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unknownjpegs · 7 months ago

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pegged

Nomi goes to Ben first, because she knows that he knows.

“Well, someone’s done it to you, yeah?”

And it burns in her stomach to think about; jealousy tries to take hold of her insides, claw them into little shreds. Nomi wants to be selfless and good like Xavier. He’d once explained that it wasn’t jealousy for him.

“I don’t like thinking of people Benji’s been with because,” and he’d paused there, brows indenting, pretty lips turning flat and pale. “Because I don’t think they treated him right. I know they didn’t—I do it better. It’s not jealousy—it’s like envy. I should have been there first.”

Nomi gets that—and it’s sweet. It’s so fucking like Xavier. To be thinking so deeply, when everyones staring at him surface level. Benji and Xavier fascinate her, as embarrassing as it is to admit. And she doesn’t (she does, to Matilda, as she admits everything to Matilda). But they operate so differently from every couple she’s met before; all their small, little touches never amount to PDA. When they’re in a room together, people still mistake them for just friends. And then Xavier goes and confesses something so deeply emotional like that to her, when they’re just sharing a spliff on a balcony.

Rotten of him, really. To be so good. Nomi’s not like that. Nomi is jealous. Seething with it sometimes, just imaging the different people Benny and Maran have been with. Potentially better in bed, thinner, less anxious, better communicators. Nomi hates thinking of Benny kissing other people, she hates knowing his hands have made the same path they make on her. Hates imagining the other girls Maran has dated in the past; hates comparing, and knowing, knowing they were all fucking cis.

She tries to be level headed when she asks.

Benny, to his credit, takes the question in stride considering he’s using floss to sew a patch onto his jeans. He blinks his big, prey eyes up at her; like he’s been caught doing something wrong. Nomi gets Xavier then, in that moment. Sort of hates that he even has to think she’d be mad at him. She sits across the couch, with one leg tucked up close for her chin to rest on. Matilda calls it her Benji posture. Tells her she spends too much time with the boys; it’s affecting her spine.

“Once or twice,” Benny comments, shrugging a shoulder. He refocuses on the dental floss and the patch. It’s a rat with a knife through the head; NO SNITCHES. Nomi scoots forward. She bumps her foot on the inside of his thigh—she finds it endearing he’s sort of a foot guy and won’t ever admit it.

Nothing wrong with liking socks, he’d mumbled defensively. Maran and Nomi had to control their laughter, so he’d not actually take it personally. Just was too cute to ignore sometimes. Benny had interests and a lot of them were filthy or obscene or strange; in a good way. She liked when he made her feel dirty in that safe, sexy way he could make a person (her—her and maran, only) feel. But occasionally, something would catch his eye and be so downright wholesome almost it reminded her that people were often, frankly, so wrong about Benny.

He liked their socked feet; he’d grab them, and kiss her sole. He’d snap the elastic on Maran’s calf high socks and grin suggestively at him. Benny was so odd.

“Did you like it?”

“Prostate orgasms are my go to,” he replies, with a sleazy grin. His eyes flick up at her, those ice chips that she wants to melt into. Her cheeks heat at the suddenly flip from clinical to lewd. She bites her thumbnail, eyes awkwardly skating off him and to the laptop on the coffee table.

“What if I’m not good at it?”

“Baby,” Benny sighs and finally sets his jeans and the floss and the NO SNITCHES patch aside. He takes her leg and pulls her close, so sudden it makes her squeak. Nomi falls flat to the couch, and Benny’s sudden movement over top of her makes her feel caged in that sexy way. When he presses between her hips, hand resting on the couch to keep himself propped up, she doesn’t feel trapped. Well, she does; but trapped in that good way. It kept her up at night sometimes, wondering how Benny could maneuver his body in ways that were so sensual when she hated it from damn near anyone else.

“You and Mar are li-like the same person, sometimes.” Benny pushes back strands of her darkly dyed hair. His fingers pinch her chin softly. Her hands walk up his chest, fingers curling into his shirt.

“What do you mean?”

She didn’t see it that way. Maran was a light; he was like a little sun that had walked into her life and never lost its shine, no matter how long he was there for. Never turned moonside. He was bubbly, better at affection—he was good at talking. To anyone. He knew what to say, almost all the time, even when he had to ramble to get it out. He was kind, like no one else she knew, even Xavier. And he was cute—really fucking cute. Adorable, actually and she so, so, so badly wanted to make it perfect for him.

“Maran gets into it wh-when we get out the gear, right?”

“To be fair, it’s usually on him,” Nomi notes, raising her index fingers. “Like, the leash—”

“Yunno, I will l-lose my train of th-thought if we talk about Maran and the leash,” Benny huffs, laughing through his stutter. His sweet, pink blush betrays the persona he tries so hard to keep up. Maran melts him. She knows he does. “I’m saying; Maran’s into th-the aesthetics. Like you. He likes when things look sexy. He’s into your outfits. You guys are b-better at roleplay than me.”

“You don’t get into your characters headspace.”

“I dunno wh-what headspace the pizza delivery guy who wants a bl-blow job as payment is like.”

It makes Nomi laugh, and she guesses that’s his intention, because he softens and leans into her more. His arm winds around her middle. Not for the first time, she is struck by how strong he is. Benny looks strong, of course—he’s tall and thick. But when he aims that strength at holding her. Cradling her into his chest. Makes her dizzy. Tingly. She rests her hands around the back of his neck, chin tucked down.

“If you’re in a strap on—just that fucking vision alone,” Benny continues, smiling wider and wider on each word. “Maran’s going to be s-so close to cumming that you’ll b-be lucky if he lasts through foreplay.” Her fingers curl into his hair, the way she knows he likes. And she’s rewarded with that little hitch of breath, fluttering of his pale blond eyelashes. She knows he’s right. Maran was often on the verge of almost there; sometimes Benny had a way with words so fucking evil that Maran would be right at that flushed edge without even a single touch.

Nomi rarely felt that bone deep arousal that people talked about. But looking at Maran, blushing all over his pretty freckled body, eyelashes wet and mouth parted, panting and asking please, more, please? Nomi could not use words to describe what that did to her.

She tilts her head to the side, demure and soft as she looks up at Benny from her peripherals. The order number on the laptop screen reads loudly at her. Shipping date confirmed.

“Want to show me some tips before it arrives?”

—

Benny gets her bent over the bed then. Her heart feels like it’s moved locations. Crawled up inside her throat. And all the blood in her body has similarly relocated; floods her. Deep. She digs hands into the blankets on their shared bed.

“You know he likes it like this,” Benny purrs from behind her. His hands touch her biceps. He applies only slight pressure, enough to keep her pinned to the bed. In a strange way, her interest is piqued by how differently he is with the two of them. Realistically, she knows Benny is good at this—sex. Obviously. She sleeps with him often enough. But, it’s another thing to be confronted with the knowledge that Benny thinks about it. That he puts effort into holding them differently, touching them in different spots, saying different things.

It makes her love him more.

“On his hands and knees,” Nomi replies back, smiling. When she closes her eyes, she can envision Maran. His playful look behind his shoulder, the way he’ll arch himself, chest to the bed. Nomi can imagine her hands touching his shoulders, his lower back. She envisions her dark, opera gloves against his olive toned skin.

“Yeah, th-this’ll work better for your height difference,” Benny explains. His hands tug her by the thighs, suddenly pushing her flush against his hips. Despite being fully clothed—the both of them—she is suddenly shivering with anticipation, as if he’s about to actually fuck her. Nomi bites her lip to stop herself from interrupting again.

“He likes this,” Benny says, slowly moving his hand from her lower back and up her spine. She trembles at the sensation of his warm palm, despite the layer of her clothing between their skin. “Maran likes being touched—likes the attention, you know?” She does. She likes giving it to him. Benny’s hands move then, both of them closing around her waist. “And grab him here. Thrust from here.” He gives a bump of his hips forward and makes Nomi laugh. Benny pats her ass affectionately, so she squirms and glares over her shoulder.

She’s shocked to find his eyes so darkened, so heavy lidded on her.

“You’re gonna know when he’s close,” Benny continues. “Cause he’ll fuck himself back on you.” She keeps watching Benny, her chin to her shoulder. Eyes widened. He moves slowly, bending over her. His hands sweep from her waist to her lower stomach. She has to swallow, because suddenly her mouth feels so dry. “He’s so greedy like that. I like to keep his hips steady, so he has to work hard for it.”

“Maran’s stronger than me,” Nomi whispers. Isn’t even aware that it comes out that way, that it’s a soft mumble. Benny nods, his sleazy grin going warmer and warmer. Melting.

“Yeah, but he’ll be good for you, Nomi. He’ll let you take charge.” Benny’s hands flatten over her stomach, holding her closer. “When he gets good like that, I like to push right here.” Nomi’s body jumps a little when she feels Benny’s strong hands. Her knees suddenly feel weak and immobile. Her legs kick a little, almost on reflex—she swears, she can feel that sensation. That pressing. Her eyes flicker all across Benny’s satisfied face.

“He’ll cum so hard, you’ll get tears.”

For a long moment, she lets that linger in the air between them. Benny has crept closer with every sentence, until he’s nearly fully on top of her. The heavy weight of his hips against her ass and thighs make that sensual trapped feeling come back; her breathing nearly catches and she finds it harder. She wets her lips with her tongue and finds Benny’s eyes staring there.

“Is it normal?” she asks, staring too, at his pretty mouth. She loves his crooked teeth. Nomi loves him so much. “Like—that talking about Maran made me want to fuck this bad?’

Benny’s head falls forward onto her shoulder.

“Th-Thank fucking God, I am so hard it hurts.” Nomi erupts into laughter that is quickly cut off when Benny wrenches one of her legs up onto the bed. It parts her, puts her in one of those filthy positions that he likes so much. He smiles at her—his real smile. The smile that Maran and Nomi get, in private, when he finally feels like he can just be Ben.

—

Nomi panicked over nothing, really.

Well, no, she didn’t. That nervousness was with her, all the way until Maran was on his knees for her.

Before it got here—Maran, on his knees, lips parted for a pretty purple dildo—Nomi had to be by herself with the idea for a long time. She had to be realistic.

She dared to reach inside herself and find the wound called dysphoria and give it a gentle, terrified touch. Nomi didn’t go there often; she found ways to avoid it as frequently as possible. Only, she knew that it would need examination. She couldn’t not—Nomi had been born with the very same equipment she was buying for a ridiculous price off the internet. There was no avoiding that the possibility could be there; and Nomi knew, with no shadow of a doubt, that even if it was that very moment (Maran, knees, etc) that dysphoria decided to reopen, bleed through the careful stitches, that neither Benny or Maran would judge.

Instead, when she looked inward, she found nothing. She came up empty. And maybe it had something to do with, at that exact moment, her receiving a text message from Maran himself. Me n u with a silly picture of two ferrets inside a cat bed, curled around each other. Nomi had never felt so seen, in the weirdest, funniest way. That was Maran, though. Deciphering her body language when words did not work, kissing her at the times when she wanted them the most, cupping his hand around the back of her neck as he drove into her, between her thighs, calling her beautiful.

“You look so pretty,” she says, suddenly in the fucking moment with Maran. He looks up at her, blinking in surprise—and then hot, red floods his cheeks. Makes him prettier. His mouth drops open more. He leans in. “Good boy,” Nomi purrs the words out, as Benny’s tattooed hands curl around Maran’s shoulders. Press him forward. A hand cups up underneath Maran’s chin. Her black, gloved hand.

“Show Nomi how fucking good at this you are, baby,” Benny says, voice dripping in his husky dominant tone. She shivers, like it’s almost aimed at her. When Maran’s mouth accepts the toy, she feels such a surge of possessive want it almost makes her knees buckle.

“Fuck,” she whispers, surprising both men in front of her. Nomi curses—she does. Often. Usually in anger. But even she barely recognizes that dark tone, that word like a demand. Fuck. Her gloved thumb pushes Maran’s mouth open wider. He moans filthily. “That’s it,” she continues, giving her hips a gentle thrust. “Pretty boy.”

Later, Benny holds her cheeks and presses their foreheads together. His giant, beautiful blue eyes stare at her, almost in wonder.

A natural, he’ll tell her. Holy fuck, Nomi, you are a natural.

Instead, she’s in the moment. She’s fucking Maran’s mouth, the way he seems to like it. A little rough and messy. She’s moving him onto the bed and murmuring loving praises into his ears. She’s pulling off a glove and letting Benny help with the lube. She is in charge and tells her other boyfriend to move to Maran’s front. She watches them kiss, like she wants. She watches Benny and Maran’s tongues roll together.

Then, Nomi fucks him—she runs her hand down his spine and listens to the absolute keen of a sound he makes. She feels the sweat along his skin, the ripple of his muscles with every thrust of her body forward. Nomi watches, hypnotized, as his head drops onto the bed, as his hands curl into the blankets. She listens to the slapping sound of their bodies together. Her thighs sting with it, because Maran likes it hard.

She holds his waist and Benny grins at her. His pale, inked hands hold Maran’s face, keep it angled so she can see it from the side. How pretty he looks when he’s being taken care of. His hands make scrambling purchases over Benny, holding him tightly. He whines, pretty and adorable at the same time. He pants as well, tries to hold in moans and every time he does, Benny wedges fingers between his teeth.

“Louder, baby,” he’ll encourage. “Be loud for Nomi.”

And Benny’s right—she can tell when he’s close. Not just because he tenses all over and finally does get loud. Not just because he’s holding onto Benny with one hand, his other grasping hold of his cock and tugging furiously. But because he does thrust himself back. Hard—wanting. Desperately greedy for more of the toy. Nomi’s hands curl around his waist, force him to keep her desired pace. To beg.

He does—he makes messy sounding pleas for more until Nomi finally repeats Benny’s gesture. Her hands dip around his waist and onto his lower stomach. Maran falls into the bed harder. He cums so hard, one of his legs kicks with it. He buries his face into the blankets and muffles his crying orgasm. His shoulders look beautiful, tensing and flexing, all his back muscles dancing. Nomi’s hands move across them, feeling him shift in sensitivity.

“I love you,” she whispers through her own labored breathing. She cups his cheek, turning his face, kissing his skin. His sweat slicked, short hair. She repeats herself in case he didn’t hear it, but the way his whole body goes slack and submissive, she thinks he does. Benny, standing on the other side of the bed, finds Maran’s hand—and she equally loves him, for lacing pale digits between Maran’s and squeezing hard.

—

“I was worried I wouldn’t do it right.”

Nomi feels relief in admitting it. Maran’s hands cup her cheeks, make her face warm—which feels almost silly. That he’s able to pull a blush from her after she’d just fucked him almost senseless. He brings them closer, kissing her in a way that also dizzies her. Maran’s lips always taste good somehow—and his skin always smells good. You’re just in love, Xavier had told her when he’d asked how that is. Maran stinks sometimes, I promise. She figured he was lying, though.

A movie gets thrown on in the background, mostly for an undercurrent of noise. Benny does comment on it—a lot. Really enjoys whatever scifi thing he can find and force them into watching, despite his constant groaning when they find an animated film. But all three of them dissolve into a topic here and there; like some odd rotation all three inherently understand. Nomi then Benny then Maran then Benny again and then Maran again and then Nomi twice in a row—and no one manages to feel left out.

At some point it also goes silent between all three because the climatic ending of the movie surprises them. And also, Nomi suspects, because the silence feels good between them. Maran, too, between them. He gets that special treatment that also seems to rotate between them wordlessly. Nomi’s never had to ask ‘me tonight, please’. She’s simply found herself in between, nestled between their two, warm chests. Benny’s never had to make a comment for her to know—and for Maran to know—that he needs that extra attention.

She isn’t sure how that works. If maybe, they fascinate someone out there, the same way Xavier and Benji manage to capture her attention sometimes. If their relationship, healthy and whole and happy, between all three is something to ponder over.

“Is there anything you’ve been wanting to try?” Maran asks, with his silly suggestive smile. Somehow he manages to be just as sexy and Benny to her, even though they have such different ways of turning her on. His knuckles brush up and down her forearm, making her feel like another round isn’t off the table.

“Ice cubes,” Benny says from the other side of the bed where he’s desperately trying to find a charger for his phone.

“Maran asked me, loser.”

“Maran asked me,” he imitates, with a flapping, foppish hand.

Her body is suddenly pulled closer, Maran’s warm, muscular arms scooping her in. She blinks in surprise and the heat that was overwhelming her from before returns. She blinks at the prettiest brown eyes shes ever had the luck of looking at. She slowly raises her hands and puts them into an odd gesture that makes Maran’s head tilt curiously.

“Eiffel tower,” she whispers. Benny’s phone makes a slapping sound on the floor. She bursts into giggles at the look on Maran’s face an those giggles turn to full blown snorting laughter when Benny starts swearing under his breath.

#writing #hj #college au #good taste #jlb #mgc #nw

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scuttle-buttle · 3 years ago

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WC: 2261

Rated: M

Tags: angst, medical issues, pregnancy complications, hurt/comfort, anxiety, brief mentions of medical procedures but no gore, nothing is technically sad, fluff, papa laszloooo

A/N: honestly tho I am sorry. also i maybe cried a little writing this, which is a first. also also everybody is fine in this it's just emotional

Blame @hardlyinteresting

🧠

"Three weeks…. Three weeks little bean…" you mumble as you rub your protruding stomach after a particularly harsh kick to your ribs. The chair was a sweet relief to your ankles after a long day at work and doing some light chores around the house all afternoon. You had three weeks until you hit 39 weeks into your pregnancy. As much as you were anxious you were ready. Ready to not feel like a bloated whale. Ready to not have sore feet. But most of all, ready to hold your baby girl.

Laszlo had been trying to convince you to take it easy and start maternity leave early, but you resisted. The last thing you were about to do is nothing. Most first pregnancies went late anyway, you'd argued, so you didn't worry about it yet. I’m pregnant, not dying - give me another week, you'd told him.

What you didn't tell him was about the headaches. Or how sore your legs were. Or how absolutely exhausted you'd been feeling the last couple weeks. Whenever he would ask if you were alright or offer a foot rub you would just brush it off as third trimester woes. You didn't want to worry him.

You were sat in an armchair in the parlor, feet propped up, damp rag over your eyes. The droning from the tv had your nerves on edge. All you wanted to do was take some tylenol and feel better, but you had been knocking back more than was probably safe the last few days so you went without.

A sudden pain shoots through you causing the rag to fall onto your chest. “Ohh...ow? OW!” You sit up straighter as the ache persists; the dull throbbing in your upper abdomen unlike anything you’ve ever felt before. Were you in labor early? Did she just kick in a bad spot? No no - surely the pain would’ve died down by now had that been the case. Unless? Can babies kick so hard they rupture something? Did my kid just bust my liver? Your thoughts run rampant as you wait, in vain, for the pain to go away. The pricking behind your eyes and in your temples only made it more hellish. Pressing your palm to the spot does nothing, nor do the breathing exercises you had been taught.

When five minutes have passed by without relief you make the choice to call out for your husband. “Laz?” No response. “Laszlo!” A beat passes; nothing. You swallow through your building nausea.

“I swear to fucking-” you growl as you snatch your phone from the end table to your left. You use all your concentration to dial his number.

It rings four times.

“Bärchen, why are you call-”

You don’t let him finish. “Something’s wrong.”

______

Head thrown back into the flat, starchy hospital pillow you groan in frustration. “permanent bedrest?” You scrub the hand not clutching your belly down your face.

The emergency room Obstetrician gives you a pitying look. “I’m afraid so - your blood pressure is high and we want to keep it under control to prevent outcomes such as pre-eclampsia. I recommend doing as little as absolutely possible; get rid of as many stressors as you can.” He flips through your chart. “You said you’ve been having headaches and fatigue for nearly two weeks? Why didn’t you come in sooner?”

Huffing, you tell him “I thought it was just part of the third trimester. Everyone always complains about how bad it is.” He hums in response.

“Well. I’m going to go take a final look at your labs, make sure everything else is fine before we discharge you. I’ll send in my Nurse Practitioner to give you the run down and anything else you’ll need to know. And should anything else like this happen again - get in here immediately.” He pats you awkwardly on the hand before nodding at Laszlo and leaving the room.

Laszlo.

Sparing a glance from the corner of your eye you see him looking towards his lap, his weaker hand cradled in the other. He’d been quiet since you admitted when your symptoms had first begun. Every single time he’d asked you how you were feeling you had lied to him. Granted, you didn’t technically know you were lying. But it makes little difference when you’re sitting in the ER. He had every reason to be upset.

“Laszlo honey,” you reach over to him. Slowly he takes your proferred hand and stands, coming to stop beside the bulky bed frame. His thumb caresses your wrist.

“Why didn’t you tell me? I could’ve examined the signs, kept a better eye on you.”

“Laz-”

“-No-”

“-I didn’t want to worry you, okay?-” Your voice breaks as you defend yourself.

“-I could’ve done something, maybe- I don't know!” His slightly raised voice startles you quiet. The pain in his eyes only makes you feel guiltier. He licks his lips. “I took the liberty of calling your mother. She will be here tomorrow afternoon and will be staying in the guest room as long as we need her.”

Now you look away, indignant. “I don’t need to be watched like I’m a child.” The tears behind your eyelids rush in; a lone drop trailing down your cheek as the embarrassment settles within your gut. You knew that at some point it was likely you would need her here. However you imagined it to be under happier circumstances. A deep inhale fails to calm your sobs. “I just- I don’t want to be a burden with all this.” Your tears flow freely now.

“My dear you could never be.” Laszlo sits on the edge of the bed. He rests his right palm above the swell of your child, his left cupping along the curve of your jaw. He tilts you to face him. “But the health of you and our girl is what is most crucial now. Let us take care of you. Please.”

A gentle kick underneath his palm from your daughter is answer enough.

__________

Two weeks. 14 days.

Lying in bed, sitting in the same spot for hours on end was actually going to be the death of you. You were sure of it.

Your mother truly has been a huge help since arriving. Laszlo wanted to start his paternity leave, but you insisted that he stay until you were closer to your due date. Which couldn’t come fast enough, you might add. Both Laszlo and your mother were prone to pestering you about some things, but at other times if you truly wanted to be alone they gave you your space. Now was one of those times. Laptop to your side, you watch another episode of Grey’s Anatomy. A knock sounds. You turn to see your husband standing in the doorway, the blood pressure monitor in arm.

He gives you a bright smile. “How are you two on this fine afternoon?”

“Cut it with the attitude, bucko. Let’s get this over with.” The words, while harsh, had little bite to them. His brow raises but he says nothing. You honestly felt bad that you’d been in a pretty foul mood since being discharged. On more than one occasion you’d said as much to Laszlo and your mother - they didn’t deserve your ire. Thankfully they understood why you were so frustrated.

You held the strap in place as he secured the velcro and started the machine. Buzzing filled the overall quiet room. Closed eyes you wait. Some days your results were higher than others. Unless you became higher than a certain threshold the doctor said you were safe to be home. At the sound of a beep Laszlo unhooks the cuff, reporting that your levels are within the acceptable range. When he goes to leave you alone you clutch at his sleeve. He waits as you peer up at him. “Stay?”

He never could say no to you.

______

Little bean’s ruthless treatment of your bladder had you up for the second time that night. You waddled to the bathroom to attend to your business and wash your hands. Glancing at the circles under your eyes in the mirror you sigh. “I love you baby bean but you’re giving me a run for my money here, kid,” you whisper as you rub your stomach. Three days, you remind yourself.

The floor creaks as you shuffle back to bed. Suddenly, an odd warm trickling sensation travels down your legs. “What the fuck?” Looking down around your bulging bump you find yourself standing in a small puddle, the glint of the bathroom night light reflecting off the surface. “Shit okay…ah Laszlo? Hey, I need you to wake up.”

He grumbles. With a roll of your eyes you walk over and shake him awake. “Hey- what-” he sits up instantly and blinks at you. “Is everything alright?”

“My water broke.”

He hops into action right away. Moving you to sit on the bed, he pulls out his cell phone to call your doctor. As he talks you watch him move around the room, the phone wedged between his ear and shoulder, as he collects your hospital supplies. You feel useless as you sit. Yet, you know that your priority needs to be keeping yourself calm and that moving around could exacerbate your condition.

He hangs up. Coming to stand in front of you he presses a kiss to your forehead; “I’ll go wake your mother. Don’t move, Liebling.”

As you sit you blow out a long breath. You look down at your bump. “Guess you decided you’re ready to go, huh kid?” The tip of your fingers brush along the side of your stomach. “I know we’re ready for you too. We’re going to love you so much, and your daddy? He’s gonna be the best, you’ll see.” Placing your palms flat she nudges you from within.

_____

The doctors decided that a c-section was the safest route. You both knew it was a possibility, but you had hoped that after weeks of bedrest that your blood pressure would balance out enough for a natural delivery. Unfortunately, that wasn’t the case. They monitored you for an hour before your contractions began, officially confirming you were in fact in active labor and dilating. After the fourth hour your blood pressure began to spike again. That’s when they decided to prep you for the procedure.

The operation went smoothly. The atmosphere of the surgical suite was tense with your nerves, but Laszlo’s calming words and his hand squeezing yours kept the anxiety from spilling over. You even found it in you to poke fun at how ridiculous he looked in the puffy blue elastic hair cap he wore.

When the first cries rang out you nearly tried to hop off the table to see your baby. The doctors worked quickly to ensure you were in proper condition while the infant was cleaned.

“Dad? Would you like to come and cut the cord?” one of the nurses calls out.

Laszlo looks back at them before turning to face you. He searches your eyes for a moment; “go,” you nod with a smile. You watch as he did what the nurses instructed as best you could, her soft wails echoing in the small room. He returns to you right after while they finish wrapping her up in a blanket.

“She’s beautiful my dear,” your professor confesses. He leans to give you a lingering kiss. “I’m so unbelievably proud of you.”

“I love you so much.”

“As I love you.”

The doctor interrupts your moment. “Would you like to hold your baby girl?” The question is directed at you, but you look over to your husband. The man you love more than life itself. He stares at the little bundle as if she’s the most incredible sight he’s ever laid eyes on. He can’t take his gaze off her. His irises sparkle with unshed tears as he looks on with wonder.

“Laz?” Finally he breaks away. “Hold your little girl - she’s been waiting to meet her Papa.”

Carefully the doctor shifts his hold on the babe to slide her into Laszlo’s waiting arm. He swallows as he pulls her to his chest. Something caught between a sob and a laugh leaves him. You blink through your own tears at the sight of your husband and daughter, a sight so far beyond perfect there could be no words. Laszlo held her with such delicacy, such reverence. It was as if any moment she could slip away as though a dream.

“Hello there my little dove, I’ve been waiting a very long time to meet you.” He doesn’t bother to wipe away the streams that fall from his eyes. “I’m your Papa and I-” he sniffs, looking towards the ceiling and blinking rapidly to clear his eyes. You rest your hand on his bicep. “I love you so very much. I would give you the world if I could. Your grandfather didn’t...he was not....” he pauses to gather himself. “To me you are the greatest gift I could ever receive. I will be the best father I can for you. A father worthy of you. Mein Gott, Ich liebe dich my darling dove.”

He continued to hold her in his arms until it was time to take you into the recovery room. When he had asked if you wanted her you simply shook your head. You would get your chance, you had a lifetime to do so. But your Laszlo needed this. He needed his little dove.

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@hardlyinteresting @lorna-d-m @livvyshmiv @somethingthatsaysbubbles @greeneyedblondie44 @unbeatablecurlgirl @apparrio @marchingicenotes7 @anteroom-of-death @bruhidaniel @lemairepstuff @thehuiabird @zemosimp05 @alindeluce @iamnotthecatladynextdoor @laura-naruto-fan1998 @trelaney @boneheadduluc @i-am-dead-inside-666 @fictionlandslanddreams @that-one-fandom-kid @hb8301 @fandom-princess-forevermore @foggycandywitch @creme-bruhlee @andy-rocks @nonamec0s @everythingbeginsineternity-blog @uncomfortablebagel @rachelicouss @wisia02

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georgiapeach30513 · 3 years ago

Note

Hi ! I loooved how you wrote the Desperate Affairs chapters, you did an amazing job with those.

I was wondering how the first time switching between Frank and Andy went. I'm not talking about the little dates in the beginning but more when Frank suggested the idea to Andy, in order to stop reader from cheating... I'm really curious about how Frank got inside Andy' skin, how he managed to mislead reader and particularly how their first time went.

It's a pleasure to read all of your stories <3

I love that you loved that roller coaster of a series. Listen, this is going to make some people mad at Linda again. And Rightfully so, we can't forget that she was the reason that Frank even had those photos of Ransom and Kitten. I'm assuming you were wanting Frank and reader's first time, once Frank came back....if you're wanting their actual first time, just let me know.

Should Have Known

Summary: How does Frank jumpstart the plan

Pairings: Andy Barber/Frank Adler X Reader

Rating: Explicit

Warnings: Explicit language, explicit sexual content, smut, unprotected sex, PIV sex, oral sex (female receiving), implied domestic abuse, bruising, marking, praise kink, twins switching places, revenge porn, mentions of an affair, purchasing Plan B, 18+ ONLY

Word Count: 2.4K

Desperate Lives AU Masterlist

You flip the mirror down in his Audi, checking out your ragged appearance, and try the best you can to straighten yourself back up. A quick glance over at Frank, who you to believe is Andy, you smile glancing away quickly. He notices the quick exchange, and doesn’t feel so bad with how quickly things happened. Andy won’t be soiling you this time. “That was...” you start, wiping around your lips.

“Amazing,” Frank sighs. His blue eyes finally meet yours. “You wanna go to the movie now?”

You laugh looking at the clock, “We’ll have to see a different one. We’ve missed the original movie we were going to see.”

“It was worth it,” he starts the car, and drives off to the theater, your hand slides over to find his thigh. Frank grabs tightly to it, picking it up to press his lips against it. With as quickly as he’s hit it off with you, there’s a part of him that wants to be honest.

“Can we go by a drugstore or something, really quick?”

“Why?”

You start to get defensive, “Why do most people go to a drug store? Because they need something. Just...can we please go?”

“Not a problem,” he goes to a drugstore that’s the closet to the theater, and starts to get out with you.

“No, it’s okay. You can just stay here. It shouldn’t take long.”

“Is there a problem?” he asks confused, and you shake your head no. “You’ve just been acting weird since we...”

“We had sex; you can say it. But we had sex unprotected, and I’m...I need the morning after pill.”

“Okay, you don’t have to upset. Come on,” he starts to get out, but you just look at him. “Well?”

“That easy?”

“That easy. Not going to force you into something you’re not ready for. While I have enjoyed the past couple days with you, I’m not ready for that type of commitment either. So come on,” this time you follow with him, his arm goes around your shoulders and he holds you close. Taking the time to peruse through the aisles for a moment. Giggling and laughing at how bizarre some of the items are.

"Didn’t expect to find you here. It’s a little odd.”

“Linda, just came to get a couple of things. I saw that I had your son on the books for a meeting?” Linda furrows her brows looking at Frank.

“A meeting?”

“At my office. To discuss his most recent run-in with the law,” Frank gives her an awkward smile, hoping that Linda just goes with it. She gives him a smile of her own before going about her business, wondering when Frank and Andy got back in on the double-teaming girls.

___________________________________________________________________

Having to get something from her son’s townhouse, Linda just used her key to get in. Walking past his bedroom she sees pictures dissolving on his laptop. Disgusted that her grown son still has pornography as his screen saver. She walks too close it, until she sees a familiar face, yours. No ring on your finger, and then it all makes sense. Usually, the bait and switch game that Andy and Frank played was reversed. Andy readies the girl for Frank, but she knows who she saw that night with you.

But how did her most precious Ransom get involved with an engaged woman? She clicks through the photos sending them all to her email. Creating a half-assed plan on how to get you out of Ransom’s life.

__________________________________________________________________

Frank sets down Mary’s plate for supper when the first email comes through. “I know it was you at the store that night. I’m not sure why you were pretending to be Andy, but she’s fucking more than you two. I need her out of my son’s life. Do with these what you think is best. Keep my name out of it.”

Frank opens the photo, and there’s not much to it. A close up of two people’s genitals, but he knows what the message is implying. By this time Andy should have your cunt memorized, so he creates an email to send it to Andy. His own half-assed plan coming to fruition. Frank had done nothing but think of you, since he left. Think of the soft whimpers you made as you rode on top of him. How poetic, Andy told him he wasn’t allowed to have you first, but he couldn’t help that the make out session in Andy’s Audi turned into a quick fucking.

Frank just assumes that Andy will figure out you’re having an affair, and all the times that Andy is down here with him and Mary, you’re off sleeping with another man. Every time that Andy comes to visit, Linda sends pictures more frequently. Each email is more agitated that Ransom is still have an affair, “Get rid of her.”

Frank’s obsession with Andy getting these photos grows. Even sending him the photos when they’re both in the same room. He watches Andy huff and puff, but when the little snippet of a video comes through, the anger is coming through in his whole body, “Fucking slut,” he grunts throwing his phone.

“What’s the problem?” Frank asks innocently, his own phone having the video on repeat.

“That prick keeps sending me pictures of my fiancé.”

“What?” Frank cocks his eyebrow up looking at him.

“She’s fucking cheating one me. On me! And Ransom fucking Drysdale likes rubbing my face in it. He’s started sending them to me when I’m not down here. So, she’s sneaking around on her lunchbreak or some shit. She has been leaving a lot more.”

Frank sighs, continuing to watch the video. Knowing that Andy is about to hit his breaking point. “We could come up with an arrangement.”

“No. I’m making her my wife. I don’t need her fucking Ransom and you.”

“Suit yourself,” Frank has no intentions to stop sending the photos. Every few days he sends Andy some. Each time Andy calls he hears the anger in his voice. Knowing how irritated he is, and still he doesn’t let up. Waiting for him to crumble. Randomly letting it be known he could keep you occupied while he spent time in Florida.

For once, Andy calls him first. Frank stops his research on one of Andy’s cases to answer the call. “Here’s the deal, you come here, you pretend to be me. She isn’t to know.”

“You tired of her stepping out on you?”

“I’ll make sure she knows how tired of it I am. Are you coming or not? I’ll buy your ticket now. If you could lay off the sex, that would be great.

Frank scoffs, like that is ever going to be an option. “Right. I’ll just share the bed with her, and not have sex with her.”

“Don’t force her.”

“Do you give her the choice of if she gets to have sex with you or not?” Frank knows the answer. If Andy wants to have sex with you, there’s not stopping him.

“Your flight leaves at 10:00am tomorrow. Make sure you’re there.”

___________________________________________________________________

Frank sees your figure inside the house, and he tries in vain to adjust himself to look more like Andy. He didn’t have the time to grow out his beard, or to even fix his hair from off the plane. There’s a part of him that doesn’t think you’ll believe this charade. A part of him that’s ready to fly back to Florida, because this is just wrong. “Andy?”

“Oh, uh, hey sweetheart.”

“What’re you doing still outside?” you take a step closer to Frank, your hand brushing over his beard, “I’m sorry about last night. I shouldn’t have pushed you. I’m sorry,” Frank is unaware of exactly what you’re talking about, but feeling your hand on him makes his eyes flutter. “What made you decide to do something different with your beard? Hair is different too.”

Frank pushes your hands down and holds them, “I used the wrong guard this morning, when shaving, and the hair is because I was running late. Supper smells amazing though, sweetheart, how about we eat.”

Frank is overly cautious around you. Paranoid that you will in fact know that he isn’t Andy, and somehow, you’re completely oblivious. It’s odd seeing how you interact with him now, versus when he first met you. You had been a bit more carefree; your actions weren’t quite as calculated as they are now. Halfway through talking after supper, he saw a glimmer of that girl again, but then you noticed the clock, “Andy, I’m sorry babe. We were just having a good conversation, and I didn’t want to ignore you. It’s my fault, but let me get the kitchen cleaned up, and I’ll meet you in the bedroom, okay, daddy?”

Frank tries not to react, but this whole interaction sets him on edge, “Okay,” he watches your face fall for a moment, “Honey.”

“I’m sorry. I’ll be a good girl next time.”

There it is. Andy did it, he had trained you. It’s what Andy said he would do; he just didn’t think that Andy was taking it quite literally. Watching your movements, he knows you’re looking for praise. Everything is quick, but effortlessly. “You’re doing such a good job, honey,” you preen at the approval from him. It’s almost sick how well Andy has you trained.

He doesn’t notice that just his presence in there with you, has made your heart swell, your eyes constantly looking over at him with a fond smile. A few more moments, and he sees you relax, acting like you had when he had taken you out on a date. “Come here,” he tells you, pulling you into his chest. Placing your right hand on his shoulder, her places his left hand on your hip, and pulls your left hand to his, to start dancing.

“There’s no music.”

“Shh...” he tells you before he starts to hum an old love song. You sway along to the beat of his hums. Getting comfortable enough to rest your head on his chest, holding onto him like nothing else matters. Only him, and you’re reminded of who you fell in love with. It’s been too long since the two of you have had such a sweet and intimate moment. Frank presses his lips against the top of your head, and you sigh with contentment. This is the Andy you fell for.

Finishing his dancing with you he steps back, before pick you up to place you on the counter. “God, I don’t deserve you. You’re so perfect, and I’m sorry for anything I’ve ever done.”

“I love you, Andy,” you answer, smoothing your hand down his face. With a drifting hand Frank moves you dress above you, giving you a wicked grin, when he realizes that you’re completely nude underneath. “Always ready for you daddy.”

Sinking to his knees, he spreads your thighs, pulling your core closer to him. There is something so beautiful about having Andy on his knees for you, it’s not something that happens often. His lips kiss up your thighs, your head throwing back in ecstasy, but when he halts his movements, you look down at him staring at the bruising he had left behind the night prior. “I’m sorry, babe, I just bruise easily.”

Frank is disgusted, pulling you off the counter, he turns you to bend you over. His hand smooths over your backside, and you stiffen again. The skin, heated, raw, and even more bruising. Embarrassed at the attention he’s giving you, “Andy please, stop. I said I was sorry,” his lips kiss all over the bruising. You don’t see it, but Frank’s eyes fill with tears as he attempts to kiss away the pain. “Andy...can you...Andy...” your voice whines, and you’re unable to vocalize what you want. “Andy!”

“What is it sweetheart?”

“I want you to stop.”

“I’m sorry. It shouldn’t have happened.”

“I’m sorry,” your body turns to face him, and you pull him up off the floor. Your own eyes leaking as he looks at you. “I shouldn’t have made you mad. Can we just, go to the bedroom? Things feel too open in here.”

“Lead the way,” grabbing his hand you lead him to the bedroom, already crawling on the bed for him to fuck into you. “No, you’re riding me tonight, sweetheart.”

Not too often does Andy relinquish the power during sex. Everything is usually his to control, so when Frank allows you to undress him slowly, and he slinks on the bed, fisting his thick cock, you don’t hesitate to fully undress, crawling over him, and your voice whimpers as you sink over his girthy length. Doing nothing but sinking to the root and you’re already panting. This tender Andy is doing something to you, without doing anything.

With one roll of your hips his hands smooth up and down your thighs as you rock over him. Every touch on your skin seems so loving and gentle, and you’re soaking his cock at the mere feel of his calloused fingers. “You’re doing so good for me honey. You like it too, huh pretty girl?”

“Uh-huh,” you murmur as a convulsion runs through your body. Frank gets up on his elbows to fully watch you working yourself on his cock, mesmerized by the movements of your body. “Andy,” you choke out. Whispering his name like a prayer. Your body overflowing with pleasure.

“Go on, you can do it. I'm right here, pretty girl. Riding my cock so well,” he breathlessly tells you; his hand goes to your clit to work in tandem with your hips. “That’s it, just like that honey. So good, doing such a good...fuuuck...” he growls when your walls flutter around him. “Almost there. Working my. Cock. So. Well.”

A few more rolls of your hips and your body succumbs to your high, his directly behind you. “You look beautiful coming undone on my cock.”

You slowly work through your high before pulling off of him. “Don’t go,” he whispers. “Lay on me,” he spreads his thighs a bit more, before you settle over him. Using his chest as a pillow. Frank’s hands smooth up and down your back, until you’ve fully calmed down. Asleep and softly snoring on Frank. “He doesn’t deserve you,” he whispers to your sleeping form. “But neither do I. Maybe Ransom is the one for you.”

“Ran,” your voice echoes in your sleep. Frank should have known then.

Masterlist

#desperate lives au #desperate lives #desperate affairs #desperate affairs au #frank adler #frank adler x reader #andy barber #andy barber x reader #linda drysdale #defending jacob #defending jacob fanfiction #knives out #gifted #knives out fanfiction #evansverse #chris evans #chris evansverse

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sinner-as-saint · 4 years ago

Text

My Favorite Kind Of Night - 4.

Camboy!Bucky x CEO!Reader

Part 4 of this series

Run-through: On Friday nights, you are punctual to your virtual meet-up with your favorite camboy over a streaming platform, for your private stream session. You’ve known him for a couple of months now. He goes by the alias of ‘Winter Soldier’ on the platform, which is perfect for the kind of man he is; brawny and drop dead gorgeous. Over the past few months, he has become your favorite kind of night. And secretly, you became his as well. You two get closer over time, and things get interesting when your real, professional lives gets intertwined.

Themes throughout the series: sex worker!bucky, smut, phone sex, fluff, language, dirty talk

Sunday morning, Bucky received not so great news.

“Hi James. Uh… I hate to do this but we’re gonna have to reschedule that date. I completely forgot that I have to leave on a short business trip on tomorrow morning at the crack of dawn. And I’ll be back by Wednesday. I’m sorry, it just completely slipped my mind and I blame you for that,” you chuckled. “But um, yeah I’ll make up for it when I get back, I promise. Bye, see you on Wednesday morning. Take care.” You quickly added, “And do miss me, will you?”

Bucky listened to the voicemail when he got back from the gym on Sunday morning, and lifted his head to glance at the clock. It read 11:39.

Well, you must be on your flight already. He had a slight frown on his face, he was so excited for your date tonight, but it seemed that he would have to wait a couple more days now. He quickly sent you a text saying it’s alright and he’ll definitely miss you.

Thing is, he just really wanted to make this work between the two of you. And for that, he wanted to be completely and utterly honest about the whole cam thing. Speaking of which, he thought of his favorite girl. And grabbed his personal phone and sent her a text as well.

You reply didn’t come right away, and he wasn’t bothered by it mainly because he was already thinking of ways how he could make this upcoming date with his boss lady extra special now that he had more days to plan for it.

You checked both your phones when you landed. James had texted you on your ‘work’ phone and Bucky on the other. You read both messages one after the other.

James: That’s alright, just come back quickly. And yes, I will miss you, boss.

Bucky: I still owe you a private sesh, no? Let’s do that soon.

You smiled at both texts, replied and went about your packed day.

A conference, a couple of meetings, countless emails and phone calls later; you were a finally free late on Monday night. Your flight back home was schedule at noon on Tuesday so you had quite some time to yourself. You were wide awake at almost midnight and you had nothing to do in your hotel room. You wanted to text or call James but you figured he must be sleeping at this hour.

So you decided to reach out to Bucky. After all, you two did decide to make up for that one session you missed. And he was up for it. And a few minutes later, he was livestreaming and your phone rang. You answered with a smirk and watched him smirk back at you through your screen. Half of his face was covered as usual.

“Hi soldier.” You chirped.

“Hi babygirl.” His reply came through both your computer and your phone. He inched closer to the camera, “Missed me?” he asked. You felt the same tingles at the sound of his words. You put your phone on loud and settled in your comfy bed.

“I did,” you responded. You did miss him to some extent. But not quite like how you missed James. “You have quite a lot to make up for.”

He chuckled, and yet again you tried to ignore how dangerously familiar that laugh of his sounded. “Yeah? Bet you’ve been desperate and needy for me since we missed our last session, huh?” he spoke and stood up to gently lower his sweatpants. So seductively, you almost choked on your own spit. You wondered for a split second, would James ever be that filthy in bed?

“Hmm,” you hummed. “I have.” You said, lying a little because that night you spent with James satisfied you completely. You shook your head slightly and cleared your head. Don’t think about James right now.

“Well then what are we waiting for, babygirl?”

Fuck…

You were leaning against the headboard, clothes thrown on the floor, your phone right beside you; one hand pinching and twisting your nipple while the other toyed with your clit. Bucky had been edging you for the past few minutes and it was absolute torture. But you couldn’t complain, not when he looked like that.

Naked and sat in his seat with his legs spread apart, his cock in his hand and a vibrator wand moving up and down his length. He moaned and grunted through the screen as well as through the call. You were surrounded by the sinful sounds he made and you shamelessly liked it.

You whined, unable to take it anymore. “Buck… please.” You begged.

He chuckled. “So needy,” he whispered. “Okay babygirl, touch yourself for me. Fill your little cunt with those pretty fingers.” He spoke and stroked himself and moaned wantonly. Oh he was so sensitive as well. “I want you knuckles deep inside yourself while you think about what it would be like to be filled with my big cock.”

You shivered at his words and pushed two of your fingers deep within you. You were dripping, and he could almost hear how wet you were. He growled and stroked himself gently.

“Fuck… I can hear you fucking that wet little cunt, babygirl.” His crude words made you clench around your own fingers. You gasped and kept your eyes focused on him on your screen. “Wish I was there to fill it up.”

Bucky heard the notifications go off multiple times, signaling that he was being tipped generously.

You whimpered as your fingers moved in and out of you rapidly, your arousal trickling out of you and smearing all over your inner thighs. Bucky kept talking, making you feel more and more lightheaded. “I bet your cunt tastes so sweet, doesn’t it babygirl?” Bucky’s voice was barely above a whisper, so low that your stomach flipped.

You moaned out loud and gasped as your fingers brushed against a sensitive spot inside you. Oh… all you could think about was how deliciously James’ cock had stretched you out multiple times the night you had sex. How thick and big he felt inside you.

“Please…” you begged, fearing that you might blurt out James’ name.

Bucky chuckled, then moaned as he stroked himself faster and pressed the vibrator to the tip of his leaking cock. “Yeah? You wanna cum for me, doll?” he scoffed, and groaned. “Not yet… not yet babygirl. Keep fucking yourself with those pretty fingers, let me hear you moan.”

You whimpered and sped up. Your body was damp and your mind was foggy and the only things you could focus on was your pressing need to orgasm, and James. You whined and begged. “Please… please,” you managed to keep your eyes on him. And how hot he looked when he just touched himself like that… all for you. Would James ever do the same?

“Fuck…” Bucky growled. “I wish I was inside you, babygirl. Deep inside you…” he groaned and pumped himself faster. “Feeling your walls clench around my cock, milking me… gripping me,” he grunted and you let out a loud moan; upon hearing which he cursed under his breath.

“You’d be so good to me, isn’t that right babygirl?” he spoke and it took you a moment to register his words because your mind was foggy and all your senses could focus on was the hot, burning need to come undone.

“Bucky… I’m-,” you cut yourself off by moaning wantonly. You were so close… so close.

“Faster, doll.” His deep voice rang in your ears and you obeyed. You fucked yourself faster. You gasped and thrashed around; moaning loudly, unashamedly. “Good girl.” He whispered again and stroked himself.

You watched him as he stroked himself faster. Moaning, his Adam’s apple bobbing up and down rapidly as he took himself higher. Bucky swore when he heard the wet sounds as you fingered yourself at his request. You were gasping and moaning and taking yourself higher and higher…

“Cum for me, babygirl. Cum all over your pretty fingers for me…” he gasped and groaned as he felt his own release approaching.

You whined, slipping your finger in and out of your wet hole rapidly. Your own touch took you higher…and higher… and you were on the edge; right on the edge…

Bucky threw his head back and sped up, he was so close…

And then the two of you finished together;

“Oh fuck… James!” you cried out and came all over your fingers.

“Y/N… fuck!” Bucky came; gasping and moaning.

Then both of you realized what the other said. And you both froze. Did he just-

Bucky was quiet. Chest heaving and mind a little hazy. Did he hear that right? Did you just-

“What did you say?” you both asked one another simultaneously. And you both froze again.

Shit. Shit. Shit.

Bucky moved quickly to end the livestream and you shut your laptop at the same time then hurried to end the call. And you sat there in bed, naked and hazy from your orgasm. Your face felt hot.

What the hell just happened? And why did Bucky panic as much as you did? And how did he know your name? Or was that just a coincidence? There could be other Y/Ns in the world, right?

In the back of your head, you sort of figured out what was really happening, and what had been happening all along – but you were in denial. James couldn’t be Bucky. Right?

But the long dark hair, the same laugh… no. It couldn’t be, right?

So the hot employee of yours which you were beginning to catch feelings for, is also the hot sex-god you’ve been having private cam sessions with for months? How was that possible? Also, instead of being embarrassed; why were you lowkey excited?

Bucky was equally confused. He sat there in his seat with confusion all over his face. His cheeks flushed and his mind going a mile and hour. What the hell just happened? Maybe you knew another ‘James’. He sort of figured out what was going on as well, but he refused to believe it. Not because it was a bad thing, but it was just too much to handle at the same time.

So, his boss lady that he’s been crushing on and falling for is also the hot babe he’s been having filthy, sinful private cam sessions with for months now? How?

Bucky found himself somewhat smirking. This wasn’t so bad, was it?

The rest of the night, you got no sleep at all. You threw both your phones as far away from you as possible and curled in bed; thinking, and thinking some more. How on Earth would you face James, or Bucky, now when you get back to work?

Would he ignore you? Or would he want to talk it out? Would it be weird between you two from now on? Then again, you’ve already slept together – multiple times in one night recently.

Meanwhile Bucky was in the same state. He had the same questions you did. Would you distance yourself from him now? Would the fact that he’s a camboy be a turn off for you? Because it’s one thing to derive pleasure from one, and it’s another thing to date a sex worker, he thought.

But he was already falling for you. Good God, what a mess!

---

You couldn’t believe how quickly Wednesday came around. Before you knew it, you were in your car and on your way to work on Wednesday morning. You did think of just not going to work today because you weren’t ready to face James. But then, you’d have to eventually.

Besides, he hadn’t called at all. Nor messaged. It was radio silence on both your ends, which made it even more frustrating. If you at least knew where he was at with this situation, you’d know what to expect when you inevitably do see him at work today. But you didn’t even know what to expect and you hated the suspense more than anything.

Luckily you didn’t see him in the elevator. Because you didn’t what to do if you were enclosed in such a small space with him. God, this is going to be one weird day…

Bucky was just as nervous while he was getting ready for work that day. What if you fire him? No, you wouldn’t do that. He wondered, would you still like him the same after this? Things were going to be messy in the beginning but what about after that? Fuck… he hated this suspense.

When in the cab, he wanted to get to work and face you as soon as possible and figure out where you two stood now. But he also wanted to run. But he knew had to face you and talk this out.

He took the elevator up, and luckily you weren’t in the same one as him so that gave him a few more minutes to prep himself before he came face to face with you later, inevitably.

Bucky was on his way to his cabin when his work phone buzzed in his pocket. He pulled it out and saw that it was a call from you. Instinctively, he lifted his head up and looked in the direction of your office. And there you were, leaning against your door and your phone pressed to your ear. And you were looking right at him.

He couldn’t read exactly what the facial expression you had on meant, but it definitely gave away that it was nothing negative. He answered the call quickly, and maintained eye contact with you as he spoke.

“Hello Y/N.” he watched how you smirked right when you heard his voice. Fuck… his heart raced as he looked at you. You looked good.

His breath hitched in his throat upon hearing your words, “Hello soldier.”

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes au #bucky barnes smut #camboy!bucky #marvel au #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes series

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kuroopaisen · 4 years ago

Text

distractions || kuroo tetsurou

➵ you’re determined to distract your boyfriend from his uni work. you’ve got a foolproof plan as to how.

wc: 2k

warnings: f!reader, 18+, established relationship, unprotected sex (mentions of birth control), cursing

a/n: kuroo brainrot. that’s all.

One of Kuroo’s hands lies on the inside of your thigh, his fingers running over the skin slowly. He seems totally unaware of the effect he’s having, scrolling through page after page of some bullshit about ‘breaking even’ and ‘sunk cost fallacies’.

That holds absolutely no interest for you. Not when something significantly more exciting is on your mind.

You glare at him from the corner of your eye.

It doesn’t help that he’s just sitting there, looking hot as ever in red sweatpants and a loose black shirt.

You’d initially thought, perhaps, that he’d be teasing you for wearing nothing but one of his shirts. It’s one of his, a ratty old black shirt that he’s said that you look both aggravatingly cute and unfairly hot in.

But he’s been staring at his damned laptop for the past hour, only taking a break to get up and pee.

You’d had nothing to do except absent-mindedly scroll your phone for that duration. Sure, you could’ve done some uni work, or perhaps even done something ‘fun’ for a hobby.

But you hadn’t felt like it. So you didn’t.

And now you’re horny.

You sigh, crossing your legs in an X-shape. It hikes up a little around your thighs; something that usually captures your boyfriend’s attention with ease.

He’s not paying attention.

An idea pops into your mind. Something that Kuroo would absolutely be down for. And something you’d wanted to try for a while now.

You scoff, propping yourself up on your knees. Kuroo still takes no notice.

“Tetsu?”

“Mhm?”

You grab his laptop, closing the lid and placing it on the bedside table.

“Hey!” Kuroo chuckles, raising an eyebrow at you. “What’re you doing?”

“I want to ride you.”

At those words you straddle him, settling yourself comfortably on his lap and slipping your hands under his shirt.

He blinks at you for a few seconds, eyes wide and round. But in true Kuroo fashion, that surprised expression melts into one of smug satisfaction.

He takes his shirt off and tosses it aside.

“I’m usually the one on top,” he chuckles, smoothing his hands over your outer thighs.

“And?” You hum, pressing a kiss to his neck. He hums in response, one hand moving down to grab your ass.

“I don’t know if you have the stamina,” he grins.

“I’ve put up with you for this long,” you smirk, your lips moving down his neck. “That’s got to count for something.”

He laughs at that, letting his eyes flutter shut as you begin to nip at the skin on his collarbone. You know what he’s like – he wears his hickeys proudly, so long as they can be hidden from his professors.

“What’s brought this on?” He asks, his voice beginning to roughen.

You raise your head to glare at him. “Really? You have no idea?”

He tilts his head at you, genuine confusion clouding his eyes.

“You’ve been fondling my thighs all morning,” you huff, glaring at him.

Kuroo cackles, lifting a hand to smooth over your cheek. “Sorry, sweetheart. I didn’t even notice.”

“You didn’t even notice?!”

“I was studying,” he grins.

“So, what? You were just fondling them for emotional support?”

“Sounds about right.”

“I hate you.”

“You just said you wanted to, and I quote, ‘ride me,’” he smirks. “Or is hate sex something you’re into? You never told me about that kin—”

“Shut up,” you mumble, pressing your lips against his.

He complies.

You grind against him, earning a soft moan from the back of his throat.

His dick’s already beginning to harden up. Your heart speeds up at that realisation. Even now, the fact that you’re the one who turns him on so easily makes you all flustered.

He kisses you again, deep and hot and hungry.

You keep grinding against him, letting a few gasps and moans escape your own mouth. His hands slip down to your ass, pulling you closer to him. You yelp, wrapping your legs around his waist.

Oh, fuck.

He’s so close to you, so hard, so ready.

If you wait any longer you’re going to lose your damn mind.

Your lips brush against his ear as you smirk. “Tetsu,” you moaned quietly. “I need you inside me now.”

He gulps, his grip tightening on your ass. “Do you want me to get a condom, or…”

“It’s fine,” you breath, shaking your head. You’ve been on birth control for the past few months.

His face lights up and you can swear his eyes start sparkling.

You laugh, bringing your hands up to cup his face. “That excited, huh?”

He grins. “You aren’t?”

He’s teasing, but there’s something you can only describe as ‘eager reverence’ in his eyes.

The next few moments are spent trying to get him out of his sweatpants; you’re leaning this way and that, he’s trying to wriggle out of those blasted trousers without having to get off the bed.

Somehow, he manages to get everything off, his dick bright red as it springs up.

An ache pulses in your abdomen as you look at it. You’d learnt very quickly that you had to take things slow with Kuroo – he’s big, after all.

But you’re both eager.

Your remember that as you position yourself over his cock and start to sink onto it.

“Fuck,” you breath, grasping at his shoulders. “You’re so big.”

You shudder as you settle down on his length, letting his cock stretch you out.

He grins. Even he’s a sucker for praise. “Yeah?”

You nod, adjusting yourself on his lap. He takes a sharp breath at that, grasping at your ass again.

“You alright?” You chuckle, knowing full well what that noise means.

“You’re so warm,” he mumbles, kissing your neck. “And tight.”

You grin, leaning your head back to give him better access. “Can I move?”

“Mhm,” he sighs, teeth grazing the base of your neck.

You shift again, pressing your pelvis closer to his. Your knees are propped to either side of his thighs, holding you up.

You set a solid pace, this new position allowing you to rub your clit against him as you ride his cock. Kuroo’s head lolls back for a moment, his eyes closed and lips slightly parted.

You take a moment to admire his body for a moment – taut, tanned, muscular.

His golden-brown eyes flutter open, darkening in a now familiar way. You smile at him, running your hands over his chest.

“Get this off,” Kuroo growls, tugging on the hem of your shirt. “I want to see all of you.”

You blush, but you tear it off your body as quick as you could while continuing your movements. You settle your hands on his shoulders again, gripping into them tightly in an attempt to ground yourself.

Kuroo runs his hands over your hips, up your waist, over your boobs. Your skin tingles under his touch, making you shiver.

“I love your body,” he breaths, thrusting up into you instinctively.

You gasp as he goes deeper, clenching around him as your cheeks redden at his words.

“Shit, sorry,” he chuckles.

“It’s fine,” you gasp, “it’s good.”

There’s an unrelenting ache in your thighs, but you don’t want to stop.

One of Kuroo’s hands slinks between the two of you, seeking out your clit. You gasp at the sensation of his thumb pressing roughly against your clit, rubbing in coarse, haphazard circles.

“You alright?” He grins, voice deep and laden with lust.

“Feels so good,” you breath, rutting against him.

He makes a noise not unlike a growl.

“Are you gonna cum?” You can hear the pride in his voice. He loves making you cum, and he loves feeling you cum on his dick most of all.

“I-I think so,” you shudder, your thighs burning from the amount of work they’ve done today.

“Then cum for me,” he growls in your ear.

You moan, digging your nails into his shoulders.

“I want to feel you cum around my cock,” he growls.

“Fuck, Tetsu,” you breathe. “You feel so fucking good.”

He chuckles, tilting his chin up so his lips could meet yours in a sloppy, open-mouthed kiss. You sigh into the warmth, the coil in your stomach tightens.

“I love being inside you,” he mumbles against your lips. “Fuck, baby, you…”

You let yourself go. “Don’t stop,” you gasp, “please, don’t stop.”

Warmth spreads through your body, a pulsing wave of pleasure that makes you dig your nails into his shoulders.

You moan, deep and long and honest. Everything feels all floaty for a moment, and yet your limbs feel so heavy. You collapse against him, your head falling onto his shoulder.

Kuroo understands immediately. He’s familiar with the look you’d just had on your face, after all.

He cups your head, his other hand grabbing your ass. He pulls you close, making your breath hitch in your throat. He thrusts up into you a couple of times, before flipping you over gently.

You yelp in surprise but lift your pelvis up as best you could.

He’s on top now, fucking you with his usual voracity. He never means to be rough, and you’re not even sure if what’s happening right now qualifies as ‘rough sex’. But his thrusts are deep, fast, hungry.

You know it’s because he’s been holding back, because you know he always tries to make sure you finish first. But he wants you – wants to be close to you like this, to let himself lose control with you.

You want that, too. Knowing you’re the one to make him lose his damn mind? Fuck, that’s hot.

He’s hot. And he’s bare inside of you. The thought alone is almost enough to make you cum again.

“Tetsu,” you moan, clenching around his dick. “Tetsu, I want you to cum in me.”

“Holy shit,” he hisses. “Fuck, are you sure?”

“Please,” you beg, “I want to feel you.”

“Fucking hell,” he groans, burying his face in your neck. His pace speeds up, hungry and desperate. You know exactly what that means.

A few more rough, sloppy thrusts and he lets out a long, deep moan. God, what a beautiful sound.

His dick pulses against your walls as he reaches his high, chasing it with a sharp, shallow strokes.

A few more moments of thrusting and moaning and he slows to a stop, hot breath fanning over your next.

He lifts his head up to look at you, a slight tremble in his arms.

“Guess I always come out on top,” he grins.

You stare at him for a moment, a horrible realisation settling over you. “Was that… a pun?”

“I’ll never tell.”

“Get out?”

“Of you?”

“Of my house.”

“Uh, I think you mean our hou—”

“Nope. You’ve lost your privileges.”

He chuckles, pulling out of you with a contented sigh. “We should do that more often.”

“Sex?” You ask, tilting your head at him. “Or me on top?”

“Both,” he answers instantly, kissing your forehead. “Definitely both.”

“You sure?” You giggle. “I thought you always ‘come out’ on top.”

“I don’t think you understand just how hot that was,” he grins. “Also, fuck.”

You blink at him, following his gaze down your body.

Oh.

You can feel his cum dribbling out of you. You realise, not without a hint of frustration, that it might stain the sheets.

“You should probably have a shower,” Kuroo teases.

“It’s your fault,” you mumble, sitting up straight.

“Hey, you begged me to do it,” he grins, leaning in close to you.

Your cheeks flush. He wasn’t wrong.

Kuroo cackles. You punch him in the chest lightly even though you know such a move is futile. He grabs your fist playfully, tugging you towards him. You comply, wrapping your free arm around his neck and pressing yourself against his chest.

Bare chest to bare chest. Something about that almost feels as intimate as what you’d just done. Almost.

He lets your hand go, bringing one of his own up to cup your face.

Kuroo gazes at you for a moment, a soft smile on his face. “Thanks for trusting me.”

You know what he’s talking about immediately.

“We’re dating,” you giggle. “And we have been for a while.”

“I know, but…” He chuckles, shaking his head. “I love you.”

You smile, your heart hammering in your chest. “I love you, too.”

He kisses you again, surprisingly chaste.

“But,” you grin, running a hand through his hair, “we should probably have a shower.”

#kuroo x reader #kuroo tetsurou x reader #kuroo tetsuro x reader #kuroo smut #kuroo tetsurou smut #ns//fw #help me i've got so many other projects and yet #And Yet #big sigh #anyway enjoy

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aching-tummies · 3 years ago

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Quiet in the Library!

I think I lived out a kink-scenario again completely on accident today (note, this was written a couple of days before posting due to a busy schedule).

My area is currently experiencing an unprecedented heat wave. We're normally a colder climate so built-in AC units are not a thing in our area. Older houses come with ways to heat one's house, but nothing to cool it down because our climate is normally either cold or freezing. On my day off from work I decided that I wanted to go out somewhere with AC to kill time. I had some stuff I needed to work on and some things I needed to print off so I made plans to head to a public library and work/chill for a couple of hours.

I discussed my plan with family members. Some family members are going through medical treatments and stuff, so the entire household has been wary of going outside and potentially bringing germs and other stuff back home with them. I'd be going out for "recreational" purposes. We have a printer at home but it is only connected to someone else's desktop...so if I absolutely had to print something off I'd have to hop onto that computer...which I have done in the past...so the library trip was more for the idea of spending a couple of hours in a building with AC going. I wanted to let family know of my plans so that they wouldn't plan for me to be at home...and also offered the idea of someone tagging along with me if they wanted to beat the heat in the library too.

Turns out someone else was toying with the idea of going on a grocery run but they were on the fence because of the heat wave. I suggested that I'd tag along with them on the grocery trip, help them carry items and all, and then they could drop me off at the library and save me one trip on transit...I'd take transit home when I was ready. With that plan, I suggested that we eat breakfast at home because I had plans to buy lunch outside while on my library trip and I did not want to have to buy or eat two fast-food meals in one day. This was all discussed the night before my day off, fyi.

Plan made, upon waking up we worked together to put breakfast on the table. Unfortunately, my first task upon waking was to chug some ice-cold water out of the fridge. It was hot and I was sweating not even 10 minutes after waking up. The shock of cold water so soon after waking gave me cramps. Imagine how you'd react to being rudely woken up by someone dumping a bucket of ice-water on you...yeah, that's exactly how my stomach reacted. I hid in my room, doubled over with cramps, and left the rest of breakfast prep to family members.

Something went wrong with breakfast, apparently, that resulted in half of the food being inedible so I ended up eating about three mouthfuls of food and leaving the rest for other family members. The spoiled breakfast put other family in a bad mood so they reneged on our plans. Timing-wise, it resulted in a mad dash to the bus stop for me after swallowing my third mouthful of food because I had decided I'd be in the library today. The little food I had eaten was only barely enough to whet my appetite and my stomach was grumbling and snarling for more by the time I reached the bus stop. I rubbed my tummy a little to try to calm it because part of it was still griping over the ice-wakening.

When I got to the area with the library, I had a choice to make: walk further in the heat, by-pass the library, to find food at a nearby food-court first...or hit the library as intended, spend a few hours there, and then search for food hours later. The heat made my decision for me...looking for food first would have resulted in double the amount of walking in the heat because I'd be bypassing the library only to return to it after getting food. My stomach had calmed down on the bus ride (thanks to some discreet tummy rubs) and was no longer grumbling at me.

I hunkered down in the library with my earbuds in. It's been over a year since I set foot in a library due to the pandemic shutting them down for in-person services. I missed this. My favorite thing to do in the summer in previous years was to bring my laptop to a library and enjoy the ambience and the air-conditioning. It doesn't cost anything but transit fare so I did this often before the pandemic hit. I was enjoying myself. I felt a little self-conscious though because people that walked by my table gave me strange looks...and I don't know why. I had my mask on, other people at other tables were doing the same as I--had their laptops out and were working on Word-Processing documents. I'm at the age where I can totally blend in as a post-secondary student...so I couldn't fathom why I was getting strange looks and I kept on checking if my hair was out of place or if I had something on my clothes.

When I wrapped up my work, I shut down my computer and pulled by earbuds out...that's when I realized that the rumbling I felt throughout my three hours at the library was not due to my music being too loud. The grumbles had come back with a vengeance and apparently had been going for at least two and a half hours. Something about tables always seems to act as an echo chamber for stomach growls and these ones were audible...so...yeah...my best guess as to why people were giving me odd looks: my tummy was growling and they heard it.

To add to my embarrassment, a stunningly attractive person was in the table behind me. There was no way he didn't hear my growling tummy. I packed up, printed off my stuff, and left the library in a rush in order to spare myself further embarrassment.

Onto food. I stopped by a nearby convenience store to hunt for drinks. Pro-tip when eating at a food court or going to the movies or something: drinks and snacks are cheaper if you get them from a grocer or a convenience store or something than if you were to get them at the food court or theatre. I know, it's bad to do that to a theatre, but most of the people I know working in theatres tell me that they don't mind if you bring outside food as long as you don't leave evidence...don't throw out your own wrappers and zipper bags in their trash bins and don't leave bottled drinks and stuff lying around. You shouldn't do that sort of thing if you bought concessions at the theatre either...but yeah.

The convenience store here almost always has a "3 for $5" sale on drinks...it's just a matter of which brand/flavors are on sale when I go. I lucked out and it was on 500mL bottles of lemonade that day...so I trudged over to the food court carrying 1.5 litres of drinks. I was hungry and it was hot, so I ended up buying some of those premade sushi platters. It wasn't a big one...8 pieces or so. I bought a small bento box as well that basically just had some meat on top of the rice and a side of vegetables. I was hungry, so I was sure that this amount of food was alright for me to finish in one sitting. In previous trips I'd bought a 2-item large bento and the same sushi platter...I'd be able to finish the bento and maybe eat 2 of the rolls before being full in previous trips, so I was sure that what I had bought would fit comfortably in my stomach.

I forgot to factor in thirst. It was a hot day and all, so I ended up drinking more lemonade than I otherwise would have. I drank 2 of the bottles during my meal...so an entire litre of drink went into my stomach along with the food. By the end of my meal all that was left on my plate was one roll from the sushi platter. I brought it to my lips but my stomach definitely didn't want it and it was too hard to swallow.

My gut was packed. The litre of lemonade (as well as about half a cup worth of water from a waterbottle) filled up my tummy and brought me to 'stuffed' rather than simply 'full', The food alone would have comfortably brought me to 'full' as I usually only have my waterbottle with me for meals so I don't drink too much.

I was wearing a loose button-up shirt over top of a camisole and pants that day. The clothes were very flattering and highlighted my slimmer waist. I've got a higher BMI than is considered normal/healthy...but my figure is basically on the bigger end of average rather than into full blown obese territory...and most of my fat distribution goes toward my bust, arms, and thighs so my stomach was flat in those clothes. Not after lunch, that's for sure.

My stuffed tummy was aching, stretched and fit to bursting. The glut of food and drink had rounded out my stomach and I was immensely glad for the loose button-up hiding the evidence. I sat at the table for a while, unwilling and unable to stand up because my stomach felt so heavy and there was pressure at the base of my esophagus from all the food. I was terrified that I'd throw up if I moved and jostled my tummy. I spent a few minutes discreetly rubbing my tummy under the table as I flipped through headlines on my phone. I wasn't paying attention to my phone, mentally begging my stomach to start digesting so that I could finally move.

When I finally got up, I opted to walk around the mall for a bit in hopes of coaxing faster digestion. My stomach churned and sloshed the whole time. Surprisingly, there wasn't really any gas in my guts. It was all liquid and solid food. The rice must have absorbed some of the liquid because everything felt like it had swelled up inside of my belly. The stretch was intense. Thanks to my clothes, I felt like some of those "surprise inspection" fanarts I've seen floating around. If I had a partner and a discreet/private setting, I wouldn't have minded playing out a "surprise inspection" scenario. I was alone in public and terribly shy and embarrassed about my tummy though. If anyone tried to press their palm into my tummy at that moment I'm sure I would have been embarrassed and that I would have thrown up from all of the pressure in and on my tummy. I was stuffed to the point it hurt--my stomach felt like it was on the verge of a rupture.

#stomach kink #tummy growls #stomach growls #stomach ache #stuffing #tummy ache #hunger kink

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egoludes · 4 years ago

Text

the greatest gift of all.

note: so, to be honest with y’all...i have no idea where this came from. i was just minding my business this weekend, @adorecevans and i started talking about one (1) headcanon scenario, and now here we are! this is going to be a v casual series, basically just snippets of dom!chris and sub!reader (in no particular order) building a relationship. future installments will explore the history more, but what you need to know for this one and the series overall: dom!chris meets sub!reader through a dom/sub dating app of sorts and have been engaging each other long distance for a few months. reader has no idea that it’s chris evans for the obvious reasons, and since he doesn’t give a name at all, she addresses him as Sir. i’ll explore all that background more in the future, but for now: i really hope you enjoy!

credits: unsplash for the stock image, and an anon in @honeychicanawrites‘s asks one day for the image of cevans calling his lady ‘mama’... i had to do it.

warnings: masturbation, voyeuristic vibes, intimacy over video call, dom/sub dynamics, long distance / virtual relationships, sex toys, use of title as name (sir).

wc: 2.3k

The thought comes to you on a Sunday afternoon.

You’re on your belly thumbing through texts, legs up and crossed at the ankles with Sir’s newest gift -- a pretty pink slip -- and your laptop beside you. The screen is dark, save for a grey circle with an initial in the center that lets you know he’s there, listening, when you say: “Have you ever tried one of those dildo molds, Sir?”

The initial silence is suffocating, and you worry for a second that the idea - spur of the moment, really - goes too far. You’re just learning each other, after all; still adjusting to the pictures, the calls, the gifts you model for him with pride.

But then, he speaks, a familiar rasp to the words that makes you clench in your fitting black shorts. The question comes from a place of genuine curiosity, but you’ve riled him up still, which excites you; always does. “That’s what you’re thinking about over there, huh? Feeling me?”

Your body heats, conditioned already to react to that dangerous tone in his voice; but you try to keep your expression reticent when you turn it to your camera. There’s another moment of nothing -- just you watching the lens like it’s him before you. Then, your lips curl, lids narrow, and your voice turns playfully sweet. “Well, when am I not?”

He hisses, a sharp sound that makes you preen, and you can hear him on the other end, adjusting his screen. “Easy, mama,” he growls, earning himself a giggle, “it’s too early for you to be working me up.”

You laugh again, this time with more body before resting your cheek on your palm. Without his video on -- a compromise you’ve grown used to -- you can’t know that he’s actually watching you. But you lean into it all the same, swinging your legs behind you. “But, have you?”

He clicks his tongue, a thoughtful sound, and you imagine what his features must look like, twisted by consideration. “No - I don’t think I know anyone’s who has either.”

You hum, eyes glinting with something that makes him suck in a breath. “I’ve always wondered about it. Not just the process, but just...having one,” you murmur, settling deeper into your pensive stance. There’s a dreaminess to your tone that not even you notice; but he, that ever-mindful man, takes note.

You continue on, none the wiser.

////

A week later, you come home at the top of rush hour, grateful that you’ve made it so early, but burdened all the same. Stress is a fickle, but poignant thing, and you’re feeling its weight extra today as you make your way up to your apartment. You’re excited for the time to yourself, thinking on what you might make for dinner, when you see it - a small, but noticeable box at the foot of your door.

Immediately, your expression turns, confusion and wariness turning your mouth into a scowl. You don’t remember ordering anything, nor are you expecting something for anyone else. You hope the label will give you a clue about what this could be, but to your chagrin, it has no company - just your address and a generic return location.

Still, you take it in, setting it on the kitchen counter, where it stays forgotten as you shower, eat, and pour yourself a glass of wine. You’re halfway through the second when the package re-snares your attention from the corner of your eye. You drain the rest of your drink with a gulp, wiping red off the corners of your mouth before you stand, determined, to approach it.

The box is unassuming; plain cardboard with nothing but the barebones label to distinguish it. You lift it again, this time with both hands, to measure it and feel something heavy shift inside. It’s enough to pique your curiosity, and you tear through the packaging until you can see what’s in it.

At the center is another, smaller box made of sleek black velvet. A card is attached with red ribbon, careful lettering penned in dark ink. Even before you fish it out, you can work out the message, but it doesn’t feel real until the note sits in your hand and you’re reading it up close.

For my favorite girl; so you can feel me any time you want.

Sir.

Your eyes dance over the words a few times before their meaning sinks in and you realize it’s a gift from him. Then, you’re practically rabid, tugging out the box out and flipping the lid in one motion.

When you see what’s inside, it’s all you can do not to buckle at the knees. In the middle of the box, set up almost regally on a bed of plushy silk, is a veined, pink dildo. You don’t need to touch it to know that it’s heavy, but that doesn’t stop you from doing it all the same. Your fingers take it by the base first, wrapping firmly above the balls to test the weight. And you moan at it, that delicious thickness as you lift it from the box with both hands. Your palms curve around it, twitching with want, and you realize then that this is what he looks like, what he feels like.

What you would get if he came home to you for real.

The thought is too much to bear. Your breath quickens, fingers dancing deliberately up and over the shaft to size it up. You tell yourself that this is all you need for now ---- you know better than anyone that to use this toy for the first time without him is a test of his patience you’re certain to fail. But, the more you touch, the more you need, and before you can reconsider, you’re on your hands and knees on your couch, panties pressed sloppily to the side as you guide the heft of Sir’s length past your aching entrance.

The impact is immediate. You fall forward with a gasp as every inch stretches you open and by the time it’s fully seated, your face is completely hidden in your couch cushions. The fabric muffles your voice as your hips start to move, a slow, languid grind to make sure everything is felt.

You get so lost in it, you don’t hear your phone buzzing until it’s almost too late. But, at the nth moment, you recognize the ringtone you’d chosen just for him and, despite the clear risk of answering, you reach for the device, trembling with nerves, excitement, and lust, at the dangerous game you’re about to play.

When you answer, there’s nothing but darkness from his end and your face in the corner. You’re sitting on your butt now, legs carefully spread and hips angled to keep from jostling the toy inside you. But, it’s hard not to squirm in a situation like this; even more so, when he starts to talk, voice raw from the day.

“Hi, honey,” he breathes, the endearment -- your favorite -- making your heart swell, “almost thought you were already asleep.”

You shake your head, biting back a knowing smile. “No, Sir… I’m still awake, just...watching tv.”

“Yeah?” He says, something skeptical in the tone. Even without his video on, you can almost feel his gaze burning a hole in your expression. Like he’s inspecting it, picking it apart for clues. He must find one, because he hums lowly; a dip in the sound that makes it sound like he’s smirking. “Only watching tv?”

“Y-Yes, Sir…”

“Okay, okay -- what’re you watching? Is it any good?”

Your eyes flicker towards the television to glean what’s playing, but Sir catches you before you can get a good look. “Nuh uh -- eyes over here.”

Despite your better judgment, you pout, all but caught now, and the expression makes him laugh. He’d had a number of subs before you -- people who had piqued his sexual interest, but never quite held up to any of his other, more innocent expectations. But you ---- even if he wouldn’t call you something as invested as a lover, your personality makes it hard to be anything but endeared to you. Before he knew it, he was in headlong, calling you for sessions a couple times a week, sending gifts even more than that. You’re fun to just exist with, even in this moment as he’s so deliberately toying with you.

“Can’t be too good if you can’t tell me anything about it without looking, huh?” His voice drops, a dangerous timbre taking it, and you feel your body shake. “So you gonna tell me the truth before you get yourself in more trouble?”

A whimper breaks past parted lips and you bite down a little too late to stifle the sound. “T-The toy,” you whisper, clenching around his cock despite him being hundreds or thousands of miles away. The irony isn’t lost on you - if anything, it’s making your need spike. There’s something so odd, but so enticing about the whole thing. “I couldn’t wait, Sir… your cock just looked so good.”

Sir curses near the phone, so close that you swear you can feel the breath of it on your palm. “Jesus...I knew you’d be hungry for it, but I didn’t think it’d get you this much. Breakin’ our number one rule and everything.” You shift on the couch, free hand reaching to pull out the dildo in anticipation of his punishment. It’s likely to be no orgasms for the night which, as disappointing as that is, seems almost worth it for the pleasure of this weight inside you. Then he speaks again, forcing you to pause in your motion.

“Get on your computer ---- I want to see the way I fit inside you. Then, we can talk about your punishment.”

The minutes between your phone call and the start of the call on your laptop are equal parts tantalizing and tortuous. You’ve only broken this rule once prior and ended up having to watch him fuck his hand through two sloppy orgasms before getting sent to bed without touching yourself even once. So the fact that he seems to be inclined to let you keep the dildo in gives you pause.

But it’s the sort that’s almost intoxicating. Your adrenaline is pumping, thighs slick with want, and by the time you’ve gotten the video up and running, you’ve shed your panties completely, legs wedged open with the camera trained between them as directed.

“Fuckin’ hell, sweetie… look at that pussy eating me up.” You whine out for him, walls clenching visibly at his words in a reaction that makes him purr. “That good? Everything you thought it would be?”

You nod in a daze, cock drunk even with your hips still, and Sir shifts on the other end, the telltale clink of an open belt alerting you to how good it feels for him too. You’re in two minds to beg him to see, even if it’s just a view of the waist down, when he beats you to the punch. “Take it out --”

You blink, trying to focus on his words enough to make sense of his command. He can see the confusion in your face and has to try not to laugh. “Take it out,” he repeats, “and sit on it. I want to see you take it properly.”

It’s a scramble after that -- you, shifting and guiding the toy out of you until you’re hovering over the tip of it on your knees. Lidded eyes dance towards your laptop as you still there, body wound tight in anticipation, and like many times before, you hold his gaze through the lens as you sink down, down, down onto the dildo he made for you.

If you thought you were full before, you’re certainly learning your lesson. The change in angle has the cock dizzyingly deep, enough that it punches the air out of your lungs. You can feel the balls against your bare skin, a permanent reminder of how much you’ve taken, and when he calls for you again, adoration in the breathy tones, you can’t help but buzz.

You love to make him proud of you.

His tone is so tender that you nearly forget you’re in trouble and are about to lift your hips and give him a show when he stops you. “You heard what I said, honey,” he teases when your confused expression returns. “I want you to sit on it. You stay right where you are.”

The urge to beg is potent -- a searing kind of desperation that you’ve never minded indulging with him. But before you can form words in your head, let alone out loud, the dildo comes to life inside you, shaking with such force you cry out from the suddenness. Between being full, and the toy revealing itself to be a vibrator, it’s all too much, so much, and you’re falling back into the couch knees shaking beneath you.

“Now, now, don’t give up on me yet,” Sir coos, a distinct click sounding from his side of the screen and confirming your suspicions when the vibrator turns off right after, “you wanted to feel me, didn’t you?” He pauses long enough for you to nod, gasping in a breath as your teary eyes dance blindly over the screen you wish you could see him on. There’s another click, then a cry as your body arches in an involuntary jolt.

“Then, be a good girl - show me how well you can handle it.”

#chris evans x reader #chris evans fanfic #chris evans writing #dom!chris evans x reader #chris evans masterlist #honey and sir.

640 notes · View notes

marsbutterfly · 4 years ago

Note

Hey there! I been really enjoying your written work. I was wondering if you could write a scenario about porco and his s/o 'getting it on ;) maybe a college AU? if not, just ignore it~

Covalent Bonding

WARNING: NSFW

Summary: Porco is struggling to finish his organic chemistry lab report and comes to you for help. The lesson quickly goes off-topic.

Note: First of all thank you SO much for requesting this, we really hope you enjoy it. I wrote the intro and the outro. All of the smut was written by my amazing wife @tsukidrama ALSO the word count on this is around 5.3k so this is a long boi.

tsuki’s note: ok the porno i watched for research purposes while trying to conceptualize this fic started with the lines “wow, i hope no one comes along to fuck me in the ass and jerk my dick off” and then the girl walks in holding a strap on and says “oh hey, i just came here to fuck you in the ass and jerk your dick off.” i did this for you, anon. i accidentally pulled out all the stops for this, and i regret nothing. i had so much fun writing this, and i am now madly in love with Porco also?? everyone always writes him as such an edgy bitch or a headass dom and i’m sitting over here like....... but he is... a soft baby.... who cries during sex, falls in love, and gives kisses...... just sayin

Colab with @tsukidrama 💕

Wattpad Version! | AO3 Version!

“We’ll cover Chapter 23 on Monday.” The professor’s voice echoes through the silent classroom. “Please make sure to submit your lab reports by 11:59 PM on Saturday night. E-mail me if you have any questions.”

Before you finish putting all of your belongings in your backpack, you share a look with Porco, who sits by your right side. He looks just as ready to leave this chemical filled room as you are.

Once you stand up, you feel his hand on your shoulder. As you turn around, he smiles brightly at you.

“Have you done your lab report yet?” Porco asks for the fifth time that week. You let out a burst of laughter. Butterflies soar in your stomach as his cheeks blush lightly, rubbing his neck in embarrassment.

“I did the intro and the outline,” you answer, tilting your head as you place a hand on your hips. “You want help with yours, don’t you?”

He starts laughing and avoiding eye contact with you.

“Well I was going to suggest that we could do it together.” He smiles at you once again, and the butterflies in your stomach now travel through all your body. “But I would accept your help, too.” Even though he tries to look tough, Porco has always been shy, especially when it comes to asking for a favor.

You simply nod at him before grabbing his hand, “Let’s go get to work then!”

The setting sun spills into the large, windowed hallway, casting long shadows against the wall beside it. The two of you clatter down the stairs to the level below your classroom, where all the different labs are located.

After peering through the dark window of a lab door labeled: ORGANIC CHEMISTRY, you punch in the security code that unlocks all of the orgo classrooms and labs (courtesy of your professor). The door unlocks with a small beep and the flash of a green light. Porco takes a few steps ahead of you, turning on the lights and checking to make sure nobody else has claimed the lab as a study space.

You sit down at the lab table farthest from the door, and before you sit you take your laptop and notes out of your backpack. Porco thumps a textbook between the two of you as he sits in the chair beside you. He smiles gratefully at you, a gentle red blush still coloring his face. Once you’re settled down, you frown at him quietly.

His face drops. “What wrong?” he asks, eyes filled with worry. You touch his hand and pull your chair closer to him, close enough for you to plant a kiss on his cheek.

“Much better!” you say, and Porco clutches his chest in relief.

“I thought you were mad at me!” he exclaims, “bitch.” he adds under his breath, but his voice is quiet and gentle, even more so than usual. He shoots you a playful look. The fluorescent lights of the lab makes his hair look blonder than it already is, and you reach up to tuck a strand back into place amongst its slicked-back brothers. You put your free hand on his neck and you notice goosebumps on his arms. A smile on your face, you speak again.

“Where would you like to start?” You look at him and notice he has his thinking expression on, consisting of his lips moving one side to the other and his eyes focused on the ceiling. A few seconds pass before he looks at you.

“Alkanes, alkenes, and alkynes” he says, squeezing your hand. “I still don’t know what the fucking difference is.” You look away, trying to hide your burning, red cheeks from him, but his words still bring a smile to your face.

“Yeah, you better figure that shit out, huh?” you quip jestfully, and exaggerate your squeal as his hands shoot forward to tickle your stomach for your comment.

An hour passes while you two focus on his report. You spent most of that time explaining to him the types of bonds that differentiate aliphatic compounds, and end up just writing the opening paragraph for him. When you flip the textbook to the page that displays a chart that shows differences between the different structures, you can see from the corner of your eye that he very much does not care about the positioning of hydrogens and carbons. He's been staring at you for the past three minutes.

You bite your lower lip gently, though you’re already losing focus as he’s undressing you with his eyes. You take a deep breath and stop typing.

“This isn’t my lab report, you know,” you say, as shifting your body to fully face him. “You could at least grab your note-” But before you could finish your sentence, you feel his lips on yours. It takes you a moment to realize what’s happening but, once you do, you wrap your arms around his neck as he touches your thighs.

“I’m sorry. I really do appreciate you helping me with this, but you look so beautiful tonight.” He says, flustered. He looks at you with stars in his eyes. You tilt your head to the left as you try to hide the smile creeping across your lips. You try to look away but you feel his cold fingers touching your chin, forcing you to look at him.

“You’re ridiculous, Galliard,” you say before closing the space between the two of you once again. You can feel him smiling against your lips. He quickly changes the focus from your lips to your jawline, leaving a trail of wet, gentle kisses as he makes his way down.

A quiet moan involuntarily leaves your throat when you feel his fingers against your skin, slipping underneath your shirt. Your left-hand travels from his neck to his head as you disrupt the perfectly swept-back coif of hair. The smell of his hair gel and cologne mixed with the scent of your own perfume excites you even more.

Suddenly, he removes his lips from your skin. You let out an annoyed whine, and open your eyes to glare at him.

“Is this ok?” he asks, touching your hand. Your annoyances melts into a gentle smile as you lift a hand to touch his face. He snuggles his cheek against your touch.

“Yes, Porco,” you reply, “Of course.”

He nods, the faintest glimpse of a smile visible across his lips before he moves in to kiss you once again. One arm wraps around your waist to pull you closer, his other hand quick to travel from your face to underneath your skirt. He plays with the waistband of your underwear, trying to slip his hands lower. You softly hold his hand in place.

“Wait,” you say, a mischievous smile creeping onto your face, “I have an idea.” Porco wordlessly tilts his head and looks at you, incredulous. He looks confused yet adorable.

“I have something. From last time,” you continue, pulling away to dig in your backpack. You toss aside a notebook and a pencil case before you find the drawstring bag you’re looking for. You pull it out by the strings.

“Ta-da!” you say, presenting him with the bag. His eyes go wide with realization.

“Shit,” he says under his breath, “You’re serious, aren’t you?”

You nod, accidentally smiling a little too brightly.

Porco chuckles nervously, a dark blush spreading across his cheeks. “Here? In the lab?” he asks.

You nod. “Here. In the lab.”

He looks at you, then at the bag, and then at the door and the closed blinds covering the windows. His eyes come back to you, and again to the bag, then to finally lock with yours. His face is burning even redder now, but he nods.

“Okay, let’s do it,” he agrees, “I trust you.”

Excitement stirs deep in your gut. You pull open the bag and take out its contents to place them on the lab table. It thuds lightly against the table, bright pink textured silicone standing out against the dark wood. From its well-defined head to its base, the dildo sits about six inches long. A metal ring holds it in place against a black nylon harness, with another inch or so of silicon balls underneath. A small, half-empty bottle of lube clatters next to it along with a couple of brightly colored condoms you snagged from the free bowl in front of your RA’s door.

Porco looks away, nervously scratching his neck as you pick up the harness.

“Come on,” you tease, sticking your leg through the maze of straps and buckles, and then the other. You pull it all the way up, securing it at your hips underneath your skirt, which tents around the pink phallus betwixt your legs. “Now… do I need to tell you to bend over?”

He shakes his head and shoots you an eager look, quickly unbuckling his belt and undoing his zipper. His jeans hang loosely around his hips as he rests his forearms against the lab table, stretching out and arching his back, ass on display.

You admire that shit for a moment before you press yourself against him from behind. You kiss his cheek, and softly brush your lips against the outer shell of his ear, relishing the shiver you feel travel down his spine.

“Fuck, Y/N,” he whispers, grinding his ass into your hips. You giggle, bucking your hips into him playfully as you kiss his cheek once more.

Your hands rest gently on his hips as you slip your fingers into the belt loops of his jeans. Once they’re hooked around your fingers, you gently pull them over his ass. He doesn’t even give you time to get it halfway down before he reaches down with one arm to pull down his boxers as well. The giggles come back to you as you help him free himself of clothing.

“Don’t laugh,” Porco whines, covering his eyes with his hand, “it’s embarrassing.”

“You’re just cute,” you assure him, “I’m not making fun.” The cap on the bottle of lube pops open with a snap, and you pour a generous amount of it on two of your fingers. You take a step closer to him, setting the lube down on the table as one of your arms snakes under his shirt to wrap around his chest. The other slides down his spine, over his tailbone to trace the curve of his ass. Porco’s breath hitches in his throat when your fingers reach their destination, softly prodding at the entrance.

“Ready?” you ask, speaking softly in his ear. He nods vigorously, breathing hard.

“Please,” he says. So you give him what he wants, and slowly push in your slicked fingers.

Porco just gasps in response, his head dropping below his shoulders. He isn’t nearly as tense as he was the first few times you did this, and your fingers easily sink to the second knuckle. You gently move them in and out. With your other hand, you gently trace your thumb against the soft skin above his solid pectoral muscles. Gently, you plant a kiss on his shoulder.

“Are you okay?” you ask, rubbing his chest.

He turns his head towards you, his face flushed. “Totally fine,” he says breathlessly, and you feel him opening his legs wider to accommodate you.

You press your cheek against his shoulder, shifting your weight to a more comfortable position. Porco tilts his head to look at you. He doesn’t say anything, just looks at you with wide eyes. You move your fingers inside of him, trying to find the angles he likes. You press against something you find promising, and he confirms it with a sharp intake of breath.

You thrust deliberately and carefully, and once he starts to get more into it, you begin to scissor your fingers ever so slightly. Porco gasps, and gently rocks back against you. His eyes slip closed, his lip parted and his blush darkening in his cheeks and spreading down onto his neck.

“Y-you can put another one in,” he mutters, so quietly that you can barely hear him.

“Hmm?”

Porco grunts in frustration. “You know exactly what I said, you asshole!”

You can’t help but smile as you oblige his request. You slow your pace as you ease in the third finger, but the combination of lube and his enthusiasm makes it a short-lived adjustment. He grinds into your hand, and you tilt your fingers to again find that sweet spot inside that elicited the little gasps and moans he was trying so hard to muffle. You soon begin to move more freely, thrusting nearly all the way inside. Your fingertips twitch inside of him, and to your absolute delight, he lets out the sweetest and most delicate moan, though he tries to muffle it with his fingers. His shoulder blades jut into the air as he pulls his own hair, hips squirming.

“Fuck,” he says into his hands, “fuck, you’ve got to give me more.”

“What do you want, Galliard?” you ask, though you’re fairly confident that you know the answer.

“Damn it, put it in!” he exclaims, still muffled. “Fuck me, Y/N...”

“Well, since you asked so nicely,” you say in a tantalizing manner, smiling cheerfully as you reposition yourself behind him. You squirt a generous amount of lube into your strap on, careful to coat the length entirely. Your hands lay gently against his hips, lining yourself up with him before you use one hand to guide the head of the pink silicone dildo into place.

“Okay,” you say, partly to ready yourself, and partly (mostly) to ready him. Porco whines in anticipation, and you don’t deny him. He spreads his legs just a little wider to lower himself, and you rise up on your toes to meet him.

You push your hips forward slowly, making sure to listen for signs of discomfort. Porco moans, this one poorly muffled and loud. One of his hands slaps against the table for support.

“Don’t stop,” he says, his breath hitching in his throat, “please, don’t stop.”

No discomfort, then. You continue on.

Your fingers tighten their grip against his hips, digging into them for leverage as you thrust your hips. Despite the fact that you aren’t quite as tall as he is, or you aren’t as practiced in your thrusts as he is when he fucks you, you like to think that you’re good at what you do - based on the low moans and intermittent gasps and whines, Porco certainly seems to be having a good time. After all, he let you fuck him again. And in the lab, at that.

Porco shifts positions, and you notice one of his hands has disappeared in between his legs. You notice pressure building between your own, but ignore it in favor of grabbing the bottle of lube. The cap clicks open, and you pull your hips back just long enough to squirt a little bit onto the silicone dick before you push it back in. Another haphazard squirt into your own hand, and you reach around his body, nudging aside his hand to replace it with your own.

“Some for you, and some for me,” you say, snorting at your own joke. Porco just moans in response to your touch, biting his knuckles.

Your hand wanders up from his hips, fingers wandering up to brace against the muscles on his back, through the shirt (but better than nothing). Still wandering, your fingers rake through his hair from the back, twisting the blonde locks hard enough to tug, but not painfully. Porco’s shoulders slump, his arms and head both flat against the table top.

You let go of his hair, raking your nails down his back until you dig your fingers back into his hips. You pull out slightly, readjusting your foot stance for a better angle and shifting so that you can better reach around to stroke his cock.

When you push back in with the new angle, Porco lets out another exclamation of pleasure, much louder this time than any of his previous vocalizations. Warmth pools between your thighs at the sound, but you can’t help but get a little bit nervous at the idea of actually being caught.

“Shh,” you hiss. Between his (admittedly, wonderful) noises, the slapping of your thighs and the creak of the wooden lab table, you’re pretty sure that anyone who walked within 10 feet of the door would know exactly what was going on behind it.

Porco mumbles something unintelligible, and he doesn’t make any attempt to clarify. You quicken your hips’ pace while your hand stays tight around his cock. You rub your thumb over the tip gently before stroking down the entire length. The lube is slippery, and it makes you work to keep your grasp - your grip tightens as it slides almost entirely out of your hand, and Proco loudly groans again at the increased pressure.

“Shh,” you reiterate, more forcefully this time.

Porco groans, lifting his head to look at you. “Oh… You shut the fuck up.”

“Ooh, sassy. Do you talk to your mother with that mouth?” you chide, lightly smacking his ass with your free hand.

“Do not talk about my mother right now,” he says, voice strained.

“Mm,” you agree. Your hand cups around his ass before you allow your fingers to drift up the curve of his back.

His cock twitches, and you again rub your thumb around it’s head before you go back to pumping along the shaft, twisting your hand the way that you know he likes.

“Oh,” Porco whimpers. His cock pulses in your hand, and you stroke him hard and fast as you feel the rest of his body going rigid. “Oh fuck.”

His back arches as he cries out, shuddering beneath you as his cock spills hot cum over your hand. You slow your hips’ pace and rub his back soothingly. You press your cheek against his back, the closest you can get to him.

“I got you,” you say over and over again as he twitches below you. “I got you.” Another rope of cum drips down your hand. Where his arm overlaps yours, he holds you to his body tightly. You notice that he’s still shaking, so you continue to rub his back.

After a few seconds of heavy breathing, you raise your hips and pull the dildo out slowly and carefully.

You touch Porco’s back softly and hug his shoulders from behind. “You okay?” you ask softly.

He nods, turning his head to face you. His face is flushed and sweaty, his normally impeccable hair skewed out of place in every direction. He looks at you with glazed-over eyes the size of the moon. You lean in to kiss him.

Porco pushes himself up from the table to cup your face with his hands, kissing you back deeply, with passion. You smile as he kisses you.

“What’s so funny?”

You nuzzle the tips of your noses together. “I’m not laughing, I just love you.”

He pulls you in for another kiss, and this time, you can feel him smiling too.

The two of you stay like that for a moment - kissing, and of course, Porco’s hands (predictably) end up wandering underneath your shirt. As he explores the expanse of skin beneath, you become acutely aware of the way he’s pressing his leg between yours. Your breath hitches as he nudges the strap on harness up in a way that a strap brushes right up against your clit. His hand finds your breast, and circles your nipple with his thumb.

“Again? Already?” you ask, bemused, but still very willing to be convinced.

“It wouldn’t be fair,” he pouts, still thumbing over your nipple torturously, “You got to fuck me.”

“Well, you’re the one who’s scared of getting caught!” you exclaim, and gasp at the sensation.

He takes a moment to think, and his hand moves back down to your waist. “I would rather be caught fucking you than be caught with you fucking me.”

You laugh while you shrug your shoulders, then loosen the straps from around your hips. The harness falls, but you catch it on one of your ankles and toss it on the table near your bag. The pink silicone dick points upwards, the shaft glistening with lube.

“Okay,” you agree, slipping your underwear off and tossing it the same way next to the strap on. “You can fuck me.”

Porco’s lips curl into a smirk you know all too well. You prop your elbows up on the lab table, sticking your ass out in the same position you fucked him in.

“No, no. Turn around,” he tells you, “I want to see your face.”

Your fingers lightly cover your mouth in embarrassment. “Awww, Porco. You love me…” you tease.

He blushes and looks off to the side. “Shut up. Of course I love you.”

“I love you too,” you remind him soothingly, stepping into his grasp. His arms snake around your waist, and you rise up on your toes to kiss him. It doesn’t take long before his hands wander to slip underneath your already hiked-up skirt.

You flatten your hand against his chest, and as his fingers brush against the apex of your thighs, your fingers curl, and take a fistful of his shirt with them as you gasp. He kisses your cheek, and makes his way down the side of your neck. You squirm against him, slapping your hand against the table blindly until your fingers feel that familiar crinkle of a condom wrapper, and you pull away from him with a huff, and then yank his shirt.

The two of you stumble backwards into the counters at the back of the classroom, with you guiding him. You spin him around so that his ass is backed up against the counter.

“Get up,” you say, releasing your hold on him and gesturing.

Porco laughs as he looks behind himself, then uses his arms to boost himself up to sit on the countertop. He slides a box of microscope slides closer to the scope they were meant for.

“We would be so fucked if we broke those,” he says.

You look at him hungrily as you tear into the serrated plastic edge of the condom wrapper. “You’re gonna get so fucked anyway.”

He smiles before lunging to grab you beneath the arms, tugging you up on the counter with him. You laugh and kick your legs as you scramble to balance yourself on the smooth linoleum.

“Technically, you already did fuck me.”

“Yeah, and now I’m gonna fuck you again.”

Both of you burst into laughter as you straddle his lap. You throw the condom wrapper off to the side, and focus on rolling the condom itself down Porco’s cock. Once your hand reaches its base, you lift your hips to position yourself above it, but Porco’s hand touches your wrist to stop you before you have the chance to lower yourself down.

You look up at him expectantly, only to be pulled into another kiss. Immediately, you forget what you were doing as you feel yourself being wrapped up in his arms, his smell, his lips. His hands wander up your body, flattening against your stomach and cupping your breasts. You shudder as his thumb circles around your nipple again, and you instinctively grind your hips into his. When Porco finally breaks the kiss, he reaches between you to line himself up.

Some kind of noise rushes out of your throat when he finally guides your hips down, and you finally get the gut-punch you had been aching for as you let your knees slide apart further to take him in. Thighs trembling, you brace yourself against his shoulders for support until you can’t go any further. He guides your hips back up again, and then again until you find the strength to move on your own.

Once you’ve established a rhythm, Porco kisses you again, sloppily this time. You grind your hips down, and he groans into you.

“Mmphh,” he mumbles into your lips, “you’re so fucking sexy.”

As you bounce up and down, you swivel your hips in tight circles. Porco keeps one hand on your waist and lifts the other to grasp your breast, twisting the nipple just enough to make your eyes roll back into your head.

“Tell me more about it,” you tell him, voice cracking. You double down on your efforts, bouncing faster and now squeezing down around his cock.

Porco digs his fingers into your skin, and bucks his hips up to meet yours. “You feel so good. If I hadn’t — fuck,” he chokes as you bounce down particularly hard, “—if I hadn’t just come, you’d already have me in pieces.”

Another bounce and purposeful grind of your hips and his head drops forward with a whimper. You smirk, though you know he can tell you’re coming unraveled, too.

“I can get you there again.”

Now that he’s worked up again, that beautiful flush has come back to stain his cheeks. You feel yourself losing purchase as you move against each other, but you don’t care.

“You sure as shit will if you keep going like that.” Porco gasps, thrusting up into you hard, and you couldn’t control the noise that comes out of your throat if you tried.

The both of you are breathing heavily, moving against each other with an increasing desperation as you both get closer to finishing. Porco’s hands are back at your waist, gripping so hard that you fear it may bruise, but this only encourages you. Your arms snake around his neck, and you cling to him as you press your forehead to his. Your fingers rake up into his hair, pulling gently and further knocking it out of place as you wrap your fingers in the long strands on top.

You whimper as you feel the pressure inside of you building, every stroke inside you stirring up more and more inside of you. Your body moves on its own against him as you feel yourself reaching the edge. Everything from the sweat sticking against your skin, to the way he pulls your body into his like you’re all he needs, excites you. You love the way you’re completely wrapped up in him, with his touch against your skin and his smell in your nose and his cock bottomed out in you, pulls you over the edge.

He kisses you as you come, muffling the moan that rips itself from your throat. He wraps his arms around you tight, though he doesn’t slow his pace. You do your best to keep your legs open for him as your orgasm hits you. You crumple into him, toes curling as he thrusts up hard into your oversensitive core.

Within seconds, Porco buries his head into the crook of your neck, letting out a choked groan. His cock twitches inside of you as he comes for the second time that evening. You stroke his hair, gently kissing his temples as he finishes. His arms tighten around you, and you rest your head atop his.

You stay like this for a minute or two, enjoying each other’s presence as you wait for your legs to stop shaking. Once strength returns to your body, you reluctantly move your hands onto his chest for support as you push yourself up, shifting your right leg to the other side of the counter, you feel his dick leaving the warmth of your body as both of you let out one final moan.

As your feet hit the floor, you watch Porco quietly struggling to get the condom off and a gentle giggle escapes you.

He meets your eyes and you see his blush darken.

“The lube is making this harder than it should be.” He says quietly. You bite your lip, holding in a laugh. Hopping off of the counter, you walk towards your backpack and look around the inside for a few seconds before finding a small towel.

“Porco.” You call his name before throwing the cloth in his direction. A smile never leaves his lips as he grabs it midair.

“You really came prepared, didn’t you?” He says. You simply shrug your shoulders before flashing him a smile of your own.

“Of course, you never know when you’ll get to peg the boy you’re desperately in love with.” You say as you focus on fixing your own clothes.

He stays quiet for a few seconds before murmuring something underneath his breath. “Huh?” is all you say, trying to get Porco to repeat himself.

“You’ve never said you were desperately in love with me before,” he says as he wraps the (finally) removed condom in a piece of paper he took from his own notebook, “or that you were in love with me.”

You feel your cheeks burn as you look away, trying to avoid his gaze. “I thought it was obvious. We say ‘I love you’ all the time.”

Once his pants are back on, he quietly walks towards you before reaching for your hand. His cold fingers are soft and gentle as he pulls you in for a hug.

“I don’t know, it feels different for some reason,” he says softly.

You nuzzle your face against the side of his neck while wrapping your hands around his back. A sense of calm washes over you.

“But I’m in love with you too,” he whispers, and twirls a strand of your hair around his finger. You lift your head to press your lips to his. He kisses you like you’re the only two people in the world, and his smile against your lips makes your heart skip a beat.

After a few seconds, he pulls away and looks around the lab. On the counter, can see the perfect print of his ass cheeks in lube. He shakes his head and reaches for the towel yet again.

“We better clean this place up a bit,” he observes, and you nod in agreement.

While Porco focuses on making sure there is no lube (or cum) left on any surfaces, you put the dildo back in its bag, along with your study materials.

It takes a few minutes, but soon enough the room looks exactly like you found it. All you need to do is put Porco’s laptop away when suddenly you two are reminded of the reason you went into the lab in the first place.

“Shit, my report!” He says as he covers his mouth with his hand. You slap your face, and just one look at him tells you that your work isn’t over yet tonight.

“Let’s go to the library so that we won’t get distracted again.” you tell him, “and we’re going in a communal area because if we get a study room we’re gonna end up fucking again.” You grab your backpack and walk towards the door, the blonde-haired boy following closely behind, carrying his laptop in one of his hands.

“Aww, would that be so bad?” Porco teases.

“It would be bad for your chem grade.”

Neither of you say anything as you descend the final flight of stairs, but as you are about to leave the building, you feel him lacing his fingers with yours. A blush creeps over your cheeks as you walk right next to him, making sure that, not even for a second, your hands will drift apart.

Porco has been here for you ever since you enrolled in college, rooting for you and taking care of you. In your head, you make a promise to yourself to never let him go. Not only because he’s the perfect man for you, but also because there’s nothing you love more than the expression on his face while you fuck him in the ass.

One more look at him, and you turn ahead to face the lights of the street ahead of you, getting lost in your thoughts as you walk towards the library.

You appreciate all the time you spend with him and deep down, you pray that this lab report will take even longer than you think it will, all so you can stay close to him for as long as you can.

#porco galliard #porco galliard x reader #reader #aot x reader #snk x reader #attack on titan x reader #aot fanfic #snk fanfic #shingeki no kyojin x reader #aot smut #aot x y/n #aot x you #snk x y/n #snk x you #porco x reader #snk fanfiction #aot fanfiction

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dcforts · 5 years ago

Text

[monday 4: bet]

ao3

Four times Eileen thought Dean and Castiel were more than friends and one time Sam (finally) saw it too.

Eileen likes the bunker. As a hunter you learn to be grateful and appreciative of things that others give for granted. Like waking up feeling safe, knowing that nothing can jump right through your window and attack you. Like pressing your cheek on a soft pillow without having to worry about bed bugs and filth. Like opening your bedroom door and smelling coffee.

She smiles and follows it right to the kitchen.

She doesn’t expect to find Castiel standing next to the coffee machine. He is in his usual attire, looking exactly as the last time she’s seen him. He looks up as soon as she enters and smiles politely at her. “Good morning” he says, “Would you like some coffee?”.

She smiles back, nods and waits for him to fill her a mug.

Then she sits at the table and watches as Dean appears on the door, his eyes sleepy, his hair messy, the belt of his robe loosely tied. He waves lazily in her direction then goes straight towards Castiel, holding out a hand to grab the mug that he was already offering him. No words between them, just soft smiles, as if it’s a thing they do every day. She has not been around the Winchesters that much but she is fairly sure she’s never seen a more content expression on Dean’s face.

He sits down next to her and closes his eyes, lost in the smell of the coffee.

“Good morning to me” she reads on his lips, with his eyes still closed, as if he’s talking to himself.

So, you know, Eileen is a very good observer. It’s a crucial skill for a hunter, especially someone who hunts alone and has no extra pair of eyes to rely on.

Later that day, Eileen and Sam are pressed against each other on a couch, both ignoring how “sharing a laptop” is a such a lame excuse for two adults to sit closely together. But whatever. Sam is showing her a restricted online archive about lore in European historical findings that he was able to crack into when she catches Dean passing by the door and she remembers about that morning.

“Sam,” she interrupts whatever he was saying on some magical old stones. “can I ask you a question?”

He nods. “Sure.”

“Castiel and your brother,” she signs, hoping that that’s enough input for Sam. Clearly it isn’t, because he keeps looking as if he’s expecting her to go on. “Are they… together?”

He frowns and ask: “Together? As in…?”

In response she signs: “Love.”

Sam has the funniest reaction. His face goes blank and he starts staring into the distance as if he’s processing a word he is not used to hear. He snaps out of it right when Eileen is wondering if she should wave a hand in front of his face. “No,” he says, “it’s not like that.”

She gives him a look as if to say “Please”.

“Really, they – they are like brothers.”

Eileen makes a disgusted face and signs: “Brothers?”

He makes an annoyed face back. “Yes. It’s not like that,” he repeats.

“They act like a couple,” she signs.

He shakes his head. “You are wrong.”

“It looks like there’s something more between them,” she insists in the face of his blunt denial. “Wanna bet?” she signs raising her eyebrows.

Sam frowns and signs: “I’m not betting on my brother.”

“Come on.” she says, then signs “If I win, I want you to cook for me.”

Sam laughs. “I can just do it. No need for any of this.”

She shakes her head and smiles: “Don’t worry, you will. When I win.”

ii.

They’ve been working like crazy, taking all kinds of jobs up and down the state. It’s tiring but as a team of four they can get it down in a fraction of the time it would take if they were on their own. Plus, it’s definitely more fun even if it feels like they barely have the time to put down their bags before something else comes up and they’re out of the bunker again.

This time, it looks like a simple enough job that could take two days top. Sam is checking their supplies once again and Castiel is sitting at the map table flipping through a magazine when Dean finally appears in the room.

“Alright, let’s go” he says clapping his hands together.

Sam looks up and makes an horrified face: “Wait. Dean, what are you wearing?”

“What? Oh, yeah. It’s a cowboy shirt.”

“You can’t wear that. With that thing on your shoulders. We are not going trick or treating.”

“Hey! Don’t insult the shirt.”

Eileen laughs at the exchange so Sam addresses her. “Eileen, please tell him.”

She just shrugs amused and Sam looks betrayed so Dean keeps going: “It’s not my fault we’ve been out all week and I didtn’t have time to do my laundry. This is the only clean thing I have left.”

“Well, you can’t come dressed like that. Just take one of mine.”

“You have freakishly long arms, Sam, I’m gonna look like I’ve shrunked in my clothes.”

Eileen turns to Castiel who seems engrossed in his magazine that has titles on the cover of the kind “Top 10 poisonous plants you can find in the jungle” right next to “What colours should you paint your garden shed”. It looks like he is used to it and knows that staying away from their arguments is the safest strategy to survive with the Winchesters. She taps him on his shoulder. “What do you think?” she signs, interrupting Dean and Sam who are still going at it.

Castiel looks up but Dean cuts him off before he can open his mouth: “Why are you asking him for? He has never changed once in his life.”

Castiel shoots him an annoyed look but doesn’t respond to the provocation. “Did you check the laundry room?” he says calmly instead.

Sam glances over his shoulder to look at him.

Dean just stares, seemingly confused.

“You always forget your clean clothes in the laundry room. There should be a red one that you haven’t wore this week yet. I assume it’s still there.”

Dean thinks about it for a few seconds, then nods: “Yeah, you’re probably right. Be right back.”

Castiel sighs and goes back to his magazine without another word.

Sam’s gaze meets Eileen’s. She raises her eyebrows and signs “Cute”.

Sam mouths back. “It means nothing”.

She just laughs and takes the stairs.

iii.

It’s a rainy afternoon and they are keeping busy cleaning their weapons and filling shotgun shells of rock salt. At some point Sam looks up from where he is sitting right next to Eileen.

“Hey Cas,” he says “remember that book that you were reading last week about sigils? I wondered if I could borrow that. I wanted to scan it and send it around to other hunters.”

“Sounds like a good plan. I’ll give to you later.”

“Oh, no, there’s no rush if you are still reading it.”

“It’s not bother. I’m not reading tonight anyway. I’m watching a movie with Dean.”

Dean, on the other side of the table, lifts his gaze for a moment at the sound of his name then goes back to his gun.

“O-okay, thanks.” says Sam.

Eileen meets his gaze briefly and holds back a smile.

Only when they are left alone she nudges him with an elbow and Sam knows immediately what she is going to address.

He grumbles: “They watch movies together all the time, they are friends!”

Eileen shakes her head. “But why haven’t they invited us?” she signs, then answers her own question: “Date night.”

“No, you don’t understand. Dean has been showing him all the stuff he doesn’t know.”

“I understand very well that I won the bet” she says challenging him.

Sam sighs and signs. “There is no bet. And it’s not like that.”

iv.

They are on a hunt. Well, actually they are at some kind of fair. The spirit they are chasing has shown up in all the towns that the travelling fair has hit in the past few months, so the safest bet is that it’s somehow hunting the place.

For now, they are just walking around in the crowd, keeping an eye out for anything suspicious. They have a duffel bag full of salt, shotguns and blades but from the outside they just look like four people that have come out to enjoy the fair on a fine evening.

Dean is in a very good mood. “I can’t believe they still do these things” was his comment on the way there and since they’ve arrived he has been complaining that he can’t stop at none of the games before the job is done. Eileen finds endearing the way he manages to protect that part of him that makes him excited for things like that even with the life he has. It’s not easy to reconcile the image of that man with sparkly eyes with the one she has seen swaying a machete a couple of days before.

“Hey!” he shouts at one point, jogging a few feet ahead of them and waving to get their attention. “Guys, look, it’s Cas!” He stops at one of the stands and grabs a tan teddy bear with a blue tie that is on display. Sam snorts and Dean keeps grinning like it’s the funniest thing ever and points at Castiel who has an expression on his face that seems to say Did we really stop for this? “It’s you!” Dean laughs again “I bet you didn’t know you had a twin, uh?”

“Alright, let’s go,” Sam tries to get them moving again and Dean jogs back up to them and falls in steps with Castiel.

Eileen looks his way in time to see him put his arm around Castiel’s shoulders and pull him close. His lips read: “What? It was adorable. Wanna win it for me later?”

She turns her face to look at Sam and finds him next to her.

“Adorable” she mouths at him. He rolls his eyes. “He just likes to joke”.

It happens again and again. Eileen looks pointedly at Sam when Dean pops into the kitchen to say “Me and Cas are going out. Need anything?” or when they find them engaged in a serious conversation or sharing a drink. She looks at him whenever Dean calls Castiel “Sunshine” and whenever Castiel asks “Where’s Dean?” before he even gets both of his feet in the room.

Sam dismisses every moment, finds every excuse for them. They’ve always been like that. Can’t two friends do it? Does it have to mean something? It’s just the way they are.

Now, Sam is in a sticky diner with his brother who is across from him and can’t seem to sit still. A couple of days before they got two calls in a matter of hours and they’ve gone north while Eileen has gone south. Coincidentally Cas has been contacted about a lead on God’s position so he’s gone too.

So it’s just the two of them again and Dean is tapping on the screen of his phone every two seconds as if he doesn’t trust that it will let him know if he has a new notification.

“Dude, what’s up with you?” snaps Sam when he can’t take anymore of his fidgeting.

“Cas.” he grumbles. “I texted him last night and I got no word back yet. We said we would check in with each other every night, so...” he frowns.

“I’m sure he is fine” Sam says, before thanking the waiter that brings them their food.

Setting down his plate his gaze falls on his own phone, and he is reminded of the last time he texted Eileen and she has taken a long time to reply. How he worried, how he needed to know she was fine. How he feels on his fingertips the need to type something to her right now. How he can’t wait to see her again.

He looks up at Dean who’s taking a bite of his burger.

“What?” he says with his mouth full in response to his staring,

Sam smiles a little. “Nothing.”

Dean takes another bite, still watching him so Sam sighs. “Dean,” he dares, “with Cas. I mean… is there…”

He gets interrupted by Dean’s phone lighting up with an incoming call. His brother drops his burger and picks it up without a care for his greasy hands.

“Finally.” He says, then presses it against his ear: “What did we say, uh? How many times I gotta tell you?” he barks in lieu of Hello.

Sam watches him while he listens to whatever Castiel is saying on the other end. He sees his forehead striped with worried lines relax by the second.

When Dean speaks again his voice is definitely softer. “You are an idiot, but alright. Yeah, we just got here,” the frown disappears and his voice goes quieter still, “Okay. Yeah, I’ll see you at home.” his eyes flicker to Sam and he clears his throat so when he speaks again his tone is back to normal. “Remind me to kick your ass for making me worry.”

Castiel says something back that Sam assumes sounds like You can try because Dean’s eyebrows rise comically. “What? You don’t think I can take you?” he says. “Yeah tough guy, anytime. Wanna bet?”

Sam tunes out. He touches his phone and opens up his conversation with Eileen. He types:

Alright, what do you want me to cook?

I am participating in the spnstayathomechallenge by @bend-me-shape-me @pray4jensen @helianthus21

#spnstayathome #monday 4: bet #deancas #destiel #deancas fanfiction #okay so 1 i really like 'like a bear dean'#2 i really like 'they are basically married deancas'#an unapologetic about it #no actual focus on sam and eileen even if in my head they are a thing in this one #saileen #hey look this one has a title #im making progress #i don't actually believe sam is this oblivious but i needed him to be #ive always wanted to write a 4 times + 1 kind of thing #i tried #deancas ficlet #deancas ficlets #my writing

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squeeneyart · 4 years ago

Text

Breathe in the Salt - Chapter 25

AO3

Beta reader as always is @thesnadger

Nothing to do but talk.

Martin and Jon settle in for a movie night.

The documentary, if it could be called that, was absolute bunk.

Littered throughout were vague interviews and wild assumptions on the part of the very on-screen director, all tied together with a final push for people to purchase a very specific brand of smoke detector. And the low quality of the video couldn’t be blamed solely on Martin’s internet.

They watched the thing from start to finish, though, and by the end of its 70-minute runtime (“I should’ve guessed by how short it was,” Jon had grumbled partway through) their viewing had turned primarily to Jon taking the piss out of it. Academically, of course.

On Martin’s end the film itself was bad in an enjoyable way, and while he didn’t have the context for all of Jon’s complaints it was easy for him to listen. He’d even made some jokes that got Jon to snort.

He did have to sit uncomfortably straight to keep from leaning against each other. Jon had turned it a bit so they could both see, but when viewed from too hard an angle the picture looked even worse. So, Martin did his best to give Jon space and not let the effort distract him from the screen.

All of this being true, Martin was grateful for the horrible film. Nothing filled silence better than movies and television, so the nights following they settled into a routine. Someone would make dinner (with no further… outbursts) and then they would find something to watch. Afterwards they would say goodnight and Martin would escape upstairs to decompress with his little notebook.

Jon’s original idea had been to find something related to their goals. However, after another let down on night two involving a very old retrospective on the mid-century fishing industry (“Wrong century,” Martin had said about five minutes in), Jon dropped the idea, thus opening up a whole new world of cable television and old vhs tapes on night three.

“You bought yourself a laptop but never had a dvd player?” Jon yawned, getting comfortable on his side of the couch.

“We sort of… skipped it?” Martin dug through a box of tapes for something worth watching, sifting through sappier options and 80s action flicks alike. “Dunno how, but we never got one. The laptop ended up being the first thing I ever had to play dvds, but the telly is too old to be hooked up to it. S’fine, though. I like tapes.”

“And you never get bored of it? Flipping between tapes and whatever’s on at a given time?”

Martin rolled his eyes. “I have a phone for other stuff, obviously. To be honest I don’t watch a lot to begin with, nothing new anyway.”

“Hmph. Same for me,” Jon conceded, sinking further into the couch. “Feels like there are other things I could be doing.”

“Except for now?”

A wry smile. “Special case.”

Martin’s stomach did a flip. He didn’t feel guilty, per se, but he wished he had something for Jon to work on to stave off the boredom. Everything had been so quiet with Peter gone and Simon’s waiting that no new leads had popped up. It wasn’t fair that Jon had to sit around doing nothing after wandering about in the sea for weeks. The least he could do was provide some entertainment.

“Hm. Right, how about this one?” Martin looked back and waved a vhs set. It was some old fantasy series with a group of children on the cover standing in a hallway. “Haven’t watched it since I was a kid, but I remember liking it.”

“Two tapes’ worth?” Jon glanced up at the ceiling. “It’s in episodes, right?”

“Yeah, though if you’d rather find something else…?”

Jon waved his hand. "No, I can’t spend the whole evening making up my mind. If we don’t like it, then we can find something else.”

With that settled Martin popped the tape in and took up his seat. On the other end, Jon sat with the blanket pulled to his chest. He wore a new set of pyjamas Martin had picked up at the shop along with a few other things to save Jon from having to wear the same clothes day and night.

The show was a simple series meant for children, easy enough to follow in plot that some side chatter didn’t interrupt things too much. Honestly, Martin was glad they weren’t paying a whole lot of attention. He hadn’t watched it in years and wasn’t looking to be embarrassed.

A few minutes in, the children from the cover were running up the stairs to explore a large house. “Safe to assume you don’t have siblings?” Jon asked.

“Hm? Oh, no, it’s just me. You?”

He snorted. “Even if my grandmother wanted another child running around, I was enough to deal with.”

Martin raised an eyebrow. “What, were you a terror?”

“I’d use the word ‘adventurous’, but she would’ve agreed with that description. If we’d been in that house,” Jon gestured toward the screen, “she would’ve been in trouble. Until it ate me or something.”

“I don’t think that’s how it goes?”

Jon frowned. “That’s- No, I mean if it were real it would probably mean harm. Supernatural houses aren’t trustworthy entities outside of fiction. In fiction they’re mischievous at the least.”

“Can’t imagine that, a building that likes to mess with you,” Martin said, grimacing. He really didn’t remember much about this story. Maybe that was how it went? “I’m sure they’ll be fine. I wasn’t into spooky things back then.”

“I’ll take your word for it, but I’m not letting my guard down,” Jon said. He watched as the children walked up a spiral staircase. “Would you have wanted siblings?”

Martin considered this. “I can’t imagine having them? But an older sibling would’ve been nice. Someone to know better and help me with things.”

“I think any other child would’ve found me irritating, older or younger. Best to keep to myself,” Jon said dryly. “Anyway, what was I saying? Oh, yes, you can imagine the additional worry of raising a child who could explore the ocean like it was the woods. It’s not like she could follow me in.”

“I bet… She wasn’t like you, then?”

Turning back to the television, Jon said, “No. She was from my father’s side.”

“Oh.” He couldn’t tell if the question was wrong to ask, so looked back to the show. It was luck of the draw, then, whether someone was born with a selkie skin. Perhaps there was nothing to do with genetics in circumstances like this.

Back on the screen, one of the children had chosen to wander outside into the beginnings of a snowstorm with no thought to the cold. Outside the real world window it had begun to hail, and Martin realized how frigid it had become both outdoors and in.

“Well, at least this story is right for the season,” Martin said, standing up. “I’m gonna grab another blanket.”

With a start, Jon looked at him and held up the one he was under. “Do you want this one? I don’t-”

“N-no, that’s fine!” He walked briskly out of the room, feeling rude and stupid. All Jon had offered was for him to use the damned thing, not share it. And it wouldn’t have fit both of them even if he had meant it that way!

Opening the hall closet, he tried to calm down. He peered at the pile of folded sheets and blankets, lifting each layer to search for one he liked. There was a flannel one somewhere, deceptively warm for how thin it was-

Oh.

Tucked far down into the pile, far back enough so it was hidden if the one above wasn’t lifted, Martin saw something dappled and grey and out of place amongst the linen. Jon had left it to dry completely beforehand, so the surrounding fabric was unwrinkled. Considerate. And in a decent hiding place all things considered. It was a shame Martin had gone and ruined it.

He sighed, grabbing one of the blankets at the top that he’d initially passed on. Once he reached the doorway to the living room, he stopped and stared at Jon who was doing his best to seem unperturbed.

“So, I saw it,” he started, squeezing the blanket in his arms into his chest. “I use that closet a lot, if you want to put it somewhere else.”

Jon winced and stood. As Martin let him pass, he mumbled, “Right. I’ll just-”

And then Martin was left to sit back on the couch and wait, pausing the tape out of courtesy.

When the skin had disappeared from the shower that first morning he hadn’t considered anything but Jon hiding it, and there was an awful satisfaction in knowing he was right. He rubbed his arm and stared at the blanket in his lap, still neat and folded.

After a couple of minutes, Jon returned empty handed and resumed his seat. Pulling his blanket back up, he said, “It’s nothing… personal.”

“I know.” He took a deep breath and pressed play on the old remote, letting the child continue their new solo adventure. “I figured you hid it.”

“I appreciate that you told me.” His voice was stilted and unsure. “That you found it.”

“Sure, whatever helps.” Unfolding the blanket, he pulled it up to his shoulders and leaned on the arm rest. He could feel Jon fidgeting in place, turning the blanket so it faced the right way and making it tuck under him in the right places. Martin kept his eyes ahead.

Finally giving up on any further adjustments, Jon slouched into place. “It does help. I know my caution can come off as distrust, but genuinely I just… I need to keep it hidden. I need to know where it is and to be the only one who does. For now.”

“You… don’t need to justify anything.” Martin sighed and had to fight back a yawn. “It’s your coat.”

A grunt of frustration. “No, you don’t- It’s not a rational thing. I trusted you enough to tell you the truth, and yet I was barely into my first night here before I panicked and stowed it away.” He sat upright and let the blanket fall to his lap, quiet distress written across the lines of his forehead.

Grasping for words, Martin said, “You still haven’t known me that long. It’s not wrong to be careful.”

“That’s not the point,” Jon replied quietly, resting elbows on knees. “It hasn’t been all that long in the grand scheme of things, but a lot has happened. I consider you a friend. And yet I can’t stop feeling like everything is about to go wrong if I’m not careful.”

The hail continued to slam against the window, almost overpowering the sound of the television and the faun describing the witch’s plans. On the far side of the couch, Jon remained hunched over his own knees with his face bent in irritation.

A wave of shame broke against him, but there wasn’t time to dwell on it. Carefully, Martin scooted over just enough to reach out a hand. His trembling fingers hovered just an inch away, brushing against the fabric of Jon’s shirt before coming to rest on his shoulder.

“I’m sorry,” Jon whispered, massaging around his eyes with his fingers. He reached his free hand up to tentatively cover Martin’s, giving it a tiny squeeze. “Thank you for understanding.”

“Do you… want to keep watching?”

Jon nodded, shaking himself out a little. Martin released the gentle grip on his shoulder, though he didn’t move away. They both settled into the back of the couch and watched.

The child had gone back inside with the shivers, but no one was to be found. Around the halls she wandered, calling her siblings’ names with indignation that slowly turned to concern and then to fear. Eventually she was running, and it wasn’t until she was on the upper floor that one of her brothers popped out to scare the living daylights out of her.

Deep down he remembered this part making him cry. Perhaps siblings weren’t worth it with how cruel children could be.

Martin coughed. “You explored the sea as a kid, then?”

Jumping slightly, Jon said, “O-only a couple of times. And not far from the land. And it’s not as fun when you can only grab one thing at a time, with your mouth. I sorely missed my pockets and picking up sticks.” As he spoke, he resumed the more casual tone from before with modest success.

“You thought checking out the sea with no real limits was too much of a hassle?”

With a roll of his eyes, Jon said, “It wasn’t entirely that. Eventually my grandmother warned me away from it. Told me about dangerous animals that absolutely weren’t native to the coast where we lived.”

“Great white sharks?”

“Surrounding our seaside village on every watery side, ready to eat hapless little seal boys who didn’t listen to their nans.”

Martin chuckled, relaxing further into his seat and listening to Jon go on about all the ways his grandmother had tried and failed to reign him in. He could see it, a younger, scrappier version of the man next to him stomping around the woods and climbing fences.

The instinct wasn’t all that relatable to someone like Martin who’d kept to the front porch on nice days, but it sounded like an adventure. Maybe it meant he was less likely to get eaten by an evil wardrobe out of the two of them. In his position he could only hope that was the case.

They called it for the night when, out of nowhere, a man suddenly appeared at half opacity screen and let out a screeching noise to close out an episode, making Jon laugh in a way that only could’ve been from exhaustion.

Martin lingered downstairs for a while after they shut the television off. It was Friday, after all. For many reasons they couldn’t go out to a pub, but without the need to get up early he could afford to stay up a little longer and listen to a sleepy Jon talk over the tapping on the window panes.

Tim: not next weekend, but the one after i think. finally time to call it on preparation and get down to business, if this is something we can be prepared for

Martin: encouraging

Tim: look its been rough over here, alright?

Martin: i know, sorry. itll be easier to talk once we’re all in one place

Tim: yeah

Tim: things are ok over there, then? youre sounding better

Martin: ?

Tim: it was starting to get scary if im honest, how quiet you were

Martin: oh, sorry. things are fine, just didnt have a lot to say

Tim: yeah, i get it. its hard to fill the space. dont be a stranger though. in a few weeks we’ll be there to get you out of this mess

Martin: looking forward to it

Sighing, Martin looked from the private chat to Jon, who was ignoring his breakfast to type away at the laptop. “Sounds like the others are making plans to get here.”

Jon looked up briefly. “Good. It will be… nice to see them.”

“And show them you’re not dead?”

Ignoring this, Jon said, “How is Tim doing?”

He glanced back at his phone. “Worried. About a lot of things, I think.”

“Thinking of how he’s going to break my disappearance to you, no doubt,” he said, taking a sip of his tea. He avoided Martin’s eyes. “That’ll be resolved soon enough.”

Martin poked at the eggs on his plate. “He… lost someone, didn’t he?”

It was only for a moment, but Jon froze in the middle of setting his mug down. He seemed to struggle with an answer.

“It’s fine if you can’t say, but he implied as much,” Martin said gently.

With a frown, Jon shut the laptop. “Sasha knows more than I do, but yes. His brother, a few years ago.”

“Oh. That’s… really sad.” He leaned back in his chair. “He seems like he’d be a good brother.”

“I’m sure he was. He certainly looks out for us.” Jon took a bite of his toast.

“As best as he can,” Martin added sheepishly.

“Once this is all finished he’s earned a vacation.”

Yes, they’d all given poor Tim their share of heart attacks. Martin had managed to several times in the last month. But at least when the time came Tim would see that both of them were alive and themselves and able to apologize for making his and Sasha’s lives just a bit harder than they needed to be.

Once it was all finished.

#tma #the magnus archives #breathe in the salt #martin blackwood #jonathan sims #sasha james #timothy stoker #peter lukas #jonmartin #selkie au

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danielleslegacy · 5 years ago

Text

Committed to Memory || Spencer Reid x Reader

Request: yes / no

Fandom: Criminal Minds

Summary: Its the morning after Spencer stays the night, and your emotions are running high. Also its got sleepy spencer so what else could you want in a fic?

Word Count: 1,880

Warnings: it is just fluff that is all, its tooth-rotting, you've been warned.

Pairing: Reader insert x Spencer Reid

All writing is my own, so please don’t steal this. Also, I would appreciate any feedback/comments/requests! xx

*GIF IS NOT MINE SO CREDIT GOES TO THE OWNER*

I feel the hot frustrated tears gather in my eyes, my hands reaching up in an attempt to soothe the throbbing headache in my temples, before raking my hands down my face. The laptop screen, that should hold my assessment, in front of me practically mocking my incompetence. A guttural noise forces its way out of my mouth as my frustration builds. I press my hands to my closed eyes in an attempt to relax for a moment.

I take a deep breath in holding it and exhale after a couple of seconds, trying to ground myself from my panic. I throw a glance over my shoulder, looking at the sleeping form laid in my bed. My panic begins to decrease, by merely knowing that he was there. I watch Spencer for a few moments, the soft light of my laptop casting the faintest of lights across his features, his chest rising and falling slowly. I knew that soon his alarm would go off and he would not be as peaceful as he was in that moment, curled under the blankets, cuddling the pillow beneath his head, and arm splayed out searching for my warmth. I turn back around to my work as a rush of inspiration overcomes me. My fingers tapping across the keys. I flick my eyes up to check the time, after what I assume is a few moments that turn out to be more than that, and see that Spencer’s alarm is due to go off at any moment.

I shut the lid of my laptop down and decide to crawl back into the bed so that he doesn’t wake up alone. I pull the covers up over my waist and rake my fingers down his cheek slowly. Tracing down his jaw and up into his hair. His brow furrows in his sleep, telling me that his body is slowly waking up. I close my eyes for a moment, allowing myself to be completely present at the moment, as my fingers toy through his hair, detangling any knots that had formed from the man’s tossing and turning. Spencer’s other arm flips over and comes to rest on my waist as he pulls me to his chest tightly, and a soft giggle falls out of my lips.

“Alarm hasn’t gone off you can’t make me get up,” He mumbles out, his voice thick with sleep. I hum in agreement, tangling my legs with his, looping my arms around his neck.

In an almost comical way, his alarm pierces throughout cozy bubble and forces a groan out of Spencer’s lips. The alarm is switched off almost as quickly as it was turned on and Spence turns back to me pressing his lips to my cheek and before leaning back to look at my face. He blinks his eyes open slowly, adjusting to the light that’s snuck in since I got back into the bed.

“Morning pretty eyes,” I whisper letting out the softest of laughs. Picking up a hand and placing it onto the side of his face.

“How did you sleep?” He says voice thick with sleep. Butterflies erupt in my stomach, his voice melts me every time.

“Bold of you to assume I slept,” I laugh gesturing over to my desk, laptop sat on top of it. I look back to the boy knowing the look of disapproval I was about to get.

“Y/N,” Spencer says, unwrapping from me, stretching his muscles out and then picking himself up and out of the bed, “You really should be sleeping.”

I reach my hands out towards him, and he pulls me up and out of the bed, “I will sleep once this assessment is over, I promise it’s almost done.” He rolls his eyes and presses his lips to mine quickly before slipping out of the bedroom. “Can you put the kettle on? I need coffee.”

I hear the water run as I finish my sentence, and a smile breaks across my face, knowing that he was already doing it before I asked and that he was so comfortable in my apartment. I pull on one of Spencer’s hoodies, it falls just above my knees and I lose my hands in the sleeves. I inhale his scent and make my way into the kitchen and stand just behind him.

“Boo!” I shout wrapping my arms around his waist. His slight jump causes us both to lets out a laugh.

“I knew you were there too,” He says, turning in my arms so that we are face to face, “Hi.”

“Hi,” I say back, stepping onto my tiptoes to press my lips to his once more. His eyes rake down to his hoodie and he cocks his head to the side. “Isn’t that mine?”

I quickly pull away from him running around to the opposite end of the kitchen, “Nope. It’s mine now.”

A wide smile rests against his face, his eyes raking down to my exposed legs, his tongue darting out across his lips showing his concentration on my body. Every time I stand in front of the man it is almost as if he’s trying to commit me to memory, all of his attention is on my and about me.

“Stop looking at me like that,” I say softly, a blush rising to my cheeks.

“Like what?”

“Like you’re trying to memorise me, I know you have an eidetic memory.”

“Can’t help it,” He says sheepishly, obviously embarrassed that he was caught, “I just cannot get enough of you.”

Butterflies swarm in my stomach and I’m just overcome with adoration for the man in front of me. Our eyes meet after a moment and we just stand to look at each other, but we are both startled as the kettle hisses, indicating that the water is finished boiling. Spencer turns away from me and begins making both of our coffees and I jump up so that I’m sitting on the counter. He turns slowly to face me handing me one of the two coffees and stand in between my legs. And at that moment I knew that it was love. We hadn’t said those words to each other but this is what it feels like. Like I can’t be close enough to him like I can’t breathe without him around and like there is no one else in the whole world that I want to be with. He is my forever person. If he was the only person I could see for the rest of my life, I would be content with that.

“Do you want to watch the news before I have to leave for work?” He says pulling me out of my thoughts, running his free hand up and down my leg to catch my attention, as he probably noticed I had drifted away.

“I love you, Spence,” I say a smile gracing my features, “And it is totally okay if you don’t want to say it back to me, I just want you to know it.”

My eyes rake over his face, trying to gauge his reaction, but I’m no profiler, so I see nothing change on his face as he processes the information I had just shared with him. But surprisingly, waiting for him to say something doesn’t leave me nervous, because even if he can’t say it, I know that he feels it. I understand the complicated situation that his job puts him in, the fear and anxiety that love can do to him. But I also know that the man before me needs to hear it as much as anyone can say it. He steps back from me slightly, and he pulls a face as if he is trying to figure something out.

“Spence? You okay?” I ask softly trying to bring him back to reality, reaching my arm out to meet his shoulder.

His eyes spring up to meet mine, “We met 204 days ago, in the back of a coffee shop, you had ordered an iced latte, and you were reading The Hunger Games. Your hair was half up and you were wearing a black t-shirt and black jeans. You were wearing this necklace that had a moon on it. When I sat across from you and you looked at me your eyes pulled all the words out of my throat and I stuttered out the faintest of hello’s.” A smile forms on my face and tears gather in my eyes. “I wanted so badly to ask you out, so I just did it. Without even knowing you, you gave me confidence. Then you smiled and I swear I could have died. I may not have known it then but that day was the beginning of something so incredible that I would carry it with me forever. It was 181 days ago that you agreed to be my girlfriend.13 days ago you were sitting on my bed, waiting for me to get home from a case and you had cleaned my apartment for me. It was that day that I knew I loved you. You could have run me over with a car that day and I would still have been in that state of total euphoria. You are everything for me, Y/n. You make me be a better more confident version of the man I was before. Every part of you is committed to my memory, and even if I didn't have the brain that I do, I'm positive everything you would still have it memorised. I am so completely and utterly in love with you.”

I reach my hands forward as quickly as I can, grabbing his face to pull it to mine, out lips meet somewhere in the middle and tears cascade from my eyes. I feel one of his hands reach up and grasp my chin, tilting my face softly, the other resting itself on my hip. My hips raise attempting to get as close to him as possible.

A sudden chime rings out through the apartment, causing us to jump apart. Spencer pulls his phone out of his pocket, mumbling something along the lines of ‘someone better be dying’ before saying, “Doctor Spencer Reid speaking.”

A slight giggle falls from my lips, as Spencer takes his phone call. I jump off the counter, pick up my coffee and sit on the sofa waiting for the man to either join me or tell me that he has to leave for work. I flick on the Tv allowing the news to play as background noise while I drink my coffee.

“Okay, Garcia thank you,” Spencer says walking into the room and he sits down next to you, laying down so that his head is in my lap, one of my hands immediately comes to play with his hair. He lets out a relaxed and content sigh.

“When do you leave?” I whisper, not really wanting to know the answer.

His hand slowly reaches up and takes mine in his, before pressing it to his mouth softly. “Not today.” My heart rate picks up and a smile stretches across my face. “You want to come with me to see the team today?” A smile crosses my face, and I practically run to get ready.

#criminal #Criminal Minds #Criminal Minds Reid #spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #dr spencer reid #fanfiction #fluff #Matthew Gray Gubler #matthew gray gubler x reader #spencer reid fanfiction #doctor spencer reid #reid x read #criminal minds au

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smol-and-grumpy · 4 years ago

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EUPHORIA - Chapter 24

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader

Summary: He’s Dean Winchester, owner of a shady night club. She’s a journalist who has been asked to write an article to expose the indecency and debauchery that’s going on behind closed doors. But he’s also Dean Winchester, the boy who sat next to her in class. The boy who was too cocky for his own good.

Chapter Warning: NSFW, flangst

WC: 2824

A/N: This chapter fills my ‘voice kink’ square for @spnkinkbingo.

Beta’d by @deanwanddamons <3

This series is complete on Patreon!

Series Masterlist ~ SPN Masterlist

Become a Patron ~ Buy me a coffee

He’s pissed and overly grumpy. It’s too fucking early to be dealing with bullshit. But he’s also grumpy because he had to see Y/N off.

Walking around the corner, Cas’ notices him and nods.

“Again?” Dean asks, sees them washing down the red paint. It looks bloody and it smells awful. It almost made him nauseous.

“Yeah,” Cas sighs, “It’s nothing I couldn’t deal with, so I didn’t feel the need to call you.”

“That’s okay,” Dean crosses his arms over his chest, watches the paint come off the walls before he turns to Cas, “Security footage?”

“We got it,” Cas says, but he doesn’t look happy about it so Dean already knows that it’s probably not even worth mentioning, “The guy wore a Vendetta mask and was dressed in black.”

“Great,” Dean breathes out, his hand goes up to rub at his forehead. There’s a puddle of paint running down the pavement towards him, and he takes a step to the side.

It’s moments like these that Dean wants to give up completely. That he wants to just sell the whole fucking thing and go do something else, being a fucking accountant for the firm Sam’s working in or just something that’s less stressful. Somewhere where he has to deal with less hate, maybe. Less jealousy.

He places a hand on Cas’ shoulder, “You go home and get some shut eye. I’ll see you for the briefing later,”

“‘K,” Cas answers and turns to walk away. Looking back, he calls out to Dean, “Balth is waiting in your office!”

Dean groans and rolls his eyes at that.

Apparently, he can’t catch a fucking break around here.

Dean walks into his office and sees Balthazar sitting on the couch. The man’s busy working on his laptop. A scent of coffee lingers in the air. He must have brought a cup with him because Dean doesn’t have a coffee machine in his office. What he has, though, is a fucking bar and he wonders if it would be too soon to pour himself a couple of fingers? It’s probably five o’clock somewhere , right?

Even though his mouth waters at the thought of the burning liquid filling his throat and clouding his head, Dean abandons the thought quite quickly. She doesn’t like him to drink. It has a lot to do with how she grew up and Dean respects that, has toned it down since Y/N came back into his life, and he wants to keep that up.

“Balth,” Dean greets the man and walks over to his desk, sits down with a loud grunt, “What can I do for you?”

“How’s your hand?”

“Good.” Dean nods and holds it up, takes a look at it himself.

It’s bandaged. Y/N was telling him that he should let her do it or she’ll get angry at him. He smirks at the memory. He would have loved to say that she could get mad all she wants, because he likes how cute she looks when she’s mad, but he thinks that would have been a bad move on his part, so he just held still while she sat on his lap and bandaged his hand. The lap sitting was a deal he negotiated because he said that he wouldn’t let her if she wouldn’t sit on his lap. She rolled her eyes but sat down and it’s crazy how his lap was made for her to sit on.

Balthazar clears his throat before he closes his laptop, and Dean is catapulted back to reality. Back to an annoying work day. He thinks maybe he should take a break, ask her if she’s game to go on a road trip. Just the two of them, driving where the road takes them with no clear destination. Dean doesn’t think he needs one with her.

“I’ve stayed with Cole after you left.” Balthazar says while he places his laptop back into its bag.

“And?” Dean frowns.

“He won’t press charges,”

Dean snorts, “Yeah, because we have the upper hand.”

It’s no surprise. Dean knew that he wouldn’t. If he would, he’d see his ass in jail and Dean doubts that Cole would survive a day in there. All Dean wanted was to make a statement and he thinks that he was pretty clear about what the statement entailed.

“Still, you should be more careful with breaking bones.” Balthazar gets up from the couch and walks over to the chair across from Dean. He doesn’t sit down, though, only braces his hands on it, leaning in a little.

“He was touching what’s fucking mine, Balth. What do you want me to do?” Dean shouts out and immediately regrets his outburst because it hurt his own ears. He pinches the bridge of his nose. It’s too fucking early.

When Dean calms down a little, he asks, “So, you had your eyes on him? He wasn’t anywhere near the club?”

“Nope, I drove him to the ER and he underwent surgery to correct his fucking jaw that you broke. He’ll stay there for the next two days, at least.”

“Good,” Dean nods. It’s not exactly good when it comes to the club, though, because Cole’s out of the picture, “Can you get more people on board? I want someone watching the club after closing. It’s a tiny window of time, three, maybe four hours.”

Balthazar nods, “I can do that.”

After Balthazar left, Dean decided to start up his computer since he hasn’t checked his emails for a couple of days now. He deliberately doesn’t have his work emails on his phone. It’s his private property and he made it clear from the beginning that he’s separating work and private life.

Dean clicks through the emails. There are some new member sign ups that he needs to go through. Some harmless threats which he usually bins right away. But then there are some mails that are more worrying as well.

He clicks on the first one with the title I KNOW WHAT YOU DID LAST NIGHT . The email opens up to pictures of the altercation in front of Y/N’s office building. Dean can see that it was shot from across the street. Maybe from a parked car. He immediately forwards the pictures to Balthazar.

There are more emails. Without pictures though, just words. Hurtful ones.

I WILL TAKE YOU AND YOUR CLUB DOWN

YOU ARE A FUCKING DISGUSTING HUMAN BEING

SHAME ON YOU

YOUR CLUB WILL BE CLOSED. MARK MY WORDS

It’s really nothing new. He gets those threats quite a lot and he always makes sure to block the sender but they keep making new email accounts and so he’ll keep deleting and blocking them. Dean can’t win in this, but neither can they, so at least there’s that.

Later in the day, while Dean’s briefing his employees, his phone vibrates in his pocket. He fishes it out, thinks it’s Balthazar calling him about new developments. The man had called earlier already, only to suggest for Dean to get a fucking bodyguard but Dean really doesn’t know about that. He just thinks it’s a waste of money. Only when Balth mentioned that Y/N’s safety might be in danger too, does Dean at least agree to consider it.

Dean stops his speech to look at the caller ID, has to suppress his smirk while he holds up his index finger, “I gotta take this one, Cas?”

“Yeah,” The other man jumps in, grins himself because he knows, and Dean actually wants to wipe that smile from Cas’ face but he gotta hurry if he wants to take it before she hangs up on him.

Dean turns around, picks it up, smiles like an idiot because apparently, he lost the ability to control his fucking face, “Hey,” Dean walks up the stairs and disappears into the VIP room for some privacy.

“I’m sorry, am I interrupting? You must be busy.”

It sounds like she’s pouting, Dean bites back a chuckle, “No, it’s okay, you never interrupt. How’s the workshop going?”

He tries to sound cheerful, doesn’t want to tell her about the things that happened yet. There’s no need for her to worry, really.

“Ugh, boring,” Y/N sighs, and adds, “I have a short break before I have to go for the mandatory dinner.”

Dean flips his wrist, sees that it’s past 5pm. He grins, “You wanna spice things up at the dinner?”

“Dean,”

“What?” He chuckles.

“Well,” Her voice is almost whiny as she considers his words, “Yeah?”

“That’s my girl,” Dean smiles, “Jesus, I’m getting all excited myself.”

Cas appears in the room and Dean nods at him, “Baby, I gotta go, I need to finish something here,”

“Okay,” It sounds like she’s pouting and god, Dean feels bad for making her feel like he doesn’t have time for her or that he doesn’t care when all he’s doing is to make fucking time. But he guesses she’ll understand once they see each other.

“Wear it and let me know when you’re going to dinner, alright?”

“Yeah,” She sighs, “Miss you.”

Dean sighs, closes his eyes briefly, his heart flutters at those words. He smiles at the feeling, “I miss you, too.”

Y/N runs up to her room right after dinner, keys in her hand and leans back against the closed door as soon as she’s inside. She’s dripping wet from that vibe but she didn’t come yet. She doesn’t know how Dean does it but he always managed to stop when she’s about to come, making her whine out audibly once, and when Charlie, her friend from college who sat next to her asked what was wrong, she just said that she liked the food very much.

God, it was so embarrassing!

She thinks about calling him but he’s probably busy working as it’s already past 10pm and the club is at its peak right about now.

Taking off her shoes, she walks to the bathroom to clean her face and she brushes her teeth, walking out into the bedroom shortly after. She quickly gets out of her dress and slips out of her panties that are completely soaked.

The device is still inside of her and clear enough, it starts to buzz again, making her shriek out. She swears if he won’t let her come again—

—her phone rings.

Letting herself fall onto the bed, still in only her bra and nothing else — except for the vibrator in her pussy — she grabs at her clutch that she left there before she walked to the bathroom.

Dean.

The vibrator still buzzes lightly inside of her and she picks up, has to gnaw on her bottom lip to suppress the moan.

“You are the worst!” It blurts out of her as soon as she swipes her thumb across the screen.

“Wait, what?” He’s laughing loudly.

“Yeah,” She pouts and moves up the bed, rests her back against the headboard while she spreads her legs and enjoys the buzzing between her thighs, “You turn me on and then you stop, and I was so close to coming.”

“Awe, poor baby,” Dean says in his mumbling voice and it sounds so fucking sexy, “Are you still turned on?”

“Yeah,” She mutters under her breath, “Please, you have to let me come.”

“I don’t know,” He chuckles, “Have you been good, Y/N?”

Oh my god , he’s pulling that card, isn’t he?

“I have. Please?” She nods and whines, teeth sinking into her bottom lip when she feels the buzzing getting stronger, moaning out shamelessly.

“Christ, you sound so fucking sexy,”

She can hear him growl on the other end.

“No, you do,” There’s another increase of vibration and god, it makes her arch her back, as a shrieking sound rolls off her tongue.

“I do? I don’t think so, sweetheart. I’m getting hard just hearing you moan.”

“It— ah— it’s your v—voice, Dean.”

“My voice? What’s with my voice, baby?”

And it’s like he’s taunting her because it rolls deep, smooth like fucking honey and it feels like he’s wrapping her up in the warm sound. He increases the vibrations, and she didn’t know it could go further up but it does. One of her hands goes to her tit, kneads at it while she has a tight grip around her phone with the other.

“Ah— it’s.. Fuck— it’s so deep and gravelly and oh god— it’s sexy,”

“Yeah?” He chuckles, “Bet you’re so wet, ain’tcha, baby? You always are so wet for me. It’s the fucking best thing. Especially when you gush and come around my cock, Jesus—”

His breathing is ragged, he’s turned on too.

Good , she thinks. At least she’s not the only one.

“My panties were soaked. I took them off and now I’m on my bed in only my bra,” She manages to say, tongue darts out to wet her lips, ��Wish you were here.”

“I wish I was there too. Wish I could kiss you. I’d be right between your thighs right now, eating you out like you’re the sweetest thing, because you fucking are,” It comes out a little strained, “Does me telling you these thing turn you on, huh?”

“Yeah,” She chokes out a moan, “You could read me the goddamn phone book and it would turn me on, Dean.”

“Christ, I’m just imagining you right now, all spread out and wet,” There’s a low growl before he speaks again, “Can you do me a favor, huh?”

“Uh-huh,”

“Use your words, sweetheart,” His voice is more stern. Doesn’t make it less sexy, though.

“Yes,”

“Good girl,”

God the praise . Y/N has to press her thighs together, already so fucking close.

Dean goes on, “Take off your bra for me, baby. Take your thumb and forefinger, give them a firm tug for me, bet your nipples are sensitive, huh? I wanna hear you.”

She sits up to unclasp her bra before she throws it carelessly into the room. Leaning back again, her right hand goes to her left nipple, tugs hard and moans out in pained pleasure.

“Good girl,” He coos, “Such a fucking good girl,”

The vibration increases again and she thinks that’s the maximum it can go. Hopes it is, because she’s right there, dancing dangerously on the edge.

“Dean, please, I’m—”

“—I got you, baby,” He breathes out a soft chuckle, “Come, you can come, now. Come for me, okay? I wanna hear you come for me.” His whispering low, and the words paired with his voice, plus the added buzzing in her cunt was enough to tip her over.

Oh god. His voice is really out of his world. She comes with a squeal. His name rolls off her tongue as she squeezes her eyes shut and her legs start to tremble. Her hips buck up and she doubles over and has to roll herself into a fetal position on the bed.

There’s a ringing in her ear from the orgasm and she feels the vibration getting softer until it’s completely gone. Dean’s voice is faint in her ear through the phone.

Good girl. My fucking good girl.

She swallows hard, her eyes are still closed. When Y/N comes back to her senses, she starts to giggle and then she hears it. The knock at her door.

“What’s so funny?” Dean asks as she sits up straight, startled from the knocking.

“Oh my god, someone just knocked at my door.” She says, her heart’s still pounding fast.

“Go on, open it.”

“No, who would knock at this time of night? I’m sure they just have the wrong room.” She doesn’t know if she’s trying to talk to him or talk herself out of her anxiety of the realization that someone came knocking at her door late at night.

“Maybe it’s room service?”

“Dean, I just came from dinner, I didn’t order anything!”

“Jesus Christ, I didn’t think it would be this hard!” Dean growls and she might be hearing things because she hears the deep growl outside of her door? He sighs then, “Baby, I really think you should open up.”

“Oh my god, you didn’t... Dean, no.” She scrambles off the bed, and somehow she doesn’t even care if she’s fucking naked.

“Dean, yes!” He chuckles lightly, “Come on, I’m standing in the hallway with a visible boner and I think if someone sees it, they’ll call the cops.”

She hangs up and drops the phone onto the bed as she makes her way to the door, opens it up wide to see Dean smiling at her.

Chapter 25

Please share your thoughts with me, I’d love to hear your feedback.

#euphoria #spnkinkbingo #dean winchester #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester x you #dean winchester fic #dean winchester fan fic #dean winchester fan fiction #nathalie writes

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wiypt-writes · 4 years ago

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Too Loose And You’ll Lose It

Chapter 6: Jesus Is My Homeboy Co-written with @icanfeelastormbrewing

Summary: Jake and Stella spend an afternoon looking for suitably embarrassing photos of Pooch to use on his Stag Party and when they find some older shots of themselves they take a trip down memory lane. But the trip is cut short when Evan arrives.

Pairing: Jake Jensen x OFC Stella Stevenson

Warnings: Bad language, Smut (NSFW, 18+)

A/N: So this chapter was written for For @sweater-daddiesdumbdork and @sagechanoafterdark ‘s Winter/Holiday Challenge. Prompt- “That is the ugliest sweater I have ever seen.”

TLAYLI Masterlist // Main Masterlist

Chapter 5

They were running low on time. There were so many things to do before Pooch’s stag party in four weeks that The Losers had all agreed they should split their forces to get everything ready for the weekend in New York. As such, Stella and Jensen had ended up pooling their resources and were currently browsing through pictures on Jake's laptop while Pooch was on his lunch break. Unfortunately, Cougar had the day off so he wouldn't be able to stall Pooch at the small café down the street but that would pose no problem if they hurried and got what they needed fast. Mind you, Jolene had done her fair share of work and had sent them a bunch of shaming Pooch pictures they could use for their ‘mission’ and picking the most embarrassing ones should surely be easy as pie.

The problem was, however, that Jensen was finding it hard to concentrate and keep his eyes and mind focused on the screen. In fact, hard didn’t even come close to describing. He was leaning so close to Stella as they studied his computer screen that he could smell her shower gel. A scent of vanilla and pumpkin which he could easily identify anywhere with his eyes closed. Not that he needed to keep his eyes open to smell something but he knew what he meant…

"Oh my god, Jake! Look at his fucking hair!" Stella suddenly shrieked before starting to howl, startling him and pulling him out of his useless wandering thoughts.

"What?" he asked looking at her before glancing back at the screen again as Stella grabbed the mouse and clicked on a picture to magnify it and show a young Pooch sporting an afro hairdo which made Jensen blink.

"Didn’t know Pooch was part of the Jackson 5" he laughed before he inhaled and looked at her “Oh my God, Stel, they were really the Jackson 6. Pooch is the missing link. Poor Pooch, abandoned after birth, discarded youngest son of an already overcrowded family." He sighed and Stella howled again, this time banging her hand on the desk.

"Did Jolene send you these?"

Jensen grinned, smug he was making Stella laugh hard at his wisecracks. "Yup."

"He is gonna kill you." Stella snorted as she shook her head.

"Nah, he will be too drunk to care, as we will all be." Jensen offered as he saved the picture into another folder, missing Stella wrinkling her nose, but hearing her sigh before speaking.

"I dunno if I'm going yet."

"What? Why?" Jensen inquired hastily, turning to look at her. "You have to come, Stel!"

"Yeah, but I’m not so sure. I mean it was nice of Pooch to count me in but..."

"He counted you in because he wants you there. You're a Loser." Jensen cut her off before she could even doubt her place in the tight group they all formed.

"Yes I know that and I want to spend a good time with you guys but…" she trailed off and at that Jensen inhaled and shuffled on his chair to sit facing her. She hadn't spent any decent time with them for the last month. Every time they organised something she ended up backing out as Agent Shithead happened to have booked them something to do, on the exact same night, always a coincidence.

Bullshit if you asked Jensen.

He was just pondering how exactly he could point that out to her, without pissing her off, when she continued talking.

"Ev was on about us going away that weekend. He's busy for the week or so after with stuff at home, so I won’t get to see him."

There it is, Jensen thought, but did his best to stay calm, even though he wanted nothing more than to scream at Stella that the guy was a jerk and it was clear he was doing this to keep her away from him. But Jensen knew he couldn't do that, not without ratting his nosy ass out for listening into their argument the other month, so instead he decided to keep it cool and play the role of the concerned, interested best friend and confidant.

"Oh, what's he got on at home?" he spoke, pleased to hear his voice sounded interested as opposed to prying. "His Auntie is moving house and he's helping. Then there’s like decorating and stuff so we won't see each other." Stella explained and Jensen could clearly see her frown burrow as she repeated what he suspected were the exact same words Shithead had told her, but the look on her face made it seem as if she was doubting them almost, now she was the one that was uttering them. Jensen felt a flicker of hope and sighed as he looked at her, pondering what to say. Don't jinx it now, Jensen.

"Don't sigh at me like that Jake." she pleaded, somewhat guiltily. "I was just thinking…good luck explaining to Pooch you’re not coming to New York with us because your boyfriend is busy the week after." he explained himself, almost spitting the word boyfriend, which he regretted the moment he did as he could see Stella's expression change from a concern to anger as he glared at him. "Don't start, Jensen." "I’m not starting anything, Stevenson." He declared, using her surname as well, making it clear her calling him by his hadn't gone unnoticed. "Just trying to make you see you’re missing Pooch’s Batchelor Party, which will only happen once in his life, so as not to make your boyfriend angry." "It's not about not making him angry, for fucks sake" Stella almost growled, visibly annoyed at his insinuation. "You sure about that? What would his reaction be if you told him you were coming with us?" Jensen pressed, ignoring all the red flags her tone and expression carried, in a desperate attempt to make her see for herself what, to him, was crystal clear.

Fuck it Stel, why can't you see it? "I don't know.” Stella said, somewhat exasperatedly as she gave a shrug “He wouldn't be mad, probably disappointed but..."

However, as she spoke there was something in her voice and Jensen squinted his eyes at her. He could tell she understood that to be not entirely truthful, as he knew she was well aware Evan had a temper. Stella herself had kicked him out of her apartment the very same day he had confessed to her he didn’t want her near her ex, and from what he had heard since about a few other arguments they had, it always ended the same. Him raising his voice and guilt tripping her into thinking she was to blame.

So, all things considered, Jensen decided to change strategy and go down the guilt trip road. "Ok. Whatever you wanna do. But remember, disappointment goes both ways Stel." he stated as he shrugged and focused his attention back on the screen. "What's that supposed to mean?" Stella asked, frowning. "Just that by not disappointing your boyfriend, you’re gonna end up disappointing Pooch. But I guess its fine, he still got the rest of us. I just hope it doesn’t bit you on the ass one day.” He insisted on making his point while flicking through the rest of the pictures. His eyes didn't leave the screen but he heard her groan besides him.

"You know what? I can't be bothered listening to you bitch." She pinched the bridge of her nose.

"I’m not bitching Stel. Do whatever you think you should do. You already know my opinion, so that’s the last thing I’ll say on the topic." he said as he looked at her from the corner of his eye. "That'll be a first." Stella snorted, folding her arms over her chest. "Well if it has to be, so be it." Jensen shrugged again as if he couldn't care less, but he could feel her eyes on him and he fought to avoid turning his head to look at her.

"Just flip to the next photo JJ, before I smash your head through the desk."

Jensen was fuming now, but decided not to acknowledge that last comment, thinking instead when he finally unmasked Shithead, she’d be eating her words and apologising big time. Instead, he fought the anger down, took a deep breath and did as he had been told, flipping to the next picture which drew a smile to his face. It was a shot of all the Losers out at Christmas a few years back, five faces grinning into the camera while wearing tacky Christmas sweaters.

And, just as Jensen expected, Stella laughed heartily when her eyes spotted the one he had on and he grinned.

"You still have that sweater?" Stella chuckled, pointing at the item of clothing which depicted Jesus wearing a party hat whilst holding a balloon, with the words ‘BIRTHDAY BOY’ written underneath "Yup. Don’t know where though. Must be at my parents. That’s if Gracie hasn’t found it and decided it’s the coolest thing ever."

“No one would decide that’s the coolest thing ever.” Stella laughed again and then grabbed his arm. "Oooh! Do you still have the photo of the time we went out back home with them all on, the Christmas before we passed out of training?"

Jensen took his eyes off her hand that was still grabbing his arm and rubbed his beard while thinking about the system folder the picture may be in. "Yeah, I think it might be in one of these." he said as he clicked on one named ‘Good Times’. Stella could see a load of thumbnails as they popped up on the screen. They were mainly shots of his family, but there were also a few of her and him and a couple of him and Gracie. And she was just thinking about how he still had some of the pictures they had taken together all those years back, wondering to herself if that meant he still cared for her after everything that had happened between them or if he had simply forgotten they were there in the first place, when she heard him say "Yup. There it is."

"Oh my God, look at that Jakey!" she squealed, her gorgeous smile on her face again, as Jensen noticed she was back at Jakey. “We look so young.”

Jensen smiled broadly at her before turning to look at the picture again, taking every detail of it in. It was a picture of him, his dad, Rob and Stella all in horrific sweaters. Jake wore the aforementioned item bearing the large Jesus image, Rob’s was a Home Alone themed Sweater, featuring the infamous picture Kevin finds in his brother’s room along with the quote- ‘Buzz, your girlfriend…woof!’ John’s had a 3D elf attached to the bottom emblazoned with the slogan ‘When I think about you I touch my Elf’ and Stella’s was the classier of the four, a sparkly green Christmas tree effect, with baubles hanging all over it. The four of them were rosy cheeked from alcohol (well, mostly…) and smiling broadly, Stella stood next to Jake as his arm curled around her waist, John to her other side as his draped over her shoulder.

Happier, simpler times for them all.

"Remember that afternoon?" Jensen asked her, smiling softly at a grinning and younger Stel on the screen. "Yeah." Stella smiled at him. "It was the afternoon of our annual Secret Santa dinner night at your mom and dad’s." Jake then turned to look at her, grinning. "That’s not what I was asking, Stel." She chuckled and rolled her eyes. "You want me to say I remember our bunk up in the bathroom?" "Yup." he replied as he wriggled his eyebrows playfully at her. "My sweater was missing a few baubles when we made it back into the bar." "Yeah" he reminisced as he grinned wildly. "Birthday boy got his very own porn show.”

Stella snorted, slapping his arm. "We are so going to Hell for that."

"Well if that's what Hell is like baby, I don't wanna go to Heaven." he quipped cheekily, making Stella slap his arm again.

“Stop it, Jake!"

"Okay, okay, sorry..." he chuckled. But he wasn’t sorry in the slightest about bringing up that memory and as Stella turned her eyes back to the screen he found himself back in that bar, one Friday afternoon in December 2002. It was the day before Christmas Eve and he, his dad and Rob were out for drinks on what could have been deemed as a forced boys’ afternoon because his mom had kicked them out not long after lunch stating that she and Jane were doing dinner with Jules. Apparently they needed to get started like five fucking hours in advance for some reason and thus, all three men had found themselves at their local bar at four p.m. wearing their ugly Christmas sweaters as was the tradition on that day. What they hadn't counted on was having to go out in them, least of all to a bar where almost everyone knew them.

Stella was meeting her girlfriends for a shopping afternoon before they all met up for dinner and drinks and the annual "joke" Secret Santa. Only this year they were two down as Rey and Dick were in Florida visiting some of Dick's extended family, who knows who exactly, as Jake wasn't very fond of paying attention to details when Dick Fitzpatrick spoke. What he did know however, was that they would also be examining pretentious venues for their wedding the year after.

Fifteen minutes after their first round was served, Jensen was putting his empty beer down as he pulled his phone out of his pocket and John immediately nudged him. "Give it a rest son! You've been glued to that all afternoon."

"Yeah. What are you doing? Talking to someone?" Rob snorted, rolling his eyes. "I wonder who."

Jensen grinned. "Not my fault my girl can't stand not to message me for more than thirty minutes."

“Keep telling yourself that. It’s you who can’t stand not talking to her." Rob quipped as John chuckled and nodded in agreement.

"You saying I'm whipped Robert?" Jensen asked sternly, tilting his head to look at him before his face split into another huge grin. "Because you would be absolutely right and I'm not ashamed to admit it."

At that he waved at the bartender and ordered another round while John snorted and Rob shook his head.

"We’ve lost him, John." "We lost him a long time ago, Rob” John sniggered and Rob nodded seriously. "Yeah, so says Jane." He spoke as he leaned on the bar. "Shut up Robert, you're the one that drove two hundred miles home at like four a.m. because Jane was crying she had period cramps and you were away with work." Jensen jabbed at his brother in law.

"He got you there pal." John laughed loudly as Rob narrowed his eyes.

"How do you know that?"

Jensen just shrugged. "I’m her little brother, I know things."

Rule number two?... four?..., whatever, in military training; never reveal your sources or methods of information.

But Rob wasn't buying any of Jensen’s bullshit and narrowed his eyes again. "Jane told Stella, didn't she?"

"Maybe."

Maybe wasn't a yes, right?

Rob rolled his eyes. "Whatever."

"You wanna make this a competition? Because Jake’s been like that for years now." John teased Rob.

“Oh, shut up dad." Jensen protested as he passed him one of the beers the bartender had just placed in front of them.

John laughed before raising his bottle "You already admitted you were whipped!" and Jensen groaned as his dad took a big gulp of his second beer. "You know, Son. I'm kinda offended you don't make me coffee and toast every morning."

"What?" Rob asked, spluttering beer all over the bar.

"Every time Stel stays over, he makes her coffee and toast in bed. Fuck the rest of us, like.."

Jensen grinned and cut his dad off straight away. "No. I don't fuck the rest of you, which is why I don’t make you breakfast."

At that some of the usual patrons turned to look at them as Rob started howling at John’s face. "He’s not wrong John."

"Guess I asked for that one." John mused before taking another sip of beer.

"You totally did, dad."

"Cheers to that." Rob quipped as he and Jensen clinked their bottles together.

"What is this, gang up on John day?"

"Come on old man. Don’t get angry and order another round for us." Jensen grinned, chugging his beer down and patting his dad's shoulder. So John did, and then when they finished that it was Rob’s turn to buy, and thus the cycle continued two hours later they were still perched at the same place at the bar, talking nonsense with alcohol running freely through their systems.

"Pity Rey and Dick are away this year because I had found the perfect shit Secret Santa gift for her." Rob whined and Jensen sniggered by his side. "A joke book?" "Nope. Her boyfriend is the joke." Rob quipped and both men started laughing until John corrected Rob.

"Ah ah ah, her fiancé." "Yup, right. Her fiancé." Rob repeated, raising his beer in a mock toast.

Jensen chuckled and leaned his head on his right arm where it was folded on the bar before speaking. "Fahk man. All she talks about is that fahkin’ wedding." "Well she's excited, son." John shrugged. "Too excited. She’s got Jane on the phone, all day." Rob complained and, at that, Jensen groaned raising his head again to look at Rob.

"And Stella, man. She’s dreading whatever bridesmaid dress Rey picks." Jensen paused, before grinning widely. "When me and Stel get married it's just gonna be one big party." John and Rob shared a glance. "Well, we’ll see if you stay true to your word when we come to it." John said simply, not knowing if it was drunken Jensen speaking or if his son was being serious about it. But Jensen's next comment left no room for doubt.

"We already talked about it. No fancy ass do just a simple set of I dos and a fuck load of fun." Jake stated seriously.

Rob shared another quick glance with John as he raised an eyebrow. "You two talked about it?"

"Yeah." Jensen nodded but then frowned, spotting the expression on his sister's boyfriend's face. "What's the issue?"

"What's the issue? For fucks sake, Jake. You're only twenty-one" Rob argued and Jensen was fast to cut him

"So what? When you know, you know Rob."

"And what can you possibly know at twenty-one?" Rob insisted.

Jake just shrugged, any possible concern on Rob's part falling on deaf ears, he just knew. "Never be another girl for me."

At that John decided to help his son out. "To be fair Rob, he's been in love with her for basically the last ten years. Was just too chicken to do anything about it until he was seventeen"

Rob snorted and shook his head as he raised his beer to Jake. "Cheers to that man. You're a goner." and then sipped from his bottle before continuing. "You wanna spend your life with Rey as a sister in law, be my guest."

Jake looked at him and then shrugged again. "Worth it."

"Well, I guess that speaks for itself." Rob finally conceded which put a big smile on Jensen's face before he made a confession.

"I'd ask her now but we got training to finish first, so..." and then Jake hiccuped before gulping down the rest of his beer.

When they all finished their drinks and another round was ordered the three men were in an inevitable semi-drunk state and, as was to be expected, started cracking jokes and, what was worse, singing out loud. After being told to quit their fourth rendition of ‘Oh, Christmas Tree!’ by the bar tender, they moved back to jokes, Rob and Jensen trying to out-do each other with the trusty old ‘Yo Momma jokes’.

Jensen nailed rob with the one about his momma being so stupid she stared at a cup of orange juice for twelve hours because it said concentrate, to which Rob responded that Jensen’s momma was so short you could see her feet on her driver’s license photo. They continued getting more and more insulting until Rob grinned and pointed his bottle at Jensen, smirking.

“Yo momma’s so ugly, she threw a boomerang and it refused to come back.”

"Hey!" John protested, suddenly zoning into the conversation, making the two younger men howl with laughter. He clutched his glass as he glared at Rob. "You're my least favourite son in law now, Danby." "I’m your only son in law John." "Yeah, and you're shit." John stated, tipping his bottle towards Rob, spilling a little of the pilsner he was drinking onto the bar surface. "I’ll tell Jane you said that." "Tell her whatever you want. I’m her favourite father." John shrugged, taking a large gulp of his beer. "As opposed to that other one who shows up on her birthday, Thanksgiving and Christmas?" Jensen quipped, grinning at his father. "What?" John asked, not understanding what shit his son was talking but then he realised what he had just said and snorted. "Oh God, I think I’m drunk. Your mother is so gonna kill me." "Just blame John. She can't shout at him." Jensen offered, trying to keep a straight face at his father's frown. "John? Who’s John?" Rob and Jensen started pissing themselves laughing at John's dumbfounded face. "John Jensen, best disgusting person." Jake shrugged. John frowned and suddenly realised "Oh, you mean me? Hey! Why am I disgusting?"

"Because we have pretty much finished our drinks, your lagging behind and you haven’t ordered a new round yet.” Jensen fired his shot.

"I bought the last one." John reminded his son.

"No, you didn’t. Rob did." Jensen quipped as he winked at Rob.

"Yeah, he's right John. I did." Rob played along.

John was about to tell them both to piss off as he wasn't that drunk when he spotted Stella and her friends entering the bar and decided to play his son, with his one and only weakness. "Tell you what. Whoever cracks a smile first buys the next round. If you can go for two minutes I’ll buy the next ones. Think you can keep a straight face boys?” he baited them. "You mean you want us to be grumpy like you old man?” Jensen arched an eyebrow as he hiccupped. “But it’s Christmas, what’s there to be grumpy about.”

"You chicken, Son?” John teased him and Rob whistled as Jensen stopped dead, his almost empty beer bottle poised at his mouth.

"You just call me a chicken?” he slammed the bottle down on the surface, wrinkling his nose as he waved his hand in the air “Whatever man, start the damned timer."

John did as told and put his phone at the centre of the table, so they could clearly see it counting upwards. The three men started looking at one another, examining each other’s faces for a flick of a smile as they tried to keep their own as straight as possible. And just as the two minutes were about to expire John tapped Jensen on his shoulder and nodded behind him.

Jake turned and just as he did a huge grin broke on his face as he spotted Stella, Then he realised, turning hastily to his dad with a groan. "Damned it!! You stitched me up."

John was already cackling as Rob banged on the bar, both men unable to hold back the tears of laughter.

"You know what, I don’t care. Here.” Jensen said as he slapped twenty bucks on the bar. "Imma go say hi to my Stelly." "Yeah, go Son. Say hi to your Stelly." John mocked him as he wiped the tears in his eyes. But before Jensen left, Rob nodded to the twenty bucks and looked at John.

“Another twenty say he doesn’t come back in the next fifteen minutes."

"You think it'll take him that long?" John scoffed, earning a glare from Jensen who then looked at Rob.

"You suck.” Jake hiccuped. "Talking about sucking, fifteen minutes Jake." Rob teased him, tapping at his wrist. "II only need ten.” Jensen shrugged.

At that Rob looked at John who shook his head with a smirk as he set the timer again. They then saw Jensen leave, crossing the room over to his girl.

As he approached, Jensen saw Stella's cheeks were pink most likely from a combination of alcohol and cold. As she spotted him, those cheeks raised showing off her dimples and her cute little nose wrinkled as she grinned hugely which Jensen loved. "Hi Jakey!"

"Hi, gorgeous." he greeted her back before kissing her and then grinned at her friends. "Ladies?"

They all murmured hi and Stella looked at him. "You gonna buy me a drink?"

"I’m buying you all a drink but you’re gonna have to help me bring them to the table, baby." Jensen offered, getting his plan rolling.

The girls all cheered Jensen and ‘complimented’ his sweater in return for the free drinks. "Jesus is my homeboy." he stated, seriously puffing out his chest causing Stella’s friends to laugh. "You’re so full of shit." she snorted.

"Rude, Stel."he narrowed his eyes playfully. "True." she admitted as she stood up patted Jesus's head. "Come on then, let's get these drinks. Be back in a moment girls."

"Yeah, sure." One of them spoke as the rest all giggled. "Don't make it too long guys."

Jake chuckled as he grabbed Stella’s hand and started leading her through the room.

"Jake, the bar is that way.” She started to protest. "Need a pit stop." He replied simply. "Right well you go pee and I'll meet you at the bar. Gimme your wallet." Stella ordered as she stopped in her tracks behind Jensen.

"Nope. You coming with me." he ignored her request, pulling her hand to keep her walking.

"What?"

Jensen didn't answer her but yanked her towards the men’s restroom. "Shhh..."

"I'm not going in there Jake!" Stella protested.

"All right. Ladies it is” Jensen quickly spun to the door next to the gent’s and Stella scoffed.

"Jake! No!" She stopped again and yanked on his arm hard enough to make him jerk back, turn and bump into her slightly. “What's up?” his hands fell to her hips as he began to walk them backwards into the ladies bathroom. As he pushed the door open he checked around to make sure they were alone and began to pull her further into the room, ignoring her protests. He dropped his head to whisper in her ear, stopping just outside an open cubicle “You losing your sense of adventure, baby?” he softly nipped at her neck and she shuddered “God, you’re a damn bastard, Jakey.” She whispered.

“Yeah but I’m your damn bastard, Stelly.” “Oh, shut up!” she mumbled, grabbing the front of his sweater and pulling him towards her for a ferocious kiss before she pushed him into the cubicle, his lips curling into a smirk against her mouth. Once inside he backed her up against the door, reaching round to lock it, before his large hands cupped her face, the kiss growing deeper as his tongue slid against hers, grazing the roof of her mouth as she fisted her hands in his sweater.

“Don’t pull Jesus’ hair too much.” He quipped and she grinned, her hands sliding up into his own short locks, giving a shark yank tipping his head back, bearing his neck to her.

“I’ll just pull yours instead.”

A low growl rumbled in his throat as his hand slid up her sweater, his leg moving forward as he planted his thigh in between hers. She let out a moan as he pushed up sharply, the harsh denim of both their jeans grinding on her spot. She was soaked already, and when his fingers started to undo the buttons of her pants she was relieved that he wasn’t wasting any time. He pulled them downwards and pulled off the boot on her left foot, allowing her to step one leg out of her jeans, freeing her legs slightly as he gripped her left thigh, hooking it over his hip. Planting one hand by the side of her head, his other shifted her panties to one side, and he grinned again, his lips hovering over hers.

“You know, for all your protests, you feel pretty ready, Darlin’”

“Shut up and fuck me Jake.” She mumbled as his lips caught the pulse point on her neck, her head banging against the cubicle door causing it to rattle as his fingers slid into her folds, one circling her clit.

“This what you want?” he asked, his breath was low.

“God, yes!” she muttered as his fingers picked up the pace. He inserted one inside, then another, and her head fell forward onto his shoulder as he curled it forward his digits forward against her spot, thumb circling her clit. Moving his other hand he slid it up her jumper and pulled down the cups of her bra freeing her breasts, gently rolling one nipple in between his fingers, his other hand still fucking her gently and she let out a gasp.

“Jakey for God’s Sake just fuck me already!” she repeated her demand and Jake grinned.

“I love it when you beg.”

“Prick.” She mumbled, as her hands flew to the buckle on his belt, opening it with a clink of metal before she easily undid his jeans, her fingers pushing them and his boxers down, allowing his hard cock to spring loose. Jensen hooked his hands under her knees and lifted her so her legs were round his waist, back pressed to the locked cubicle door. Once more he claimed her mouth with a heated kiss, swallowing the dirty groan she gave as he pushed into her.

Her walls gripped him with their familiar warmth and tightness and with a sigh he began to move, slowly at first, gently, her hands grasping at his shoulders as she tilted her hips towards him, her clit grinding against his pubic bone and it was then that one of the baubles on her jumper pinged loose and dropped to the floor with a soft chink.

“Shit.” She mumbled, but her word cut off as Jensen rotated his hips, pushing against her harder and she gasped as his hips quickened their pace, his ruts becoming deeper and faster. Soon the bathroom was filled with the filthy sound of skin on skin, moans and groans, punctuated by the odd soft clink as bauble after bauble worked itself free from Stella’s sweater. Her hands were everywhere-in his hair, up his back, under his top, nails biting at the skin as she hung onto him for dear life. Jensen continued to slam into her again and again, lips kissing down her jawline, neck, nipping and biting softly as he went.

“God I love you, Jakey” Stella gasped, her hands now on his face, bringing his mouth round to kiss hers again, the pads of her fingers digging into his short stubble.

“Love you too, my Stelly” he moaned into her mouth, the noise of the door behind continuing to rattle loudly as his pace didn’t falter in the slightest.

“Fuck…” she moaned, her nails sliding up into his hair and Jensen gave a gasp as he felt her tighten around him Her heels, one still wearing a boot, dug into his ass, her nails digging into his scalp as she groaned, her eyes wide. “Jakey, I’m…”

“You gonna come for me?” He asked as his mouth hovered over hers, eyes locked on hers, watching, and she nodded, a whimper escaping her throat, as her head banged back against the door.

“Shit, Jake, oh, oh…” and then her words and little noises died off, her mouth dropping open into a silent scream as she clamped around him, hard as her release took her away. Her entire body shook and Jensen gave a strangled groan that bubbled from the depths of this chest, and he clutched her to him, tightly, hips stuttering as he shuddered with the utter intensity of it all, before he too came hard with as surge that curled his toes.

Their chests heaved together as Stella clung to him, Jake’s head pressed into the crook of her shoulder as they both waited for the world to stop spinning around them. After a moment or two, Stella began to chuckle and Jake moved, pressing his forehead to hers, their noses bumping as he kissed her softly.

“You good?” he asked and she nodded.

“I am but I think poor Jesus will be scarred for life.” She grinned and Jake laughed, before he pulled out of her with a gentle sigh, setting her back on her feet. “Can we get that drink now?” she asked.

Jake laughed before he remembered what Rob and his dad had said to him and he quickly grabbed his phone, smirking.

9 minutes…

The memory faded away as Stella’s voice hit his ears and he turned to her “Sorry, what?”

She rolled her eyes. “I knew you weren't listening!”

“Sorry, was just thinking about that afternoon.” He grinned “Dad and Rob were highly amused we did the dirty with Jesus watching.”

“And whose fault was that?” Stella arched an eyebrow at him.

“I didn't hear you complaining. Well, not until after when you realised half the baubles were missing off your sweater.”

Stella snorted “My mom asked me what happened to it when we got back to yours. And your dad said…”

“Divine intervention!” they both spoke at the same time, laughing, only to be interrupted as Pooch walked into the office.

“Amen! What are you two up to?”

Stella wiped the tears of laughter from her eyes and looked round at him. “We were just looking at some photos and reminiscing.”

“Some photos?” Pooch asked as he approached Jensen’s desk. Jake turned the laptop for him to see and Pooch bent closer before he shook his head.

“Jensen, what the fuck are you wearing man?”

“Question should be who the fuck was I wearing Pooch.”

“Or why?” Pooch shot back and Jensen shrugged.

“It’s a Jensen-Stevenson family tradition buddy.” He leaned back in his chair, scratching his chest over his uniform. “Every year we have a dinner and a Secret Santa. Well, we used to anyway before...” at that he sat forward and cleared his throat, noticing Stella look away as he did so. He quickly recovered himself and smiled up at Pooch “Rule was the worst sweater won an extra prize.”

“Well you nailed it Jensen because frankly that is the ugliest sweater I have ever seen."

“You’re going to hell for saying that.” Jensen pointed at him.

“Yeah and we'll see him there after what poor Jesus saw that afternoon.” Stella snorted. Jensen smirked asas Pooch looked between them slightly confused.

“What do you...” he trailed off, groaning as he suddenly understood and then scoffed as they both started laughing again. “You guys are...were...” he pulled a face, “oh that’s nasty.”

“What’s nasty?” another voice spoke and all three of them turned to see Evan in the doorway. Jake shut his laptop violently, in a display of petulance more than anything. He was damned if he was letting that fucker into their private joke. Evan arched his eyebrow slightly before his attention turned to Stella as she explained.

“Oh we just found some old photos of us in horrific Christmas sweaters.”

“Found? On his laptop? By chance?” Evan’s tone was slightly accusing and Stella shrugged, missing the glare he shot at Jake.

“We were looking for something else and got side tracked.” Stella waved her hand “Anyway, what are you doing here? I thought you were in briefings till late?”

“I was but we finished earlier than expected and thought I could pick you up and maybe grab dinner at mine? I’ll cook.”

“Erm, sure.” Stella smiled “Sounds good.”

Pooch and Jensen exchanged a glance and Jensen merely rolled his eyes. Here she was again, backing out of a pre-arrange Losers social. But Jensen knew better than to raise that fact, certainly not in front of Evan.

As it happened though, Pooch didn’t.

“You not coming to the poker game then?” he asked and Stella blinked before she gave a groan.

“Shit. I forgot, erm…” she looked at Evan. “Roque’s organised a game.”

“Oh, okay.” Evan shrugged “I just thought we could spend the evening together. You never said anything about a poker game, Pumpkin, I wouldn’t have asked if I’d have known.”

At that Jensen rolled his eyes. The smell of bullshit was overwhelming.

“I must have forgotten.” Stella shrugged.

“Arty, you ain't been out with us for weeks.” Pooch pressed “Every time we organise something you’re busy. We got stag do planning to do!”

At that Jensen really did grimace given their earlier conversation. This wasn’t going to be pretty.

“I thought you weren't going to New York?” Evan spoke, his voice calm but Jensen spotted the nerve twitching in his jaw.

“What?” Pooch tuned to Stella and she groaned.

“Sorry.” Evan looked from her to Pooch, an innocent expression on his face and Jensen gripped the side of the desk firmly to stop himself doing something stupid. Like punching the fucker in the face “Did I put my foot in it?”

“What do you mean you're not coming?” Pooch completely ignored Evan, his eyes fixed on Stella as he waited for her to answer. She floundered for a moment, and Jensen sighed. He was torn, he felt sorry for Stella but on the other hand he really wanted Pooch to call her out and perhaps finally see what he had been saying for weeks- that Evan was a manipulative little shit.

“I haven't decided.” Stella shrugged, her voice quiet “I don't know what I'm doing.”

“You haven’t decided? What’s there to decide?” Pooch continued “You said you were coming Arty, I was counting you in”

“I know. I'm sorry, I just-“

“This is my fault.” Evan jumped in. “I'm busy for the week after helping my Aunt move house and I suggested we do something that weekend as we won't see each other. I booked us a hotel in Boston.”

“You did?” Stella frowned and Evan nodded before he took a deep breath and shook his head.

“I didn't know the dates clashed.”

“Sure you didn’t.” Jake mumbled to himself, turning back to the monitor which now showed nothing but the screensaver which was a picture of him, Stella and Gracie at her soccer game they had attended back home last year. Still, he pretended to be busy as Pooch and Evan stared at one another before Pooch shrugged, taking a deep breath.

“Whatever man.”

“I’m sorry Pooch I…” Stella started again and Pooch cut her off.

“No Arty, I’m the one who’s sorry.” His usually jovial tone was cold and Jensen saw Stella’s shoulders slump in the corner of his eye and wanted nothing more than to give her a hug.

“I think I’m gonna skip poker tonight.” She spoke softly and Jensen’s head whipped round to face her full on.

“What?”

“I’ll let Roque know you’re dropping out.” Pooch cut in.

“Are you sure, sweetheart?” Evan looked at her “I don't mind if you wanna go, we can do something tomorrow instead.”

This time Jake’s scoff was loud enough for all three of them to hear and Evan turned to glare at him. Jensen held his stare, his hands clenching into fists under the table. He was just about ready to explode.

“Yeah, I’m sure. It’s fine.” Stella stood up “I’ll see you both later.”

With that she grabbed her jacket and left the room, Evan behind her, his hand planted in the small of her back. Pooch and Jake exchanged a glance, watching her go before Pooch crossed the room and closed the door, turning to Jensen.

“Dude. She’s not coming on my bachelor party? What the fuck?”

“I told you the guy is a manipulative bastard.” Jensen grit through his teeth. “She told me earlier she didn’t know if she could make it as he wanted to spend the weekend with her. He’s doing it deliberately to keep her away from me, or us, whatever.” He sighed, “And I’d bet my last dollar that, despite what she says, she’s offhandedly mentioned something about poker tonight and he’s shown up here now, on purpose, to guilt trip her into not going.” His fingers traced his goatee. “I don’t know what to do, Pooch.

“I tell you what I do know.” Pooch looked at Jensen. “We need to get rid of him. He has got to go, man!”

Jensen blinked, and then a broad grin spread across his face as Pooch’s words registered. Finally, he had an accomplice, someone else who had seen Shithead for what he was.

A shithead.

“Welcome aboard, Pooch.” Jensen leaned back in his chair, arms folded behind his head “Welcome aboard.”

**** Chapter 7 Part 1

#too loose and you'll lose it #jake jensen x ofc #jake jensen x original female character #jake jensen #ssholidaychallenge #the losers

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shibarirobot · 4 years ago

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Aizawa fic - CH 5 - Entrapment

18+ ONLY! SFW (for now)

Shouta Aizawa x Villian!OC/Reader(?)

CH1

CH4

Okay this chapter kinda fucked me up. I got very emo while writing this lmfaoooo, but again sooooooo sorry that I’m so inconsistent, I care about this story and I want it to actually be good before I post ((also I have the shittiest laptop on the face of the planet so I can barely use it)) more like I just dont have the patience to deal with it XD, mais oui! le chapter is done! Please enjoy! x

The chair I’m strapped to is stiff and uncomfortable at my back. I haven't been able to move for awhile and it’s driving me fucking insane. My back aches, my thighs are sore, I can literally feel my pelvic bone, not to even mention the cracked rib still throbbing and I’ve started to remember the broken nose I gave myself. It’s hard enough to keep my head on straight, I can’t really seem to focus on the questions I’m being asked, let alone my answers. I’ve been here for hours, maybe days. I have no clue. I have absolutely no fucking clue. This dumbass, Detective Aiko just comes and goes, sometimes followed by a short man with a clipboard and glasses. He just asks a few questions and leaves, I’ve lost track of how many times he’s entered and left as quickly as he comes. This time he comes in dragging another metal chair and flips it around on the other side of the table, sitting on it backwards, like he thinks he’s fucking cool or something. He’s large, I’ll give him that. His thighs swallow up the chair easily and I’m surprised he can actually sit on the thing.

I look at him with my tired eyes. We’ve been at this too long, I’m so fucking tired and I can hardly hold his eye contact. My lips are so unbearably chapped they feel like they might split open at any moment, they might have actually, I can taste iron. I’m parched. My mouth feels like it’s full of cotton. I’m about to crack, I can feel it. “Water.” My voice is tiny at this point, crackly from the dehydration. “I need water.” My eyes start to sag and I press forward slightly, straining against the straps on my torso, skin raw beneath them after so much of my writhing.

Detective Aiko blinks at me from across the table and reaches into his back pocket, pulling out a pack of cigarettes. He easily taps one forward and plucks it from the box between his lips. I can tell it’s a practiced movement, he does it without thinking. His habit has become muscle memory. He shoves the pack into his pocket again and retrieves a zippo lighter. If I was more conscious I probably would have rolled my eyes, if it didn’t feel like they might fall out of my head if I did. Of course he has a zippo, ugh. It’s like he learned how to be a cop from watching cheesy cop movies. He flicks it open and closed in a split second and the cigarette is lit. He takes a deep breath, sucking down the entire thing, inhaling so deeply that his chest puffs and swells almost double. He holds that breath for a long moment, releasing it slowly. I expect the smell of burnt tobacco, but there is none. The smoke pours from his nostrils in thick swirls, but it dissipates quickly, without a single trace that it had once been there.

I can see his eyes go glassy from the nicotine high, his shrouded eyes have barely left me. He stares at me like I’m a caged panther; cunning, dangerous, volatile. All things I might have been if I could possibly think straight. “You’ll get your water after you cooperate.” He shifts in the chair slightly, flicking the used cigarette butt to the side. It falls to the ground unceremoniously and I can only imagine how often he flings those things haphazardly and how many thousands he has personally littered into our environment. I’m instantly seething again. A moment ago, I had no capacity for anything really, and now I’m filled head to toe with rage towards this stupid fucking cop. This man withholding my fucking water, my fucking life source.

The thought that he’s actually killing me passes and I pull at the cuffs around my wrists. “Fucking water.” The chains scrape across the table and I can feel the blood on my mouth, my lips have definitely cracked in multiple spots, blood pooling between my teeth. “I fucking need water!” Now I’m just shaking the chains, trying to make enough noise to get him to give in, annoy him into submission. “Water!” His eyebrow twitches, he seemingly has a very short tolerance for my behavior now, no longer amused by my sass and antics.

He quickly rises from the chair and kicks it to the side, it goes clattering against the wall and loudly falls to the ground, tipped on its side. The sudden jolt silences me and the room is tense with the lack of sound. “Who do you work for?!” He yells at me, full chested. The same question Eraser Head asked me in the alley. Where my allegiances lie. There’s another moment of silence before I bust into intense, manic laughter. They still really think I work for someone?

My throat threatens to give out on me, but I can’t control the laughter. “Me, motherfucker!” I shout back, only not as full, my voice is dying quickly, my laughter soon falling with it, replaced by a hacking cough that I’m pretty sure just shredded the dry skin inside my very dry throat. That doesn’t really seem to satisfy him though. He just grunts and picks the chair back up, setting it upright, but not sitting down in it like before. He just stands there, so tall and trying to be intimidating.

He crosses his arms over his chest and scoffs at me just once. “So we’re gonna keep playing this game, huh?” He pulls out another cigarette and huffs it down just as quickly as the first, barely even savoring the drag. His eyes close and he shrugs. “I guess you don’t want that water.” He quickly strides out of the room, leaving me alone and tortured. I can’t move, my body is giving out, I can’t speak because of my hoarse, abused throat, I can’t do anything at all, but sit here. My mind flashes back to when I felt this way before, tied to a dining chair in front of my drunk birther. My eyes start to water and I am amazed that I even have the moisture left in my body to cry. The parallels are too similar and I can feel myself reverting back, the whimpering that’s beginning in the back of my throat. A couple tears start to fall and I’m slowly slipping into that mindset when I hear the door open again.

I try my best to harden my face, trying to mask the depravity that I had just been wallowing in, refusing to make eye contact with Detective Aiko as he rounds the table again and sits in that chair. He sets something on the table and I’m surprised when I look up, to see Eraser Head sitting in that chair across from me instead. There’s a water bottle on the table and I honestly have nothing to say. I’m overwhelmed by this change of events and the tears come faster now, silently streaming down my face. I feel so vulnerable and this man that I have only prodded and teased is the one here to help me. It’s like the universe is laughing at me, it feels like a trick, but one I’m knowingly and willingly letting myself fall into. I suck in a deep breath, hoping he won’t say anything about my tears. “They haven’t cleaned you up at all, have they?” His voice is low, but he honestly sounds concerned. I lamely shake my head, unable to tell him that I’ve been sitting strapped to this chair since the moment he left. He grunts shortly then stands, slowly grabbing the water bottle and cracking the lid open.

My tears lessen as I watch him, he’s looking at me like I’m a wounded animal and deep down I can’t blame him. All I’ve done since meeting him is lash out and hurt him. In spite of all that he reaches out to me slowly, the cold water bottle in one hand, the other gingerly gripping the side of my neck and tilting my head back. I look at him hesitantly. I’m just supposed to let him pour water into my mouth? That feels too weird, and intimate, and needy, but I can’t really pour the water into my own mouth, so I part my lips for him. He gently presses the rim of the water bottle onto my bottom lip, easing the cold, fresh water onto my sandpaper tongue. His fingertips graze the skin on my neck as the pad of his thumb softly wipes away my tears. It’s so gentle and intimate that I can’t help but cry harder. I’ve never felt such a sincere caress and it’s like my heart is breaking into a million pieces, astounded by the tenderness that I haven’t allowed myself to even realize I was missing. The silent resentment falling away for a moment and letting something new replace it. Adoration? Sympathy? Genuine gratitude?

I take in this new feeling hesitantly as I try to gulp down the water as quickly as he’s pouring it into my mouth. I relish in the feeling of the cool liquid on my tongue and into the back of my throat, soothing the burning I had endured for so long. The tears continue to fall even after the water bottle is empty and I realize his hand is still gently stroking my cheek in an attempt to calm my tears. He tosses the empty water bottle aside and peers down at me. I stare back up at him, my eyes starting to puff up from the tears I had just shed, cloudy with the residual moisture on my lashes. He’s even more beautiful now than ever before, caring for me so tenderly, and I think I understand now. I love him. I must love him. The way I was drawn to him before, it all makes sense. I’ve never felt anything like this before, no one has ever given me even a sliver of a second thought, but here he is. This man I don’t even know caring for a tortured criminal that’s done nothing, but awful things. It must be love. It must be... something at least.

I realize the moment’s been too long and I turn my gaze away, squeezing my eyes shut. I can’t help but feel embarrassed. Here he is helping me, giving me the water I so desperately needed and I can’t even choke out a ‘thank you’. Should I? Would he want me to? His hand falls away and I hear him start to shuffle to the door. Dammit. I’m breathing heavy, trying to catch my breath from the way I gulped down water like a dying horse. “I’m going to get a first aid kit.” I almost don’t hear him, but my eyes snap open. He’s coming back? To help me even more? Eraser Head is… going to tend my wounds… that I got fighting… HIM. This is all so bizarre and my head spins a little, but I can’t help the trace of a grin that tugs on my lips and the slight twinge of heat in my cheek.

I hear that knock on the door again, but before it opens I mumble out a small, drained. “Thank you.” My throat is still destroyed, but it’s enough that I hope he heard me. I guess I’ll never know if he did or even cared because the door opens and closes with no acknowledgment that I had said anything. Once again, I am left by myself, in this too bright room, strapped to a metal chair. As I sit here, it’s hard not to fall back into my miserable thoughts. Self loathing and what if’s come easily. What if that really was a trick? What if he’s never coming back? What if I just imagined the whole thing? What if he’s disgusted by me and just taking pity? I internally cringe at myself. That one is probably closest to the truth. He thinks of me like a charity case, someone who can’t help themselves. He’s a hero after all, that good ole savior complex will always rear it’s big, nasty head at some point. He’s helping me to make himself feel better, not to make me feel better. I sneer at myself. I almost fell into his trap, but no. I’m better than that. I was almost that dumb cunt I used to be, trusting people, needing others help. Fuck no. I promised myself I would never be that person again. I’m better now.

But then the indignation fades and all I’m left with is the reality of the situation. I do need his help. I’m broken and bleeding, strapped to a chair in an interrogation room. I start to cry again. It’s not a heavy cry, just one that makes you realize so much in such a short period of time. I cry as I realize I do need help. I need more help now than I’ve ever needed before. I’ve probably needed help this entire time and refused to see it, refused to ask for it. Asking for help never seemed like an option, it seemed like a burden. Yet, Eraser Head isn’t even offering me help, he’s giving it. Willingly. Of his own accord.

I continue to struggle with my thoughts on the situation far longer than I would deem necessary before I admit to myself it doesn’t matter because he’s simply not coming back. It’s been too long for him to have actually been going to get a first aid kit. He’s gone forever now. Poof. Might as well stop thinking about him. I can’t though. Can’t stop thinking about his perfect face, the way he touched my neck, the tenor of his voice, the scruff on his chin, the scar under his eye, the heat of his body behind mine. It all sends a thrill through me, but more than that, just a deep sense of longing. I yearn for him. I just want him to come back to me, I don’t care if he has the first aid kit he left for or not. I just want him to be present with me because everything just hurts less when he’s here. The open wounds mean nothing when he’s here. He’s the only reason any of my pain has ever been eased. I need him. I love him.

I start to allow fresh tears to fall, but my eyes are already welded shut from the fat tears I had shed earlier, too heavy to open and crusted over with dried tears because I still can’t wipe my eyes. The new ones gently come and allow me to crack open my eyes just slightly. I’m honestly on the brink of exhaustion, but my body has miraculously found a way to push forward. I’m taking a deep breath, trying to re-center myself. Get a grip on reality. Stretch my fingers and toes, get some feeling back in my aching body, crack my neck as best as I can. It’s not much, but it helps. I’m the only one that can do anything for me now. I start trying to survey the room to a closer extent than I had before, but honestly it’s still the same, too bright, all white room. I guess I can see a vent in the top right corner, but it’s too small for me to even think about escaping from. Not to mention, I can’t see a camera, so it must be in the corner behind me, watching, recording my every move. I grumble. There’s also the two way mirror, that I assume has had at least three people on the other side of it at all times. I’m completely under thumb.

I sigh, there’s not much I can do in this situation, and this dumb collar is still canceling my quirk. I’m chained up and defenseless. Fucking great. The door scrapes open again and I startled to see Eraser Head quickly invade the room, that wild look in his eyes again. The tips of his hair are flicking back and forth angrily, but not like it was before when he was erasing my quirk, more like… he’s just worked up. He’s breathing deeply, standing up straight and crossing his arms, a full 180 from his calm, gentle demeanor he had earlier. He’s actually quite intimidating like this and I start to shrink into myself, not knowing why his mood has changed. I didn’t do anything. He looks to the door and reaches out to flick his wrist in a ‘get the fuck over here’ motion. Detective Aiko comes into the room and unlocks my cuffs, releasing my arms from the table. He seems reluctant and I’m insanely confused by this sudden turn of events. My eyes are wide and I look to Eraser Head again, confusion evident on my twisted up face. “I’m taking you to the hospital. The collar will stay on and I will cuff you down when we get there.” He says it all so blankly and I’m even more confused that I was before he answered.

Detective Aiko doesn’t look up, he just grumbles out a gruff, ‘bad fucking idea’ before moving onto the straps at my torso, allowing me to pull away from the chair just a little bit. I struggle to force my muscles to keep myself upright, wanting to slump over and crumple to the floor. He undoes the one at my lap and I barely feel it because my entire bottom half has gone numb at this point. He lowers down further and unlocks the cuffs at my ankles, fully freeing me from the chair. I’m immediately elated to be liberated once again, getting overzealous and springing from the chair. Blood rushes to my head and my numb legs remind me how bad of an idea that is because I tip forward, falling into the metal table, the wind knocked from my lungs. I let out a wheeze and feel strong hands pull me back up onto my feet from my shoulders.

Eraser Head wraps an arm around my waist, pulling me flush to his hip to support my weight. I can feel his hero muscles swell as he pulls me off the table, shifting so we can shuffle towards the door. I’m still dazed and weak, trying to work with his movements instead of against them, but my legs can barely hold myself up and he ends up dragging me along with him more than anything else. My head is right next to his shoulder, tucked tight to his body and I press myself closer, nuzzling my cheek onto his collarbone. He feels so good against me. I’m so woozy, I feel like I’m dreaming. This all could be a mirage, I am dehydrated as hell. But it feels so real and so good that I just submit to it immediately. I press even further, trying to get up to his neck. Trying to be closer. The moment crashes around me in an instant as cuffs fall around my wrists. Damn. It’s Detective Aiko standing behind me, cuffing my wrists together and ruining the moment I was just having with Eraser. I glare up at him and he just ignores me, squeezing the cuffs tighter, too tight. I yelp, but he just looks over to Eraser Head like, ‘Really?’. Eraser grunts and holds his hand out for the key, he still has that wild look in his eye and I realize now that it’s pointed at Detective Aiko. HE’s in the doghouse, not me. Well, I am still arrested, but it doesn’t really feel like it when Eraser Head is personally escorting me to the ER, cuffs or no cuffs. Detective Aiko drops the key into his outstretched hand with an eyeroll.

Eraser Head spins me around, so I’m facing forward. My head is still dizzy, but my legs are starting to get some feeling back and I’m able to stand on my own now, even if I am a bit wobbly. He pulls me close to him again, gripping my bicep with one hand and supporting my weight with a hand on my hip. He’s taller than I remember him being. Glancing over my shoulder, I have to look up at him. His jaw is set, clenched with the anger he’s trying to hold back, silently seething. He’s still eyeing Detective Aiko with a menacing nature, I know his quirk is eye related, but it seems he also has a natural affinity for staring anyways. I watch him tuck the key into his front pocket, then grip my arm again, his hands are so large. I gulp, now realizing my ass is basically pressed up to his hip. He’s still taller than me, it's more like his thigh, but that doesn’t change the fact that my ass is on this man. My mind goes crazy as he holds me there, having some kind of stare down with Aiko. Neither of them has moved, but after a moment the detective shifts back with a grumble. Eraser Head grunts and guides me forward, supporting me as we exit the interrogation room.

Eyes follow us as Eraser Head leads me out of the room and down the hall. The receptionist at the front desk gasps when she sees me walking (semi) free. I can tell they all know who I am. I can tell they’re all scared of me. I don't need my quirk for that. I take advantage of the tense scene before me and grin, lurching forward at the woman sitting at the desk. Eraser Head is still gripping me firmly, so I don’t make it very far before he yanks me back to his body, but I do make it far enough to scare that bitch gawking at me. She screams and drops the phone receiver in her hand, stumbling backwards. I didn’t really expect such a dramatic reaction, did she really think I was gonna rip her head off or something? I’m fucking handcuffed… and doesn’t she fucking work at the police station? She should be used to this by now, why is she so fucking scared? Dramatic bitch.

Eraser Head pushes me forward, obviously still riled up from previous events. I stumble forward a bit, but his grip on me is so firm I couldn’t fall if I wanted to. We continue walking through the waiting lobby, until we reach two large glass doors. Outside the doors, it’s day time, probably late afternoon by the look of the sunlight. I take a deep breath, ready to take a step out those doors, ready to leave this awful fucking place, full of these awful fucking people. Eraser presses the handicap button and the door swinging open, the air is warm as we step out and it’s a little joy in this shitty situation that I bask in for a moment. When we step onto the sidewalk, I look up at Eraser Head. This protective stance, the hand on my hip, if I just ignore the handcuffs it’s like we’re a couple on a stroll. I smile up at him, thinking about how sweet he looks with his hair catching the late afternoon light. It’s golden hour and it settles on him nicely, highlighting his stark features. His eyes flick down to me and an expression of genuine surprise passes his face for a split second. He looks away quickly, a blush coating his cheeks, but his face returns to its stoic default.

We continue like this for a moment until we come up on his vehicle. I’m not sure what I expected, but a small wave of sadness washes over me as he opens the rear door, shoving me into the backseat. I didn’t really think he would put me in the front with him, but this feels so… impersonal. I guess that’s what we are. Impersonal. I mean, I don’t even know his last name. I slouch into the black leather of the car and pout to myself, feeling defeated. Eraser Head buckles me into the seat, leaning over me with his whole, big body. Heat floods my stomach and suddenly I’m feeling something… else. I huff, breathing in his scent, I can still smell the bergamot on him, but the other scent on him still eludes me. It’s sweet and musky, almost earthy. He pulls away before I can breathe in again, shutting the door on me, boxing me into this car alone again. He’s in the driver’s seat about 4 seconds later, but the silence of being alone again still stands out to me. I shake my head, and try to focus on the sounds of the car as he roars the engine to life and pulls out of the parking lot.

Thank you for reading! :)

I love reading yall’s comments so please leave a note for me! (see that double entendre hehe im so smart)

but seriously, thanks for the love and the followers especially for only one fic

(also I hope u all can tell how much I fucking despise the cops for this chapter)

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