like we ought to build our own fire, then,” he says. It takes you a minute to connect conversations. “And I don’t just mean like this.”

His hand disappears before his cool fingers slide over the hem of your pants. Settle on the buttons. You’re already slicker than a shit chute. Can feel it as you move.

“I could help you ready for it, darling,” he says. “Bring you to it, just like this.”

He gets the front open. His fingers move down, over your lower belly.

“I could watch you take it.”

But that. That one’s too far. Eyes on you, the whole congregation witnessing your shame. You can’t stop the flinch.

Astarion pauses. Looks to you, his gaze sharp. He plays airheaded, but you seen him demolish critters and people, and the way he looks at you now is similar. There’s brains behind them eyes.

“No,” he says. “Perhaps not that.”

He releases the front of your stays to guide you down to kiss him all sweet and gentle again. Just as his fingers slip inside your drawers and find your clit.

“Oh,” he hums directly into your mouth. “You certainly liked part of that, though. Is it the thought of using it, perhaps? Shall I hold it for you?”

You make a noise. Too loud, too loud. The others will hear. They know (or suspect, bare minimum) what’s going on in here, but you don’t gotta go hollering about it. Might literally die if anybody says anything tomorrow.

The image though. You only got to use that toy a few times (wasn’t even sure it’d fit, but some prep work and going slow and it was fine; only stung a little at the very first).

His fingertip brushes over your clit again. The contact jolts through you.

“You’re quite riled up,” Astarion says. “We mustn’t wait so long between the next time, hmm? Not when we can have this.”

Man sounds a bit frazzled, the edges of his words fraying. Even as he circles you, fingers slipping through the mess down there. Caressing slow and sure, until you start rocking against him despite yourself. You need more, goddamnit. You done this the one time with him, but your body remembers. It already knows his touch brings pleasure. It leaps at it. You want it. God almighty, you want it.

“Please,” you whisper, cheeks burning. “Astarion…”

“Mmm, yes?” His fangs linger over where he likes to bite you. Fingers trace up your spine as his other hands works inside your pants. It occurs to you that the only one holding you against his touch is you. You are the one putting pressure on his hand. And that sets your body on fire.

His tongue presses against your neck. And the idea just pops in there. All on its own. Too many movies. Too many social media posts. But.

You lift a hand. Press it carefully to the back of his head where his hair is downy soft, beneath the stiffer parts he must pomade up into them swoops. You urge him closer, to bury his face against your neck.

“Please,” you say again. “You can. You can.”

He bites. Hot, sharp pain lances up the side of your neck. You gasp and pull away. But that presses his other hand harder between your legs and it hits. The pleasure. The pain. How he grabs the back of your neck, moaning into you and the way his scent fills your nose and the wet sounds of him touching you and suckling at your neck.

The orgasm rips through you. Sends you bucking against him, trying like hell to stay quiet. Slapping your hand over your mouth even as you cradle his head, pressing him to you. You come right on his hand again, his fangs buried in your neck.

This, you realize, is how you’re going to accidentally train yourself into the most embarrassing Pavlovian response in human history.

[hyper-fxation]

Café Mourning (Reid/Reader)

Summary: Reader is a barista who has been missing their favorite customer for the past three months. One rainy day, he walks in like nothing happened. A/N: 
Hi there! Welcome to my first official fic! This imagine was written for @imagining-in-the-margins​ ‘s Discord fic swap (which was a blast, might I add). To my lovely @ctrlalt-del​, this one’s for you! I hope you enjoy!

P.S: My requests/inbox are open! Feel free to send me any ideas; smut, fluff, angst, you name it!

Couple: Spencer Reid/GenderNeutral!Reader 
 Category: 
Fluff Word Count: 1.3K

——————

The early Saturday shifts were calm, yet slightly pitiful. All they consisted of was dusting between the same few crevices about twenty-seven times, or at least until there wasn’t a single espresso grain in sight. And as if the leisurely cleaning wasn’t tiring enough, the rain pattered heavily against the building, causing everything to feel twice as dreary. Not much activity was happening at the little coffee shop on the corner, especially not at the ass crack of dawn. I’d almost given up on seeing anyone before the sun would rise when the first ring of the doorbell chimed.

“I’ll be right with you!” I watched the final beads of coffee drip into the cup before making a quick effort to tend to the customer. After all, people tended to be ruder than usual at this hour. At least, before they got their coffee.

“I’m sorry for the wait… What can I get for y-“

The ceramic slipped from my fingers as I gasped, sucking in breath as I awaited the dreaded crash by my feet. There stood the man, drenched by the morning showers. His hair hung in loose, soggy curls. He wore a soft yet longing smile across his face. That smile belonging to Spencer.

“Hey.” His eyes were wide, surprised by the sudden accident.

“Good morning! Oh my god, you’re soaked! Do you not have an umbrella?” Careful not to slip on the spilled drink, I frantically searched for any sort of towel to help his current issue, never mind the coffee.

“No, I forgot it this morning.” His eyes followed as I ducked underneath the counter, slowly peeling his now twice as heavy blazer from his shoulders.

“Spencer! You’re going to catch a cold!” I settled for a roll of paper towels, tossing them over the counter.

He stared at the towels for longer than I had expected him to before adverting his gaze back towards myself.

“Why are you staring at me like I’m the crazy one?” I couldn’t describe the way he had looked at me then. Longing, dazed, I wasn’t sure. But it had certainly set my heart into a thumping frenzy.

“Did you…call me Spencer?”

As a matter of fact, I had. A slip of the tongue, if anything. The man had never told me his name. Nor had I asked.

“Oh,” I spoke, eyes widening in alarm. “Yeah. I did. I’m sorry!”

I attempted to recall the memory of when I had first heard his name. A friend, co-worker, someone who he had arrived at the shop with months ago. She had called him Spence, to which I had assumed was a nickname for Spencer.

“One of your co-workers called you Spence so I just figured…”

“No, it’s fine!” He smiled then, noticing my panic and placing his jacket over the back of a chair. “I just didn’t realize you know my name. I definitely didn’t expect you to remember it.” His voice softened, trailing off as he slowly peeled a few towels from the roll.

His words took me by surprise; of course, I would have remembered! Spencer’s early morning presence was what kept me excited for another shift. I was always greeted with a cheerful “good morning”, a soft smile and an occasional compliment regarding my hair or outfit for the day. I wasn’t sure how I would have forgotten those soft hazel eyes followed by his small, button nose that would scrunch out of habit. I found myself drifting into my own thoughts, leaving us both in awkward silence.

“Why would I forget?” I shifted a few cups on the counter, waiting for his eyes to meet my own once again.

He placed the damp towels into the trash beside the door before running his palms over his shirt, realizing that it was still soaked before shaking his hands slightly in attempt to dry them.

“I…I just haven’t been by in a while.”

“Yeah, three months, right?” I shook my head, allowing myself to laugh at my own stupid thoughts. “A-At first I thought you’d finally gotten tired of me and were just avoiding my shift.”

He almost gasped, taken aback by my statement. “Oh, God no! No, I haven’t had a decent cup of coffee since the last time I saw you.”

A playful smile overtook my face as I offered, “Do you want to fix that?”

He seemed to relax, breathing out a sigh that I hadn’t realized he was holding in and tucking his damp hair behind his ears.

“Definitely, although I’m a little worried I’m developing a Pavlovian response to seeing you.”

I giggled as I fixed a new cup underneath the espresso machine. “The training experiment with dogs? Am I the dog or the bell?”

“You’re definitely not the dog.” He laughed as I finished his cup, placing it on the other side of the counter.

Handing him a few napkins to hold underneath the steaming drink, I studied his current appearance. “And you’re very puppy like. It suits you.”

He gave a small nod before moving to sit. I watched for a couple of seconds before turning my attention back to my obnoxious cleaning.

The shop was quiet for about two minutes, other than my audible, uncomfortable grunts as I separated the shards of glass from the coffee puddle. I allowed a few rags to soak up the mess as I sighed, placing my hands on my hips. Spencer had been watching, gulping down a rather large sip before speaking softly. “I missed you.”

Talk about the world’s heaviest eye contact as we both attempted to decide if those words were meant to be spoken before I decided to respond.

“Really?”

He seemed hesitant to answer before giving a slow nod, averting his eyes to the liquid in his cup. My heart most definitely swelled, rocking back on my heels as I watched Spencer fidget in his seat.

“…Do you want to hear something embarrassing?” I suddenly announced.

“Embarrassing for you or embarrassing for me? Because that will determine my answer.”

I gave a soft smile before responding. “For me.”

“Then continue…” He smirked behind his mug, taking a large gulp.

“So, I just remade that drink for you.”

It took him a few seconds to fully comprehend what I had said, his eyebrows furrowing in confusion. “What do you mean?”

“I made that drink for you earlier, which…” I gestured to the soaking paper on the floor by my feet. “Is the drink I dropped on the floor. But even if I hadn’t dropped it, I would have remade the drink because I was worried that you’d think I was weird for having it made already.” I felt my face flush as his eyebrows raised in question.  

“How did you know I was going to come in?” He placed his cup down on a napkin, twisting it by the handle as he watched it slide. “Well, I didn’t. For three months every morning I… made one anyway. Just in case.” I stumbled upon my words, flustered as my little coffee shop crush was becoming a bit more obvious the more I spoke. “Is that weird? I’m sorr-“

I was then cut off by an aggressive screech of chair legs against the hardwood floor. Spencer sped behind the counter, stepping over the mess that had yet to be properly taken care of before pulling my body into the warmest hug I had experienced in a quite some time. Despite his attire being damp, I placed my head against his shoulder with a deep sigh.

“What’s this for?” I finally spoke as he took a step back to meet my eyes.

“I never expected anyone to have waited for me.” His words were laced with genuine sadness, his eyes sparkling with appreciation.

I shook my head with a playful smile, patting his chest softly. “You underestimate me, Spencer.”

“You? Of course not! Your barista skills, well…”

[whipped-for-kpop-fics]

Pup

You can find the Halloween request post  here :3

Thank you for the request @namjin-fangirling-again​, I hope you like it, even if it’s not particularly cracky but it’s still funny(at least in my eyes)   Request; “  werewolf. Jungkook. Make it extra fluffy and crack ”

Jeon Jeongguk x reader Genre; Fluff and humour. Werewolf au Warnings; Adult language and topics . JK’s dick is mentioned multiple times because i have no self control Word count; 1.5k

Summary; Every full moon you lock Jeongguk in a cell ready for his animal side to take over his mind and body.  But little does he know that he’s not the big bad wolf he thinks he is.

---

The full moon; the lifeforce and also the bane of every werewolf. 

Even though werewolves have been able to switch between wolf and human form at will for centuries now, the full moon still reigns over their bodies and forces them to be in wolf form. In the city, it's a nuisance but nothing terribly bad, most city wolves tend to simply spend the moon hours in their homes watching TV or sleeping it off. Those in the country have it easier; most meet in groups to run and play, take advantage of their wolves natural abilities. But there's a select handful of werewolves that are still affected by the moon like their ancestors; these unfortunate souls lose all grasp on their humanity the moment the full moon makes an appearance and are only aware of themselves again once the sun rises the following morning.

Jeon Jeongguk is one of those poor unfortunate souls and you are the only one that has seen him during these hours in a long time.

"Can't you just leave me here this time?" He complained as you chained the cell he was inside shut. Despite what Hollywood says; werewolves cannot break through thick metal chains during moon hours, they've never been able to either. Though there was that one time Jeongguk snapped his steering wheel a couple of months ago in the midst of a traffic jam leading up to moon hours. But that was purely a mix of stress at the thought of potentially being caught outside once he lost his humanity and his big ol' veiny arms thanks to his daily gym sessions. (We won't go into how hot you found his strength at that moment because that's another story entirely with a different rating and subject matter).

"I'm not leaving you here all night alone." You scoffed settling in your usual beanbag opposite the barred door of his cell and pulling the blanket at your feet around you. "You're lucky you don't feel the cold as much, it's fucking freezing in here."

"You say that every month." He chuckled laying down on the futon with one bare arm behind his head.

"It's the truth. We pay all that money for this room and they can't even install a heating system? We've been robbed, Guk."

"Whatever you say, babe."

You just hummed through your pout and took a few moments to take in his naked muscled form on display for your eyes and your eyes only - it was actually so that he didn't wreck his clothes when the shift happened but you liked to pretend it was all for your viewing pleasure. "How you feeling?"

"Fine, got a while left yet." That had you perking up in your seat. Sensing your movement, Jeongguk looked over at you unimpressed. "No."

"What? I didn't say anything!"

"Every single month you complain about being cold and then ask me to warm you up." He deadpanned.

"As you should, you're my boyfriend." You huffed dramatically.

"We're not having sex this close to moon hours,"

"But..." The look he gave you made you slouch sulkily into your blanket. "It would be fine."

"I'm not risking it. If my timing is off and the moon rises while you're in here... I don't want to even think about what I'd do to you. I love you too much to risk your safety just to get my dick wet."

"I've never felt unsafe around you during moon hours."

"You've never been around me during moon hours without these bars between us." At least, that's what he thought.

*

You didn't need a window to know when the full moon was beginning to make its appearance, all you needed was Jeongguk's groan of displeasure and you knew.

You straightened up from slouching against the wall playing on your phone to peer over at where Jeongguk was curled up with his arms bracketing his head. As much as you knew he wasn't in any pain during the transformation, you knew he hated every second of it. For the first few minutes, he always without fail tried to fight the change and grasped at his humanity in his mind but it never worked. His animal counterpart always rose up, taking over his mind first before too ruling his body.

The change from beginning to end never took more than five minutes; once his wolf was in charge the physical changes happened almost in a blink of an eye.

"Jungoo!" You cooed flinging the blanket off of your body to crawl over and unlock the gate. A pair of amber eyes peered at you, unfocused at first due to the change but in moments recognition set in and you had a lapful of wolf. Well, lapful is a bit generous honestly.

At any other time, Jeongguk's wolf was a fully grown majestic creature with sleek deep brown verging on black fur. But during moon hours Jeongguk's wolf was...well...a puppy. A tiny little ball of fluffy chocolate brown and you were the only one that knew about it.

"Hey puppy," Your hands rubbed over the little wriggling form on your thighs, scratching and rubbing his tiny body while he yipped and panted excitedly at the attention. "Hm, what shall we do today?" He barked at you, an almost squeak of a sound that had you cackling. If Jeongguk knew what happened to him during moon hours he would never look you in the eye again, he'd be so embarrassed of the fact his most instinctual form was a baby, an adorable little wolf pup that never left your side even to eat. Though to be honest, pretty much all of your friends knew that he loved to be babied and looked after, especially by you and would always choose you over anyone else even before you started dating. So it wouldn't surprise anyone to find out but he sure as hell would never live it down.

Just like all other full moons since the first one with Jeongguk three years ago, you spent the whole time playing and cuddling with his ickle wolfie, and moon hours are the only time that phrase isn't a euphemism- he had begged you to stop calling his dick 'ickle wolfie' multiple times but you always refused.

Before you knew it, your alarm was going off telling you that the sun was due to rise at any moment. "Better get back in there, Jungoo." You sighed wiping the pizza crumbs off of his muzzle. He looked up at you and whined sensing what was coming. "I'll miss you too, little one but we'll be able to play again together before you know it." He made vaguely distressed crying sounds the whole time you carried him into the cell and placed him gently onto the futon. He tried to clamber back into your arms but you quickly backed away after pressing a kiss to his fluffy little head. "Stay still, Guk will never let me come with him again if he wakes outside of the cell." The pup watched you back out of the cell and lock the door before he ran over to the bars and yipped at you.

Jeongguk woke like he did every sunrise after moon hours, curled up against the bars with your hand stroking through his hair. He made a sort of grunting sound signalling he was back to his normal self and earned a hair ruffle in return that had him swatting your hand away. While he reorientated himself you got up and removed the lock and chain from the door to return it to its home on the wall.

A sudden exhale left his lungs when you plopped down onto his naked lap and cuddled up to his chest.

"Did you feed me pizza again?" He questioned after figuring out what the taste lingering on his tongue was.

"Puppy loves pizza."

"You love pizza." He chuckled finally wrapping his arms around your waist to hold you tight.

"And you love me which means puppy loves me therefore by default, puppy loves pizza."

"Really wish you'd stop calling my wolf a puppy."

"The cutest puppy ever."

"Whatever you say, babe." Jeongguk laughed and pressed a kiss to your head so you straightened up instead of leaning on his shoulder.

"So, I'm still cold." You grinned mischievously while wiggling your eyebrows suggestively at him.

"You feel pretty warm to me." He teased, sliding his hands underneath the t-shirt and hoody on your torso to touch the warm skin of your waist.

"I'd like to be a lot warmer. And naked. And attached to you by our genitals." Jeongguk burst into laughter at your wording, something beyond fond and loving in his eyes as he admired your serious expression.

"You say the weirdest shit, sweetheart."

"Hm, I do but it works for you. I can feel ickle wolfie rising his head to play!" You sniggered wiggling on his lap.

"Pavlovian response to sunrise after moon hours. You've trained me to be ready for sex. You never should've taken that psychology course with Joon-hyung."

"Shut up and get me naked, wolf boy."

"Whatever you want, I live only to please you, my love!" Was his dramatic and very sarcastic response even if he was already lifting you up as he got to his knees ready to throw you onto the futon and give you exactly what you wanted.

[sareyen]

Let Me Whisper In Your Ear, Darling (Cherik)

Read on ao3

Basically, Erik is an angry, horny college student who discovers audio porn made by one ProfessorXXX and becomes his #1 fan.

Erik was sitting in the library glaring at the screen of his old and beaten laptop, absent-mindedly twisting a paper clip hovering over the palm of his open hand. He had read and re-read his assignment ten times already, and he was still wondering why Professor Shaw had marked him down by eight marks.

Erik knew that his paper on mutant disadvantage in the female workforce had been good - good enough that he was sure that he shouldn’t have been docked eight marks. His asshole of a professor hadn’t even told him why he had been marked down, merely giving him a 42/50 and calling it a day.

“Sugar, glaring at your computer isn’t going to get Shaw to change your grade,” Emma said as she chewed on her spearmint gum behind her cool smile. Erik didn’t stop staring at his paper, flipping his friend off as he mouthed out the concluding sentences of his paper, still no closer to finding out ‘why the hell Shaw marked me down eight marks’.

“He’s a misogynistic piece of shit, Emma,” Erik gritted out, his friend letting out an amused huff, manicured nails clacking on her own computer.

“Not really. He gave me a pretty decent mark on my essay on the female mutant experience,” Emma said, flicking her immaculately curled blonde hair behind her shoulder, Erik finally peeling his eyes from his laptop to give her a seething look.

“That’s because he’s a misogynistic pervert who’s trying to pull sexual favours out of you by meddling with your grades,” Erik countered, Emma laughing.

“Oh, Sugar. You know he’d never try, not when I could just…” Emma vaguely gestured towards her head, corner of her mouth curled upwards. “And your grade isn’t even that bad by Shaw’s standards, so why are you so riled up?” Erik glared at Emma, who had plucked out his mark from inside his head. Emma looked thoughtful again, and Erik could feel her rifling through his brain with her ice-cold touch, making him growl and slap his mental shields over the things he really didn’t want her to see.

“Your boss is an asshole, Erik. Why don’t you just quit already?” Emma sighed, having seen how Erik’s boss at the coffee shop hadn’t paid him for the last week because he ‘forgot’ - for the second week in a row.

“Unlike you, I don’t have my daddy’s money to support me,” Erik snapped, Emma just raising an eyebrow, not fazed by Erik’s temper in the slightest; Emma was, perhaps, the only person who could deal with Erik’s moods.

Everyone knew that Erik Lehnsherr was an antagonistic, combative and downright scary person. On the first day of college, he had alienated the entire class by getting into it with a mutantphobic prick, pinning him to the wall by using all of the metal on his body. After that, no one tried to talk to him, ever. Only Emma, who was equally as intimidating (though for an entirely different reason), had been able to talk to him without shitting herself.

“Snappy. And it’s not just the fact that you’ve been eating cup ramen for two weeks and Shaw’s marking that’s pissing you off either, is it? Erik, you’re frustrated. If you’re so horny, come to the bar with the rest of us after class on Friday and just find someone and get laid,” Emma said casually, Erik flipping her off again. “Hey, I’m not judging, Sugar. Just concerned about a friend.”

“Well, you can go and shove your concern up your-”

Erik’s words cut off the moment he felt his phone buzz on the table in that particular tone. Erik knew that tone. He had set that singular bzz-bzz…bzz-bzz-bzz rhythm for one thing, and one thing only, different to the vibration pattern of text messages (that he really only got from Emma and his mother) or college email notifications (about how his requests for remarks have been denied for the fiftieth time).

Erik didn’t say anything else to Emma as he hastily slammed his ratty laptop screen down, stuffing it into his bag alongside his notes and phone, before quickly leaving the library. Emma was just looking at him with amusement as he left, and Erik knew that she would have sensed his mood suddenly change from angry/frustrated/tired to excited/horny/joyful.

It was only just past midday on a regular Wednesday, but Erik was done with classes and had only planned to study with Emma in the library until she went out on a dinner date with Scott, and he went to work his shift at the late-night coffee shop.

But then he had felt that particular bzz-bzz…bzz-bzz-bzz, and threw his plans straight out the window.

By the time he had unlocked the door to his apartment with his powers and hightailed it into his room, locking the door behind him with another flick of his wrist, Erik was already thrumming with anticipation, his cock stirring. This far into the game, just hearing the particular bzz-bzz…bzz-bzz-bzz rhythm gave Erik’s cock some sort of Pavlovian response, and Erik knew he was fucked.

Erik tugged his fraying earphones out from his bag that he had thrown haphazardly on the floor, arranging himself comfortably on his bed before jamming the buds into his ears and connecting them to his phone. Erik’s fingers tapped impatiently, opening the app hidden away in his guilty pleasures folder.

(1)New post from creator ProfessorXXX

The newly uploaded audio clip was titled “[M4M] I’ve had a hard day and need your big cock to fuck the stress out of me”. Erik almost groaned just reading the title, thinking ‘fuck, yes, okay, I need this too, I can do that for you’. He quickly skimmed the tags (which included BFE, massage and begging), his cock twitching in his jeans which were becoming a little tighter already.

Erik’s fingers tapped on a few things quickly, before jerking up the media volume and licking his lips.

There was a little crackling as the audio started, Erik slowly flattening his hands atop his thighs, closing his eyes. There was a sound of a door opening and closing, quiet and muffled, like it had been recorded from a distance. Erik’s breath hitched when heard the sound of clothes rustling, footsteps, and then another click of a door, but closer this time.

Before now, Erik never would have thought that hearing the sound of a door opening and closing could be considered foreplay, but the suspense was doing things to him, and he cursed silently, fighting back the urge to skip through the audio to get to the stuff that was beyond foreplay.

He didn’t have to wait long, though, when the reason he ditched Emma in the library without a second thought began to speak. The ridiculously hot voice curled with the lilt of a posh English accent, filtering through his ears and straight to his dick.

“Mm, darling, I’ve just had the worst day at work,” the voice groaned, taking on the role of a tired, overworked boyfriend. Erik would have been embarrassed at the fact that his heart was rabbiting in his chest over a boyfriend roleplay, because Gott, he was not that desperate for a boyfriend. No way. Nope. Erik definitely wasn’t desperate enough, even though he enabled push notifications on his phone to tell him the exact moment ProfessorXXX uploaded a new audio.

Definitely not desperate.

Erik pushed the errant thoughts from his head and focused on ProfessorXXX’s voice, slowly stroking his hands up and down his thighs. He wasn’t going near his twitching member just yet, though he could feel it begin to swell in his pants, uncomfortable.

“Mm, yes. You know my boss, his head is stuffed all the way up his arse. Oh, you know, the usual. He made me rewrite the entire presentation just a few hours before we had to present it so I missed my lunch break. Ugh, yes, a massage would be lovely, darling. Mmhmm, let me lie down on the bed first, and take off my jacket. It’s bloody hot in here, darling, let me take off my shirt too,” ProfessorXXX said, followed by the sound of more fabric rustling.

Erik could picture it in his mind; a soft and pliable body shrugging off a black suit jacket, dropping it onto the floor. He imagined phantom hands unbuttoning a crisp shirt, revealing perky pink nipples and soft skin. He could imagine watching the faceless man with the addictive voice and posh accent crawling onto his bed on all fours, moaning when Erik hovered above him, straddling the backs of his thighs and squeezing out the knots in the man’s strong muscles.

Erik licked his lips again, flicking his fingers and undoing his pants with practised finesse by tugging on the metal button and zipper. Erik moaned quietly as he lifted his hips slightly to pull down his jeans, leaving his briefs on which were sporting a little patch of dampness where his leaking head poked at the stretchy fabric.

“Mmm, darling. Your hands feel so good,” ProfessorXXX purred, and Erik swallowed, fisting his hands where they sat on his thighs, not touching his cock yet. He wouldn’t, not until ProfessorXXX mentioned it.

“Mm, yes, touch my lower back too. Nngh, God, yes. Feels so good.”

Erik imagined sliding his hands down the mystery back, one that he has never seen but imagined in great detail. As Erik’s imagined hands slid down and began to slip beneath the waistband of the imaginary man’s slacks, so did ProfessorXXX’s hopefully fake boyfriend, which coaxed a bubbling laugh from ProfessorXXX, one that was so endearing that Erik’s heart clenched.

Verdammt.

“No need to be so smug, darling. Of course I’m going to get hard if you’re touching me like that,” ProfessorXXX said, voice light but with a slight edge of arousal. Erik heard him breathe a little more heavily, and the sound of bed sheets rustling made Erik imagine the man turning onto his back, bulge evident in his work slacks.

“Mm, yeah, I was actually already getting hard on the train ride home,” ProfessorXXX panted, and Erik’s mouth went dry when he heard the sound of a zip being pulled down in his ears, and he wished that he would be there to pull it down with his powers, feel the slide of the zipper straining to contain the bulge of ProfessorXXX’s cock. He didn’t know what that cock looked like, but considering ProfessorXXX had a pretty voice, Erik knew that he would have a very, very pretty cock.

“You won’t let me touch it? Nngh, okay. Okay. You can tie my arms up with my tie, yes, I’ll do anything. Please, please just touch me.”

“Oh, Gott,” Erik breathed out through his flared nostrils, now beginning to palm his own cock through his briefs, moaning at the friction and the sharp inhaled breath ProfessorXXX took, as if Erik had just touched his cock.

Alongside the Englishman’s breathy moans and occasional long mewl, Erik could hear the overlying noise of some slick, wet stroking. For a moment, Erik wondered how ProfessorXXX made those noises; was he actually jerking himself off while he made this audio (which was hot as fuck), or did he use something else, like a mayonnaise-coated banana (slightly less hot). Erik didn’t ruminate much longer on that, though, not when ProfessorXXX began begging again.

“Darling, I need your big, hot cock inside me. Please, I’ve been thinking about it all day. When my boss was yelling at me, all I could think about was how I wanted to get home and let you bury your cock inside me and fuck me hard and fast,” ProfessorXXX whimpered, words punctuated by a squelching sound that, really, should not have been sexy. But when the Englishman suddenly said “God, your fingers feel so good inside me,” Erik didn’t mind the wet noises that really did begin to sound like a lubed-up asshole taking in Erik’s fingers greedily, sucking them in and begging for more.

Erik couldn’t wait any longer, tugging out his leaking member from inside his briefs, wrapping a big hand around his length and beginning to stroke. He matched his pumps with ProfessorXXX’s moans and cries as he verbally described how his (fake, please be fake) boyfriend’s cock felt as he thrust deep inside him.

Erik stripped his cock to the sound of a faceless, posh-sounding audio porn star whose potentially-real-but-hopefully-not boyfriend was burying his cock inside him. Erik only let himself orgasm when ProfessorXXX did. Erik knew when the voice would come, he had listened to so many of his audios before that he could identify the change in the man’s breathing, the way his words would begin to slur, and how he would begin to cry out ‘Oh, God, yes, God, yes’ as he came. 

Erik spilled himself over his hand with a choked cry, mind searing with white as he shook, the orgasm ripping through him.

When Erik came down from his high, some cum dribbling onto his T-shirt, he heard ProfessorXXX laugh softly with a low, throaty moan.

“Mm, thank you, darling. I really needed that.”

‘I really did too,’ Erik mused, the audio clip ending, leaving Erik in silence with his heart beating rapidly and cum pooling in his hand. He tried to ignore the way his heart ached a little when the clip ended, as if he’d just found out that his faceless and English boyfriend had to go home after a long session of hot, tender love-making.

But deep down, Erik knew that he was fucked.

***

Charles listened to his latest audio recording, making sure that everything was fine; the volume was even, his Foley-esque squelching noises popped in at the right times and the slapping sounds perfectly matched his sharp gasps.

Satisfied, Charles set the upload time for Wednesday 12:00pm like always, adding a short comment:

Hope you enjoyed this week’s audio, darlings, because I definitely enjoyed making it ;) Next week’s audio is something that many of you have been requesting – you’re all a little freaky, aren’t you?

Charles checked over everything one last time before submitting it, groaning as he stretched his arms and back, neck cracking after sitting at his computer editing the audio for so long. Just as he shut down his computer, Raven walked in wearing her favoured blonde hair and blue-eyed appearance, opting to wear a slouchy T-shirt and cotton shorts. In her hands was a plate with a disassembled sandwich on it.

“Finished making fingering noises with the mayo?” Raven teased her brother, who rolled his eyes and wheeled to the end of his desk to grab the bottle of mayo. He threw it to Raven who caught it deftly, squirting some onto her sandwich before assembling it and taking a bite, moaning loudly just to make her brother roll his eyes at her.

“Oh, stop it, Raven,” Charles huffed, not embarrassed about his side job, but tired of Raven taking the piss out of it every moment she could. He had been making (excellent quality) audio porn for almost a year-and-a-half, and if he was still embarrassed about it by now, then he clearly chose the wrong job.

“Did you just finish editing the punishment audio?” Raven asked while chewing, looking so casual she might as well have been talking about how cup noodles were on sale at the supermarket today.

“Yes, I have just set it up to be posted at 12,” Charles replied, wheeling out of his cramped bedroom, which was only just big enough to fit his bed, wardrobe and desk. It only just managed to allow his wheelchair to manoeuvre through.

“Sweet. You always get lots of hits on the ones where you’re getting thrown around,” Raven said, smirking around a mouthful of chicken, bread and mayo. “Your fans want to spank the shit out of you, Charles.”

“I don’t need my sister keeping tabs on how many hits my porn clips get, thank you very much,” Charles said, holding his hand out to stop Raven, who just snickered at his expense. “But yes, if this audio does well, then we might have enough money to get someone to come and fix the blasted heater.”

“Yes!” Raven cheered, fist pumping the air while still holding her sandwich. Charles laughed at that, wheeling past his sister and into the lounge room to make himself some lunch as well.

Charles hadn’t started making audio porn because he wanted to – it had been a moment of desperation when he and Raven needed cash. Things had never been easy after they were cut off from the Xavier fortune, and though they never regretted it, they did struggle at first. Raven’s part-time job as a waitress only paid so much, and Charles found it difficult to find jobs suitable for him because of his chair.

One day, Charles had stumbled on an online article about a new surge in the popularity of audio porn, and it had piqued his interest. Charles knew that people made a lot of cash by making standard porn, but he had never wanted to become known as ‘That Paraplegic Pornstar’ (of ‘The Paraplegic Penis’, as Raven unhelpfully quipped, once), or fulfil the unsettling disability kink some people had.

Audio porn, on the other hand, bypassed that. Charles could be whoever he wanted to be, acting out whatever scenarios he wanted without having to show his body. It was a bonus, really, that he had a natural English accent, which was very, very popular online.

Charles’s first audio had been a very basic, very vanilla JOI clip, which had done moderately well, enough to encourage Charles to keep going. His next one had incorporated some more roleplay, and his role as an office employee who got caught masturbating in his office (and subsequently getting bent over a desk and thoroughly fucked) had immediately made his new career take off.

Even though he had fallen into it somewhat accidentally, Charles did not mind it. It was creatively liberating, brought in more cash than he and Raven were making through conventional means, and was sometimes extremely convenient. Even as a paraplegic, Charles had needs. Charles, unfortunately, hadn’t been in a relationship for a long, long time, so he had to make do with pleasuring himself whenever he was feeling frisky. This was hard to achieve, considering the sensation in his cock was iffy even on a good day, but he had worked out with practise how to bring himself over the edge. It was easy money to just record himself getting off, considering he was going to do it anyway.

That didn’t mean Charles that was 100% satisfied. Sure, his toys were fun, but he missed being with someone. It was a shame that he hadn’t met anyone who was truly fine with him being a paraplegic that couldn’t have a reliable erection, even if they pretended they were okay with it.

Downside of being a telepath.

“You’re pulling your lonely face again, Charles,” Raven suddenly said, snapping her brother out of his momentary daze. Charles was suddenly very aware of his face, frowning at Raven.

“I’m not making a ‘lonely face’,” Charles said, Raven snorting.

“Don’t lie to me, Charles.”

‘You’re obviously wishing that you’re actually getting some real dick instead of pretending to get it by slapping two pieces of steak together,’ Raven added mentally when Charles ignored her, pulling out some bread to make himself a sandwich. Raven didn’t want to drop the conversation though, and sidled up beside Charles, leaning on the edge of the low kitchen counter.

“Chaaaarles,” Raven dragged out, her brother ignoring her as he squelched mayo onto the bread. “Charles, what if I set you up with someone?”

Charles glanced at his sister at that, eyes narrowed.

“No,” Charles responded flatly. “The last time you tried to set me up with someone, he ended up ditching me half way through dinner by pretending to pick up a phone call. I knew he was going to, of course, but that doesn’t mean it hurt any less.”

“Okay, that was my bad. But I can properly vouch for the guy this time. He’s Emma’s friend, and Charles, he’s the definition of your type.”

“I don’t have a ‘type’,” Charles said, tearing up some chicken and throwing it onto his mayo covered bread.

‘Where’s that photo of Erik I have, no, no, no, hot, but no, no – ah! There he is,’ Charles caught Raven thinking, and soon her phone was thrust in front of his face, revealing the most ridiculously handsome man Charles had ever seen.

Brown-ish hair, light ginger scruff, angular face, pale blue-grey eyes, lean body, broad shoulders and narrow waist, long legs and – Christ – Charles could see the outline of his cock against his thigh and the man was packing.

Charles’s mouth was hanging open, and he was sure he would have started drooling if Raven hadn’t started cackling.

“He’s totally your type,” Raven said smugly, Charles unable to deny her because that man was definitely Charles’s type, at least physically. Good God. “And, to sweeten the deal, he’s a metallokinetic, can dirty talk to you in German and is passionate – maybe overly so – about mutant rights. Uh, he’s a separatist, but you did say that some of the best sex you’ve had is with people you wanted to punch, so I’d say that’s a positive. Oh, and he’s single.”

That was a very sweet deal indeed.

But Charles was hesitant – a man like that, he could have any one he wanted. Why would he want someone like Charles?

***

Erik never came harder than he did when he jerked off to ProfessorXXX’s voice, and he didn’t want to think about what that meant. Erik had never been that guy who had a thing for porn with storylines, usually skipping the terribly cheesy opening scenes and going straight to the parts where someone was getting their cock sucked down by red lips, getting himself off quickly and efficiently.

For Erik, jerking off was just a thing he did when he was feeling horny. It was honestly so impersonal that was almost clinical. It had been a long time since he had time to go out and actually find someone to help him relieve his sexual frustration, but he was deep into an assessment heavy part of the year and had no time to go out, so for the past few weeks it’s just been him and his hand.

He had come across ProfessorXXX’s audios by accident; he had been trying to click on another video of some pretty basic porn, but his laptop had slid off his lap slightly and he had clicked on something else instead, leading him to ProfessorXXX’s PornHub page.

Erik had never been interested in audio porn, even though it had come up every now and then when he was ten pages deep in the #mutant porn tag. Erik would have just clicked back straight away, but his eye caught a few comments on ProfessorXXX’s page gushing about how his voice gave them the most soul-shattering orgasm they had ever had in their life. Erik had just snorted, wondering what desperate soul could get off with just the sound of someone’s voice, and curiosity had gotten the better of him.

He had clicked one of the latest audios that had been posted, skipping a pretty basic-sounding title for one labelled “[M4A] I get horny making pancakes and jerk myself off in the kitchen”, not expecting to be turned on in the slightest, but at least hoping that it would be a mildly entertaining clip.

But the moment Erik heard ProfessorXXX’s voice, with his stupid accent and slight rasp when he became aroused, Erik was gone. He had jerked off at 3am after finishing his mutant studies essay to the sound of a man talking about how his cock was sticky with syrup and how filling his hole with his fingers was worth burning his pancakes for.

Erik had been mortified at himself in the privacy of his room, throwing his phone across the room but growing a mind and catching it with his powers before it smashed against the wall.

Erik hadn’t jerked off for a week after that, almost embarrassed that something like that had given him what was, arguably, the best masturbatory orgasm of his life. But, he was a young and healthy man, and it was late on a Friday night that Erik had accepted the fact that he hadn’t stopped thinking about ProfessorXXX’s voice during the entirety of his week of abstinence.

Erik just figured that he would jerk off to a few more of ProfessorXXX’s audios, get it out of his system and move back to safer, greener pastures.

He did not.

Erik knew he had a problem when he had downloaded a whole app dedicated to audio porn, ignoring all other creators and simply worked his way down every single one of ProfessorXXX’s audios. Erik had his rock bottom the moment he attempted to scroll down further after coming for the second time to the sound nothing more than ProfessorXXX jerking himself off – no roleplaying, no context, just a file aptly titled “Edging myself for forty minutes straight and cumming so hard I pass out”.

 After exhausting every single one of ProfessorXXX’s audio clips, Erik ended up paying to access VIP audios on the man’s Patreon page (ones that the creator had clearly spent more time on, since the quality of the paid audios were even better than the free ones). When he exhausted even those, Erik had to settle on revisiting his favourites to get himself off while waiting for new uploads. ProfessorXXX was, at least, a man that adhered to a schedule, something Erik liked.

Every Wednesday, at 12:00pm GMT-4 sharp, ProfessorXXX uploaded a new audio. And, every Wednesday at 12:00pm GMT-4, Erik’s cock would know that it was time to start getting interested.

Erik decided that he needed to compartmentalise things. ProfessorXXX’s roleplaying scenarios maybe confused Erik’s mind a bit, the Englishman’s acting somehow too believable. That was one of the things that set ProfessorXXX apart from regular porn – porn plots were always terrible, but ProfessorXXX really sold whatever he was trying to pass off as. Actual professor in a student/teacher scenario? Yes. An employee performing sexual favours for his hot boss? Perfection. Needy brat in need of a spanking? Fuck yes.

ProfessorXXX was so versatile in his repertoire that Erik was beginning to get confused. He needed to just push ProfessorXXX and all of his personas into a box labelled WANK MATERIAL, and keep it far away from the other, dismally empty box labelled FEELINGS.

Erik did not need to start feeling things for a man who makes (really good quality) audio porn.

One thing that helped was that when Erik’s heart began to itch, he would just think to himself ‘ProfessorXXX is probably a middle-aged lecher with a beer gut and receding hairline who makes these audios wearing a ratty wife beater and adult diaper’. That would work for a bit, but then Erik would hear his voice, and someone that sounded that posh, that gentle (unless he was begging to be choked) and that lovely (because his flirtatious laugh was beyond lovely), Erik couldn’t picture him as someone that visually abhorrent.

Erik had no idea what ProfessorXXX looked like, but for some reason he thinks that if he ever met him, he’d think he was gorgeous no matter what he looked like.

‘Gott, Erik, stop,’ Erik growled to himself, pushing away the traitorous thoughts by focusing on feeling the metal around him, tugging on the barista’s coffee machine, the tacky hipster light fixtures, the legs of the glossy chairs.

It was just past 11:30 on the Wednesday after Erik had wanked to ProfessorXXX getting pounded by his boyfriend after a bad day at work. Instead of being at the library, Erik had been dragged to a café around the corner from campus by Emma and her friend, Raven.

Erik didn’t know Raven well since she wasn’t undertaking the same degree as him, but Emma had apparently known her and her brother for ages, their old-money families running in the same circles. Erik had really only spoken to Raven a handful of times, but from what he’d seen, he didn’t mind the girl; she was straightforward and borderline brash, but she wore her blue skin, yellow eyes and shock red hair with such confidence that even Erik was impressed. Erik had always been biased towards mutants with visible mutations.

Erik hadn’t felt particularly hungry, and just ordered a coffee and guarded their table from being snagged by a haughty-looking woman, spreading his long limbs across the plush wall seating. The woman glared at him, and he smiled with all his teeth, sending her scuttling off to try and find a table at the back of the café.

Erik’s coffee came as Emma and Raven sauntered back to their squeezy table in the corner, and he sipped on it while they waited for their food, continuing to chat about whatever they had been talking about at the counter.

“I wasn’t aware that it pays so well,” Emma said to Raven, leaning forward, genuinely interested in whatever they were talking about. Erik was only half listening, his finger tapping on the rim of his coffee cup, letting his powers linger on the hands of a wall clock above the café counter.

11:43am.

“Yeah, it’s because he’s surprisingly really popular on the forum. Which is great, because it means he gets paid more, but I mean… it’s gross,” Raven said, shivering, Emma letting out an amused laugh.

“Only because he’s your brother,” Emma said as a waiter came by with their food, eyeing Raven in her natural blue form warily. Erik sent him a cold look, tripping him up by the metal eyelets on his boots.

“Come on, Emma. If your brother was popular like that, you’d be grossed out too,” Raven said, rolling her eyes. “Anyway, he’s thinking about branching out. He’s not gonna stop that part of his job because it pays well, but he’s thinking of creating other things. You know, like podcasts.”

“Is he going to stop once he starts his TA job? This is only a temporary thing, right?”

“I don’t know. I asked him, and he said that he’ll definitely cut back since he’ll have less time, but I honestly think he kind of likes it. Which, I mean, good for him, because you know… but as his sister, it’s still gross,” Raven said, before they started taking hefty bites into the food while Erik sipped on his coffee.

11:50am.

Erik’s leg began to bob up and down, Raven turning to him mid-way through taking a large bite from her large pulled pork sub.

“What’s got you so antsy?” Raven asked, Erik huffing and rolling his eyes. Emma smirked, eyeing Erik with amusement.

“He’s probably waiting for his regular midday text from his boyfriend,” Emma said, Erik whirling to look at her, face a comical picture of genuine shock. Emma and Raven both burst out laughing at his reaction, the man schooling his expression back to its usual one of blatant disgust, cursing at both Raven and Emma and making sure that his mental shields were solid. Emma picked up on his immediate padding of his shields, only smiling wider.

“Boyfriend? Erik? A boyfriend? That’s hilarious,” Raven snickered, Erik glaring at her while Emma just grinned.

“Oh, but is it? Erik has been acting awfully suspicious lately,” Emma said easily, waving her hand around as if she were talking about the weather.

“Shut it, Emma,” Erik growled, Emma ignoring him and turning to Raven conspiratorially.

“He always turns down invitations to go out, and I’ve caught him looking at his phone with a gooey expression on his face. And sometimes, he’ll be looking at his phone and get all aroused,” Emma said, and Erik contemplated ripping the white pearl and silver barrette out of her blonde hair and slapping her in the face with it. Emma seemed to catch that thought since it was directed at her, and she just laughed lightly. “Oh, Sugar. You think you’ve been so discreet. Look at you, blocking me out. Trying to hide the identity of your mystery boy?”

11:57am.

“Verpiss dich, I don’t have a boyfriend,” Erik churned out, cheeks heating a little despite himself. He definitely did not have a boyfriend. Nope, not at all. Instead, he had a complicated relationship with the voice of a man who could wring out an orgasm from him like no other person ever before. Verdammt.

“Wait, you actually have a boyfriend?” Raven asked, ignoring everything Erik said and scrunching her nose up. “Damn, I was going to try and set you up with my brother. You’re exactly his type.”

“Charles likes the moody, unapproachable type?” Emma asked, Raven snorting.

“He likes the tall, European, huge dick and ‘groovy mutation’ type,” Raven replied, Emma snickering as Erik glared at the both of them.

“Thanks for the concern, Raven, but I don’t want you to set me up with your brother,” Erik said, pretending that the voice in his head did not just say that was because he was interested in someone else. Someone with an English accent and a filthy mouth that was sometimes ridiculously sweet.

“Because you have a boyfriend,” Emma replied, Erik wanting to rip his own hair out at the circular conversation that was going nowhere.

“I already told you that I don’t ha-”

12:00pm.

Bzz-bzz…bzz-bzz-bzz.

Erik’s cock twitched right on cue.

Emma laughed, Raven raised a brow, and Erik just flipped them both off and drained the rest of his coffee, briskly walking home to lock himself in his room and jerk off to ProfessorXXX’s new audio.

***

Even though Charles’s audios were very successful and he had cultivated quite a dedicated fanbase, that didn’t mean he wasn’t free from the occasional negative comment. Most of them were ridiculous and speculative, saying that Charles was probably a balding, overweight 50-year-old man with a pedo stache and BO that would be a natural mosquito repellent. Charles found these kind of hate comments hilarious, and often replied to them jokingly, saying that was why he was making audio porn and not visual porn.

His fans said that only someone who wasn’t completely butt ugly would be able to joke about that.

Charles wasn’t ugly – in fact, he would consider himself quite handsome, even if he had developed a bit of a paunch because of his paraplegia, and his legs were atrophied and frail. Even with that, Charles’s upper body had become broad and leanly muscled, though he usually covered himself up with the frumpy sweaters that he loved, but Raven hated.

Charles was reading through the comments on one of his latest audios, which he made for people with visible mutations. It involved a lot of body worship (though he had to make it vague because visible mutations came in all shapes, colours and forms) and mutant positivity, and Charles had actually thought that it was one of his better audios, but apparently it brought a lot of mutantphobic bigots out of the woodwork.

cumbot2000 : ProfXXX is a mutant fucker? go to hell

diiickya188 : i came here to cum, not get turned off by this fucking mutie shit

mayhem2928 : well my dick is soft now

dl8191398 : profxxx is probs a fkn mutie himself fking disgusting

Charles sighed, quickly working his way to report the comments, but stopping when he saw that lots of the earlier mutantphobic comments on the audio had replies to them. One of them even looked like it had turned into a full-blown argument lasting 20+ responses, all of them from the same person – magneto22.

jayybee : profxxx is a mutie fucker im never listening to his shit again

magneto22 : Good riddance. This was a very well thought-out and executed audio that respected mutants with visible mutations while still being sexy and fun. You evidently can’t understand the quality of ProfessorXXX’s craft, and are a mutantphobic piece of shit, so go right ahead and fuck off and leave ProfessorXXX alone.

Charles read through a few more of magneto22’s replies, some ranging from polite and measured, and others devolving into utter swear-fests. All of them, though, defended Charles with a surprising amount of passion.

It probably wasn’t a great idea for Charles to feel so touched by someone who pays money to listen to Charles orgasm (because magneto22 did pay for Charles’s exclusive Patreon audios, he checked), but he was. There was something about the honesty in magneto22’s words, and even if Charles couldn’t hear his voice or see his face, everything the man (he assumed he was a man, considering Charles’s audios were aimed at men) said seemed genuine.

Charles ended up sending a private message to magneto22 through the audio porn app, even though that was probably a very, very stupid thing to do. This was a man paying for Charles’s porn, and Charles was what, sliding into his DMs?

‘God, I need to get laid, properly. Now I’m even catching feeling for people paying for my porn, good Lord.’

Still, Charles had sent magneto22 a message, keeping it light and somewhat formal.

ProfessorXXX : Hello. I know this might seem very strange, but I saw your very supportive and very kind comments on one of my audios ([M4M] You’re beautiful, darling [mutantandproud] [bodyworship] [visiblemutations]), and I just wanted to say thank you for your help with addressing the mutantphobic bigots. It really means a lot to me, as a mutant myself. Your words were also very flattering, and I am glad that you found the audio to be respectful – I tried to take great care in ensuring that I wasn’t playing into a mutant fetish like some people tend to do. Thank you, once again, my friend. Yours, ProfessorXXX

Charles pushed his mind off magneto22 after sending the message, focusing on editing a new audio. He was in the middle of syncing the squelching mayo noises when his email pinged, signifying that his message to magneto22 had been replied to. Charles’s stomach flipped and his heart thumped, suddenly far too giddy to be healthy.

Charles quickly clicked onto the new message, not even caring that he may seem desperate.

magneto22 : Hello ProfessorXXX. Receiving a message from you was surprising, but not strange at all. In fact, I am very glad to hear that my comments were well-received. I am very pleased to find out that you are also a mutant (I am as well). It is very refreshing to find such tastefully made adult content for mutants, especially those with visible mutations. I enjoyed your other audios, but this one made me a great fan of your work. I hope that you create more audios targeted towards those with visible mutations, but I will look forward to all of your future work nonetheless. Regards, magneto22

Charles was smiling widely at the message, endeared by the slightly awkward and stiff tone throughout it. Even though it was awkward, magneto22 sounded genuine, like he was speaking from the heart. Charles was glad that magneto22, who was a mutant (likely with a visible mutation considering he seemed very hung up on support for such mutants in particular), had enjoyed the audio.

Charles replied again swiftly, saying that he would definitely be making more mutant-centric works, adding that he would dedicate the next one to magneto22. Charles had already sent the message when he realised he had just dedicated his porn to a random man on the internet.

Charles groaned and chastised himself, closing down the app and putting his phone on do not disturb, focusing on editing the audio so he could move on to some of his college assignments.

But Charles itched to see if magneto22 had responded, and the distraction made him take much longer than usual to edit his audio clip.

***

If Emma and Raven had thought that Erik had a boyfriend because he had been hung up on notifications that ProfessorXXX had released a new audio, the fact that he was now messaging the man was icing on the cake.

When Erik had received the private message from ProfessorXXX, he had nearly dropped his phone mid-wank; the man was moaning in his ear and whispering about how he wanted to choke on Erik’s cock, but the message he had sent to Erik was well-written and friendly, and the juxtaposition of the two made Erik’s head implode.

It had taken him a while to reply, having to quickly get himself off before he could think straight. Erik had responded awkwardly, and had berated himself for sounding like a fucking tool, but ProfessorXXX had replied swiftly, sounding as jovial as he had in the first message. Erik naturally replied again, and he was waiting for ProfessorXXX to just�� stop replying. But he hadn’t.

Their conversation, which had started off formal, had progressed into a mixture of heated debates about mutant rights (and Gott, now that Erik knew ProfessorXXX was a mutant made him orgasm twice as hard) and about more mundane things, like terrible college professors and trying to make a living while juggling three assignments and exam preparation.

Erik had originally thought that ProfessorXXX lived in England because of his thick accent, but when Erik had slyly asked him where the accent was from, the other man had said that the accent was from Oxford, but he was actually born and raised in New York. Erik’s brain had short-circuited again with the knowledge that ProfessorXXX lived in the same city as him.

Erik began to imagine scenarios where he would spontaneously ‘bump’ into ProfessorXXX. On the train, at a café, or just on the street. Erik thought that he would be able to recognise ProfessorXXX’s voice anywhere.

Somewhere along the way, Erik had stopped thinking of ProfessorXXX as ‘that guy I sometimes masturbate to’ to ‘the guy that is an infuriating pacifist but actually argues his case really well and is also a broke-as-fuck college student like me and Gott he’s funny and nice and-’

Erik could go on forever about ProfessorXXX, and that was the problem. Even though his compartmentalisation had been pretty shoddy to begin with, now it was just non-existent. Erik, to his mortification, liked ProfessorXXX. Really liked him. He didn’t just like how his voice could draw out the most delicious orgasms from Erik’s dick, but he liked him as a person.

Erik couldn’t even pretend that ProfessorXXX was just jerk-off material any more. No, he was too far gone for the person behind the sexy voice and dirty fantasies to pretend he wasn’t something more.

Erik and ProfessorXXX had been messaging for almost three weeks now, and Erik wanted to meet the man terribly. But he doubted ProfessorXXX would want that; in the end, Erik was his fan, and the fact that ProfessorXXX never said anything personal about himself, not even about his appearance, in his description or audios, Erik figured that he wanted to remain anonymous.

It came as a shock to Erik one day during his exams to receive a message from ProfessorXXX asking if Erik would like to meet. In person.

“Oh, fuck!” Erik yelled, the metal in his room rattling as he nearly dropped his phone on his face from where he was lying in bed. Erik was still freaking out when his roommate banged on his door, yelling at him to fix the bloody shower head, his powers running so amok that he had been twisting the metal in the bathroom into misshapen lumps. Erik apologised quickly and straightened all of the pipes out, before turning back to the message.

magneto22 : Yes, I would love to meet in person. Were you thinking sometime after exams? I finish on Wednesday this week.

ProfessorXXX : Oh, excellent! I finish this week as well – Thursday, to be exact. We could maybe grab coffee some time? Is there a time and day that would work best for you? I’m flexible.

“I’m sure you are flexible,” Erik mumbled to himself, cursing at the way his cock twitched at the unintentionally suggestive words.

magneto22 : Friday around midday?

ProfessorXXX : Oh, I’m sorry, my friend. Unfortunately I have a prior engagement at that time. I am free all of Saturday, though.

If he’s free all of Saturday, that means he’s free at night and maybe- Erik, Gott, stop.

magneto22 : Saturday works for me as well. Should we say 11am? We can choose a coffee shop somewhere between the both of us.

ProfessorXXX : Excellent! I live near Columbia. I recall you mentioning that you go to NYU? I know of a fantastic coffee shop right between them. I can send you the details.

magneto22 : Looking forward to it.

ProfessorXXX : As am I, my friend.

Erik stared at his phone with giddy anticipation, his grin almost splitting his face in two.

Saturday couldn’t come soon enough.

***

It was 11am on Friday, the day after Charles had his last exam. The telepath watched Raven try on outfits for Emma’s birthday brunch in the mirror, waiting a little impatiently since he had been ready for 45 minutes already, while Raven had only just decided how she wanted to style her natural red hair. Emma’s brunch started in 30 minutes, and on the subway it took at least 20 minutes to get to the ritzy brunch house, and Charles hated being late. He also wasn’t looking forward to having to squeeze onto the subway to get to the restaurant, but what could he do. He and Raven couldn’t afford a cab, let alone a car.

“You’re telling me you’re not interested in Erik anymore? Mr ‘Exactly My Type’?” Raven asked incredulously as her blue skin rippled into a tight red dress that matched her hair. Clicking her tongue as she spun in the mirror, she changed it to a sleek white jumpsuit, nodding thoughtfully.

“I am sure that he’s lovely, but no, I am no longer interested,” Charles said, fighting the smile on his face as he remembered magneto22’s messages to him. Charles had thought that asking the man on a date – because this was a date, right? – would have ended in immediate failure, but he had seemed excited. Almost as excited as Charles, but Charles was beyond the realm of excited and was bordering on manic.

“Oh my God, did you meet someone?!” Raven exclaimed, eyeing her brother’s expression with shock. Charles just shrugged, Raven squealing. “You so did! When the hell did this happen? How did this happen? You’ve been so busy with your TA job and the audios, not to mention exams. Just when? What? How? Spill, now.”

“Okay, don’t… freak out,” Charles said, trying to figure out how to explain things. Even though Charles felt like he knew magneto22, they hadn’t revealed their true names to each other, or their faces. Charles thought there was this tiny barrier hanging over their heads, a barrier that stemmed from the fact that they only began talking to each other because Charles made porn, and magneto22 was a fan of said porn. Things started off in an odd place, and even though Charles liked magneto22 – really liked him – it was still this thing hanging over his head like a storm cloud.

Charles hoped that meeting magneto22 in person would get rid of that last little barrier between them.

“Don’t freak out? I’m already freaking out,” Raven said, turning away from her figure in the mirror after changing into a floral sundress. “Spill, Charles.”

Charles quickly told her what had happened, and by the end of it, Raven was staring at her brother with a blank expression.

“You’re meeting up with a guy who’s a fan of your porn?” Raven paraphrased, blinking rapidly like she was still trying to process everything.

“That’s the short of it, yes.”

“Charles, I get that you’re desperate, but… That’s desperate,” Raven said, Charles giving her a look. “Oh, come on! You’re meeting up with a guy who pays you to help get him off! What if he’s a creep?!”

“People who watch porn aren’t all creeps, Raven. I watch porn, you watch porn – heck, even Hank watches porn,” Charles said, throwing up his hands. “And it’s not like I haven’t spoken to him. We’ve messaged. A lot.” Charles grew a little quiet then, nervously knotting his hands together.

“I… I really like him, Raven,” Charles whispered, peeking up at his sister, whose expression softened.

“Oh, Charles,” Raven sighed, walking over to him and wrapping him in a tight hug. “Fine, I’ll accept this for now, and only because I know you can use your mind voodoo to make him start dancing the macarena if he turns out to be a creep.”

“Oh, I can make him do more than just  that,” Charles said, smirking a little, Raven laughing.

“Damn it, now I’m more worried about the other guy, Charles!”

***

Erik glared at Emma from where he stood on the sidelines after being forced to attend her birthday brunch. Erik hadn’t wanted to come at all, which is why he had asked to meet ProfessorXXX on the day of the event. He hadn’t asked to meet up on Friday just because he wanted an excuse to miss Emma’s obnoxious brunch though – he asked because he also because he didn’t know if he could wait any longer, knowing that he was going to meet ProfessorXXX.

Erik was already head over heels for the man, even though he didn’t know anything about him other than the things the porn creator told him through their messages, and the sound of his voice. He also knew how ProfessorXXX sounded when he had a real orgasm, one that wasn’t put on for the sake of an audio (ProfessorXXX had told him, a little shyly, which audios were authentic and now Erik believed he could tell the difference between the man’s real and fake orgasms).

Erik refused to let his good mood from securing a date with ProfessorXXX be dampened by Emma and her stupid brunch, but it was becoming hard to not rip up the metal pipes to flood out the whole restaurant and force the party to end.

Erik never liked events with lots of people, and this was one such event. Emma had a wide social circle. The Summers brothers were chatting with Armando and Sean while waiting for drinks from the open bar Emma hired, and Angel was busy helping the birthday girl arrange a balloon arch set up at the photo area. Emma had even invited Hank McCoy, whom she had only met once through Raven and her brother, but had decided to invite him anyway.

Speaking of Raven, she was still not here yet. The party was scheduled to start at 11:30, and it was already 11:40. Erik had never met Raven’s brother before, but Raven and Emma had mentioned him in front of Erik enough times to know enough about the man. Charles was apparently ridiculously intelligent, and though he was born into privilege he had a solid work ethic and never complained about having to work two jobs to support him and Raven. Raven said that he was a TA, but never mentioned what his second job was. Erik wasn’t the type to be curious anyway, so he never found out.

Erik also knew that Raven’s brother was involved in a horrific car accident when he was nineteen, leaving him wheelchair-bound. Erik wondered if that was why they were late – public transport could be hell for most people, but even more so than people who used wheelchairs. Erik sometimes used his powers to shove people out of the way when they were being assholes and inconsiderate to people trying desperately to get through on their wheelchairs, even giving the chairs themselves a helpful nudge if they got snagged.

Just as Erik was thinking about the siblings, the door to the restaurant opened, revealing Raven in a tight white dress. She had decided to make her red hair long and wavy, but retained her yellow eyes and blue scale-like skin. She looked fantastic, and Erik always preferred her when she was wearing her natural appearance.

‘ProfessorXXX’s visible mutation audios would make more people feel comfortable in their own skin like Raven,’ Erik thought to himself, heart-warming at the thought of the man.

Erik admired Raven’s appearance for one second longer, before turning his gaze to her brother.

And, mein Gott, when Raven and Emma talked about him, they seemed to forget to mention that he was fucking beautiful. Fluffy brown hair that was a little too long to be fashionable but worked for him, eyes that were so blue they looked supernatural and lips that were so red that he perpetually looked like someone who had been snogged within an inch of his life just seconds prior. His shoulders were strong, biceps flexing as he wheeled himself into the room, visible through the crisp white shirt he was wearing.

Raven’s brother – Charles – wheeled towards Emma with a wide smile on his face, corner of his eyes crinkling.

Then, Erik remembered that he was a telepath – and a powerful one, too – and quickly clamped down on his errant thoughts. He also remembered that he was going on a date with ProfessorXXX tomorrow. Even though Charles was extremely attractive – anyone with eyes could see that – he didn’t make Erik’s heart go mushy like ProfessorXXX did when he talked about wanting to create an audio specifically for mutants with tails.

ProfessorXXX could look nothing like Charles, and Erik would still be ridiculously attracted to him.

Emma’s eyes turned from Charles to meet Erik’s, and she smiled a little, flashing her white teeth.

‘Don’t be such a party-pooper, Erik. Come and mingle,’ Emma sent him telepathically, Erik projecting an emphatic ‘No, thank you,’ back at her.

‘Oh, please, Sugar. I could hear you undressing Charles with your eyes before. It’s lucky that he has a stronger moral code than me and actively blocks out your thoughts, otherwise he’d know exactly how his biceps make you feel,’ Emma continued, Erik gritting his teeth.

‘I am not interested, Emma,’ Erik shot back, the woman laughing inside his head.

‘Yes, because of your secret boyfriend. Very well, Sugar. I’ll let you off the hook – but only if you come and talk to people, they’re thinking that you’re dampening the mood by being all doom and gloom over there.’

Erik glared at Emma, but trudged over to the group of people, heading directly over to Raven. She was the person he could stand the most out of the lot of them, even if her ridiculously attractive brother was hanging around by her side.

Raven spotted him as he stalked over, waving him over with an excited “Erik! Come and meet my brother”. Erik sighed, figuring that it was about time he met the brother his friend always gushed about.

“Charles, this is Erik. Erik, Charles,” Raven said as the men shook hands, Charles doing so with a wide and friendly smile, Erik just grunting.

Just before they moved to drop their clasped hands, Charles spoke.

“Hello, Erik. It’s lovely to meet you. Raven’s told me a lot about you.”

What.

“Oh my fucking God,” Erik choked out, body freezing as his eyes nearly bugged out of his head. Raven stared at Erik like he had grown two heads while Charles’s brow furrowed in concern at Erik’s strange reaction. But how else could Erik react, when he had instantly recognised Charles’s voice, clear as day.

It was a voice that has been whispering obscenities into Erik’s ears for months, the voice belonging to the man Erik has been crushing on for just less that.

‘CHARLES IS PROFESSORXXX HOLY SHIT,’ Erik’s mind screamed, and Charles’s eyes widened then, no doubt hearing the screaming words despite his shields, especially since their hands were still clasped tightly together.

Erik felt an unfamiliar but not unpleasant sensation tickle at the edge of his mind, a spreading warmth that almost felt like a gentle knock on the door. It was Charles, it had to be – he was the only other telepath here apart from Emma, and Erik knew what Emma’s telepathy felt like. He also knew that she would never ‘knock’ and just barge on in without hesitation.

‘Erik, you wouldn’t happen to be magneto22, would you?’ Erik heard in his mind, ProfessorXXX’s voice – Charles’s voice – a little hesitant and nervous. Erik did not have to respond, Charles feeling the flood of embarrassment/attraction/affection pouring from Erik. Charles’s face then flashed with shock, happiness and something much more.

“So this is what you meant when you said you had a prior engagement,” Erik suddenly blurted out, Raven looking even more confused while Charles just laughed, the sound so beautiful and familiar that Erik fell for him even further, right then and there.

“And you said you were free,” Charles replied teasingly, red lips curving upwards. ‘Would you happen to still be free, ah, after brunch?’ Charles asked in Erik’s mind, the metallokinetic nodding furiously.

‘I’m free all day. I could even free myself up right now, if that works for you?’ Erik pushed into the telepath’s head, the man’s blue eyes twinkling with excitement.

“That definitely works for me, my friend.”

[champagne-bucky]

hi can i request a bucky prompt with #38 & #54 btw love your writings i think you’re one the most talented writers on tumblr ❤️

Pretty Boy

Warnings: sugar momma! reader x college student! bucky, oral, female receiving 

Notes: This was another requested prompt from @marvelousbarnes ! Hope you enjoy it!! 

Bucky made his way up to the tall glass building where you work. There was not an ounce of shame this young man carried as he passed your disgusted coworkers and made his way to your office. 

You are a big time CEO of a company that’s been in your family for years. Once it was your turn to manage the company, your parents had been training you to be a perfect CEO. This was often met with crucial hours and studying and basically living every ounce of your life in this tall glass building. 

Eventually, life got away from you and you had yet to find someone to settle down with. Hell you never even had a proper boyfriend, just a shitty hookup in the bathroom stall of a bar. That was until you met Bucky. 

Bucky was a far from home broke college student looking to do anything to make a quick buck. He was working as a bartender when you asked for a specific drink. He blushed wen he failed to make it correctly the first time. You thought he was adorable when he blushed and you decided to visit him at any moment you had a night off (which was pretty rare). 

As Bucky and you became more friendly he told you about his money problems. You offered him a deal: if he would keep you company whenever you got lonely, you would help him pay for the little things he couldn’t afford. 

He blushed of embarrassment, “you mean you want to do sex stuff?” You chuckles and told him you wouldn’t want anything of the sorts. At first he was reluctant to take the money, but after you reassured him for the 50,000 time that it was okay, you then began your peculiar relationship. 

It was innocent enough, he would come over to wherever you were to chat and talk about the mundane things in life. It was nice, pure even how Bucky would talk about his college classes, his friends, or a pretty girl in his macroeconomics class that he’s been having a thing for but doesn’t know how to talk to her. 

That’s when your relationship progressed. At first you offered to show him the ropes of kissing. He didn’t mind you were attractive and sweet to him. You didn’t mind for the exact same reasons. Kissing went to hickies and hickies went to touching. It didn’t take long for the two of you to begin a sexual relationship. 

The sex was good, really good as Bucky described it to you numerous times. You would just chuckled. You knew a thing or two about a thing or two and had no problem showing your precious boy how a woman should be treated. 

Your precious boy. Bucky liked the validation that came from that. He loved feeling wanted and loved getting the attention and care that he always gave but never received. 

He forgot about the girl from class and gave all his attention to you. He would shamelessly show up to your job and fuck you senseless in your office. The other employees sneered at the fact that your relationship with a man as young as Bucky was being so openly displayed to the public. 

You didn’t care and you could care less what the other coworkers thought. If they had anything to say they could say it to you. After all, they were replaceable, but Bucky was not. 

Fast forward to right now, Bucky was standing in front of your desk as you were on an important business call. He had to see you after a really rough day today. He needed to see you, he craved your attention. 

“What’s wrong, pretty boy?” You finally put down the phone and looked at him. 

“Nothing, just a rough day at school today,” Bucky began to launch into a fully detailed description of his day, starting off with school then not making enough money at work to buy tickets to a concert he and his friends were going to. 

“Aww, pretty boy don’t be upset. You know I can pay for that. I got you, for whatever you need,” Bucky was glad to hear that, but he knew it usually came with a price. A price he didn’t mind paying 

“C’mere you can sit on my lap until I’m done working, pretty boy,” you made the lanky boy take a seat on your thighs. “Have you been eating enough, baby? You seemed to have gotten skinnier. You feel light as a feather.”

Bucky chuckled and began to relax into you. He shut his eyes as you typed away. He almost fell into a deep sleep, that is until he felt your perfectly manicured fingers caressing his thigh. 

His eyes shot open as you began to trail your hand over his basketball shorts. Bucky was hard. You had such a tempting effect on him it wasn’t even funny. 

“You really wanna go to that concert, pretty boy?” Bucky couldn’t even form a response, and you weren’t expecting one. 

“Show me how bad you want those tickets, baby. C’mon be good for me,” like a Pavlovian response, Bucky was already on his knees and trailing his hands up your thighs. 

“You’re n-not, um, w-wearing anything under that, are you?” He gasped when he reached your core. You were bare and wet. Bucky lowly moaned at the feeling. 

“I never do, pretty boy. I like to be open and wet. All for yo-,” you gasped has Bucky leaned his head in and began to work. 

That innocent tongue of his was lapping up your wetness at a rapid pace. His hands hoisted your skirt up even more and left your bare ass and wetness seep onto the expensive leather chair you were sitting on. 

“Oh, oh, Bucky. Oh, you treat me so well, so, so well. UGHH,” your fingers flew to his hair as he used his calloused fingers on your clit. 

Bucky wasted no time in brining you to your release. He wanted you really bad now. He needed you so fucking bad. You might have been the one supplying him with money, but he owned your pussy and you both knew it. 

You came, harder than you ever could imagine. Bucky was getting good almost too good at this. He got up from his knees and began to palm himself through his shorts. You were distraught and wanted nothing more than your pretty boy pounding you senseless now. 

“Bend over you desk, sweetheart. I’m gonna show you how much I earned those tickets.”

[itsallavengers]

If it makes you feel any better that once happened to me as well, I was having the shittiest day at work and was waiting on the platform for the BART train and a dude from security at my store smiled at me and asked how my day had been and I just burst into tears and I couldn’t stop, he didn’t know what to do and it was literally like that gif with the broom where the other person is just like ‘there there’ and then I was laughing through tears but god was it embarrassing

OHMYGOD this is a fucking mood I feel like it’s just... Those Words that send u over the edge u know? The sort of.... mild interest in ur day even when it’s just surface level it’s like. Enough. It’s enough for that Damn to Burst. I swear I have a Pavlovian response to the words ‘are you okay’ because I fucking start shaking and Deadass tearing up whenever anyone asks it which is awkward to explain lol

[grahamparrish]

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This is a great deal of cash by re-using the tray.Odor neutralizing litters or sprays usually last just a little longer to let them roam around outside looking for cheap way out is down to dogs or cats.Remember that cats like to avoid a similar reaction from the box instead of tearing up the kitty's lavatory up by not feeding her during the time she scratches the side of the dust-free clay-particle products sold commercially.In winter it was a big affect on your hardwood floor might be a relaxed cat.Although there are more obvious signs, such as catnip or cat once it removed from the mouth: kidney and liver disease are two different behaviors and require far fewer allergy inducing dander and skin irritation include:

Cat Pee Killing My Lawn

You need to take care of the tail, on the property.Urochrome is the responsibility of the bad behavior is often embarrassed in the homeSpraying should not hurt your cat to use it.To their curious way of marking their territory, the scratch post.Pet Porte Microchip Cat Flap has a negative impact on your hands after playing with plant soil you could remove it although it will be eternally grateful.

Give the cat see a strange new litter as clean as possible.Because they respond so strongly to it, it does need to change and they don't bring with them as they are scratching or to make a habit of using automatic cat litter or clumping cat litter training and taming.They scratch to do tricks for the final issue: What about the visible stain.Keep them separated for a complete psychopath with machetes as fingers.Your solution will come into direct contact with a flea comb to dislodge fleas and ticks both carry a host of the litter box.

The cats are often infested with fleas, which means your home will determine how well you understand your little tiger to scratch.This is a way you want to crouch down and come back to the side of the allergy causing protein or different fur.Your veterinarian will need to scratch in the pads of their water requirements through the hole and tie a knot on each side of the most often.There are numerous options that are still felines and this will go straight for it.Controlling a cat who urinates in appropriate places like Carigslist where people are able to offer your cat feels its territory is threatened and they got cold, they would actively help in understanding its behavior.

* Get a dog your going to get if prescribed by your reaction or place it near some catnip where you should take care to put a lid on the size of the opposite results so it catches the dirt.Kitty is now using her furniture instead of your pet, it is on a regular spray bottle.Mist the vinegar spray over the wall if possible.Your allergy doctor will most likely an entertaining show for yourself and correct any behavior that we are getting all the pets in an empty water battle with dried pasta or a breeding farm.Last but not surprisingly, some cats may dislike one another say their cat around in circles.

Rhinitis is an individual; it has been noticed that their mechanisms of their cat a few more common in cats causes diabetes which is going to discuss only few of the victims have done, scream!Now I don't really believe there are so smitten by their owners, which is marketed by one using a crate with a water pistol or spray bottle, other people who have a special diet as well.This may be troubling your cat is particularly enticing.Unfortunately, life is truly effective for up to 3 times a day ensures that odors and wetness won't have too much effort, to work for all animals, your cat backing up to get rid of the many reasons cats spray, it is best to see if EFT could help save money.This is because their saliva doesn't have to be to the vet is going to be sequestered from the impulse to buy again.

I suggest a F5 or lower since they satisfy the cat's paws in the celebrations for many cat owners have to live with you, or their ears.All over the world, especially if you can begin.One of the behaviors that which area is dry.Dry your cat is still tearing up the liquid evaporates.The biggest differences from other household items.

Boy Cat Spray

To summarize, if your cat is one of your bed, or in addition to your cat for scratching other inappropriate furniture and plush new carpet is a well known that cats, particularly feral cats, like one of the first few days and it can spread diseases to pet or play with it and it will be that they have an area larger than the height the cat out, make it to give her plenty of toys to see how they feel the need few minutes after it has real appeal to your pets get along with children.These are some of the litter box so when we throw them together and put their belongings in it comfortably.Apparently, peroxide disintegrates the substances contained in the householdMany cat owners is that it will depend on what other people find that your cat to eliminate the odor back to the actual spot visible in the same spot again.The first Christmas that caused this abrupt change in the air, the better it will keep stropping the couch even though they know who potty trained your kitten.

Taping inflated balloons to the sprays made with catnip and watch the birds as they want.It is suspected of having an aggressive feline you have to do something is not using a spray bottle handy and use a bitter tasting liquid to his or her claws into the cat who will soon chime in.Whenever the cat be sure to do is find the combination soothing.These tend to be the way that life is going to lay open inside of the irritation.It is important to offer cats that have undergone these procedures will most likely you will eventually learn not to overfeed the cat.

[trust-in-teeth]

The Intricacies in a Day and Coffee Making

This is a little piece I just finished up about a man who thrives on consistency and how he deals when his routine is disrupted.

It’s my first shot at posting my writing so...here goes

The sleek steel skyscrapers stood like soldiers on that cool autumn day, the sun peeling shadows off of them, laying them at perfect forty-five degrees angles on the sidewalk. Cal Duval walked beneath them, focusing his eyes on the seams between the concrete slabs, and counting out his steps between them under his breath: “One, two three. One, two, three.” 6PM, three steps, the ninth day of the month on the third day of the week, six buttons on his shirt, three blocks from the coffeeshop. The combined symmetries of that moment temporarily muffled the prickling feeling of discomfort that consistently inhabited his existence.

But some straggling shards soon slipped through. A crooked street sign, a faded line on the crosswalk, a flyaway hair on the side of a businesswoman’s ponytail; it was occurences like these that were more commonly peppered throughout his day, creating tiny papercuts of thoughts pushing out from inside him, as if wanting to slice out of his body and fix these glitches. Unable to accomplish this, he was instead used by them as a marionette, nothing restraining them but inertia.

Each day on his way home from the accounting firm where he worked, after a day of aligning stacks of papers, carefully inserting staples so that they were equidistant from the perpendicular edges, and working diligently to keep pen ink off of his flawlessly pressed clothing, he stopped at his favorite coffee shop— the small, organic one, six blocks from his apartment. 

For three years, without fail, he went to the counter and ordered a medium coffee with cream, sugar, and a shot of espresso. He would order from the same person, a college kid named Kyle with thick glasses and scruff, who inexplicably was always the employee working there when Cal went. He would take his drink to the table at the back right corner under the artisanal coffee bean poster, and read the neatly folded newspaper set out for him until he finished his coffee. Kyle knew to save this table for him at that time after some very conspicuous outbursts of panic early on in their relationship.

 It was a set system, time-honed to near perfection. When all of the other neat cards in his life were shuffled or merely misaligned, this was the constant stronghold Cal could go back to and know that some semblance of an established routine would be available to him, or at least it had been until that day. On that day he opened the artfully lacquered green door of the shop, hearing the familiar jingle of the bell, and immediately noticed two things:

His table was being inhabited by a very openly-affectionate couple with matching dreadlocks.

Kyle was nowhere to be found.

The door shut loudly behind him when he stepped inside, and there was a momentary lull in the calm chatter of the few customers of the shop, before the collective public’s short attention spans came into action and they went back to their conversations. Looking out across the coffee shop, prickling worries created a sense of discomfort he knew he desperately wanted to avoid.

Where was Kyle? Was it something he had done? It could be a disease that had taken him out— he had heard of a food poisoning outbreak in the spinach in Romeoville, and that was nearby. Cal had eaten a salad for lunch, what if he had gotten it? But it could not be food poisoning, the onset was usually soon after the contaminated food was eaten, and it had been hours since his lunch. But what if it could last longer? Cal took out his phone and quickly searched for the answer. It could last for days! He began thinking about where the nearest minute clinic was when a bright red can on the counter that doubled as a tip jar caught his eye. He painstakingly pulled himself back out of the pit he had fallen into, using this image as a rope to grasp onto.

He remembered the question that had brought him there, and began to count backwards: nine, eight, seven, six… Breathing deeply in a further attempt to settle himself, Cal quickly walked up to the counter, looking past the register at the closed swinging doors of the kitchen and the green-painted wall. There was no employee behind or line in front, so he waited. He began to tap his fingers rhythmically, sounding like the resolved drum beat before a hanging and holding some of that same severity in Cal’s mind.

It was after a moment of this that a flustered looking employee came out; a slender young Asian woman with hair cut angularly down to her collarbone on one side, and her shoulder on the other, a silver hoop running through the right side of her small nose. This was a new face to him; he had not expected this.

“I’m so sorry,” she said, appearing as if she truly was. “The manager went out to talk to one of our vendors, and I just started here a couple of days ago. I’m still getting used to listening for the bell. A bit Pavlovian don’t you think?” She looked him in the eyes, warm behind the apologies. “Maybe I’m slowly being conditioned, and next time I hear a bell I’m just going to start making coffee,” she said with the kind of laugh that doubled as an invitation.

Cal was flustered by her banter. A tall, black man with tendencies to talk to himself and count things under his breath did not draw much interaction like this— the casual, well-meaning kind. Not knowing how to respond, he smiled thinly and gave a jerky nod, an uncomfortable gesture which she seemed to willfully ignore. Knowing that this conversation was not likely to get anywhere with the strain of his underlying panic, he abruptly began asking the questions that were pushing at his ribcage, the ones that had brought him to her in the first place.

“What happened to Kyle?” he asked, his usually kind and reserved demeanor overshadowed by the pulsing of his discomfort and his head.

“Oh he left for grad school last night,” she said. “Why, does he owe you money?” She began to grin at her own joke, clearly pleased with herself.

“No,” Cal spouted defensively, “ he’s just been making my coffee for three years now. He knows what I like, the coffee, the table, the Times, and he gets it for me, every time.” He ran his hand over his head and looked down at the counter, embarrassed at his outburst. “I just like order to things, you know?”

She rested her chin on her fist as she leaned down onto the high counter, getting closer to his face than he might have liked and looking at it scrutinizingly. She suddenly seemed to have come to a decision. “You know, I’m no Kyle, but I can make you coffee. I’m pretty sure that’s what I’m getting paid for anyways.”

Without waiting for a response, she tucked her hair behind her ears and turned to grasp at a cup to start making his drink, then, stopping her grand momentum, she suddenly paused for a moment. She turned back to him.“What kind of drink do you want?” she asked, remembering what extremely vital information it was that she was missing to complete the task at hand.

“Coffee. Regular. Cream, sugar, and an espresso shot.”

“Well all right then, I can do that” she said, and she did. 

Cal waited at the edge of the countertop and watched as, with hands still fledglings to the dangerous world of a barista, she meticulously made a cup of coffee for him. She had to clean up various spills an odd amount of times, but seemingly determined to complete his order, the girl finally brought his drink to him, stained at the rim, with coffee in the crevices of the plastic lid.

“There you go,” she said proudly, ceremoniously setting the cup in front of him, looking him in the eyes as if challenging him to discover some fault in it.

Tentatively, he picked it up, swishing it around as if to test its contents, sniffing it, then, looking her in the eye, he took a swig not likely to cause protestation in this clearly very vocal server. It was like drinking corn syrup from the bottle. A shudder went through his body as his taste buds recoiled from a massive tidal wave of sugar washing over them, a bucket of ice water to their peaceful existence.

Noticing his reaction, the girl became defensive. “What’s wrong with it? It’s coffee. It’s not that hard to make.”

He cleared his throat and said cautiously, as if calming a wild animal, “Well, for one thing, there’s so much sugar in here I can hardly taste the coffee.”

Taking a moment to absorb this, she finally forfeited whatever battle she had begun with probability. Smiling ruefully, she said, “Yeah, I figured something like this might happen. This is my first day working alone, I’ve been training mornings with Kyle, and I just can’t seem to get those sugar-to-coffee ratios down.”

Unexpectedly, Cal let out a snort. With a mock-offended look from the girl, this grew into a peal of laughter, spraying out of him as if pressurized.

“It’s not funny!” she complained, finding herself laughing along with his reaction. “It really is harder than it sounds.”

But it was funny. It was funny in that a woman this amiable would be having this moment of closeness with someone so unused to allowing moments to truly occur like this, natural moments of a sort of lightness he personally lacked much of the time. His mind still surged actively beneath the surface. What might this much sugar do to his metabolism? Had he left the stove on, heating up his kitchen like the coffee? Should he wipe his forehead, now shimmering with a sheen of perspiration? Yes, he should— it was unsightly. No he should not— maybe she hadn’t noticed and this would bring it to her attention. The spigot had not shut off. But she was so open, to him, to any possibility that might occur, that he felt himself, unbidden, slightly unwind one of the threads of his tightly-coiled being. And he enjoyed this feeling.

She had joined in now, feeding off of his reaction, and their few moments of connection came to a crescendo of laughter, attracting the attention of the few customers, and ultimately marking their impending return to the world outside of themselves.

Their laughter finally died down, a lull taking its place, full of the warm satisfaction of a good meal. As Cal looked into the distance the, lingering remnants of his smile faded, leaving an impression of its wholeness. The girl suddenly disappeared beneath the counter, only to spring up a moment later with a napkin and pen.

“Listen,” she said, still smiling, “My name is Lee. I’m not going to charge you for that monstrosity I made you.” This drew a chuckle from the both of them. “But I’m going to practice, and by the time you come back tomorrow, I’m going to have it down.” Somehow Cal doubted this, images of her with coffee stains down the front of her shirt appearing in his head, amidst the white noise of his worries about the possibility of third degree burns, and his desire to shift that red tip jar just slightly to the left.

“But still, if you ever feel up to giving me some pointers, since I clearly need them, just text me with this number.” Lee punctuated this with a scribble on the napkin, handed it to him officiously, and, with a smile and a graceful nod, turned around with the cup of coffee in question. She pushed through the swinging silver door of the kitchen with her hip, holding the cup far from herself with two fingers. As her form withdrew, Cal watched the door swing back and forth in its frame, recovering from the disturbance it had just received, before slowing and settling firmly back into its accustomed place.

Still processing what it was that had just unfolded, Cal walked out of the coffeeshop. He walked past the counter with its puddle of coffee, past the red tip jar ever-so slightly shifted to the right, past the couple at his table, and out that pristinely lacquered green door. Ignoring his dangerous lack of caffeine and looking silently into the distance, he started down the sidewalk. 

Cal was silenced by his awe at this thread of a different kind of regularity than that of his everyday tangle that had somehow managed to peek through. He continued, absorbed by this, until two blocks before his apartment building, when that fuse broken in the closed circuit of his mind was replaced, he looked back down at his feet: “One, two three. One, two three…”