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masochistkatsuki · 18 days ago

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Team Player : How to Fuck your Friend Group 101

Pt One → Masterlist

When you're tasked with having sex with every person in your friend group, the friend who put you up to it isn't excluded either. With Mina Ashido, you either go big or go home. It's a life or death (dealing with your friends stupid flirting) situation, and only you can stop it !

Luckily for you, she's your best friend, which means you can have some fun and figure out your next moves on everyone else.

See, now, there are some 'odd' aspects of your friend group. You often found yourself stuck on whether the dynamics in-between members were normal. You'd seen a lot of people who were completely comfortable, content with being physically intimate while having a full understanding of the platonic relationship.

On the other hand, so many people criticized or didn't understand it all. A lot of people could never imagine doing that with their friends. Its not exactly fitting under that definition, is it ? As soon as you crossed that line, you were in-between being friends and something romantic.

So, you never really knew what to think of those moments where you stood on the line of okay and not okay. Everyone in the group had kissed all the others at least once-- stuff like that was just.. regular. The insult gay or skank lost all meaning by your third year. You all were close in a way that was extreme for most highschool friend groups, but even so, the only actual romantic development was between Mina and Kirishima. Right ?

A part of you felt like there was something there, but it was unreachable in your mind. It was stuck to the tip of your tongue, like the perfect word for a situation, but one you just couldn't remember.

It was a mystery you were determined to solve in your Third Year. You weren't one of the top students for nothing.

You'd been scouted by the Public Safety Commission in your last year of junior high, something only Mina knew. Ironically, this led to your first "encounter" with her. If fucking your friends was a course, you learnt Minas lesson first.

It was your second year, and Class 1-A got their hands on alcohol for the first time. By the end of the night, just about everyone was wasted. Of course the class reps stayed sober, and a few people stayed responsible. But the culprits of planning the party, Bakugous friend group, were all fucked up. Especially the classes notorious party girls : Mina, you, and Jirou (who was more dragged into this by extension but still)

You and Mina set her to bed after wiping down her makeup and leaving water and a few ibuprofen pills on her bedside table. From there, you two figured youd ride down the intoxication with a movie in your room.

This turned to you two sharing secrets, past stories, and overall character traits. Highschool drunk bonding really is like no other bond. It was a big part of you two becoming the closest friend duo in the class. You two had calmed down enough to remember what was going on, but the ongoing buzz made the air around you two hotter than it probably would've been.

Still tipsy, you told her your biggest secrets. One, you were in special commission training in order to secure a spot in public safety after graduation.. totally not an insane accomplishment and huge breach of contract to say.. But more important..!

"I think I like girls too.."

The pink hair and skinned girl looked up at you, instead of surprised, or shocked, she only seemed confused. "Girl.. are you just now..?" How did you just drop that insane bomb then act timid about a glass closet ?

"Hey !! What's that supposed to mean ?" You pulled away from where you were resting on top of her before, growing embarrassed.

"Nonono, dont worry !" She pulled you back onto her, "im sorry, I didnt mean to make you uncomfortable." She rubbed softly at your waist. Gentle and soft, something you always loved about her. Its probably why she so easily could coax this information from you.

"Its okay" You brushed the messy pastel fluffs from her eyes, looking straight into them. You had an idea, you just needed to ease the tension in. You knew you were both already feeling it. "You wanted to know more about the Public Safety Commission processes and procedures.. why don't we combine the two ?"

Sharp teeth biting into your neck pulled you out of your thought process. "Minaaa" You sang, finally willing to commit to her challenge.

She looked down at you, "Ohh, you have something in mind, don't you ?" She smiled, she often had to be in charge of people, especially the idiots. You were one of the few people who let others relax as you took a calm control over things. It was something not just she, but everyone liked about you.

You and Mina were two sides of the same coin, similar in a concerning amount of ways, but contrasting like complimentary colors. You two understood the other's wants and desires more than anyone else. If anyone was going to pleasure either of the girls, they knew it'd be their best friend.

It's times like these, when you're practically practicing for your future job, but also stripping Minas leopard tank top from her chest, panting a hot breath over her skin, you wonder if your love for girls and everything about them began with her.

Goosebumps rise across the expansive area, her nipples beginning to harden just slightly. You sigh, "You're so pretty, Mina." You bite softly at her underboob, trailing your tongue towards her sternum.

"I know" She giggled, light and airy. Pulling your hand towards her bright pink dolphin shorts. Throughout the fabric, you felt her wetted lips cling to the cloth, creating a perfect mold of it against your fingers, when you havent even taken anything down there off. "I think I'm ready.."

You smiled, proud you could get such a pretty girl going so fast. Perfect. "Mina Ashido" You spoke softly, but sternly.

She looked up at you giggling, "This is my favorite part !" You held back a smile, as much as she loved these stupid roleplays, she never took them too seriously either. It helped, honestly. Youd probably get embarrassed acting all serious for too long.

You grinned wider, "You have one chance to provide the information needed." adding pressure to the inner area, rubbing softly through the fabric to start a slow, teasing pace. Her head fell back slightly, and while she had bitten her lip to avoid being too loud too quick, a content sigh gave away that you were on the right track. "Or the Public Safety Commission will have to deal with you personally."

She bucked her hips into your palm, grinding steadily against it. The moist fabric and further secreting liquid soaked into your skin. How cute. "Please, just get to it already !!" She whined, but still mischievously flashed her teeth at you.

"Ah, ah" You scolded, though in a joking tone. You pressed your hand against her, giving her the pleasure she began to beg for, but holding her in place. "What was this about flattering comments ?"

"Oooh, so you're actually going to do it ?" She looked pleased, but also kinda shocked. "Youre so amazing~" She teased, though you knew she genuinely meant it, "Im so happy we have someone who'd do anything to protect the public's safety !" Okay now she was trying to rile you up.

You slid your fingers through the shorts and under her panties, resting your middle and pointer fingertips against the hood of her clit. Not enough to do anything serious, but the light touches were going to break her down eventually.

"Lets start." You looked at her, asking if she wanted to continue, not just the physical intimacy but overall conversation. She smiled at you, aegyo sal growing plump under her eyes.

"Sounds good, (Hero Name)." You smirked. You couldnt lie, it was pleasing how into this Mina would get.

"So who from the list is the easiest to start with ?" Your fingers started to slowly circle around where she wanted it, occasionally brushing over it when you were pushing your fingers up left.

Me, obviously, she thought, but her words got caught in her throat. "Mm.. its.." Her legs trembled a bit, spreading out.

'Jesus Mina. You really need to fuck.' You slowed your movements, and placed your spare hand on her thigh, bringing her back to where she was. "Eijirou..", She moaned, voice a little too sensual while saying his name.

You were still quite shocked that she wanted you to actually fuck him as well. In you, her, and Jirous personal group chat, the topic of Mina keeping him in her basement was one of the most recurring conversations. "And how's that ? Be specific, Ashido."

Itd been such a long time since anyone used her last name, in the right context, it could feel like it was someone calling out her given name for the first time. "O..oh.." Her head tilted back. Between her tension with Kirishima, and intense work studies, you doubted shes had the time to herself. You could tell she was more sensitive than usual. "Hes.. real inexperienced.." She sighed, hips bucking slightly as you began to steadily quicken the pace again.

You thought back. There wasn't really a lot to be said about Kirishima. He was a sweet boy, got really hard easily.. unsurprisingly. You tried to come up with anything that could help. He was relentlessly respectful, and of course chivalrous. It's easy to forget hes just a man too.

"Sooo," you began, genuinely curious on how shed answer this next question. "If hes the easiest, why haven't you done anything ?" You began to make the circles smaller, enclosing directly to where she was the most sensitive.

"I..im.." Her legs were beginning to close and open sporadically, she was getting close. "Only you know how to do this stuff to me.. I need you to teach him..!" Without warning, her legs finally snapped shut, and you locked your fingers in a tight spiral against her clit, letting her ride out her first orgasm.

Wow, is she that scared hes gonna suck ?

"Thats hot." You gasped, itd been a while since you got to see Mina like this. She truly was breathtaking. "So.. I think I understand Kirishima.. but I still think you should teach him yourself.." You had an idea of what you were going to do, but hoped Mina would just grow a pair.

"Its even hotter when they magically know." She sighed, a dreamy look on her face. Is this what happens when you read too much Tumblr smut ?

"Thats not.." You still can't believe this is happening. "Its another girl who taught him-"

"Don't worry I can pretend." Oh my god okay shes seriously not gonna fuck him until you do.

You sighed, a little proud of Mina for how fucking insane she could be. Your eyes trailed down her sweaty neck, towards her collar bones and bare chest. Hmm.

"Well," You continued, readjusting your hand so your middle and ring were prodding against her entrance. Your body leaned over hers, and in a familiar move from tonight, the vibrations from your voice rumbled softly on her shoulder. "Keep going, whos next ?"

"Denki-" You slid your fingers in, down to the second knuckle. Of course it was him. You began softly massaging around, relaxing her to the movement.

"Im holding off on him for as long as possible.." You grimaced. Kaminari was one of your best friends, dont yet anyone wrong, but.. well.. its HIM.

"Makes sense.." She sighed. He was definitely going to need the least convincing, but a lot of self motivation and convincing was needed.

It was an unspoken rule that more graphic sexual conversations happened between the guys specifically, and the girls specifically. It wasnt often that theyd seriously talk about it to each other, given the awkward teen hormones going on. The most that was shared was small incriminating details the other group would tease the person for, or things willingly shared during a truth or dare type thing.

But Denki fucking Kaminari. Public group chat, "just learned I have a mommy kink" "hear me out on lactation tho" It wasn't too surprising given he was also friends with Mineta, but goddamnit did he make it everyones problem. Also everyone in that group chat has seen that one specific picture of his dick. Unrelated probably.

"There's some things you should probably know.." Mina continued, whimpering a little as you began you fuck her softly with your fingers. "Hes real fucking stupid, obviously.." She gasped, your fingers getting closer and closer to her gspot. "But he knows a lot .. he probably has files on everyone's sexual preferences and feelings."

you groaned, sinking your teeth into her lower neck, sucking a purple bruise out of her pink skin. "Hes a fuckin psycho.." you lifted yourself up, and brought one of her thighs up to her chest as you deepened your thrusts. "Well.. whos next on our list, Mina ?" You pressed a kiss against the edge of her mouth, her voice finally breaking as breathy moans slipped from her lips.

"Fuck..fuck.. um.." Her eyes struggled to stay open, her legs felt numb from the overstimulation but her lower stomach felt so fucking good. Heat rose through her body as she whined louder and louder. "S-Sero.. Jirou is close after th-though.." Her face was an even brighter pink, a telltale sign of blush for the acid girl.

You slowed your thrusts, opting to grind your fingers against the opening muscles. "Wait.. wait fuck.. no dont stop.." she pleaded. She was definitely close, and the roleplay was beginning to get thrown out her mind.

"Its okay.." you hummed, picking your pace back up. "Just tell me real quick and ill let you cum Mina, okay ?" You smiled, and held her chin in place to make eye contact with you. "Is that okay ?" Your place was back on par with how she liked it.

"Yes yes yes.. oh fuck.. okay .. Sero is.." Her head tilted back, her legs spreading. "Hes the second closest to you, casual sex is easier than you think with him."

Your fingers began beating softly against the edge of her gummy pad. right where she would fall apart. Honestly, you knew she was right. You and Sero constantly would build up sexual tension from conversation or body language alone, it probably would've happened at some point anyway. "Okayy.. and.." You began rubbing circular around the spot, fully preparing to feel her coming around you any second. "What about Jirou ?"

Mina was panting, and struggling to get her words together even more. "J..j.. its.. haaahhh.." She was totally beginning to lose it. You quickened your pace, more interested in seeing her let go again than what she was going to say. Being in the girls group, you already knew most of Jirous sexual preferences anyway.

"Its okay, Mina." You finally fucked your fingers into her gspot dirrectly, using your other arm to lift both of her legs up to her chest, gaining a deep and quick angle. "You did good."

"Fuckfuckfuck oh my.. oh my g..god.." Her hips stuttered against your hold, her warm walls tightening and releasing rapidly against your fingers. "Yes.. fuck.." She had a fucked out smile, eyes fluttering closed contently.

You let her rest, and took your hand away to take care of her. While gathering the warm cloth and a bottle of water (with a lemon slice, she likes citrus after intense.. situations), you briefly reviewed what you knew about Jirou.

She's a lesbian, so you had an easy chance. The issue is she gets flustered easily, you wanted to make sure you didn't scare her away. There was also the Momo situation..

While cleaning up Mina, towling town her sweat and using the warm damp cloth to soak up the mess between her legs, you thought about everything you knew now.

Kirishima is probably similar to Mina, in need of releasing all the tension they've been teasing each other with. You have a good idea of how to relieve him, but also set him up with Ashido once and for all.

Denki is a whore. You'll probably have to out slut him in order to get him to talk. Its going to be a long night for him, taking some time to study the bdsm test wont hurt.

Sero's pretty laid back, if you're upfront about what's going on and why you're doing what you're doing, you know he'll be cool with it. Besides, this is one you're looking forward too.

Jirou might be a bit tricky. You'll let her know your intentions, and set up a personal hang out to just relax and ease into anything at her pace. You can also try and see whats going on with Yaoyorozu !

Oh.. and Katsuki.. Well. There's not really a point in thinking about him. You know nothing. Despite being the first two at the table, he kept everyone locked out of his romantic or sexual life completely, as far as you knew. As it concerned you, he didn't have anything going on. You didnt need to ask Mina about him, you knew he would be the hardest.

As you finished up, you looked back over to the clock. "We're thirty minutes late by the way." You held back a giggle, stuff like this always ended up happening.

"Fuck !" Now this one sounded way less pleased than before.

A/N : Not a lot of Bakugou development, sorry, i like girls more. next chapter should have more though !! speaking of

i think its pretty obvious the order that the characters will go in, but who do you think will be the next chapter focus ?

tag list (ask to be added) : @adv3rs1ty @icarusthefoolish @hyunjinshairband7 @waterfal-ling

#mha x reader #mha smut #mina x reader #mina smut #bakugou x reader #bakugou smut #sero x reader #sero smut #denki x reader #denki smut #kirishima x reader #kirishima smut #teamplayer

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straylightdream · 2 months ago

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don’t blame me

𝐟𝐞𝐚𝐭: xu minghao x stripper!f.reader

I would cross the line. I would waste my time. I would lose my mind. They say, "She's gone too far this time."

𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞: non-idol au, sugar daddy au

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: smut warning below.

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 2.2k

𝐚𝐧: inspired by the Taylor swift song of the same name Let me know if you’re interested in any other boys stories mentioned in this. You can also fill out this form helping me pick songs for the other boys. here. The rest or the boys stories will be in my svt m.list.

here is my SVT taglist if you’re interested being add please fill out this form.

𝐟𝐞𝐞𝐝𝐛𝐚𝐜𝐤 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐫𝐞𝐛𝐥𝐨𝐠 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐬 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐠𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐥𝐲 𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐜𝐢𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝 𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐦𝐲 𝐟𝐢𝐜𝐬.

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: unprotected sex (mc is on birth control), choking, lingerie kink, hand job, stripping for money, talks of exchanging sex for money. Body worship, slut shaming (not by minghao), possessive hao, pussy whipped hao, creampie, mention of getting someone pregnant, named: baby, daisy

Living him made you feel like you were going insane. He made you feel things no other man had ever made you feel before. Things with him were absolutely intoxicating. He pushed you to things out of your comfort zone.

You broke every rule you had ever had before you met Xu Minghao. The number one rule you broke was, never fall for a client. Stripping wasn’t something you had always planned on doing. It just fell into your lap when you were down on your luck and broke. Since you started taking your clothes off for money you don’t have to worry about things that used to make you lose sleep at night. You don’t have to worry about affording rent or putting food on the table. You’re able to fully support yourself. You’re good at your job and you know how to make men spend their money on you.

Everything you knew was flipped upside down when a beautiful man named Minghao paid for a private room. From the very first hello you knew you were fucked.

What should have been a one time thing turned into him being one of your regulars. After your first show with him he popped up the following week and from there he just kept coming back.

You weren’t the only one who felt a connection. Minghao often told you how fascinating he found you. He loved getting to talk to you. The first few times he visited you kept it very professional. After a while he would spend big money to get you in a private room just so he could talk. He loved learning things about you. He was one of the only people in the building who knew your real name. He didn’t know you as “Ivy” your stage name. It didn’t take long for your visit to turn into more than just talking. The first time you kissed you felt like butterflies were fluttering in your stomach.

Often you would find yourself sitting on his lap topless just making out. You had no problem kissing him and dry humping him until you thought you might go insane but you told him you couldn’t have sex with him at work. You refused to have sex with him if money is involved.

“Do you actually like me daisy girl?” He refused to call you ivy. He says you remind him more of a daisy.

“Minghao,” you sigh with your forehead resting against his.

“Is that a yes?” His hands run up and down your bare sides

“Obviously.” You pull back, giving him a smile.

“Go out with me.” You don’t say anything, you just stare at him. You want to date him so badly but you know your job will always complicate things.

“What happens if I say yes?”

“I wait until you’re off at two and then I take you out to eat.”

“Wouldn’t you prefer we go out one day when I haven't worked. I'm either going to be covered in stage makeup or I’m going to be bare faced.” You didn’t really feel like putting on a different face of makeup to go out tonight.

“Baby I think you’re beautiful anyway you look,” he leans in and presses his lips to yours again. “It doesn’t have to be tonight. When can you be off?”

“I make my own schedule. I don’t have to work any day I don’t want to.” You know Minghao is serious about you and he isn’t just trying to play a game.

He rested his hand on your cheek, “you can tell me no, but I want to ask you something.”

“Ask away,” you smile.

“How about I take you out tonight? We can just get a late night dinner. It will stay fully innocent, but if you enjoy my company you pack a bag and you stay with me for a little while.”

“How long?”

“As long as you want to stay.”

Things between you changed forever that night. You finished up your private room with Minghao at midnight and you agreed for him to pick you up after work. He said goodbye and told you he had a few things to do and after work he wasn’t lying when he said he would be waiting outback for you. You found him sitting in an extremely expensive black sports car.

The first dinner you shared was nice. It was wonderful getting to fully know Minghao outside of the club setting. Your night stayed fully innocent outside of a kiss goodnight outside your front door.

Things with you and Minghao drastically changed that night. You weren’t officially together but it was clear that you were his and he was yours. You took him up on his offer and took a week off of work and just stayed with him.

Your first night in his expensive penthouse was your first time you ever slept with him. Something about Minghao always made you assume he was dominant in bed and you weren’t exactly wrong, but he was much more gentle with you then you thought he would be. You quickly learned that he loves having you lingerie during sex. He bought you so much expensive lace for you to wear. His favorite is crotchless panties. He’s bought you many pairs. He asks for you to wear them whenever you can.

Your nights of the club have started slowly going down. It was rare before that you would work less than six days a week, but since you often started staying at Minghao’s house more often than your own you now only work two days a week.

Since things changed with you and Minghao he still comes in occasionally, but not as frequently as before. You feel guilty now when he pays for a private room. He won’t take no for an answer when you tell him he doesn’t have to pay for your time now.

Laying on his bed I’m nothing but a pair of black lace crotchless panties, you spread your legs wide exposing your already drenched pussy. “Touch yourself for me.” Silently you do as you say. “My daisy, what do I have to do to get you to quit your job?” He’s asked you this on multiple occasions but every time you tell him you can’t quit.

You slide your fingers through your wet folds. Rubbing your clit causing a soft moan to leave your lips. He stands at the edge of the bed still dressed in nothing but his dress pants watching you play with yourself.

“I need the money,” it’s not a lie. You’ve given yourself a very comfortable lifestyle by stripping.

“Let me take care of you baby,” he is intently watching you.

“I don’t exchange sex for money.”

“We wouldn’t be exchanging sex for money,” he says quickly.

“What would we be doing?” You pull your hands away from your wet core.

“I would be taking care of you and supporting you, and all I ask is for you to be open to falling in love.” He’s a fool if he doesn’t realize you’re already head over heels in love with him. It's been almost two months since you first got dinner together and you are indeed in love with him.

“Are you going to be my sugar daddy?” You’ve been tempted to try and find one in the past but you weren’t exactly keen on sleeping with an older man for money.

“I’m not an old man paying for your time. I’m thinking more of: I'm your boyfriend and I pay for you.”

“My boyfriend?” You arch your eyebrow at him.

“Do you not want something more with me than this game we seem to be playing?” You’re tired of whatever this is. You want to openly be able to love him.

“You better not break my heart.”

“I would never.” He unbuckles his pants and removes them and boxers leaving him standing at the foot of his bed fully naked.

“How are you going to explain to people your girlfriend is a slut?” You need to ask him. He needs to be prepared for what people will say about him being with you.

“Don’t call yourself that,” he says flatly. “You aren’t a slut, and I never want to hear you say that again.”

“What am I then?” He crawls over you. He pins your hands above your head.

“My daisy. You’re my daisy.” If you weren’t in love, you would be now. You’re speechless and don’t even know how to respond to him.

“I like the sound of that,” you whisper, leaning up.

He pulls away from you and sits back with his back against his expensive headboard. “Come here baby.”

You crawl over to him. Sitting on his thighs you start to pump his already hard dick. His lips slightly part as he inhaled little breaths. You've learned all the ways to make him fall apart. Focusing on the sensitive head that is already leaking precum. His hand massages your breast. He earns a moan when he tweaks your nipple.

“Have I told you I love you today?” he asked, finally speaking.

“I think so,” you can’t help but smile.

You continue pumping his length as his hands travel your body. One rest on your throat. He slowly applies pressure as you close your eyes. “I don’t want to share you with anyone else anymore.” Your eyes flutter open and you can tell how serious he is. “I want you to just be my daisy. Let me take care of you fully.” His hand still lingers on your throat, but no longer applying pressure.

“You’re gonna get bored of me. Men normally like the idea of me, but find me hard to love.” You last few relationships were disasters. Only one of them fully knew about your job, and the amount of time you would get into fights and he would call you a slut and throw your career in your face.

“You are not hard to love. I love you.” You often question what you did to deserve a man like Xu Minghao to love you.

“I love you too,” it’s rare you repeat those words back to him. You’re helplessly in love with him, but you still can’t be scare you’re going to get hurt. You’ve broke all your rules for him. Falling for him made you feel like you were going crazy, but that’s maybe how love is supposed to feel.

Without saying anything else you lift your hips. He realizes what you’re doing and helps slide his cock towards your welcoming pussy. Slowly you slide down his length. His hand still rests on your throat applying pressure every so often. One of your hands hold his jaw, keeping his looking right at you. You’re not normally rough with him, but you’re lost in a haze of desire.

“I only ever want to fuck you,” your moans are high pitched. “I don’t want anyone else.”

“I don’t want anyone to ever touch you,” his hand dips down between you and starts playing with your clit while you ride him. “I’m going to take care of you and I’m going to fuck you so good you can’t think straight.” You love when he gets like this.

“I’m so wet for you-“ you ride him like your life depends on it. His hand never leaves your throat continuously applying pressure.

Leaning back your hands rest on his thighs behind you. Moving your hips at a quick pace.

“Fuck-“ you moan.

“Your pussy was made for me,” he moans.

“Please kiss me,” you beg. Silently he accepts your plea. He pulls you closer to him by your throat. He releases his hold as your lips crash together.

“I wanna cum,” you whine with your lips ghosting his.

“Cum baby.”

Your orgasm washes over you with a blinding hot heat. Closing your eyes you lean forward and stop moving your hips. Minghao holds your hips and helps you continue to ride him while he chases his own high.

“Fuck-“ he moans as he paints your walls white. He doesn't think he has ever came that much in his life. If you weren’t on birth control he would be worried about getting you pregnant.

Pulling back slowly you sit up with him still snugly inside of you. The blissed expression on his face is absolutely beautiful. “I’ll quit stripping, but you have to promise me that you won’t break my heart.”

The smile that tugs at his lips makes your heart instantly swell. “I won’t ever break your heart.”

The two things you have learned about being in love is that sometimes you just have to trust the person who is in love with you. If you love someone sometimes it’s okay to break all your own rules.

@minghaosimp @kpoplover-19

#seventeen #seventeen x reader #seventeen smut #xu minghao x reader #xu minghao #xu minghao smut #minghao smut #minghao x reader #the 8 #the 8 x reader #the 8 smut #my writing #lwymmd #kpop smut #SVT smut #svt writing #seventeen writing #sugar daddy seventeen #sugar daddy minghao

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starkeyisthelastname · 6 months ago

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It’s Always Been You Chapter One

Okay.. so here is the first chapter of my first series. Things will get more exciting! Hope you loves enjoy! 🥰 Things are a little different in this universe and don’t necessarily follow the exact OBX plot line. Here is the back plot for anyone who missed!

Back Plot

Rafe is a total dick to other girls, you’ve been warned. 😅

Chapter One:

The girl below him, whose name he couldn’t remember, let out a loud moan as he shoved himself inside her entirely. He pressed her head down into the mattress, telling her to shut the fuck up. He closed his eyes, relishing in the feeling of her cunt as he tried to get a quick nut in that night. It had been a long work week, and tonight he needed a distraction from wanting to go out and get wasted. It was when he was mid stroke that his phone rang on the bedside table. He went to ignore it, but eyes glanced over the caller ID to see it read your name.

“Hey slut, listen to me. Don’t make a fuckin sound when I answer this..” Rafe spat, smacking the girl’s ass hard before sliding his thumb across the screen to answer.

You had plans to go out that night with some friends, but now we’re laying in bed with your makeup done, pajamas on as they had changed their minds, leaving you alone on a Saturday night. As you held your phone up to your ear, you heard the voice of your best friend answer after a few rings.

“What’s up?” He asked, hips not slowing down as he continued to thrust into the girl. “Club doesn’t sound too busy?” He laughed, hearing the sound of a tv in the background.

You were completely oblivious to Rafe having company, and if you did know then you would have probably shut yourself down tonight not wanting to think about all the girls he constantly was fucking that weren’t you. It was your own fault really, but he had been your best friend since before you two knew what that even meant. You couldn’t ruin your lifelong friendship by telling him you’d been in love with him since you both were teenagers.

“The girls changed their minds, don’t ask me why either because I don’t even know.” You laughed, as you were sure it had to do with one of them wanting to see their boyfriend instead. “But… can you come over? I’m bored… and can you bring food?” You asked with a soft giggle. It was when you heard a faint moan in the back, that your heart sank. That wasn’t his tv, and you knew it by the name Rafe being followed. “I-I’m sorry.. I didn’t know you were busy. Um.. just text me later.” You said, clearing your throat as the last thing you wanted was for him to hear the sad tone in your voice. It was best you hang up the call and quickly.

Rafe barely had time to respond, before the call ended. His thrusts completely came to a stop, no longer caring about his nut as he tossed his phone on the bedside table and pulled out. “Get your shit and get the fuck out of my house.” He said, voice cold as he grabbed his sweatpants from the floor. He hated himself for doing this. Meaningless hook ups to avoid how he felt about his best friend, and his anger only grew as he would have completely dropped this whiny bitch to go over to your place in a heart beat.

The girl sat on the bed, frown on her face as she watched Rafe pull the grey sweatpants over his toned hips and grabbed his vape off the dresser to take a hit of. “B- but, I didn’t cum.” She said with a pout, only to earn a mean laugh from the man that had been inside her the only moments before.

“I told you to the shut the fuck up when I was on the phone, think I care that you didn’t get to cum? Better be out of here by the time I get out of the bathroom.” Rafe said causally, walking towards his connected bathroom, not carrying that she mumbled asshole under her breath.

He was an asshole, always had been. That stemmed from some deeper issues that he didn’t talk about often. The only ones who knew about his mental health problems were his family and you, something no random girl would ever understand. He sighed, running a hand through his hair before slamming his fist on the marble counter of the sink. Why was he continuing this torture on himself? Why was he such a pussy about telling you how he felt?

You heard the beep of the alarm, signaling someone had unlocked the front door. There was only a few people who knew the code, your parents, Sarah, Wheezie and Rafe. Walking down the stairs of your townhome, you saw his tall figure stepping in quietly, a bag of food in his hand. You took a sigh, stepping onto the hardwood floor as you looked at him. You wanted to be mad at him, but you couldn’t. There was no reason to be. Right? He was just doing what Rafe Cameron did.

“What are you doing here? I thought you had your little girlfriend over.” You asked, trying to hide the obvious jealousy in your voice. Your fuzzy slippers glided over to where he stood, taking the food sack from him and turning around to head into the living room. You heard him chuckle behind you, but didn’t look back as you plopped yourself onto the couch.

“Not my fucking girlfriend.” Rafe snorted, throwing his keys on the coffee table. “You know I don’t do serious shit.” He said, collapsing down next to you as you pulled the food out from the bag. He didn’t do committed relationships as he was far too busy working at his father’s company, trying his best to become the man he needed to be. In an out of jail, high off blow and after nearly killing someone, he was trying to do right for the people he loved and more importantly himself. The only committed relationship he was willing to be in was with you, that was if he ever manned up enough to tell you.

As you unwrapped your food, you couldn’t help but feel your heart clench at that statement. For as long as you’d known Rafe he’d never dated anyone longer than a month. He was too selfish to be tied down and after everything he had went through during his coke fiend, you knew his focus was work and trying to stay clean. You just wondered if he would ever want anything serious when it came to you.

“And you really thought that bitch was important enough for me to skip coming to hang out with my best friend?” He asked, stealing a fry as he leaned back against the cushion.

Best friend.. and that’s all you would probably would ever be to him. You brushed the thought away, slapping his hand away as he started to reach for another fry. “Why didn’t you just get something if you planned on stealing my food?” You asked with a laugh as he pretended to look hurt that you slapped his hand.

Rafe always seemed to have a stick up his ass for the most part, a brooding look constantly on his handsome face. You knew it was hard for Rafe to let down the wall of being vulnerable, or even his funnier side. You felt lucky that you got to see the side of him that not a lot of people got to experience.

“I just wanted a couple, damn. It’s the least I can get for waiting in that long ass line for some damn chicken strips.” He scoffed, muttering about how the worker was an asshole anyway.

You rolled your eyes, taking a bite of one as he pulled his vape from the pocket of his hoodie to take a hit off. “Please tell me you aren’t gonna complain this much on family vacation.” You said, jokingly, meeting his blue eyes you loved so much as you looked up at him.

Blowing out the cloud of flavorful smoke, he rolled his own eyes before leaning his head back against the couch. “Don’t fucking remind me, that my dad picked fucking Disney World of all places.” He said with a grumble, shuddering at the idea of all the kids he was going to have to be around for 7 days.

It had been a tradition every summer for as long as you could remember that both of your families took a trip together. The first one of this year being Disney World, which you were excited for. Rafe on the other hand would rather go anywhere else than the happiest place on earth.

“Wheezie’s been begging to go for years and we’ve always gone elsewhere. Let your sister be happy.” You said, knowing the thirteen year old hardly got to choose anything that she wanted to do as she was the youngest out of everyone.

“She’s 13. Don’t you think she’s a little old for Mickey Mouse or some bullshit.” Rafe said, eyes traveling back to you. The way you looked so effortlessly beautiful, having washed your face free of makeup. Your hair on top of your head in a messy bun, and cute little set pink pajama set on that hugged those gorgeous curves. He wanted to groan, not only from the thought of leaving for Orlando in a few days but also that he wanted you more than anything he ever wanted in his life. Rafe pretty much got whatever his heart desired, except having you as his girl.

“You are never too old for Disney.” You told him, matter of factly as you continued to eat, completely clueless to the fact his cerulean eyes were bored into you as he watched you.

Rafe let out a small chuckle, shaking his head at the fact you and everyone else seemed to be thrilled about visiting a place he didn’t find so magical. “Are you that excited princess?” He asked, the nickname one you were used to but still felt butterflies when he said it.

Swallowing a bite, you looked up at him to meet his gaze with a nod to your head. Disney was the place where dreams came true and maybe there you would finally have the courage to tell your best friend that you were in love with him.

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hellishjoel · 1 year ago

Text

little black dress

10k / pairing: bartender!joel x f!reader

← masterlist

summary: You’re breaking things off with your douchebag situationship at one of your favorite little dive bars because lord knows you’re gonna need a drink or two. The bartender, Joel, is happy to offer his assistance.

warnings/information: MA 18+ (minors DNI), no outbreak, swearing, alcohol consumption, slight angst, toxic ex-boyfriend putting hands on you, dom!Joel, dirty talk, pet names, oral (f receiving), titty attention, unprotected p in v (wrap it up pls), I think that’s it!

A/N: I’ve held this in my vault for WEEKS. Thank you to @strang3lov3 and @macfrog for helping get this piece to completion! I quite literally couldn’t have done it without them and without their input and encouragement. Also -- this is my first 10k fic! how exciting!!

here's my masterlist!

**follow hellishfics and turn on notifications get updates on my fic postings**

Your breaths grow heavy with impatience, waiting to feel him. Him soaking up your slick wasn’t enough. He finally got the hint as your hips rutted back into this touch, hearing his hellish low chuckle at your desperation. “So-” your breath hitches as you feel his tip nudge in, “fuckin-” you clench your eyes closed as his first few inches break you in two, your jaw dropping, “tight.” He bottoms out in one swift thrust, filling you up to a level you didn’t even know you possessed. “Joel!” A broken cry unleashes from the depths of your throat, you didn’t need to see him to know how big he is. You can fucking feel every single inch of him.

You had never gotten dressed up for a breakup before.

As you looked yourself over in the mirror, you were reminded of what you discussed with your friends last night.

You felt a little on edge when you revealed to your friends over a girl’s night that you wanted to break up with your short-term boyfriend Chris. The relationship was only a couple of months old, but the guy was a douchebag. And you realized it too late.

“He was such a waste of your time.”

“Oh my god, he was an asshole to you.”

“Girl, I hope you do a revenge breakup on his sorry ass.”

“A revenge breakup?”

Ahh, yes. The revenge breakup. For wasting your time, efforts, and emotions on Chris, you deserved to have a little fun in the form of revenge. You’d put on your favorite little black dress, do your hair and your makeup, wear a red lip, and show him that you don’t need him.

But now as you stood in front of your bathroom mirror, you felt like you were playing dress up. You weren’t really this confident, this bold. But your pouty red lips said otherwise. Your favorite perfume said otherwise, as well. After a slow turn in the mirror, long legs on show with a short black dress adorning your curves, you decided you would be a man-eater tonight.

You would have preferred to break up with him over text, but you decided you were together for a little too long not to break things off in person.

Despite what you looked like on the outside, your heart was a tangled mess of emotions.

When you first met Chris at one of the fancy bar lounges on the east side, he was the standout of his friends. Tall, blessed with dark blonde hair, perfectly clean-shaven, still dressed in a work suit to join in on the Friday night happy hour. You quickly learned a lot about him. He had an apartment in the city, but his permanent residence was in the neighboring state. He liked golf, basketball, and football. He was a family guy, close with his parents. After buying you a drink, he told you he worked at a finance agency, a large one at that.

The professionalism in itself made you swoon. You couldn’t help it, he seemed put together and men who had a plan were attractive to you.

Needless to say, you went home with him after he was whispering in your ear all night long, his large hand planted possessively on your hip, derailing any other guy in the room who thought about trying a conversation with you.

It could have stopped there, should have stopped there. But he was smart, and his face wore a permanent smirk that put you in a destructive tailspin. So you kept seeing each other. He took you out on lunch dates, got you into the trendy clubs, and put the two of you up in hotel suites from time to time for a nice weekend away.

It was fun while it lasted. His charm eventually wore off, and you realized he was just… a completely selfish douchebag.

You were ready to break things off.

And so it was decided. You looked hot. Too good for him. Your roommate insisted that she could come with you for moral support dressed as a casual bargoer, watching the show for herself behind a bar menu. The idea made you bubble up a laugh, but you really wanted to do this yourself, for yourself.

Your stomach was in knots the entire Uber ride over, leg crossed over the other as you drew shapes into the material of your clutch. You wanted to arrive a little earlier than the set time with your soon-to-be ex-boyfriend-fling, needing a drink or two of encouragement.

The Blackbird was a corner bar that had survived the rapid changes of downtown for the past ten years, or so. Initially around when there was a small gas station on the opposite corner, now it was neighboring a family diner and a video rental shop.

As soon as you enter down the cement stairs and through the dark green door, you’re greeted by a stage to your right where local bands came in and played. After walking past the pool tables that desperately needed new felt, you pass an old golden jukebox that was playing 80s dad rock. It fit the atmosphere, you had to admit. Some Guns N’ Roses started to play after just finishing a Twisted Sister song.

Maybe it was the fact that you were entering into a small dive bar, easily becoming the best-looking person there by a mile and a half, but it was the confidence you needed.

Eyes were on you, a small smile fluttering on your lips at the discovery.

Cigarette smoke filled the air, your heels clicking casually against the hardwood floor as you used the space as an off-duty catwalk. Pool balls clattered, matching the fast-paced beating of your heart.

The Blackbird Bar offered little lighting, aside from the bulbs that hung above the pool tables and a few old neon signs. The walls were decorated in well-loved decor like old license plates and tacky bar signs. There was a $1 bill hung up in a frame, most likely the first bill the bar had ever made. It's a crowning little achievement in all of its dust-covered glory.

The bar stools could use new upholstery and a fresh coat of paint might do the wall wonders, but people didn’t come here to enjoy upscale aesthetic and fruity drinks. They came for cheap booze and company from the regulars.

An empty string of barstools waited for your company at the end of the long bar, your eyes adjusting to the darkness the bar was veiled in.

Your fingernail traced over the slight scratches on the bar’s surface, someone clearing their throat knocking you loose from your thoughts.

“What’ll y’ have?”

Your head was so clouded with what you might say during your impending breakup that you didn’t think of what you wanted to drink. You could really use some liquid courage.

“Uhm..” You paused as you looked over the bartender, your eyes adjusting as you watched him clean a glass with a rag before he tossed the cloth over his shoulder.

He was older, a little shaggy looking. He wore a tattered dark green henley with a waffle print, the sleeves rolled up to his elbows.

You ordered your go-to drink, slowly swirling your straw around the ice as you anxiously watched the clock tick closer and closer to your planned time.

“Hey beautiful.” Shit, he was early.

Your eyes widened as you quickly set down your drink, signaling to the scruffy bartender and tapping at your glass to request another.

Chris entered your space with a charming smile, his pungent cologne instantly piercing your senses as your eyes gazed over his square jawline.

“Hey.” You teetered on your seat, adjusting the hem of your dress, feeling that it was all of a sudden far too short for the evening. Like it was shrinking up your body.

Chris quickly picked up on your not-so-warm greeting, his head cocking as he set down his jacket on the bartop.

“Interesting pick for the bar. I could’ve taken you somewhere uptown.”

The comment made your gut clench, especially since the bartender was right in front of the two of you, making your drink as he silently listened to every word.

“I actually really like this spot. Feels less pretentious than uptown.” You bit back, maybe a little too much venom in your comment.

Chris playfully threw up his hands in surrender, smirking down at you as he took in your appearance. Slightly smeared red lipstick and an all too tight black little dress.

“Alright, uptown is pretentious now, I’m glad you updated me.” His comment was snide but laced with a hint of teasing, your hand instantly reaching for your drink once it was crafted by the bartender. You mutter an apologetic thank you.

“Hey,” Chris spoke up as he raised two fingers to flag down the bartender. “Can I get-”

Before he could finish, the bartender had walked off further down the bar lane, grumbling under his breath as he went to fulfill another customer’s order. Chris scoffed and tried to brush it off but it made you smile. Well deserved.

Once Chris finally did receive his drink, a corona with a lime, he started to tell you about his week in the office. Unprovoked.

Apparently his coworker was brutally fired, his department was on their third secretary within the year thus far, and he was up to his ears with his end-of-the-month reports.

You weren’t sure what drink number you were on. The bartender kept giving you glances every time he poured your glass back up, his eyes signaling to Chris as he kept speaking over you. He looked just as annoyed as you felt.

“And Chambers is just.. all up my ass about finishing it ahead of schedule but I keep telling him, y’know, Dude, it’s not due until Monday. Get off my ass about it. Right? Right?” Now he was laughing like his life, and his story was really all that interesting. Like everyone was hanging onto every word he ever said with enthusiasm.

He kept wagging his beer around in his hand as he spoke, using mannerisms to go with his exquisite storytelling.

You muster up a noise to give him some sort of implication that you were interested. However, the more you drank, the more you realized how uninteresting he actually was. Who talks at someone like this for 45 minutes? When did he ask you a question about you? Did he know shit about you?

“Hey,” your voice sounded power drenched which quickly captured his attention. His eyebrows raised as if you were interrupting his train of thought.

“Do you remember what I told you I studied in school?” Your head cocked to the side, eyes narrowed on his. Despite the volume in the bar, you could still feel your heart thumping in your ears.

He tried not to look phased by your question. After a pause on his end, he mustered up an awkward chuckle before clearing his throat, shifting back and forth on his feet.

“How long have I lived in the city?”

You watched as his eyes flicked off to the side, his lips parting as if he was hoping the right answer would just come to him.

“Uhm..”

“Uhm?” You mocked, a nasty smirk on your lips. It was taunting.

The more he couldn’t answer your questions, the angrier you got. You mocking him seemed to get his blood boiling.

“What do I do for work? What are my hobbies?” Your red lipstick kissed the straw as you took another sip while you waited, crossing your leg over the other as your foot casually bounced while you watched him squirm.

You continued to roll out question after question. You enjoyed watching him writhe under your scrutiny, finding out that he didn’t fucking know you at all.

Someone you considered to be so put together, so refined, and so charming was really just a douchebag clown masquerading in a suit.

The grip on your drink tightened, and you’re not sure if it was the alcohol or the anger you bore, but something gave you the nerve to throw the remnants of your drink on him.

The liquor splashed across his white button-up shirt first, your half-melted ice cubes followed by pelting his chest.

Satisfaction and surprise filled your gut, your hand coming up to cover your mouth as you tried to hide a laugh. The crowd of regulars watched from a distance, a few gasping while a few others snickered.

He looked furious.

“You fucking-- bitch! What the hell!” He was still shaking off ice cubes, pieces of his blonde hair falling down and presenting him as disheveled.

“If that wasn’t answer enough for you, I don’t want to see you again. We’ve been on countless dates, and you don’t remember a damn thing about me.”

You didn’t care that people were watching, you were putting on quite the show for them in your little revenge dress.

Chris scoffed at you in disbelief, shaking off the liquid that clearly stained through his shirt. You could feel your chest swell with a sense of pride and courage. Your body felt warm, stained with confidence as red as your lipstick.

“You’re fuckin’ sick, you know that? You’re a fuckin’ psycho!” He was nearly laughing at you, the insults scraped at your throat and made your confidence cut down an inch.

“Just-- get the fuck out of here, I don’t want to see you again.”

Suddenly, something you weren’t expecting was his hand tightening around your forearm. It stung, his iron grip burning into your flesh so hard that your fingertips already felt numb from the lack of circulation.

You let out a whimper of discomfort, your big eyes looking between his talons pressed into you then back up to his twisted face.

He yanked you into him, your heels scraping the bottom of the floor-- or maybe that was the screech of his barstool he pushed out of his way on the hardwood.

“You really think you’re all that interesting?” His eyes were narrowed in on yours. “You were just an pair of open legs.” He muttered in disgust.

Your eyes hardened, jaw tightening shut as both anger and sadness twisted inside of you until it created a damaging tornado. You couldn’t believe you saw interest in him or anything at all.

“Hey-” A voice so low and booming broke you out of your thoughts, both of your heads snapping to the bartender who was staring daggers into Chris.

“You don’t touch a lady like that in my fuckin’ bar. Get the hell outta here.” His voice relaxed in volume, his scary stature and piercing eyes were enough to thrust a splinter of fear into Chris. But of course, being the cock that he was, he wouldn’t let it seem like the bartender phased him.

“This doesn’t concern you, man. Best if you just drop it-”

“Or what?” The bartender’s words cut quick as his head cocked up, eyes narrowed on Chris’s. Challenging him. Goading him to fight back. The bartender even stepped closer to the bar’s edge, making Chris step back a foot or two despite the bar being a direct barrier to the two. Chris’ hold didn’t slack, it became stronger. Your nails started to try and pry away his hand from you, but his grip was solid.

You looked to the bartender, a silent plea for his help behind your eyes as you were still lightly fighting against the grip Chris had on you. The anger Chris felt towards the man reflected in his hand around your forearm, a short cry coming from your lips as his fingertips bruised into your delicate skin.

“What did I just fuckin’ say?” The bartender was rounding the bar towards the two of you, Chris quickly dropping his hold on you as the man neared closer. This idiot had never been in a fight before in his life, and he surely wasn’t going to start with the tall, broad bartender who probably beat up drunk assholes every other night.

You were so hypnotized by their interaction, the feeling of the bartender’s hand gently on your back before he became a barricade in front of you. His broad arms crossed in front of his chest and he was still looking for a fight out of Chris.

He looked scary, but in a more protective way now. Now that he was so much closer, you had a better look at him.

His flesh was seared with the signs of life, soft lines on his forehead and by his eyes-- probably from the permanent scowl he wore like how people put on their glasses every day or a watch around their wrist. He had a speckled beard, but a prominent mustache on his upper lip, both the hair on his head and his facial hair wore a brief streaks of silver.

His nose was aquiline, it fit him perfectly. He was long in the torso, broad in the shoulders, and drawn in at the waist. The henley shirt he wore looked like it could barely fit around his biceps, the material stretching to accommodate. He was handsome for a stranger you had paid little attention to all evening.

“You alright?” You could tell he was talking to you without looking, his voice more serene.

“Yeah.” Your voice sounded shakier than you wanted it to, the whole interaction being a shock to your system. Your hand delicately stroke over where he held you, the ghost of his grip still aching on your skin as small bruises were sure to form later.

The bartender’s attention was back on Chris after being assured you were alright.

“You heard her. Get the hell out of here.” The bartender’s head cocked behind Chris and to the door. Once the bartender got involved with your fight, you could feel the presence of the tough pool table guys pause their game to make sure the situation was handled.

Outnumbered, Chris scoffed before he yanked his ice-covered jacket from the bartop, his eyes on you as he shook his head, his nostrils flaring. “Keep her. She’s not worth the fuckin’ trouble.”

The bartender had enough of Chris thinking he was in charge of the situation. He planted his hands at the top of Chris’ chest, giving him a harsh shove that had him staggering backward, still trying to maintain his balance as he was shoved out the door repeatedly.

“I don’t usually ask twice, consider yourself lucky.” The bartender’s words were cut with steel. He looked so calm and unbothered like he picked fights with random guys every other night and it was no big deal.

The crowd of regulars at the bar cheered him on until Chris was swiftly shoved out the door and you could hear his body scuff against the cement steps outside.

You finally felt a flood of relief course through your body, the adrenaline had come and gone, but the racing of your heart hadn’t subsided.

You let out a hot puff of air as you brought the scattered barstools back to their home under the bar, seeing a pair of hands help you align the last one. It was the bartender, and he was watching you with eagle eyes.

“I’m sorry-” you quickly blurt, shaking your head and pressing your hand to the side of your neck to find some sort of relief. “I didn’t mean to cause a scene or put you in a situation-”

“You didn’t do nothin’ wrong.” He was quick to cut in and assure you, your bunched-up shoulders slowly relaxing as he resumed his spot behind the bar.

You sort of wanted to leave. You hated the unwanted attention your hot-headedness created. Even though he was the asshole, you still felt like it was your fault.

“Sit down.” His voice demanded, your eyes softening as your head whipped back up to look at him.

“I’ll remake your drink, just… sit down.” You shifted on your uncomfortable heels before giving in and satisfying him with a little nod, returning to your barstool as he came by and made you another drink.

“Can you-” your voice perked up and tapped at your glass gently. He paused his motions as he looked down at you. “Can you make this drink as responsibly strong as you can?”

His lips tightened, trying to hide a smile poking out from the corner of his mouth.

“Sure, Trouble.” You watched as he tipped the alcohol in, letting it fill up with the ice before he added only a good splash of mixer. Thank god.

The breakup with Chris was warranted, but it was hard thinking about having to start all over with someone new. Hopefully with someone better. You weren’t one to drink by yourself like this, but the burn of the alcohol sliding down your throat felt better than the ache you felt festering in your chest.

As the night went on, the bartender didn’t seem keen on being more than a few feet away from you. He’d fulfill a patron’s order on the other end but always end up back by you, meandering himself to keep busy. You had watched him clean one beer mug three separate times now. Sometimes you made eye contact, only for a fleeting second before he looked away.

He kept asking if you were alright. Yeah, I’m alright. If he could do anything. You’ve already done more than enough. Thank you. Finally, he broke.

“So… you wanna tell me who that guy was?” He asked, topping off your drink as you sighed and swirled your straw around.

“He was... I don’t know. A boyfriend, I guess.” You waved around your drink as you spoke, your eyes meandering around the bar.

“Whatever we had, it didn’t last long.” You tutted up a short laugh at your little joke. You took in a deep breath through your nose, your shoulders rising before they dropped on the exhale.

The bartender shook his head, almost looking inquisitive.

“Why d’ya laugh?” He asked curiously, his arms spread as he planted his palms into the bar for balance as he kicked back one of his boots to rest behind the other. He was so broad and handsome.

“Oh,” you paused and covered your face for a moment in embarrassment that he called you out on it. “I said it didn’t last long, the relationship, but like.. Y’know.” You trailed off and shyly smiled, setting your hands back in your lap as you caught his eye contact, however, now he was holding it with you.

“What?” He pressed further. But he knew what. He just wanted you to say it.

You let out a short nervous bubble of laughter, shaking your head. Oh, fuck it. The alcohol was helping you relax, and frankly, you wanted to laugh at Chris. You didn’t owe him anything.

“He didn’t last long. The relationship didn’t last long, and he didn’t last long. Y’know. In bed.” You felt the need to over-clarify now, taking another sip from your drink, your eyes clenching closed slightly as the strong alcohol made your face tense.

The bartender’s mouth chipped up into a crooked smirk, shaking his head as he looked over you for a moment. You remembered what you were wearing, your little black dress doing wonders for your cleavage resting just above his bar.

“‘S’a damn shame.” He finally said, shaking his head as he threw a white cloth up onto his shoulder, his attention fully on you now as the bar had begun to die down throughout the night. All that was left was a set of people playing pool and one cigarette smoker on the other end of the bar, his eyes tiredly captured by the random game show on the television.

“What is?” You ask curiously, your straw slurping ice now as you sighed and pushed the glass away, shaking your head at him to signal you were done for the night.

He paused before answering you, taking your glass from the bartop and throwing down the ice into a tray then the glass into soapy water. He shook his head and shrugged as he wiped his hands.

“Jackass twenty-somethings not knowin’ how to make their pretty girlfriends finish. Damn shame.”

Your lips parted, your doe eyes on his whiskey-colored ones. Your stomach twisted, a tug between your legs so strong it felt like you were battling an internal fire.

Finally, you just laughed. It was out of shyness and shock, but it was a laugh.

“Is that so?”

“So it is.”

“I don’t even know your name.”

He didn’t let you go another second without it. “Joel.”

Your head cocked to the side, your confidence bubbling up as you sighed quietly. “Joel.” You repeated back to him, the two of you slowly nodding to one another. Now you were the only thing his eyes would look at. You sort of wished he would look somewhere else, to let you fucking breathe.

But he pinned you right there in your barstool with his gaze, in his bar. It was crazy to think something fruitful might actually come from the train wreck that was tonight.

Maybe put together looked something more like Joel. Someone a little older, experienced. No wedding ring, a barely-there smile that seemed to only come out on special occasions. He amused you, even if it was just for tonight.

“So, Joel,” your hand reached out, pointer finger gently grazing over the top side of his hand that was planted in front of you. His skin was warm, your nail grazing the soft hairs by his wrist, and the band of the watch he wore. “What are you trying to say?”

His expression didn’t break, if anything, there were minute details you noticed. His jaw clicked tighter like there was someone slowly turning a tight wheel that controlled it behind the scenes. His shoulders bunched a bit more at his upper back, his body tall and looming and strong. But his eyes stayed on yours, consistent, dark, and beautiful.

“I can show you better than I can tell you.” His words were laced with a promise you were begging him to fulfill. You weren’t sure how much longer you could last with this nagging feeling between your legs begging for relief.

Your intimate conversation was cut short with the final clatter of a pool ball, the black 8 ball sinking into a pocket.

You finally let out a breath, one you didn’t know you were holding in. You glanced to the side, away from Joel’s protective gaze as you watched the men hang up their pool cues on the wall mount, grabbing their leather jackets as they came to set their empty beer bottles on the bar top and thanking Joel before they exited.

His hand came up in a subtle wave, not even shaking his hand back and forth, just throwing his hand out there to say a silent farewell.

Your breath quickened at the thought of him alone in the bar with you. If it wasn’t for the chain smoker dulling both of your fantasies.

Joel caught your wandering eyes, following them down the lane to the final patron.

“Paul, do you know how late it is?” Your eyes fell to Joel’s fingers as he covered the clock behind the counter methodically.

The smoker, who you learned was Paul, finally pulled the cigarette away from his dry and cracked mouth, glancing around to see how empty the bar had become. Besides you and Joel.

“Your wife is probably waitin’ for you at home. Best if you start headin’ out.” Joel said as his head tilted to the door next to him, the man nodding with wide eyes.

“Oh, she is gonna kill me. That woman,” he mumbled something else you couldn’t quite hear from your end of the bar, smiling as Joel snuck a glance at you as he ushered Paul out. He’d stay here all night if Joel didn’t tell him to head on home.

Your nerve finally made your long legs move, heels landing on the hardwood as you slowly walked the length of the bar, your fingers dancing along the top. You felt a few chips and divots in the wood, years of wear and tear exposing itself to you.

Joel flicked the lock on the door and flipped the sign. Sorry, we’re closed!

The action in itself made you feel spoiled. He wanted you to himself for the rest of the night, he didn’t want anyone interrupting. Goosebumps flooded your skin as you leaned back against one of the pool tables, the light above you making you have an angelic silhouette.

Your eyes followed him as he walked to the jukebox, the only thing eliciting noise in the otherwise silent bar. With a push of a button, the music halted.

“What? No music?” You asked. Your voice had a slight echo now.

His heavy footsteps loomed closer, his eyes on yours and never straying.

“Rather hear you.”

Well, there went any remaining ounce of respect you had for yourself.

You initiated the first contact, needy at this point. Needy for someone to take care of you just for tonight. Joel was more than willing to take on that role. A means to an end.

Your soft hands landed on his exposed forearms, moving upwards until they hit the rolled-up sleeves of his dark green henley. You had to force yourself to breathe when you felt over his biceps, your warm palms coming to rest on his broad chest.

“I could have handled it you know. Before you intervened.” Your words elicited a slight grumble from the man in front of you. From Joel.

“I’m thankful, but… I had it under control.” Your fingers continued to dance over his upper half.

He let out a gruff and shook his head. “Not from where I was standin’, Trouble.” His voice was curved with cockiness. This was the first time you really took hold of his southern accent. It came out when his voice was lust drenched.

He challenges you, and your attitude matches his stubbornness.

Joel’s hips are against yours now, you can feel his jeans against your thighs that your dress doesn’t quite reach. His hands are a warm welcome on your hips. They’re gentle on you in the same way they’re possessive, eager to have you but wanting to approach you with a sense of tenderness.

“I had it.” You were persistent. Your arms moved to wrap up around his neck, intertwining your hands and feeling the soft curls on the back of his head.

“Sure.”

The distance was closing between the two of you now, his body moving with a flirtatious sense of stealth.

He watched you with a stoic face. He seemed so unphased. Your touch alone was often enough to have gentlemen attempting to take you home. You were methodical in that sense. But maybe so was Joel.

He was a total stranger, but knew little things about him. Stiff, silent, impossible to read, a human shield, a protector. He would have knocked Chris out with a single swift swing of his heavy fist if he didn’t let you go, you knew he would have. Because he was watching you both all night like he had a gut feeling.

Joel’s tundra-cold voice broke you out of your thoughts for the third time tonight, his large hand coming up and pushing a loose strand of hair out of your eyes, tucking it behind your ear before he cradled your cheek. His actions were soft, his words were filth.

“You got a real mouth on you, y’know that?” His eyebrows were furrowed, the indents on his forehead and eyebrows exposing themselves.

A proud smirk danced on your lips, your arms tugging Joel in closer. He could choose to stay still, he’s strong enough to resist your tug. But he lets you. Because he wants to.

“So I’ve been told.”

You can feel a breath leave through his nose, a sigh of contemplation. Teetering on the idea of falling down into the unknown with you.

Your breath hitches in your throat as his hands tighten on your hips, hoisting you up to sit on the pool table’s edge. The position makes your dress roll up your thighs, a broken gasp leaving your mouth as he finally fills the void between the two of you with a heavy kiss.

It’s tongue and teeth at first, meshed and mangled as you both searched for dominance. His tongue danced with your own before you were tugging on his lower lip. You swallowed Joel’s low grunt, his hands falling to the outside of your thighs with his thumbs pressing into your skin.

Fuck, he was spreading you further. The dress rolled to the very top of your legs, his body sliding through the opening as his warm body consumed you. He tasted like mint. He was probably tasting the alcohol he was pouring you all night.

You fisted his hair at the nape of his neck to hold onto some sort of control, but he was persistent.

Joel was invading your senses on all fronts until finally, you had to wave your white flag.

“Joel,” Your voice came out in a desperate breath on his lips, his head quickly nodding as if he already knew what you needed before you had to ask.

“Lie down, baby, lemme take care a’you.” He kissed you once more before pulling away, his head nodding up once, instructing you to lay back.

You felt bashful as your shoulder blades hit the pool table, still spread perfectly for him.

His expert hands pushed the dress up your hips, lifting your ass off the edge to let the material pool around your stomach.

His warm and possessive hands claimed the lower half of your body. He bent down to take you in, pouted lips kissing your naval while his heavy eyes studied your reactions.

A breath was caught in your throat as you felt his hands on the inside of your thighs, brushing over the front of the red panties you wore. He was thinking the same thing you were, you could see it the way he dropped a small grin. Same color as your lipstick, pretty girl.

“Fuck,” you whispered, using the strength you had left and sitting up on your elbows. You were too turned on not to watch him work.

Your fingers wound into the salt and pepper curls atop his head, biting down on your lower lip as his fingers continued to ghost over cotton.

His thumb began to teasingly stroke over you, brushing over your covered clit and sending electricity through his touch to your core.

Joel hooked his thumbs into the sides of your underwear, bringing up your legs to take them off with ease. You scoot closer to the edge of the table, scoot closer to him.

“What?” You ask, his bemused grin now eliciting one from you too. “Think I’m desperate?” You ask, a little on edge for his answer.

A man of suspense, you watch as Joel shrugs off the question.

You watched as his eyes came down to admire what was previously concealed, your lips parting as he let out a hum in reaction to seeing your soaked core. All because of him, all for him.

Sinking down on his knees before the pool table, your hips rutted forward a few more inches to close the distance. His toying with you was aggravating.

Joel hooked one of your legs over his wide-set shoulder, his large hand coming up to pry the other one up and open. One of your heels nearly sunk into one of the pool table pockets. You whimpered out as you eventually kicked them both off, hearing one pair clatter to the floor on the left of Joel, then the other on the right.

His lips were on you like a magnet, a heavy sigh leaving your mouth as your eyes fluttered closed. Your gut was tight, feeling it create its own knots as Joel licked an exploratory stripe up your glossy slit with his tongue. You gasped at the estranged feeling.

“Fuck,” he moaned out, a short yelp leaving you as the vibrations were shot up your center. “Taste too good not to go down on.” The compliment left you in a swirling heat, feeling your walls flutter desperately for him.

“Joel, you can just-” you paused, not realizing how frantic your words sounded. You sounded frantic enough for him to stop his tongue in his path and look at you like a deer in headlights.

“‘Somethin’ wrong?” He asked, hesitant concern crossing his features. “You alright?”

As much as you liked his attention, you felt awkward about him tasting you. Only one or two guys have ever done this for you before, neither making you finish. You just remember moaning their names until they stopped, letting them think they had succeeded. Good oral sex took experience, trial, and error. You just didn’t want him to waste his time on you.

But now that his tongue was gone, you realized how good he was making you feel. It made you realize that your slick was already devoured by his lips and his taste buds purely because he wanted to. But you still had that nervous gut feeling that it was out of some sort of chivalrous act. I’ll do it because it’s polite, because it’s only courteous.

“You just- you don’t have to, okay? I understand if you don’t want to, is what I’m trying to say.” Despite your words being laced with little pants of trying to collect yourself from the pleasure, you still offered him a respectable out. “We can just fuck, get to the good part for both of us.” Your heart thumped in your chest, looking to him with shifty, sympathetic eyes.

Your statement made his head roll to the side, his lips parting. He almost looked disappointed.

“You don’t want me to?” He finally asked, your heat still begging for his attention. You could feel your thighs trembling under the warmth of his palms spreading your legs apart.

Meekly, you finally push an answer up and out of you. “No.” Your words were breathy, eager, desperate. “Don’t want you to stop.”

Joel gave you a slight nod, his eyes looking over you for a moment before he settled back down by your core. He kissed up the inside of your thigh, his beard hairs scratching after the soothing touches of his mouth.

“Good. Now let me make you feel good.”

His words made your stomach clench, your walls fluttering and begging to be filled. By the look in his eyes, he had seen it. The way your arousal was quite literally dripping and becoming sticky on your skin.

You could feel his hot breath fanning over your core again, your hips chasing the feeling. You decided to lay back once more, just wanting to relax with Joel’s head between your legs.

His palm on your leg moved to plant your hip down into the pool table, halting your movements and holding you still. The anticipation was all too much, and you let him know that by whimpering out his name.

He wasn’t exactly slow, it’s like he was learning. With each lap of his tongue, letting it move up to your clit and then down to your entrance, he was taking the time to learn you.

You purse your lips as your eyes flutter closed, letting out a genuine gasp as he began to suckle on your clit. The motion eluded something deep in the pit of your stomach. It wasn’t exactly gentle, but it didn’t hurt. Feeling his mouth suck and tug on your aching clit, his teeth just lightly grazing your sensitivity felt like powerful lighting strikes setting a wildfire loose in your core.

“S’that feel good, pretty girl?” He whispered, trying to learn what made you tick.

“M-mhmm,” you whimper-moaned shakily in response, not finding it in you to lace together more than a few syllables.

One of your hands braced the edge of the table while the other fisted his hair, gripping the dark strands and keeping him in place. As if he was going anywhere.

You could feel Joel slowly untying the knots you had made in your stomach, plucking open one and then the other with each stroke of his tongue.

He liked your taste, he liked pleasuring you, he liked that you liked how good it felt to be given this type of attention. Attention he was sure you hadn’t rightfully experienced before.

You were eager for more but shy to ask. Joel, being the mind reader that he was, moved his hand that was dedicated to holding down your hip and brought it to glide up your slick. His wet tongue made slow figure-eights around your clit, broken moans tumbling from your mouth as you let your eyes dip open and then closed as waves of pleasure began to consume you in an even rhythm. Joel’s rhythm.

His mouth kissed at the inside of your thigh once more, having to bite down into the flesh to conceal his excitement. It made you smile and whine. You wanted the marks of his teeth, you wanted the prints of his hands on you. His were welcome.

He slowly sunk a finger into your pleading entrance, letting a breathy sigh enter the air above the two of you. The only sound in the empty bar was your eager moaning.

His mouth gave you much needed relief, your pussy taking his finger to the knuckle while his tongue continued to create generous circles around your sensitive bundle of nerves.

That’s when you felt it. The it no one had given to you before. The it that left your mind blindsided.

He was only one finger inside of you but his tongue was working magic. You started to mewl out feverish moans of his name, the hand in his hair clenching tighter and causing a sting to radiate across his scalp. The leg hiked up on his shoulder was shaking, your heel digging into his back to guide him even closer if that was humanly possible.

“Joel, holy shit,” you whimpered, head coming up to look down at him. His lips and mustache were glistening in your slick. “I’m s-so close.”

You didn’t have to convince Joel like you had to convince the others. Your moans were authentic, your cries of passion genuine.

Joel listened, he kept his pace, the pace that had you shattering like a freshly broken mirror.

“J-.. Fuck Joel, your fingers,” you whimper, your walls fluttering around where he was pumping into you with just the one.

“Mhmmm?” He elongated in a questioning tone, not freeing his mouth from you to respond. He wanted you to say it. You threw your head back in frustration and nodded quickly with your chin to the ceiling.

“A-Another, another finger.” You groan out. You could feel his smirk plastered against your clit, feeling his cheeks raise with his smile against your shaking thighs.

You don’t need to ask twice. Joel’s inserting a second finger and you can feel yourself stretching for him. He picks up his pace again and the it you’ve been fantasizing about is happening.

Your toes curl, the heel of your foot still indenting into his back as you let out heavy pants into the air. Your back arches as your walls tighten around his fingers while Joel curls them in the perfect spot, your hand fisting the edge of the table as you searched for words to resemble how good he was making you feel.

Joel kept untying your knots, plucking open one after the other, after the other, until-

“Holy f-fuck! Joel!” Your body convulsed with your orgasm, your hard nipples peaking in your dress as your lower half started to grind against his mouth for the ultimate finish. You were seeing white, your moans and the squelching noise your wetness made filled the room.

His fingers worked you down from your orgasm, your chest rising and falling as you came back to life. Freshly resuscitated after a life-altering orgasm. And one you didn’t have to fake.

His fingers were covered in your cum-mixed arousal, he didn’t waste any time sucking them clean as his eyes connected with yours. An exhausted whimper left your throat. Your lips were pouty, eyes as wide as a doe as you sat up to face him.

He pushed himself off his knees, your leg dangling free from his shoulder.

Your foreheads came to rest against one another, both taking a breath to collect yourselves. His beard definitely gave your thighs a little burn rash, but with how good he made you feel, the slight pain was worth all the pleasure.

“I’ve never had someone go down on me on a pool table.”

Your fingers aimlessly drew circles in the felt, your other hand reaching up to swipe your thumb clean across his bottom lip.

“Ever been fucked on a bar?” His eyes dark and tantalizing, his voice lacking true emotion and replacing it with grit and lust. Good. That’s the last thing you want right now. You don’t need emotions tonight.

“Mm-mm.” You said as you shook your head, the two of you wearing matching smirks.

You were glad you and Joel were on the same page. Neither of you seemed interested in anything more than sex tonight.

Joel was about to help you down from the pool table, a wave of heat splashing your already warm face. He turned back when you dropped hold of his hand, lightly squirming on the table.

“Just-” You’re a bit embarrassed, you don’t want him to feel sympathetic. “I need a minute. For my legs.” You gave him a shy smile, and he wore a crooked cocky one in return.

You glanced down as you tested a foot on the floor. Your stems felt like jelly, as if you had just run a marathon, but really, Joel was just pulling an earth-shattering orgasm from you.

Joel was quick to shake his head, his body coming back to yours.

“Don’t need you walkin’ barefoot on the floor. I’m a little behind on cleanin’ up the place.” His words made you stifle a laugh.

He was okay with eating you out on the pool table and fucking you on his bar, but god forbid you might step on something sticky.

You wonder if it’s because he feels protective of you. He wasn’t going to let some dickhead break your arm tonight. Not in his bar.

“I’m fine.” You say as you haul yourself up, planting your palm into his bicep for leverage while you put on one heel and then the other. You could walk on your own.

“You wanna fuck me on your bar, baby? You do this with all the girls?” You ask as the heels clicked on the floor, one after the other.

His pace catches up with you, dark eyes watching your every move like a predator meeting prey. It would scare you if you didn’t know how good he was with his tongue.

“Only the real pretty ones with delicious tasting cunts.”

Your lips parted at his words, merely watching as his pace kicked up a notch. You felt your back slam against the bar as Joel consumed your front and he was kissing you once more.

His kiss was magnetizing, commanding. Open your mouth for me. Let me taste you.

You obeyed, feeling him slip in and have his taste. Your hands reached for your dress that was bunched around your stomach, pulling your lips from Joel though he was apprehensive to let you do so. The material tangled your hair but you were quickly tossing your dress aside, eager to have him back in your space.

His eyes lingered on your tits, his mouth on yours, but now his hands- god, his hands, they were massaging and cupping them in his palm.

You let out a strangled whimper as he pinched your nipple between two fingers, still sensitive from your orgasm across the room.

He enjoyed watching you squirm, your jelly legs already coming back.

“So fuckin’ greedy.. Can barely hold yourself up.” Joel’s words were gritty, lost in the depths of his heady lust. You wondered how big he was, you could see the heavy outline through his jeans.

While he played with your tits, his mouth now slobbering on your nipple and making your core tremble, your hands were on his old leather belt. Pulling the excess to the side and flicking open the pin.

He takes over, pushing down his jeans to the tops of his thighs. You smile seeing his dark green briefs, the same green as his henley.

“I guess we’re both matching tonight.” You teased, snagging your pointer finger into his briefs and tugging until it snapped back into his waist.

“Turn around pretty girl, wanna feel that pretty pussy around my cock.”

Your stomach was already bottoming out, all those knots Joel had untied on the pool table were now forming again.

You whimpered as you eagerly turned around, your saliva covered tits now plastered to the bar as you bent over it. The bartop gave you a shiver, considering how cold it felt while bare.

You whipped your head to the side when you could hear him shifting out of his boxers, his belt clattering with his movements. You flicked your hair out of your way as you tried to get a look at his lower half but he was flushed behind you in no time at all.

Joel wrapped his hand around his base, his other hand on your hip as he guided you to stand between two barstools. He slid his tip in your fresh arousal, smirking as he watched you grip the edge of the bar.

“Such a pretty fuckin’ girl. Need a man to make you feel good, not a boy.”

His words released a whimpery moan from you while you nodded, each time his tip teased your entrance made your heart race just a beat faster with anticipation.

“Need you, Joel.”

He nods, his open palm splayed on your lower back and right hip as he admired the curve of your ass.

“So-” your breath hitches as you feel his tip nudge in, “fuckin-” you clench your eyes closed as his first few inches break you in two, your jaw dropping, “tight.” He bottoms out in one swift thrust, filling you up to a level you didn’t even know you possessed.

“Joel!” A broken cry unleashes from the depths of your throat, you didn’t need to see him to know how big he is. You can fucking feel every single inch of him.

Your cunt was in shock, your tight walls clenching desperately around him as you began to flood over him with your arousal.

You began panting into the wood of the bar, the pain greeting you in a hot flash.

“Oh f-... god,” your knuckles were white gripping the backside of the bar. You could hear Joel behind you, moaning at the way your walls expanded graciously for them.

“Good girl, alright baby, come on, baby,” His voice was heavy, wrapped up in his lust as he hiked up one of your legs and set it on the barstool. “So fuckin-” his heavy breath fanned across your back as he pulled he retracted his hips, “perfect for me.” He said as he reeled them back in, filling you to the max.

Your leg up on the barstool released a new angle for the two of you, your eyelashes fluttering as Joel found a previously undiscovered spot.

He started slow, letting your body adjust to him. How could someone as good-looking as Joel be humble about a dick like this? And he knew how to fucking use it.

You were trying to moan his name, but they just kept coming out in hot pants.

“Joel, Joel, fuck Joel!” The pleasure had now replaced the pain, a sweet sting at your core every time he ground his hips into you just right.

Joel’s thrusts never wavered, they were deliberate and calculated as he filled you to the brim. His cologne was invading your senses, mixed with his sweat.

He collected your hair in a loose ponytail, peeling your face off the bartop as your chin angled up to the ceiling. The pool table may have been for you, using his mouth to get off. But now, this was for Joel. Joel was using you good and hard, and you fucking loved it. You loved that you were what he needed tonight, and vice versa.

The sound of Joel’s hips clapping against your ass echoed throughout his bar, your hand coming back to grip onto his forearm for some sort of leverage. Some sort of control. Some sort of… anything.

But Joel made it clear that he was in charge tonight.

His tempo edged you. Once you fell close to another crashing orgasm, his thrusts feeling like they were hitting you at a million miles an hour, suddenly slowed to the flow of bumper-to-bumper rush hour traffic. It was torturous the way he had you mewling out his name in desperation one moment and then the next, he had you whining for more. But every time you neared the finish line, the overwhelmingness of it all was stronger, and you knew Joel felt it too.

Joel didn’t want you just to feel good, he wanted to change how you saw sex. No more laziness from a partner, no more vanilla positions, no more faking orgasms. This was what it felt like to be fulfilled by the real thing.

No matter how hard he tried, both of you were losing strength to put up with the passing of another orgasm.

“J-Joel-” He could barely hear his name with the sound of his front snapping into your behind. “I’m so- fuck me,- I’m so c-close,” You were sure to have bruises on your hips tomorrow, the wooden edge of the bar being nailed into you. “I’m close, please!” you whined, beginning to throw yourself into each of his thrusts which worked up a good grunt from him.

“Feel so fuckin’ good around my cock,” you twisted your head back as you felt his arm snare around your hip, his fingers slowly circling around your sensitive bud. You were gasping for air, seeing stars as he actually fed you what you wanted. He was ready to let you cum.

Your eyes weakly watched him as he fucked you over his bar. Eventually, you had to push yourself off of the front because it was pinning your hips into numbness. Your leg came down from the barstool, your back still bent over as you used your palms to flush against the edge of the bar to hold yourself up. Your head whipped back again as you became obsessed with observing him.

“You like watchin’ me fuck you, sweetheart? Little fuckin’ troublemaker.”

There were no words, it was too late. Your head dropped as your nails chipped into the wood, letting out a cry of his name as Joel continued to untie the knots in your stomach, all of them falling loose until you came.

You heard him let out a long and low groan, your barely-open eyes turning back to watch the sight of Joel finishing.

Joel could feel your walls pulsing desperately around his swollen cock, his fingers getting a little messy with your clit but he kept at it, he wasn’t going to disappoint you. That’s when it hit him, where he couldn’t hold on anymore.

He spilled his white hot cum into you, rope after rope until it was coming out in shorter streams inside your cunt. You and Joel were moaning in unison as you both finished together.

After a few moments to breathe, you gently pat his hand that was rubbing lazy circles in your clit, feeling his warm palms move to your hips as you slowly straightened out together.

You flipped your messy hair out of your face, smirking tiredly as you looked over him while he tugged his jeans and briefs back up on his hips, your eyes hypnotized by watching his rough and calloused hands easily secure his belt on.

“Uhm..” You paused as you shyly searched around for your dress a few barstools down. You went to retrieve it, Joel taking it from your hands and slipping it back on your body. You watched his face, his eyes looked through you.

Your thumb came up to his lips, watching as he did a minute flinch with how fast your hand invaded his space.

“Relax,” you tease, swiping away the red lipstick of yours that melted on the edge of his pretty mouth. He slowly relaxed as he watched you clean yourself from him, his warm palms still holding your aching hips.

You sighed, your body and mind tired from being completely blown out. Your feet were sore from your heels, you were ready to take this dress and makeup off for good tonight.

You watched with a teasing smile as Joel did a shitty job with a wet rag cleaning up where you were thrust against his bar, shaking your head at him.

“Missed a spot.”

He tutted dryly. “Funny.”

You collected your clutch and your other belongings, seeing the spot at the end of the bar where the ice you had thrown at Chris had long ago melted and was now a puddle on the floor.

“Come on, I’ll walk you out.” Joel’s voice erupted from behind you.

Your hand clutched the stray 8 ball on the pool table Joel had you laid out on, dragging it to the corner pocket before you went to meet him at the door. He unlocked it to let you out, even going up the concrete steps with you.

“It’s fine, Joel.”

He shrugs and shakes his head, looking past you once more.

“I know. Just wanna make sure you get in the cab alright.” He waved up his hand and stepped into the street, signaling a car until one pulled up to you both. You didn’t know what time it was, how late it had gotten. You probably had several missed messages from your friends to hear how your revenge breakup went. You couldn’t wait to tell them how tonight turned out for the better. Because of Joel.

Finally, he was really looking at you. And you had no idea what to say. Your lips parted, looking up at the older man who sort of saved your night.

Your eyes said it all. Thank you.

He just nodded and cocked his head towards the cab.

“Night, Joel.” You tugged open the door to the cab, tossing your purse in the backseat before sliding in as gracefully as you could. You should forget about being graceful at this point after what you’ve done.

“You gonna tell me your name before you go?” How could his question come from curiosity but his voice was as cold and bare as ever. His hand was in the window of your cab, as if holding it in place from taking off on him.

His interest made you smirk, your hand playfully plucking his fingers free from his grip on the window before giving a little shrug and not saying a word.

His eyes stray from yours and look down the road, seeing him cross his arms in front of his broad chest before he continues. “Alright, fine.” He said with a little nod. “Do you think I don’t pay attention to ID’s when I check ‘em?” He says your name, testing the waters as a shy smile creeps on your lips, his cocky little smirk was enough to make your eyes roll. “That’s alright, I’ve been calling you Trouble all night anyway.”

You sighed tiredly and smiled, tapping the cab window. “Goodnight, Joel.” You say before falling back into your seat and giving the driver your address.

“Goodnight, Trouble.”

Joel saw you off before disappearing down the concrete stairs into the Blackbird, your fingers gently ghosting over your red lipstick as you watched the city fly by.

---

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cherienymphe · 10 months ago

Text

House of Balloons

Topper Thornton x Reader

Summary: It was storming the night he told you that no man in Outer Banks will ever love you like he does

warnings: Dub-Con, stepcest, loss of virginity, jealousy, underage drinking, kook!reader, non canon ages

➥ banner by @vase-of-lilies | ➥ divider by @firefly-graphics

⭑

You should’ve guessed that things weren’t right the night your brother punched your very first boyfriend in the face.

Your anger over his actions was only trumped by your embarrassment. The other unsuspecting teenager had been completely blindsided, falling out cold on the floor of the party while you had been temporarily frozen with shock. No matter what excuse Topper gave that night—words slurring and pupils blown—you hadn’t wanted to hear it. Your humiliation and confusion and irritation had made you shut him out completely, only made worse by your fears coming true when you were swiftly dumped two days later.

“He was too old for you, anyway,” was his only comment on the situation.

You’d been fourteen then, and your boyfriend was the same age as him.

Your dating life after that was sparse to say the least, hardly anyone wanting to go near the girl with the overprotective brother. Nonexistent wasn’t the right word to use. After all, you still took the odd brave guy or two up on their offers, skipping class and sneaking out of your room just to have something like the same experiences your friends were having. It worked for a time.

Until they decided they wanted something with less effort and trouble, and you supposed you couldn’t blame them.

“If you’d actually been honest with me, I could’ve long told you those guys were assholes and not to waste your time.”

That was what Topper told you the night you’d finally decided to confide in him, his expression lacking anger…but only holding disappointment. You didn’t know why that bothered you more than him being mad. Maybe it was because you looked up to Topper in ways that should’ve been reserved for your father. The day he married Topper’s mother, it was like you became less in his eyes, the older man finally gaining the son he always wanted.

Topper could be a suffocating dick sometimes, but the way he cared about you was comforting.

“What did you expect from me when you literally ran my first boyfriend off?” you wondered with a roll of your eyes, applying your blush. “Sue me for wanting to have the life you did.”

You could see the blond lounged along your bed in the reflection of your mirror, his blue gaze briefly lifting from the phone in his hand. He watched you sift through the myriad of lip glosses in your drawer before finally speaking.

“Yeah, I remember him. He was an asshole who with a preference for ‘fresh meat’, an asshole I explicitly told to stay away from you,” he told you.

You paused at that, catching his gaze in the mirror, and the corner of his lips twitched when you sighed.

“You could’ve told me that,” you mumbled. “You just kept saying that he was an asshole who didn’t deserve me. Surely, you knew that was like catnip to a high school freshman, right?”

You threw him a look.

“I blamed you for months when he broke up with me.”

Topper only shrugged.

“I knew you’d thank me one day,” he smugly replied, and you bit your tongue, refusing to give him the satisfaction even though the damage was done. “Besides, I did what any good brother should do—look out for you until you’re old enough to make your own choices.”

Done with your makeup, you merely pursed your lips, staring at him through the mirror as he scrolled on his phone. The longer the silence stretched, that was when Topper finally lifted his gaze again, and you scoffed the moment his eyes met yours.

“You’re trying to pretend like you’re still not a controlling asshole, and it’s actually upsetting,” you huffed, standing. “Like I didn’t see your eyebrow twitch the other night when I told your mother I had a date.”

Before you could grab the dress at the foot of your bed, Topper beat you to it. You watched him run a hand through his blond strands, making his way to your closet as your words hung in the air.

“That’s because you don’t have the best taste in guys,” you heard him throw over his shoulder.

He was in your closet, and the sound of shuffling fabric and moving hangers reached your ears. When he came back out, there was an entirely different dress hanging off of his hand, and you could only eye it as he neared you. He slowly held it out to you, blue gaze boring into your own.

“Your graduation dress looks better on you,” was his only comment.

You eyed it again, silently—and reluctantly—agreeing. You were slow to take it, met with the very smirk you didn’t want to see, and Topper’s voice carried into the bathroom as you shut the door behind you.

“Still, you’re eighteen, now, and I have to let you do what you want,” you rolled your eyes at his remark. “Even if what you want are lower-class Pogues who can’t even afford to take you on a proper date.”

Your dress wasn’t even zipped all the way when you swung the door open, face pinched as you glared at the other man. Topper was leaning against the wall next to the bathroom, and the lack of humor on his face told you that wasn’t a joke. You told yourself that this wasn’t surprising, very much aware of how classist your brother could be, but it didn’t do anything to lessen your anger.

“Could you be any more of a snob? His family doesn’t have a vacation house and a two-car garage, so now he’s low class?” you scoffed.

Topper tilted his head at you, an expression on his face that begged you to be serious.

“He’s not even picking you up. You’re meeting him at the beach. You call it romantic, I call it cheap and lazy,” he elaborated, straightening and invading your personal space.

You clenched your teeth when he reached out to gently touch your arms, forcing you to turn around without a word. One of his hands lightly touched your hip, holding the dress in place while his other pulled on the zipper. You could feel his cool breath against your neck, and you were unsurprised when another nagging comment met your ears.

“Maybe I wouldn’t have to be the asshole you think I am if you actually picked men worthy of your time,” he whispered.

When you looked at him over your shoulder, Topper merely shrugged, his expression telling you that he wasn’t happy about it, but he wasn’t going to stop you. Again, there was that disappointment flitting across his features, and it unfortunately had you second guessing things. Some part of you knew that Topper was right, but his quick dismissal of your potential boyfriend made your stubbornness rear its ugly head.

“Don’t wait up for me,” was all you told him as you grabbed your purse.

The only response you got was a slight snort, but Topper said nothing otherwise, both of you knowing that despite what you requested, he was absolutely going to.

The night Topper kissed you, you were drunk out of your mind.

That potential boyfriend became an official boyfriend who turned out to be a piece of shit. Your breakup coincided with some silly party your parents were throwing, Topper being your only age mate on the whole property, so it was only natural that you found yourselves on the back deck that connected to his bedroom. It was dimly lit and hidden away from any curious gazes that might be in the yard below.

“Can you just…not say I told you so?” you mumbled, finger tapping against the glass in your hand. “It’s bad enough that I told the whole family to account for him being here tonight.”

When Topper reached over to steal your drink, fingers grazing yours as he did, you let him.

“You know that’s not my thing,” he said, voice low. “Besides, it’s not like it’d do any good.”

You couldn’t hold in your soft chuckle, louder laughs in the yard overpowering yours, but theirs lacked your bitterness.

You didn’t even know why this breakup bothered you so much. The whole relationship lasted a month, but that did nothing to soften the blow. You’d dived head first into the relationship—as you always did—and so those thirty days just felt like ninety in your mind. You’d been hopeful, excited, and you recalled something a friend said once…about so much of the relationship happening in your head.

You were reluctant to admit that she’d been right.

Not unlike before, you’d made up so much of his personality. You’d given him attributes and an entire personality that didn’t align with reality, and that was why you felt blindsided. Looking back, there was nothing about him that told you he was a patient and loving and understanding guy, so was it really a shock when broke up with you? It’d been a month, and you weren’t ready to have sex with him, and so he responded in a way that guys like him usually did.

Anyone could’ve seen that coming, and yet…

“What’s wrong with me?”

You almost didn’t realize you’d said that, the words coming out in a small whisper before you could swallow them down. You liked to think it was the alcohol talking, but you knew that the brown liquor you’d snuck away was only just making you more honest. You were entertaining thoughts you normally preferred to ignore and shove down.

“Hey…”

Topper’s tone told you that he’d heard you loud and clear, and you only shook your head when his hand gently touched your arm.

“I mean…” you shrugged, throwing a hand out. “Am I not good enough to actually get to know?”

Topper said your name, and you heard him sit the drink down.

“If I don’t put out, am I just…not worth the effort?”

His voice was firmer this time when he said your name, and you hadn’t realized that he moved closer until his hands were on your arms and making you face him. There was a frown on his face as he eyed you, that blue gaze of his tracing your features.

“Stop letting these assholes get to you,” he told you. “You’re better than every single one of them.”

His advice was easier said than done, and so you didn’t respond, only frowning back at him before your eyes fell to the wood, tracing the lines in it.

“You have to say that, Topper,” you sighed. “It doesn’t exactly hit the same coming from you.”

You heard him release a heavy sigh too, his hands coming up to frame your face. When you were forced to look at him again, there was a look in his eyes that you couldn’t name. Topper’s blond hair wasn’t in its normal neat state, the light strands kissing his forehead as he ran his gaze over your face. You couldn’t tell what he was thinking, and so you were relieved when he voiced his thoughts.

“I’m saying it because it’s true…because I don’t actually have to say anything,” he continued, an edge to his voice. “I don’t have to tell you that I think you’re an insecure little girl who dates losers because you don’t have your father’s approval.”

You flinched at that, frown deepening.

“I don’t have to tell you that it pisses me off that you just don’t learn,” he bit out, and you hated how much his words stung.

…because they were true.

“You go after these guys who shouldn’t even have the confidence to approach you, and what kills me is that every time they break your heart, you go out prepared to repeat the process-.”

“Jesus, Topper!” you slapped one of his hands away. “What the hell?”

You sat up straight, tearfully glowering at him. The other guy didn’t look all that sorry, and you angrily wiped your face with a scoff.

“Is this your idea of comforting me?” you choked out.

The blond briefly looked away, and he at least had the sense to have some shame, a sheepish glint passing through his eyes. You watched him swallow, jaw clenching as he seemed to be choosing his next words carefully.

“You could just do so much better,” he finally said, tone thick with disappointment. “…and you choose not to.”

You bristled at his words.

“Let you tell it, no guy is good enough for me, so you’ll have to excuse me if I don’t take your critique to heart,” you spat.

“No guy is good enough for you.”

Topper wasn’t looking at you, but instead was staring straight ahead, one arm resting on a bent knee. The sounds of the party still provided some background noise, but you weren’t focused on that. You were more focused on the tightness in your brother’s jaw, a coldness in his blue eyes that wasn’t unfamiliar to you. Of all his friends, Topper was considered the nice one—the respectable one—but you were probably one of the few people who knew just how nasty he could be.

It was something that only one other person was able to bring out in him.

So…you didn’t know why you said it.

“If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you were jealous.”

You were trying to get under his skin…but you didn’t know that you were already there.

“Maybe I am…”

Topper’s tone was even, devoid of all humor, and he slowly turned to look at you.

His response took you by surprise, and your lips parted, prepared to jokingly tell him to shut up when his expression gave you pause. There was no mirthful twinkle in his eye, not even a mocking or condescending glint that told you he was playing along and trying to bother you just as much.

Topper was serious.

“Maybe I am jealous,” he continued, shifting to fully face you, now. “So, now what?”

You frowned at him, blinking a few times as your mouth opened and closed. You were all too aware of your heart in your chest…among other things. Like the fact that you two were alone and Topper was really close, and you’d had way too much to drink. The party downstairs felt so far away, and you briefly squeezed your eyes shut.

No, you and Topper didn’t share blood, but this revelation you were slowly coming to terms with unsettled you beyond belief. Topper couldn’t be jealous…not of your exes…because that implied that… You shook your head, looking away and having the strong urge to lie down.

“Do you know what it’s like? To know you give asshole after asshole a chance, and there’s nothing I can do about it?”

“Yeah, because-!”

“I know what I am, Y/N,” he cut you off. “You don’t have to remind me.”

He bitterly mumbled that last part, and you finally looked at him again.

“Topper…you can’t be jealous of my exes,” you slowly told him, the words coming out in a whisper like you were afraid to say it out loud.

You were all too aware of just how close he’d gotten, and it was hard to focus on anything else. You wanted to leave—needed to leave—but you couldn’t bring yourself to move. You watched his blue eyes flit over your face, studying you and drinking you in, and you sharply inhaled when you saw his hand lifting out of the corner of your eye.

“Well, that’s too bad,” he quietly responded, hand coming up to take hold of your jaw.

You pushed against his arm—and chest—but the blond wouldn’t budge, and a bout of panic took hold of you.

“Topper-!”

The rest of your words were swallowed and forgotten, his lips moving against yours in a kiss. It—in combination with the alcohol—made your head spin, and you gasped against his lips. He took the opportunity to taste the inside of your mouth, moving closer and pressing his chest to yours. One hand against his chest and one against his arm didn’t deter him, and you jumped when an arm tightly snaked around your waist.

You were practically forced into Topper’s lap, and the more he kissed you, the more you forgot about the party downstairs.

The alcohol made it hard to focus on what was important, your brain getting distracted and becoming preoccupied with the taste of alcohol on his tongue. You were hyperaware of his hand pressing into your waist and the way his other hand was so warm against your jaw, his thumb tracing patterns into your skin. The ministrations had your body heating up, and although you knew why you needed to stop, you couldn’t work your limbs to try harder to.

Your head fell back when Topper’s lips traveled to your throat, and he let your face go, fingers dancing down your frame.

When they found comfort on your thigh, your dress riding up in the commotion, you shuddered. They felt so hot against your skin, and the heat traveled all the way to your stomach, settling deeply there. Without thinking, you parted your thighs a bit, and you felt Topper hum against your throat. The sound was soon followed by his hand disappearing between your legs, and you involuntarily bucked your hips closer.

You were shocked at how easy it was for him to push a finger into you. It dragged a breathy yelp from your lips, your hand coming up to grab onto his shoulder when he added another. You spread your legs more, hips lifting, and you heard Topper curse as he sank his fingers into you. You couldn’t stop moaning, the alcohol making you lose all sense of caution, so you weren’t shocked when he kissed you again.

“Topper,” you gasped against his mouth.

It was wrong, and you remembered why it was wrong…but you couldn’t stop. Before where you’d been trying to push him away, you were now pulling him closer, lifting your hips to meet every curve of his fingers and toes curling against the wood of the balcony. You were dripping around him, now, something that would’ve embarrassed you had you been in your right mind, but at the moment, you only wanted to come.

When you did, he let your waist go to cover your mouth.

You couldn’t stop murmuring and mewling into the palm of his hand, his other hand still pushing fingers into you and circling your bundle of nerves with his thumb. Stars danced in your vision, and you felt the blond lean in and press kisses against your throat and collarbone. You were still trembling when you started to frown, all too aware of his fingers inside of you as you wondered what you’d just done.

You ignored the heat of familiar gazes as you grabbed your things, wanting to be literally anywhere else.

Hitting a few balls with Rafe turned into hitting a few with Kelce and Rafe and then eventually Topper and Kelce and Rafe. The arrival of your brother had triggered a drastic mood shift, and as much as you’d tried to hide it, you didn’t think you were doing a good job. Especially once the gathering was moved inside to get something to eat. Unable to pretend anymore, you feigned an illness.

“Y/N, at least let me drive you…”

“I’d rather walk,” you told Topper, avoiding his eye and declining his offer.

There was no doubt in your mind that the other two picked up on the tension, confirmed when Rafe’s voice carried as you exited the building.

“Geez,” he’d exhaled. “What’s going on with you two?”

The question still lingered in your mind all the way back home.

What’s going on with you two… How loaded that answer was, and you yourself couldn’t even convey it fully. Memories of the party had plagued your mind for weeks, now, and despite how you should feel about it, you were learning that it wasn’t so simple. Your stomach flipped for multiple reasons as you recalled the feeling of Topper’s hands on you.

The entire ordeal was beyond dubious, your head in the toilet later that night only proof of how much you’d had to drink. Finding out that your brother thought of you in ways a brother shouldn’t should’ve gone in a whole other direction. The lack of blood relation did little to lessen your uneasiness and guilt, chest aching uncomfortably at the memory of his fingers inside of you.

Your parents were married, had been for eight years, now.

You were well and fully settled in as a family unit at this point…and yet…

That did nothing to lessen the heat deep in your gut when you thought about Topper kissing you and touching you in ways no one ever had before. It was something that kept you up at night, and on particularly bad nights, you found your own hand drifting between your legs to try and replicate the same feelings he’d pulled from you under the cover of darkness while your parents had been none the wiser.

To say that things were awkward and messed up was an understatement.

You were angry with him…but you couldn’t stop thinking about him. It was a source of great conflict for you, and unsure of how to act around the one person you’d trusted the most, you simply opted with ignoring him and avoiding him as best as you could. Not only was this noticeable to any and everyone you knew—your combined presence a normality—but it also pissed Topper off.

Very much.

“You can’t ignore me forever.”

Those were the words that greeted you a few days later as you washed dishes. His mother was out, and your father was upstairs in his study, and despite the fact that you very much wanted to do what he said you couldn’t, you acknowledged him, anyway.

“I can try…”

When he said your name, it was softly spoken, but you weren’t oblivious to the edge in his voice.

“Can we talk for a sec…” he suggested. “I mean, like, a real conversation.”

“I don’t have anything to say to you-.”

“That’s a lie, and you know it,” he breathed, his hand coming up to rest on your arm. “You have a lot to say to me, and I don’t care if you just want to curse me out because you’ve never held back before.”

Roughly dropping a plate back into the water, you took a deep breath. Facing Topper, you really looked at him for the first time in weeks. You hated that despite the circumstances of what happened that night, he looked different to you…less like a brother… Such a thought made you briefly close your eyes, and when you opened them again, you were angry again.

“What is wrong with you?” you breathlessly wondered.

Your tone had his jaw clenching, and you watched him look away. You didn’t pull your gaze away as he pressed his tongue to the inside of his cheek, and when he looked at you again, you were surprised to find a hint of anger in his blue eyes.

“You’re treating me like…like I’m some kind of pervert,” he whispered.

Your heart did clench at that, and you couldn’t pretend to ignore how that accusation made you feel. You were closer to Topper than you were to anyone else, and despite your anger, you still loved him—cared about him. No, you didn’t think that, but the circumstances of that night—and the circumstances surrounding this entire situation—were messing with your head.

“…and instead of like the guy who has always cared about you.”

You swallowed.

“I fucked up that night,” he admitted to you. “I messed up, and I can see that it’s freaked you out, and I’m sorry.”

Your eyes burned at his apology, and even though some part of you wanted something else just as much, you knew that an apology was what you should want more than anything. That night had to be a one-off thing, something to never be repeated. If you wanted to keep your sanity and have things go back to normal, you had to forget about it, and you had to convince Topper to do the same.

“Topper, we can’t…we can’t do anything like that ever again,” you whispered, and you watched his face even out. “I can’t tell you how to feel…”

The blond nodded, swiping his tongue between his lips.

“…but I’m telling you that I need things to go back to normal…”

Topper’s shoulders sagged at that, and you struggled to swallow.

“You’re the one person that I can talk to about almost anything…and the one person I know I can count on, and… I’m feeling really unsure about that, right now, and I don’t like that, and it’s scary…”

You trailed off when Topper wrapped his arms around you, gently shushing you.

“I’m sorry,” he quietly apologized again. “I’m sorry, and you’re right.”

He pressed his face into the crook of your neck, and you shuddered when his lips grazed your skin as he spoke.

“I was being a selfish asshole that night,” he whispered. “Obviously this can’t be anything else.”

His hands moved up and down your back in soothing gestures, and while it was reminiscent of something he always did to calm you, you couldn’t help but let your mind wonder about what other meaning it might’ve always had. Telling yourself that Topper cared more about what you wanted instead of chasing the high of an alcohol fueled night, you hugged him back, accepting his apology.

It was storming the night you lost your virginity to your stepbrother.

The loud rain and harsh winds and booming thunder all seemed to work together to drown out the sounds of your breathless moans and surprised gasps. Topper’s forearms were pressed into the pillow on either side of your head as he snapped his hips against yours, the mix of pain and pleasure jumbling your brain. With the power out, the only source of light came from the occasional flash of lightning.

A late-night conversation had dwindled down into nothing the longer the night dragged on. Dozing off at his side wasn’t abnormal, your descent into fatigue made all the more quicker when accompanied by the sound of rain hitting the window. Despite your brief rough patch after that night, you and Topper started treating each other like you always had. It wasn’t without difficulty. After all, there were nights where you still woke up with the memory of his lips touching yours, but it was easy enough to ignore…

Waking up to the feel of an arm around your waist and a hardness against your thigh was not.

You feigned sleep, unsure of what to do or how to proceed and even unsure if Topper was awake and wholly aware. The wind knocked the shutters against the window, and the room was briefly illuminated by a flash of lightning. The thunder and rain were all you could hear, even deaf to your own breathing, but especially Topper’s. However, when you turned your head, you learned that the blond was very much awake.

You didn’t have time to properly gather your thoughts about the kiss, Topper pulling you against him and rolling on top of you before you could. Your mind had been going a mile a minute to make sense of what was happening, and by the time you did, it was too late—his bare chest was pressing against yours and his arms were caging you in.

“Oh my God,” you’d breathed the moment he pushed his cock into you.

The words had escaped from both the shock and the pain, repeating them as you also registered the way your stomach flipped.

“It’s okay,” he whispered in the darkness, a miracle that you could hear him. “You’re okay.”

Were you?

“Topper,” you’d murmured, your tone making your thoughts clear.

“I fucking love you,” was his defense. “Don’t you get that?”

He remained still inside of you for some time, both of you quietly going back and forth.

“We can’t do this,” you’d hissed.

“You saying we can’t isn’t the same as you saying you don’t want to…”

It was the truth, and you weren’t going to lie, but you could only manage to shake your head.

When he started to move, you gasped, somehow getting used to the feel of him in the time you argued. Feeling him pull out before pushing his way back into you had your back arching, absentmindedly lifting your hips. Every reason as to why you shouldn’t do this became less and less important the longer he fucked you. Your nails clawed at his skin, and Topper hissed at the feeling.

He nipped at your neck, teeth gently pulling at the skin while he plunged his cock into you. You felt so full and so stretched in a way that your fingers—nor his—could compare to. All that was left of the pain was a dull ache, even that becoming overshadowed by the pleasure his thrusts brought to you. You were thankful for the storm, sure you wouldn’t even be able to keep quiet if you tried.

“None of those assholes loved you,” he panted against your lips, fingers twisting into the hair at the nape of your neck. “None of them will ever love you like I do.”

Your fingers pressed into his arm and back, breath hitching at a particularly hard thrust.

When he kissed you, just like that night, you kissed him back. Only this time, you weren’t drunk. You were perfectly sober, and you moaned against his lips at the feel of his cock sinking into you. This was the wettest you’d ever been, dripping around him and making a mess of his sheets, no doubt. His hair was damp with sweat, the soft strands pressing against your forehead, and his skin fared no better. Your hands slid over him with ease, a thin layer of sweat coating both of your frames.

Topper was still fucking you when the thunder stopped, and the rain slackened. It was still dark, but you found yourself biting your lip in an effort to not give yourselves away. You found it difficult, the blonde’s cock hitting something inside of you that made you shudder and clench down onto him. When his hands trailed down to grab onto your waist, his fingers dug into your skin as he lifted your hips for you.

You could just make him out in the darkness, his gaze holding yours as you held onto him and fluttered around his cock. You could feel him push himself to his knees, and you dazedly reached down to cover his hands with your own. He stroked something inside of you that pushed you closer and closer to the edge, and the moment you fell over, you sank your teeth into your lip so hard that you tasted blood.

Your vision momentarily went completely dark, only able to focus on the feel of you tightening around Topper. You took note of his hands on your waist, your hands on his, the movement of the bed and the soft rain outside. As your breathing slowed, you also noticed the sloppiness of his thrusts, and your vision refocused just as the blond pulled out.

His sigh reached your ears as he came onto your stomach.

Aside from the rain, the only sound in the room was that of your soft and labored breathing. You were equally awed and shocked, almost feeling like you’d just had an out of body experience. You were trembling, but not just because you were cold, and sensing this, Topper wrapped his arms around you.

“Topper…”

Your tone was unsure, too many emotions fighting for dominance as you marinated in the aftermath of what just happened. His chest was to your back—heart still racing—and his only response was a quiet ‘tomorrow’. The hand that wasn’t resting on your stomach found a home on the front of your throat, and Topper softly repeated himself when he pressed a kiss to the back of your neck.

#dark!topper thornton #dark!topper thornton x reader #topper thornton #topper thornton x reader #topper thornton imagine #topper thornton fanfiction #obx #outer banks #obx imagine #obx fanfiction #outer banks imagine #outer banks fanfiction

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helplesslypurple77 · 1 year ago

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Day 13- Step Bro!Dazai/Reader/Step Bro!Fyodor

Notes: I think it's a little ooc, but i really couldn't decide which characters to go with so yeah.

also, uhm, that fyodor header picture has nothing to do with the actual story, i just though he looked so fucking hot with that gun(also yes, ik im using the step silbing/dad concept twice but its just so sexy to me yaknow*)(*and also, if your wondering, i actually have a wonderful relationship with my father)

Ever since you can remember the house had been cold. You didn't call it your house, even though you had lived there all your life. No, it was more akin to a creature unto itself, a perfect reflection of your childhood. You were born in this house, the only child Mother, or Cecilia as she insisted upon, didn't abort. You spent your younger years with a nanny, who cared for you the best she could. She taught you to read and write, and you excelled especially at math. But Cecilia didn't care. She never cared. And the house reflected her disinterest.

The nanny, a kind woman named Martha, had been disposed of when you turned eight. Cecilia decided you were old enough to function on your own and fired the waste of money. You spent your years after that in the library, absorbing information, reading fanciful stories with mothers who loved their daughters. You wondered why Cecilia never loved you.

When you turned ten, Cecilia brought home a man. She introduced you, and you stood like instructed, pretty and well behaved. He patted you on the head, but never spared you a glance. He was tall, blond and very, very young. Much younger than Cecilia. And he was much too enamored to care for you, Cecilia's little child. Cecilia encouraged this behavior, and although the number of people in the house had grown, you were all alone. You were always alone. But it was ok, you were used to the silence. You sat in your large playroom, and cried into your pillow, muffling your feelings in the silk. Cecilia didn't need your burdensome feelings.

The summer you turned eleven, Cecilia brought another man home. And this man was kind to you at first. He gave you candy and treated you with kindness, luring you into his trap like a spider. The first time he hit you, you had cried defiantly for Cecilia. And of course Cecilia had not come, for she would rather believe her boytoys over her own flesh and blood. Humans were cruel things, ready to hurt others at the drop of a hat. And Cecilia was the cruelest. Nothing comforted you for ounce as you cried into your comforter, as unloved as before.

The summer you turned fifteen it was clear you had inherited Cecilia's peerless beauty. You spent the rest of the summer mastering makeup and when you arrived at your private school you were instantly popular. The makeup just elevated your already peerless beauty and people, both boys and girls fell at your feet. You reveled in the popularity, the love. A different kind of love, but love all the same. The house congratulated you, but Cecilia didn't care. She never did, after all.

Your grades never fell however, you simply could not let them. If you were proud of anything, it was your intelligence. It was wholly yours, unlike your beauty, inherited from Cecilia. You hated that you were her creation, hated it with your entire very being. You loved your intelligence, however. It came from your father, you were told briefly by Cecilia, and because you had never met him it was easier to accept his qualities. The house was from your father, his money at least. A gift to Cecilia.

And the one gift he had ever gotten you was a ring, a gorgeous piece of silver and emeralds that Cecilia had taken, stoll right from your pudgy two year old hands. You had never even gotten to hold it as an adult. You didn't miss it, not really. But you hated the trait you shared with Cecilia, a sense of selfishness, and a love for jewelry.

It was on your sixteenth birthday, sitting at a table alone as you were blowing out the birthday candles, that you truly cried without the comfort of your pillows. Cecilia was out, and as you eat your cake, you soon come to realize that you had grown up too fast. You had been an adult since the moment Martha was fired and you had sat in the cold walls of your beige playroom, crying and crying for comfort, something that would never find you again. You were a shell, a puppet, a beautiful china doll empty of love. You were Cecilia. The house laughed at your plight, as you sobbed into your pillow, muffling your feelings into the comforting silk.

It was a hot summer day, a few weeks after you turned seventeen when Cecilia broke the news. You were sitting by the pool, sunbathing in your swimsuit. Cecilia simply walked in, spared you a glance, and informed you she was getting married. You felt a small shiver of surprise run up your spine. Cecilia had had many boyfriends, yes, but she never married them. This man had to be different. Or maybe it was her age, and her fading looks. You hated the spike of happiness that pillaged though your heart, you hated how feelings of hatred turned you into a spiteful shrew, just like Cecilia. Cecilia had cracked open a beer, flipping through her magazine, sparing you one last glance. “He has sons, two of them.” She had said, closing the screen door behind her.

⋆｡ °✩

“There you are, Name. You're late.” Cecilia said, giving you her usual faintly disapproving stare mixed with disgust. You still quail under it, even though it's the same one you’ve seen for years and years and years. You still fear her disapproval, even after all.

“I'm sorry Cecilia.” You say, straightening your spine. You're still in your school uniform, and the bus was late but you know better than to give excuses. Cecilia doesn't care for those. The little skirt and blazer combo is one of your favorites, and the only thing you truly love about St. Catherine's private school for young ladies. The walls of St Catherines are barren and cold, but not as cold as your own. Cecilia flips her hair, looking perfectly put together as always, although her age is beginning to show around her eyes. She hates it, you know, and you love it. You can't wait for Cecilia to wither away, her personal worst nightmare.

“Don't embarrass me, Name.” Cecilia says, her cold eyed stair rooting you to your place. “Just smile pleasantly and entertain your step brothers, alright Sweetheart?” She says. The pet name reeks of disinterest but her disinterest is preferable to her anger. For when Cecilia angers the foundations of the very house shake. You nod, and Cecilia takes that as enough. A knock sounds on the door, and any ugly expression is gone from her face as she flies for the door, opening it and hopping into the arms of the man behind it.

He’s your mothers usual type, tall and handsome, but several years older than you would have guessed. He spins her around, and they kiss. You look away. There are two boys standing behind him on the doorstep, and to your surprise they also look away from the torrid display. Their strange boys, both around the same height, but that is the only thing they share in common. They don't even really look related, but who are you to judge? Done with their display, Cecilia and her new husband step through the door, still attached at the hip. Cecilia throws you a glare, and you put on your customary smile, a smile so fake you feel like a barbie doll.

“My daughter, Name.” Cecilia almost imperceptibly grimaces at the word daughter, gesturing at you. You smile. “Hello.” You say, feeling like a fake. The man gives you a smile, gesturing at his sons, who have stepped through the door, and now stand on either side of him and Cecilia. “My sons, Fyodor and Osamu.” The one on the right smiles at you, the other one simply gives you a nod. They're so different, you’d almost think them adopted. But you can see their features in their father.

The smiling one, Osamu, has short wavy brown hair and sparkling brown eyes. He gives you a tiny wave, and you feel your smile become genuine for a second, before you catch yourself. The ones who smile are more dangerous, you had learned long ago. They lure you with kindness and hit you with force. He’s dressed in a wrinkled button down and uniform pants, his posture casual with his hands in his pockets. A matching tie hangs crooked on his neck. It's the uniform for your school, or the boys school across the street. St. Catherines school for young ladies and St. Andrews school for young men share a single campus separated by a metal fence.

The one on the left side is pale, almost sickly pale, with dark circles to match his long dark hair. It looks soft, his hair, and brushes just below his jaw. H’s eyes are dark, and they run over your face, almost as if they're checking for cracks in your composure. He’s dressed in the same uniform, but his appearance is more neat. His tie is tied correctly, and he wears a black jacket over the rest of his uniform. They are strange boys, but you are very used to strange after all.

“Name? Entertain your new brothers, Sweetheart.” Cecilia says. You wince at the nickname. You hate that nickname, you hate it so much. “Yes Cecilia.” You bite out, smile still in place. You feel empty, like a porcelain doll. A tool Cecilia can use and discard at any moment. You feel disposable. You hate it.

⋆｡ °✩

Your new brothers are kind, if a little strange. The quiet one with pretty hair, Fyodor, is a year older than you. He plays cello and dislikes Cecilia, which makes you like him a lot. Fyodor treated you with an amount of distance at first, but slowly warmed up to you when he found out you play piano. He had informed you one day, when he was helping you with homework, that his mother was a Russian supermodel. And he’s handsome, you're not really surprised. He’s kind in a quiet kind of way, less teasing than his younger brother. You also notice how he subtly moves forward, shielding you whenever Cecilia is angry. You love him for it, that protectiveness.

Osamu is younger than you by about six months, and loud. He quite clearly makes it his goal to be the loudest person in the room and you love how it annoys Cecilia every time he steals her thunder. He’s a very touchy person as well, unlike his brother. He would comfort you with jokes when he saw you were down, and could not cook for the life of him. His reaction to Cecilia was the most reactionary. He taunted her, shot smart alec remarks in her direction, or just plain ignored her. And every time he got a reaction. Cecilia’s face would flush red with anger, and she would strike out, just to be dodged with a snarky little comment. And the more angry she got, the more pleased Osamu became

And they hate each other, the brothers. At first you had thought they got along well, but then you noticed the snarky little comments they would trade back and forth, the glares behind their parents back. Everything is a constant competition, be it a board game or report cards they make it their goal to beat the other each time. And you don't really mind, the house feels warm and full of life, and you feel included. To them, life seems a game, and the people who live it merely pieces, to be moved to and fro to their pleasure. You must assume yourself a spectator, not a piece, but if you were a piece you would like to be the queen. Cecilia didn't like your new brothers, that much was obvious. But she still used them to belittle you every chance she got.

“Your brothers got all A+.” She would say, pinning you with that faintly disgusted expression she used as default. “And you got an A.” You would surrender to your room to cry in peace, away from Cecilia's proud eyes, and the prying ears of your much to perceptive brothers.

But if they shared anything, it was a sense of mystery. Because each of them never allowed you to get too close, keeping you forever just a length away. You tried not to take it personally, but you still shed a tear or two.

But for the first time in many years, you were happy. The house congratulated you, as its hallways filled with laughter to replace to silence, its rooms with color to replace the beige. Cecilia was as unpleasant as ever, but she was busy with her husband, and left you and your step brothers to their own devices. But still you feared it would all go away. That soon, they would tire of you, that they would never let you close, that Cecilia would grow tired of her husband and toss out the trash as she always did. It was a nagging fear that came back to haunt you in dreams, until you woke up in a cold sweat.

And there's an odd tension that hovers in the air, whenever you and the brothers interact. A strange tension that makes your blood sing with excitement, that leaves you on your toes with anticipation. When Osamu slings his arm around your shoulders, pulling you into a loose hug of sorts. When Fyodor pulls your hair behind your ear, his cold fingers brushing your face, leaving goosebumps in their wake. It's a tension you’ve felt before, a tension you don't want to give name to, a tension that scares you. But then, you're sure it's just you, that your new brothers simply treat you as a sister, like how you should treat them. You should not desire your step brothers, Cecilia had told you the night before they moved in. But then again, Cecilia had never been a very good role model.

⋆｡ °✩

It's raining, big fat drops pattering against the roof, wind splattering the droplets against the window panes. A faint clatter can be heard from outside, as if the wind itself is crying, banging at the doors. The wind sounded lonely. It banged on the doors of the world, begging to be let into the light, much like you had when you were young. You wanted to comfort the wind, to hold her in your arms with the warmth you had never been given, but everyone knew you could not hold the wind. So you simply told her to stay strong, and let the night and rain embrace her for you.

You would always read when it rained. You remembered a book you had read long ago. It had been the one to solidify the wind as lonely, and had been oh so impressionable to your young mind. ‘Keep strong wind’ it read, ‘keep strong and soon the rain and night will hold you in their comforting embrace, will keep you warm and happy…’. You had always seen yourself in the lonely wind, and had dreamed of your rain and night to comfort you. The library had long been your only comfort, and you begged for human comfort, human warmth.(You didn't dare to hope that your step brothers could be your night and rain, because you knew god would hear you and laugh in your face. Because god loved Cecilia, not worthless you.)

Cecilia and her husband are gone, on a weekend trip to Hawaii. You were not invited, because of course not, and neither were your brothers.

The house is almost silentand with Osamu out at book club the house seems to sigh in relief, giving itself time to relax before the loudness returns.

You are curled up on the couch with a book, listening to Fyodor as he practices his Cello. It's a cozy evening, the fire crackling in the grate, the strains of the first movements of Brahms – Cello Sonata No. 1 floating through the cozy atmosphere. You hear the piano part along with him unconsciously, fingers tapping your things in rhythm. You can never quite beat the musician out of you, it's embedded into your very being at this point.

Brahms – Cello Sonata No. 1, the first movement is a deep piece, and slightly depressing if you're being honest. But you love the melancholy that surrounds it. It creates a certain air, allowing the instruments to tangle together beautifully almost as if the melodies are dancing together. They twist like lovers, the parts, dipping one then the other, a beautifully teasing medley of pure emotion, something you could never truly give in life. It would be nice to dance with Fyodor, he was such an elegant human being, from the way he walked to his looks. You imagined the two of you would sail across the floor of the ballroom, his gloved hand on your waist, twirling you and spinning you and only looking at you. You wanted him to gaze upon you with reverence, much like the men your mother married gazed upon her. You want to be loved.

The Cello part comes to an end, and you sit silently for a moment, hesitant to break the spell. Then Fyodor's accented voice, still slightly hushed, breaks through the atmosphere. “How was it?” He says. You love his accent, it feels all full and warm. “Good, good as always.” You say, putting a finger in your book and looking up. “You were a bit sharp on the first note of measure twenty seven.” You're reading Pride and Prejudice, again. You’ve always loved it, and have read it some many times you’ve simply lost count.

Fyodor sighs, leaning back in his chair and resting his cello back into its case. “You always catch my mistakes. What would I do without you, Name.” He says with a small smile. Your heart warms at the praise, your smile threatening to break out of its confinements, all together and split your face in two. You tamp it down, putting on a face of disinterest you're not sure he believes. You always get the vague feeling that your brothers know you better than you know yourself.

You flip through the channels on tv, happy to have control of the remote. It's all the usual, sports games and real housewives and spanish game show episodes. You put on a random movie, which sounded interesting. ‘Essential object of enjoyment,’(is a title that to anyone else would scream softcore porn film, to you, still a sheltered girl of seventeen years old, it seemed as innocent as a daisy. You were not a virgin, but inexperienced and somewhat oblivious, so at odds with your calm adult attitude.) Fyodor plops himself on the couch next to you, a tedious foot away. He seemed too far away but all at once to close, the heat of his body a tease beside you. You clench your legs together, pulling in on yourself.

The film is about a young woman named Maria, who is taking a vacation on a very sketchy manor in a strange small town. It's a low budget film, with crappy acting and even crappier scares, but it's entertaining and you find yourself settling in against the couch, slowly leaning closer and closer to the warm human beside you. And soon, as Maria decides to ignore all the advice of the locals and enter the abandoned church late at night, you're so close your shoulders are almost touching, and finally, you dare to lean into him.

He lets you, slinging an arm around your shoulders with an excuse none of you are listening to anyway, and pulls a small blanket over your bare legs. “You're cold aren't you?” he says, voice hushed in your ear. You shiver, with a nod. You arent that cold, but you want to be close to him, to feel his heat, his warmth. You're sure he knows this, and you let yourself feel hopeful for once, curling into his body like a pedigree cat.

And as you watch the movie, heart pounding in your throat, it dawns on you that something is very clearly wrong. The budget is too cheap, but the camera work is too advanced, the camera’s to expensive. The acting is too bad, but the actress has professionally done makeup and hair. And then, as you watch Maria get tied up by the clean masked man, it all makes too much sense. It's softcore porn. You move for the remote, fishing around for it on the couch, desperately. You're already flushing, your thighs rubbing together as you reach around for it. The idea of watching a porn film with your step brother is humiliating and embarrassing and frustratingly arousing.

“Do you need something?” Fyodor says, rubbing little soft patterns in your shoulder, pulling you closer to him. You nod. “The remote, gonna switch channels.” You're already flushing, but have stopped your frantic fishing for the remote. He frowns in disappointment and you automatically tense, so used to Cecilia’s disappointed or angry stares. “Can we leave it, I'm actually enjoying it.” He says. You glance at the screen, where Maria is now being threatened by a knife. You desperately want to say no, but the people pleaser in you insist you agree. And so, you sink back into his touch, flushing.

‘Where is it? Where is it?’ The masked man is saying to Maria. The film takes a moment to focus on the actress’s bountiful chest, and you try not to writhe with embarrassment and jealousy. You bet Fyodor likes big boobs, Cecilia said all men like big boobs. Her’s are fake, but you don't feel the need to protest and get a slap.

The bad guy of the film is a man in a purple mask. He’s thin in stature, and tall, overwhelming Maria’s small frame. He reminds you distinctly of the man sitting beside you, with his face hidden like that. He has a russian accent in the film as well, just like the man beside you, and as he whispers in her ear it does stuff to you.

‘Tell me where it is or there will be consequences.’ the man in the mask says.

‘I will never tell you!’ Maria says definitely. You watch in horror as the masked man's thin fingers slip between her thighs. The camera cuts to her face of surprise. It's clear that this is where the actress’s true chops shine, as her mouth drops open in a little oh of surprise.

You feel hot, biting back a whimper as you press your thighs together, hoping that your step brother doesn't notice.

‘Your such a slut for my fingers aren't you?’ The man in the mask bends Maria over a table, the camera now showing a cut of his hands pulling her thighs apart. All you can picture in your mind is you as Maria, and the man in the mask as Fyodor. When the man in the film speaks all you can hear is Fyodor’s voice, his teasing lines, him all him all him.

And then, the other bad guy of the film appears. And honestly it should shock you out of your dirty fantasies, but the other man, this one in a teal mask, sounds very similar to your other step brother.

You can imagine yourself in Maria's place, bent over a table like that, fingers shoved up your cunt, dick keeping you silent. And most of all, pretty praises falling out of your step brother's mouths. ‘Such a pretty girl, such a smart girl, so good for us, such a slut for us—’

Fyodor’s eyes are on you, you can feel them even as you focus resolutely on the screen. He speaks near your ear, a pur, a whisper, a tease ment for seduction. “What are you imagining, darling?” He says. He speaks like he already knows, and through your haze of arousal clouding your brain you let the words escape before you can stop them.

“Fingers in my cunt.” You say, your voice a whimper. Maria on the screen begins to moan, loudly. The volume goes down on screen and you're too lust clouded to question why Fyodor had the remote.

“You want fingers in your pretty cunt baby?” Fyodor purrs in your ear, his long pale fingers teasing the edge of your uniform skirt. “You want my fingers stuffed up that tight cunt of yours? Would that feel good?” You whine, head falling back against his arm, eyes falling closed.

“Oh yes, please.” Your voice is embarrassing, all breathy and whiny. This whole situation is illogical, and if you were able to see through the haze of lust in your brain you would have backpedaled immediately. But you're horny and in love and he’s encouraging you.

His fingers caress the edge of your panties, teasing you with glances of touches, driving you crazy. You grip his arm, the one teasing your pussy and shove the hand against your drooling cunt. The man beside you bites back a groan, muffling his pleasure, but you hear it. It reassures you that he wants you too, but also drives you insane, craving sweet relief with his touch.

Fyodor’s fingers find purchase, clever musicians' hands pulling back the crotch of your panties. He chuckles as you clutch his arm, still clothed in his loose white turtleneck and jeans. “You're so wet darling, your little cunt is absolutely drooling.” he says, his accent doing things to your brain, to your pussy. Your eyes catch on the dirty picture. He drags his fingers through, collecting a fair bit of wetness and popping his fingers in his mouth. The picture is nasty. He keeps eye contact all throughout, sucking his fingers wetly, the dirty slurping sounds filling the room.

“Here darling.” He holds out his wet fingers, dripping with a mix of saliva and your own arousal. “Suck.” He says. You take them in your mouth obediently, tasting the mix of arousal and saliva. The very idea that you're tasting him, that you're tasting his very being, makes your abandoned cunt clench around nothing, the nasty slurping sounds you make only fueling the arousal perfuming the air. At some point Fyodor had turned off the porn, and now the only sounds that fill the room are from the two of you. A different kind of music than that you're used to, a symphony of debauchery.

His fingers leave your mouth with a pop, and you open your eyes. He smiles at you, all hazy eyes and spit slicked lips. “Good girl.” He says, and then shoves both fingers in your cunt. You arch off the couch at the abrupt intrusion, clenching down hard around his fingers with a scream. ‘Oh, oh god Fyodor!” You say, panting. He looks vaguely proud as he scissors you open, watching as you thrash around on his fingers, bucking desperately.

The sound of the door slamming penetrates the haze, and you grip Fyodor’s fingers, trying to stop him. He just continues to fuck you open, grining all the while.

“Man, fuck you Fyodor.” It's Osamu, looking less surprised and more annoyed. Fyodor just continues grinning as you moan on his fingers, drooling pussy on display. “I consider this a win then?” He says, smirking. Ah, another one of their competitions. You would pay more attention but your being fucked open by Fyodor’s long relentless fingers. You keen as he adds another one, gripping his arm with a nasty whine.

Osamu speaks to Fyodor, but his eyes are fixed on you. “It's not over yet, you fucker.” He says, slamming his backpack down on the floor and sauntering over to you. “Name declares the winner. Deal?” Fyodor, now rubbing a thumb on your clit nods, holding out his other hand to shake. “Deal, that sound good darling?” You nod around your moans, not truly comprehending what that means. Osamu sends you a rather scary looking grin and pounces.

They move you into a doggy position first, Fyodor replacing his fingers with his cock. You're already so close, and as you feel the large intrusion bully your walls apart you cum right there, your head falling against the couch cushions. “Oh, oh, oh god, ‘m coming!” You scream, drooling onto the couch. Fyodor grunts behind you. “You're tight.” He coos. Osamu grips your jaw, draggin you off the ouch to look at him. “So pretty too, just perfect aren't you.” His dick is already hard in his jeans, you can see the bulge as Fyodor begins to move, fucking you through the overstime. You whine in pain, the sharp pains of overstimulation mixing with the blinding pleasure they give you. Dazai chuckles.

“We’re going to fuck you do good darling.” He says, running a gentle hand through your hair. “Make you feel our love.”

⋆｡ °✩

It's when you're three orgasms deep, and you're hung over the couch backwards, a dick down your throat and cum dripping from your pussy, that you maybe start to have second thoughts. Their stamina seems endless, and they bring to the edge relentlessly, their competitive natures making them drive you to orgasm after orgasm. The world is hazy at this point, and all you feel is pleasure, all you hear is their voices, all you want is them, them them.

“Switch her around Osamu.” Fyodor says, his accent rough though the haze. You feel yourself hoisted up, and now you're folded into a mating press and Fyodor’s fat cock is bullying your walls again. Cum leaks out of all your holes, the loud squelching sound letting you know that you're thoroughly ruining Cecilia's favorite couch. You're covered in sweat, completely naked and makeup ruined, and to the boys you’ve never looked so pretty. They tell you at length, compliments showered on your exhausted form.

And as you cum yet again, clenching around Fyodor’s dick with a weak cry, you feel so loved, so appreciated, and so optimistic.

And then you bended into another position, Dazai’s dick lodged into your ass, Fyodor’s in your dripping cunt.

⋆｡ °✩

“So, which of us won anyway?” It's Dazai, and he sounds plenty exhausted. You sigh tiredly, holes dripping cum onto the carpet and exhausted. “Draw.” Is all you manage to pant out.

Fyodor beside you chuckles. “I guess we’ll have to have a rematch then.” You're exhausted, but you feel your pussy clench tiredly at the mention of that. “Yeah.” You sigh out tiredly. The boys chuckle beside you, each pressing a kiss to your cheeks.

“Love you Name.” You hear them whisper in your ear. You smile as you drift off the sleep.

End Notes: I am actually a piano player, and every time I listen to classical pieces nowadays I feel really bad because I haven't been practicing lately because my piano teacher is taking a break because she had a baby.

#bungou stray dogs #mariannacrxss #kinktober 2023 #bsd smut #helplesslypurple77kinktober #kinktober #bsd x reader #bungou stray dogs x reader #dazai x reader #dazai smut #fyodor x reader

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catsrsupersonic · 8 months ago

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in sickness and in health

“Person B and Person A getting sick at the same time.”

Luke Hughes x Reader

Word count: 700 ish

Be kind! Constructive criticism is always welcome! Wage peace xx

Y/N wanders back into their shared bedroom with two cups of warm tea to a dramatic groan coming from her boyfriend. She laughs at his ridiculousness as if he wasn’t the one who begged to cuddle two nights before even though she told him countless times that she was too unwell and didn’t want to make him sick. Despite her warnings he didn’t listen and now she was faced with a dramatic wimpy boyfriend who constantly needs attention and love and refused to do anything himself as he was “on his death bed”.

She places both mugs on his bed side table and sits on the edge of the bed next to him and strokes her hand through his dishevelled curls as he closes his eyes and hums at the comforting sensation. She removes her hand to grab her cup to take a drink to try and soothe her throat as her boyfriend huffs and puffs at the loss of contact.

“I can’t believe this!” he exclaims tiredly, “first you poison me with the plague and now you wont even play with my hair!” he continues as he grabs her hand to place it back into his hair.

She gasps dramatically at his words as she hands him his cup of tea, “first of all, Lu, you were the one begging to be with me even though I told you I would get you sick. Second, I have been playing with your hair constantly since this morning! You should see yourself right now your hair has gone crazy.” She rolls her eyes at his remark and crawls over his frame to get to the other side of the bed. “You poisoned yourself, baby. And I want to get a bath with you so considering I made the tea, running the bath is your responsibility.” She explains before taking another large sip of her tea.

He groans dramatically before rising from bed and wandering through to their bathroom and running a relaxing bubble bath for them both. He places all their bath products near the bath and places a few towels into the towel warmer he insisted they both wasted $300 on when they moved in together.

He stumbles back into the bedroom with a sleepy smile on his face as he spots her waiting for him on the end of the bed. He reaches for her hand and pulls her into a hug, careful not to spill any of her tea. He grabs his own tea from his bed side and places a hand on his girls’ lower back as he guides her into the bathroom. He takes in her sickly appearance. Even with dirty hair and leftover makeup, he still thought she was the most beautiful girl in the world. She shone in the light spilling in from the window behind her as she flashed him her beautiful smile after catching him watching her. He smiled back and leaned into kiss her quickly on her lips.

They both undress and step into the warm bath, her back pressed to his chest as she rested her eyes shut. He carefully washed her body with a sponge and her favourite body wash before gently massaging her scalp with shampoo as she let out small breaths and quiet moans at the sensation. When he finished her hair routine that he had memorised from watching her do it any chance he got, they switched positions, and she washed him clean too. She made sure to use her body wash on him because despite his initial protest, she knew it was his favourite. He accidentally fell asleep as she massaged his scalp and before she rinsed him, she quickly grabbed her phone and took a cute picture of the two snuggled in the bath with him asleep leaning back on her chest.

They finished up and dried each other with the heated towels before he sat her on the counter and patiently waited as she completed a curly hair routine on his hair for him. He then used the hair drier to dry her hair the best he could and the braid it all so she could sleep comfortably.

They changed back into their pyjamas and grabbed a few more toilet rolls just in case and headed back to bed. Luke instantly laid sprawled over his girlfriend acting as a weighted blanket and he gave her a sweet kiss before dozing off once again, safe in each other’s arms.

#luke hughes #luke hughes x reader #he is so babygirl #my husband

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tenpintsofsundrop · 1 year ago

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Push and Pull

Emily Prentiss x Fem!Reader (Smut Blurb)

Concept: While playing games with Viper, Emily (accidentally) plays on your attraction to her - something you had been trying to hide since you started with the BAU. The results end up being more than interesting.

Word Count: 2,800

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Full list of warnings and author's notes below the cut.

Warnings: smut; this is set during Season 4, Episode 9 (52 Pickup) and there is a lot of references to the episode in this, but I think you could read this without having seen the episode; mentions of typically sexist practices - in the form of 'pickup artistry': the reader character replaces Jordan Todd on the team; there is an age gap between Emily and the reader - Emily is older and the reader character is younger; the reader character uses she/her pronouns and has a vagina; mention of the reader wearing a dress and makeup; the reader has sexual fantasies about Emily - which include: pussy eating, fingering, rough sex, semi public sex, being called 'naughty girl'; most of the sex acts are in fantasies (this fic is mostly tension and build up and sexually adjacent situations rather than actual sex); masturbation (the reader masturbates); mentions of masturbation being unsatisfying or not feeling 'as good' as having sex with the desired partner; caught masturbating - Emily walks in on the reader; Emily refers to herself as 'Mama' (once); rough kissing, Emily gropes the reader through clothing, very light choking (from Emily toward the reader) (Emily puts her hand on the reader's neck and applies pressure for a few seconds to get her attention), Emily calls the reader 'needy little thing' (in this case the word 'little' is meant to be condescending and not a description of size); undertones of degradation kink; I believe that is everything.

A/N: The original request mentioned fake dating (and I would love to do that trope with Emily), but I couldn't stop thinking about how stunning and gorgeous Emily looks in this episode, and I thought it would be interesting to use it. Also the idea of a man basing his pickup techniques on women needing male validation when - hey, what kind of women wouldn't want or need male validation? A woman who is obsessed with the other gorgeous woman at the table. It was such a fun scenario to write about. I definitely wanna write more Emily fics in the future.

...

At first, you really weren’t looking forward to it.

Though it seemed fun in concept - having an excuse to dress up and go out to a club while on the job - Emily assured you that it was going to be miserable.

The way Emily talked about the man - Viper. She almost made him sound worse than some of the confirmed killers you had dealt with during your short time at the BAU. She said that he was the scum of the earth, a waste of oxygen, that made her feel dirty just by giving her a weird look. She joked that she was ‘dragging you along’ because she didn’t want to suffer alone (that, and she needed backup, in case the guy truly was dangerous).

From the way she talked about it, you thought the night was going to be miserable.

You certainly didn’t expect it to be one of the best nights of your life.

Viper frequented bars and nightclubs. So of course, nightclub appropriate attire was required. You rushed to a store and grabbed the first tight dress you could find (a red one with spaghetti straps that would pair well with a pair of modest black heels you already had in your bag for the job). You didn’t expect to come back and see Emily getting changed into a clingy black dress that fit her like sin, her makeup subtle but smokey.

You had been actively suppressing your attraction to her, a gorgeous older woman, since you had joined the BAU a month ago. You told yourself that you could keep your lustful feelings under control because you would only be there temporarily, to replace their usual media liaison - who was on maternity leave. But seeing her dressed up like this, it certainly didn’t help with that suppression.

Things only got worse when you got to the club and Viper descended upon the two of you. (You quietly whispered to Emily that his name should have been Vulture and the soft laughter she let out had your insides fluttering.)

Turns out, Emily had been paying extra attention to the ‘push and pull’ technique that Reid had talked about. And even though you knew that it was just in the name of messing with the cocky man - you fell hook, line, and sinker for Emily’s combatants of this technique.

See, rather than letting him push and pull the two of you - compliment one of you and leave the other one reeling for validation, Emily complimented you herself. She never let Viper leave room for you to need that validation. Not that you would ever need it from someone like him. But she certainly threw him off with this tactic.

She supported you, focused far more of her attention on you than she did on him. The two of you never fell to the traditional ‘women in constant competition’ market that his techniques were built on. If she put far more of her focus on you and actively ignored him (or even not-so-subtly insulted him), then what could he do?

Women not vying for his attention? It was a curveball for the ages.

Clearly, he had no backup plan. He was struggling to keep up.

If he called your dress cheap, Emily said how well the fabric complimented your amazing body. If he said your mascara was clumpy and poorly done, Emily said your eyes were naturally beautiful and shined bright without makeup anyway.

The more annoyed it seemed to make him, the more she fawned over you.

And it left you staring at her all night. Captivated by her beauty, her silky voice. You barely even knew that he was there as she laughed at him, engaged in his silly games, taunted him.

By the time you left the club, you were almost high on the affection Emily had given you.

The rest seemed to go by in a blur. The real killer was caught at a different club, and the team retired back to their hotel to get some rest before returning home. As you and Emily walked back to your shared room, you were still laughing and joking about the pathetic man who somehow made his living off of scamming men more pathetic than him.

“And did - did you see the look on his face when I said ‘you probably go home alone, don’t you?’ - Like he - he couldn’t believe that I wasn’t falling for his BS,” Emily said, stuttering through her words as hardy laughter disrupted her speech.

“It’s like he’s never met a confident woman in his life.” You replied, a delicate chuckle in your voice.

It was a subtle compliment toward Emily, admiring her confidence in how well she had dealt with the scummy, overly cocky man.

“No, not quite.” Emily sighed, using the keycard to open the hotel room door.

Your insides fluttered even more when she held the door open for you. You couldn’t help but enjoy the domestic feeling behind it as you brushed past her body in order to get inside.

Of course, she wasn’t even paying attention to the dreamy, starstruck look on your face as she continued speaking.

“He’s never approached a confident woman before.” She quickly corrected, letting the door fall shut and click locked behind her. “He’s never approached a woman he thought he couldn’t con.”

“And for some reason he dared you to ‘meet him on his turf’?” You questioned, repeating the words she had told you, when ranting about the previous interaction she had with the awful man. “You, of all people?”

You had to wonder what about Emily Prentiss would come off as even slightly insecure or - what about her said that she would fall for his stupid tricks. In your opinion, it was like trying to outrun a cheetah using a tricycle.

“Yeah, I guess he was counting on me being drunk and blinded by all his guyliner.” Emily joked, tossing her bag down onto one of the twin beds.

You collapsed down onto the other bed with intense laughter. The joke itself was funny, but her delivery, her confidence, and her smile caused a spark through you that forced you to laugh off the tension before you jumped her bones. You had to be professional. You had to keep reminding yourself of that.

“I call the bathroom first.” She announced. “I really need a shower after being drowned in Drakkar Noir all night.”

You had to ignore the dryness in your throat and the heat between your thighs at the thought of her in the shower. Previously, it was something your mind could have easily glossed over, but after she spent the night fawning over you and capturing your attention completely, it was like you were a horny teenager again. Now all you could think about was her completely naked, droplets of hot water rolling across her skin, surrounded by steam.

You had to pull yourself together. You had to be professional, for fuck’s sake.

“But of course.” You told her, giving a smile and a nod. You motioned toward the bathroom, as if presenting it to her in a gentlemanly fashion. “I’ll probably just shower in the morning.”

Emily nodded in acknowledgement of this, and there was no further conversation.

This left your mind reeling, your body entirely tense and hyper aware of her every movement as she got ready. You had to busy yourself with grabbing your pajamas out of your own bag - an oversized X-Files tee shirt and a pair of comfortable cotton shorts - while she grabbed her toiletries bag and went into the bathroom.

The water turned on and you tried your hardest not to think about her undressing and stepping under the stream as you changed into your pjs. You tried your hardest not to think about her tight, fit body relaxing under the steam. You tried your hardest not to think about soft bubbles rolling across her soft, pale skin.

Clearly, you were failing. Failing not to think about her. Failing miserably when it came to suppressing your attraction for her.

By the time you climbed into bed, there was a hard, hot pain between your thighs.

You wanted so badly to simply roll over and go to sleep. You wanted to ignore it. But a very large part of you worried that if you didn’t ‘take care’ of that nagging arousal, then you wouldn’t be able to sleep. And if you didn’t sleep and you rolled into the next day with this attraction to Emily still at the forefront of your mind - then you wouldn’t be able to act normal around her for the travel day home tomorrow. You might say or do something stupid.

You had to do something.

The longer you laid there in bed, unconsciously squeezing your thighs together, feeling your pussy throbbing between them - thinking about Emily’s head being trapped between your legs - the more it bothered you.

You had some time while she was in the shower, right? You could be quick. Of course you could. And if you heard the water turn off, you would simply stop.

Before any true logic could catch up between your ears, a hand was sneaking below the waistband of your shorts. That hand easily went inside your underwear and found a natural place on your throbbing clit. You dipped down into your wetness (leaking out of you abundantly from how much you had been thinking about Emily) and slicked up the hot button before you began rubbing it in hard circles. You were determined to cum quickly and be done with it.

You closed your eyes and tiled your head back against the pillow, your mind drifting back to her once again. You couldn’t stop thinking about how perfect she looked in that ruby lipstick. All night, you had felt jealous of the glass when she brought her drink up to her lips.

You imagined her approaching you at a bar.

You would be out by yourself, and she would see you from across the room. So entirely confident, she would see you and in a moment, know that she could have you.

She would come up behind you, whisper sweetly in your ear, telling you how perfect you looked. She would smirk at your initial shyness when you giggled at the compliment. She would tell you that she couldn’t wait to get you home - that she wanted you and she wanted you now.

So she would pull you into a bathroom, pinning you against a counter. And then she would shove her hand under your dress, only to find that you weren’t wearing any panties, just for her. She would scold you, call you a naughty girl. Her voice so sweet and condescending, only making you wetter. And then she would shove her fingers into your slick cunt and shove her other hand over your mouth, trying in vain to keep your whorish moans from being heard as you begged for her.

“Emily, please,” You couldn’t stop the faint, needy moan that escaped you as you got lost in the fantasy.

Of course, so lost in it, that you didn’t hear the shower turning off.

Your pussy ached, leaking freely into your underwear, and your clit throbbed, emanating a needy pain out through your pelvis. You worked your fingers in more frantic circles, doubling down. Your hips canted up off the bed, knocking the covers off you slightly as dull pleasure radiated out across your hips.

(Dull compared to what Emily would have given you, you were sure.)

Even if it was unsatisfactory, you were close.

“Emily-!” You cried out desperately, right on the edge of orgasm.

“Hey, do you have some makeup remover I can borrow? I forgot-”

Shock cascaded through your system and you instantly stilled your movements. This caused your orgasm to become a low hum in your pelvis once again as your eyes shot open in disbelief.

Your gaze locked onto Emily where she stood in the bathroom doorway. Your insides were still with shock - embarrassment or any other emotion hadn’t even caught up yet.

Steam ploomed around her and she was forced to hold up the hotel towel with one hand as it couldn’t fully wrap around her body, leaving a sliver of her skin exposed from her armpit to her knee - the curve of her breast, her waist, and her hip on full display. With her hair soaked and her bangs slicked back from her face, and true to what she had said, her makeup still on but slightly smudged from the shower - she looked utterly delicious.

She was like a pornographic dream, live in front of you.

You let out a quiet whimper at the sight.

It was only then that your brain began to unfreeze from the shock, and you realized how truly incriminating you looked. The covers pooled around your thighs, your hand quite visibly inside your shorts, your face contorted with pleasure as your eyes scanned over her half naked body. You rushed to rip your hand out of your underwear - and you realized the sight wasn’t much better as your fingers glistened in the light.

Emily’s eyes moved from your glistening fingers to your stiff, nervous body, your thighs still parted (as it would be too uncomfortable to clamp them down on your wet underwear and aching cunt). She smirked at you. She looked at you with the same devious, cocky expression that Viper had started out the night with - before she had taken him down notch by notch.

The look alone caused any apology to be stuck in your throat. You waited for her to speak before you made any moves.

“What were you thinking about?” She asked, her voice breathy, soft, yet entirely commanding.

In that moment, caught in the smoldering gate of her eyes, you could find nothing but honesty pounding inside of your chest.

“You.” You whined quietly.

Emily chuckled gently.��

Your stomach twisted with embarrassment for the split second that you thought she might be laughing at you. But then you realized that it was, in fact, a sound of satisfaction.

That realization hit you when she dropped the towel completely. She stood in front of you proudly, showing off all of her naked, wet glory. Her dark nipples pebbling in the air, the damp sheen of water making her skin glow like a dewy goddess. Quite obviously, she wanted you to look.

Your eyes traced a few thick droplets of water as they escaped her hair and ran down her body. You became absolutely mesmerized by the way gravity pulled the water over her collarbones, the teardrop curve of her breasts, the plushness of her stomach, across her pelvis, down her thighs. You imagined yourself tracing over those exact lines with your tongue.

“Come to me.”

Her silken voice snapped you out of your trance. Your eyes shot back up to her face once again, and in the sluggish moment that it took the words to get to your brain, she added something onto the command that absolutely knocked the wind out of you.

“Come on. Come to Mama.”

Her calling herself that name, so self assured, so certain - the phrase almost had you down on all fours, crawling to her like a dog.

But instead, you scrambled to get upright and practically ran across the room to her on shaking legs. Entirely eager, you stood in front of her and leaned in to press your mouth against hers. Naturally, you expected that the interaction would start with a kiss.

But she quickly reached up and stopped you with a hand on the side of your neck. You let out a harsh whimper of disappointment - one that quickly turned into a moan when she pressed her thumb into your windpipe with just enough pressure to make your brain go fuzzy.

She was showing you who was in charge.

“Not so fast,” She told you, her breath cascading against your lips now.

Although she was completely naked and you were clothed, it was very apparent that she was the one in complete control.

“Tell me how badly you want it.” She ordered, her voice low and almost gentle - a soft domineering that caused the hairs on your arms to stand up straight.

“I want it so badly,” You easily replied, your voice intensely needy. “I need it. I need you, Em.”

Emily reached up with her other hand and - with no warning - harshly gripped your pussy through your underwear and shorts. This caused sharp shocks of arousal to flow through you, making you moan out weakly. It was a dizzying euphoria that had you bucking into her hand. You almost came from that single touch alone.

“Needy little thing.” She purred. “I am gonna have so much fun with you.”

This was her last verbal sentiment before she pulled you forward by that hand on your neck and silenced any further moans with a bruising kiss.

#sundrop writes #emily prentiss #emily prentiss x reader #emily prenitss x fem!reader #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds x reader

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jeansplaytoy · 8 months ago

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𝐂𝐨𝐥𝐝 𝐒𝐨𝐮𝐥

part eight.

angst(if you’re sensitive) , kind of sad/confused themes , fluff , etc.

yeah im on a roll i know. 😘 (i’m not.) NOT PROOF READ CS IM RUSHING A LITTLE

part seven here | part nine here

it was the next morning.

you felt a little weird. not pregnancy weird, or sad or angry, you just felt… off. like what happened wasn’t supposed to happen.

when you woke up, you didn’t immediately get up. you stared at the ceiling for a few minutes, reminiscing on everything that happened last night. it was all so vivid, which was unusual, because normally you wouldn’t remember anything.

you only remembered what happened between you and connie. you didn’t even remember the fight that happened with you and Paris.

you finally got the energy to drag yourself out of bed and walk over to your vanity, looking at the marks and hickeys that covered your neck and chest. you rubbed them for a few seconds, as if they would come off, and continued to stare in the mirror.

“i like you.”

you remembered those exact words from connie… or you… that’s one thing you didn’t remember. you knew that you both said it, you don’t remember the exact way you said it.

walking over to your nightstand, your phone was there. you picked it up, making it automatically come on. you had notifications from everyone. sasha, mikasa, your mom, one from eren. no connie. you scrolled and scrolled. your email, social media, no connie. you took a deep breath in, and exhaled.

you looked horrible. your makeup wasn’t even off. one of your lashes were on your pillow, just a mess.

you went into the bathroom to collect yourself, ignoring the fact that it was the evening, ignoring the fact that connie didn’t even bother checking up on you.

ignoring the fact that you actually cared about that.

and him.

‘that’s what you get for catching feelings.’ you thought to yourself while you washed your face.

and took a shower.

and got dressed in your house pajamas.

those dumb words just kept repeating in your head. you promised yourself you weren’t gonna try to be in any type of relationship or even situationship with someone. but here you are, catching feelings with someone who probably doesn’t even like you back.

he was probably lying anyways. that’s what you thought.

…

“wassup?”

“connie.”

“hm?”

“i miss you.”

are you stupid? you must be stupid. never within the last four years of not being in a relationship have you told an ex, or a hookup, you missed them. but connie? for some reason it was different.

he acted like any other dude you’d been with or had sex with before. the big personality, the endless amounts of girl drama. the only thing that was different with connie is that he knew how to talk to you.

he knew how to take care of you, and make sure you didn’t get into any trouble.

“you miss me? that’s funny.” you heard him laugh a little.

“how?”

“thought you was too good for boys.”

you looked down. you shrugged, expecting him to know you shrugged. over the phone.

“want me to come be witchu for a while?” connie suddenly asked.

“yeah.” you said without a second thought.

and with that, you’re stupid. falling in love with another man, knowing he’s gonna waste your time. or you’re gonna waste his. depends on who catches feelings the most first.

in a few minutes, connie was at your house. he honestly wasn’t even planning on being there, or even calling you. but he wanted to be nice.

you opened the door and looked up at him. biting your lip, “i hope i didn’t like… interrupt…” you realized connie didn’t even walk in right away. he just stared at you. “fuck, i missed this face.” he mumbled while almost admiring you.

you stood there for a second before connie laughed and moved you to the side to go inside. “you’re cute when you just wake up.” he said, stretching before sitting down on the couch. “so what we bouda do?”

you closed the front door and hummed, walking over to the couch and sitting beside connie.

“a movie?”

connie looked at you with a confused look on his face. “a movie.”

you looked back at him after grab in the remote. “yes. what you thought we was gon do?” you muttered good enough so he could hear. he smiled a little. “you really is different from when we first met. ian take you for the type to just… chill and shit.”

you smiled a little and started started searching for a movie to watch. “i guess when i’m in public it’s different.” you bit your top lip, focused on the tv.

the silence took over for a few seconds, making it awkward.

well, for connie at least.

“so like, wassup wit you and that relationship shit now?”

you pressed a movie and put the remote down. “whatchu mean?” you pulled your knees to your chest and stared at the tv as the movie started.

“you still ain’t tryna be wit nobody?”

“ion know.”

you could say you were just talking to respond, and that you weren’t listening. even though that was true, you were some how answering truthfully.

“last time it was no. right?”

“yeah and this time it’s ion know.”

connie licked his lips and put his arms across the backrest of the couch. “i mean. might as well try sum shit. ion know.” he said, looking up at the ceiling. “righttt.” you slowly nodded, continuing to watch the movie.

yeah you weren’t listening. and connie didn’t repeat his self much. but you’re so damn clueless, he has to.

“so you tryna… try that wit’ me? like together?”

“yeah, totally.”

connie glanced at you, holding in his laugh a little. “damn you clueless.” that’s when you finally looked up from the tv. “what you sayin?”

connie hummed. “i’m sayin, i know youn do that relationship shit, and i know we only been talkin and shit. but… you know.”

being the person he was, connie was never good with asking girls out or asking them to be his girlfriend. when it wasn’t fucking, there wasn’t much he asked a woman for anyway. but you were different.

“no, i don’t know.”

being the person you were, you were genuinely clueless. your last boyfriend didn’t even ask you to be his girlfriend. you knew when a guy wanted to ask you out, but connie was just awkward.

“yeah, don’t even worry bout it. ima just ask you another day. when you fully sober.” he laughed a little.

“now i wanna know for real.” you paused the movie and turned towards connie.

“bruh.” he tried to hide his smile. “i’m sayin’ like… i know you said yo boyfriend was cheating on you and shit and you said he was lyin and stuff. i’m basically sayin i wouldn’t… do that…?”

shit, he ain’t even know what the hell he was saying. yeah, he’s been here and there with a few girls, but you just seemed to be something like velcro, and he was soft on the inside, believe it or not.

“shit, ion know what i’m sayin.” he dragged his hand over his face and looked at you.

the way you listened to him with barely any questions.

the stare held for a few seconds.

“yougonlemmebeyoboyfriend?”

it all came out so quick, you couldn’t do anything but tilt you head and let out a dragged. “huh..?”

“i said…” he cleared his throat. fuck, he’s so awkward. “you gon start the movie up again?”

you stared at him for a few seconds before slowly nodding. “yeah.”

and you did just that.

you are really just clueless.

connie though, he’s never had to do this. normally he’d just call girls his girlfriend and roll with it. like your ex did. but damn, the time he tried to make something real happen it just didn’t work.

a few minutes passed by of silence while nothing but the movie played. but you couldn’t help but think about one thing.

“connie. when you said you liked me. you wasn’t just talking outta drunkness, right?” you looked at your nails as you always did. connie stayed quiet for a second. “no.”

“oh.”

“wassup?” he knew what was up. he thought he did, considering you didn’t even know.

“just making sure you know what you wanna do… you know. if you really mean what you sayin right now.”

#jeansplaytoy♡︎#aot x reader #connie springer #connie x reader #aot connie #aot x black reader #connie x black reader #connie springer x reader #connie springer x y/n #connie aot #connie x black y/n

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povlvr · 2 years ago

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Make Me Forget | ❤️Valentine’s Day One Shot

Pairing: Beefy Bucky x Reader

Word Count: 6k

Summary: Unceremoniously dumped by your scumbag boyfriend Bucky's mission is to spend Valentine's Day cheering you up & showing you what it would belike to be Bucky Barnes's girl, maybe he's shooting his shot, maybe he's just that darn charming Warnings: Angst (just the start), Fluffy Bucky, Swearing, Smut, NSFW, P in V, Oral (Female), unprotected sex, Dom Bucky

A/N: Happy Valentine's, enjoy this one shot with Beefy Bucky, I thought this would be a nice intermission for the Valentine's Season. Also FYI, no STD's or unplanned pregnancies (unless a plot) in my multiverse so no condoms are ever used. As per usual I cannot keep my word count concise!!

Dumped, discarded, cast aside, kicked to the curb, whatever you wanted to call it, you were it & you were sat in a restaurant trying to hold it together whilst the humiliation of being brought into a public space to be told you’re not good enough, not special enough, not pretty enough, not her was being laid out in black & white. You could feel your lip wobbling, the familiar sob climbing up your throat trying to escape as you begged yourself to cut off all emotions until you could get back home.

You nodded along hoping he would stop the character assassination that was effortlessly rattling off, like he had been practicing it for weeks in the mirror. You thought you had been happy together & that he was getting ready to ask you to move in with him, but you were told you were dumb to not see how miserable you made him. There was only so much you could take & when he mentioned her, his 22-year-old secretary he had been sleeping with for weeks, who just ‘got him’, you stood up, tossed your drink over his head & walked out.

The cab ride home was a battle of wills between your absolute need to keep it together at all times versus your impending emotional outburst with the growing realisation that you were destined to die alone & get eaten by the 15 cats you would inevitably accumulate being single for the rest of your life.

The rest of your night was spent isolated, crying, eating pizza, drinking wine & browsing cat rescue sites trying to find the first step towards the rest of your life, you couldn’t believe you wasted a year of your life with a scumbag who would dump you the day before Valentine’s day.

You should have phoned in sick, there was no way you were in the mood to face anyone, even if Tony would have wrongly assumed it was because it was Valentine’s Day & you would be too busy fucking your boyfriend all day to work, except the reality would be you crying, burning your Ex-Boyfriends belongings & self-reflecting to assess what was actually wrong with you & why couldn’t you keep a man interested.

Instead, you were numb, sat zoned out in the meeting room by your boss’ side trying to look like you were paying attention, you were barely holding it together avoiding all eye contact with the team filled with spies & assassins, at least two of them would be able to spot the obvious tells that not all was well.

‘Alright, any other business.’

Sam repeatedly elbowing Bucky who ignored him completely perked up, ‘Yeah, these monthly meetings suck, it’s Valentine’s day, why we even working?’

‘Make sure you note down that sass from Bird Man, Short Stack.’

Apart from Tony’s very annoying nickname, you hadn’t heard what had been said, hoping that it was never brought up again you scribbled down ‘I want to go home’ so it looked as though you were at least doing something.

Bucky had already noticed the sullen expression the second he laid eyes on you, the heavier than usual makeup & overall lack of spunk you usually have was a dead giveaway. Sam may have told him not to use that phrase anymore, for reasons still unclear to him but that was the best way to describe it, it was like your light had gone out.

Usually when Tony used that moniker you’d be ready with a jibe to throw straight back at him, he may have been your boss, but you weren’t ever afraid to put the billionaire in his place, so you completely passing over the nickname meant you were somewhere else in your head & not ok, something was wrong & he needed to get to the bottom of it.

You held back in the meeting room until all the superheroes had piled out to try & avoid any interactions, unfortunately a certain burly super soldier didn’t quite get the memo & was waiting for you outside. The brunette’s face completely serious, brows furrowed & arms crossed as he examined you walking towards him, ‘What’s wrong?’

‘Nothing’s wrong Bucky, I’m fine.’ You tried a half assed smile; a smile you wouldn’t even be able to convince Ethel your blind neighbour was real let alone the trained assassin in front of you.

‘Don’t you dare lie to me Petal, you may be able to fool them but not me. Now tell me what happened, I won’t ask again, did something happen at dinner last night?’

You’d be lying if you said you didn’t like when Bucky used his serious voice, when the Sargent in him came out, you always followed his orders.

Breathing out a shaky sigh you looked around, as if anyone cared enough to listen in on what you were about to say, damn your bottom lip for wobbling & the tears gathering in your eyes, traitor. ‘He broke up with me, said he was sleeping with his secretary & I wasn’t pretty or good enough for him.’

Somehow Bucky managed to quell the internal rage that was flowing through the synaptic’s in his brain, the plates in his arm were begging to be recalibrated from the tension running through his body, don’t trigger a reset, don’t trigger a reset. He could taste the impending murder on his tongue but that had to wait, he needed to be the mechanical shoulder for you to cry on right now.

He grabbed you, enclosing you entirely in his arms, his overwhelming warmth thawing your cold exterior & his big arms squeezing you tightly, it was the exact comfort you needed. ‘Oh darlin’, why didn’t you call me?’

Smushed against his solid chest your voice was muffled, ‘Didn’t want to bother ya.’

‘You know you wouldn’t have.’

You managed a shrug against him, ‘It’s Valentine’s you might have had plans.’

He moved his vibranium arm from around you, holding your face with his cool metallic hand to make sure you were looking at him, brushing the few fallen tears from your cheeks, ‘There are no plans too important to stop me coming & getting you.’

You managed a genuine half smile, the cloud over you not quite lifting, but it was now surrounded by a little Bucky Barnes shaped rainbow & you appreciated it more than you could ever convey to him.

Bucky sat pensively in the lounge, despite his protests that you should take the day off, he walked you to your office at your insistence that working would help keep your mind of him, he secretly enjoyed the way you now said him, it was very much in the same tone he had been using for the last year.

So, he had been sitting since racking his brains, trying to think of ways to help you, to build you back up & forget about that loser & in the Super Soldier’s mind he was the biggest most idiotic loser on the face of the planet to let you go so willingly. Chump.

Tony strolled into the common area noticing the absolute anguish on the centurion’s face staring into space, ‘What’s up terminator?’

He rubbed his face trying to reset his mind & entertain a conversation with Tony, ‘Nothing, just thinking.’

‘Wouldn’t happen to have anything to do with my diminutive 2nd in command who has been on 4 separate trips to the bathroom to cry this morning … so far.’ He stood crossing his arms, hoping to get to the bottom of it & thought Bucky would be the one you opened up to, because the pathetic excuse you gave him for being so sniffly wasn’t cutting it & you usually had the 6ft Super Solider shadow following you everywhere.

He clenched his jaw at the belittling nickname Tony seemed to revel in, ‘Stop calling her little, she doesn’t like it.’

He narrowed his eyes, ‘Bit touchy when it comes to her, aren’t you? You like her?’

Bucky shook his head angry that he was poking his nose in where it didn’t belong, ‘Not the time Tony.’

‘Why not?’

‘Not your business.’

‘Let’s see, protective bodyguard mode has been activated, weepy crying employee on Valentine’s Day, I take it that snake she was wasting her time with has shown his true colours?’

Bucky let out an audible sigh, ‘Something like that.’

‘What a dick.’ He clenched his jaw, already ordering you some flowers on his phone, a smirk crossed his face & he glanced back up at the sulking Super Soldier. ‘Hey, now she’s single, you should shoot your shot.’

To Bucky the billionaire just casually let out, like it was nothing, an afterthought, like it was completely normal to pounce on someone 12 hours after being blindsided by a breakup. ‘Absolutely not, she needs comfort & cheering up, not a 107-year-old hitting on her.’

In Tony’s mind, the stars were finally aligning for two people who anyone could see looked at each other with love hearts in their eyes most of the time to finally get together, they just needed a push. ‘Trust me when I say she wouldn’t mind a certain 107-year old’s attention.’

‘Steve?’

‘Jesus I’m surrounded by idiots, not Steve, you, you complete putz’

The super solider was trying to stifle his smile at the thought of you being into him but failing miserably, shaking his head in protest, ‘I don’t think so.’

‘Well, I so happen to know so. I’m not saying declare your undying love for her & propose, just shoot your shot, take her mind off the breakup & whatever he did, make her see that you’re the one she should be with.’

Just like that, like it was a piece of cake, easy as 1,2,3, he swore sometimes he was secretly dumb & not a so-called genius everyone said he was, it took Bucky 3 months to say hello to you when he first met you, so by his calculations he would be asking you out in 2054.

‘He cheated for weeks with his secretary & said she wasn’t pretty enough or good enough for him.’ The words pained him to say out loud, he couldn’t imagine how hurtful they were for you to hear.

The billionaire’s eyes went wide, ‘Excuse me, how are you not murdering him right now?’

‘Oh, trust me a plan is percolating, but I wanted to make sure she was ok before I spend the rest of my life in prison for repeatedly throwing him off the empire state building.’

‘Oh, I like the sound of repeatedly. Ok, new plan, you spend the day tending to her, sweep her off her feet, get her out of her office … but not into your bed & I’ll pay him a visit, can’t promise murder but I’m sure I have a few gadgets that will put the fear of Thor in him.’

You were sat sulking in your office, not really working, just staring at words on a screen, you didn’t want to be at work, but you didn’t want to be at home either, despite the bonfire you had planned in your head with his expensive suits he kept in your walk in, which admittedly did sound like fun.

A gentle knock & a wiggle of the handle told you it was Bucky waiting outside your office, you buzzed him in & as the door opened all you could see were flowers, a huge bunch that somehow eclipsed the Super Solider stood in the doorway holding them.

It was comical watching him struggle, trying his best not to knock any of the perfect blooms on his way in, you wondered how he could be so agile on the battlefield when he was such a clutz off it at times, adorable really when you thought about it.

‘How can I help you soldier?’

He used to hate people referring to him by his military positions but whenever you did it there was something in him that went feral, it felt like you were submitting to him & you were always such a good girl when he told you to do something in his lower pitched voice.

The twitch in his pants at the thought of what that would translate to in the bedroom needed taming before he embarrassed himself, it might not be the 40s anymore but by god if punching a colleague for humming too loudly got him a meeting in HR, getting a boner in front of one in a professional setting definitely would.

‘Well, it’s Valentine’s Day & I wanted to buy you some flowers & put a smile on your face.’

‘Mission success Sargent.’ You really did have a wide smile on your face from the sweet gesture, he was such a good guy, sometimes you wish everyone could see it but a little part of you were happy it seemed to be reserved for only you.

‘Oh this, this is just the start, my Girl on Valentine’s Day doesn’t just get flowers, she gets the whole day.’

You raised your brows, trying your absolute best to not grin like the Cheshire Cat at him calling you his girl, ‘A whole day huh? Lucky me. Not to throw a spanner in the works here but ya girl gotta work.’

‘No you don’t, cleared it with Tony so you’ve got the rest of the day off.’ He looked so happy with himself & you really didn’t understand why the hunk of a man in front of you had a reputation for being frightening, the man was a big teddy bear.

It had been an interesting journey to say the least, experiencing Bucky’s vintage car with the top down sounded so much fun, especially when he pulled you close & had his arm around you but the way your hair lashed about in the wind made you realise why the women in the old movies always had head scarves on. At one-point Bucky’s eyes were streaming when a particular gust of wind whipped him in the eye with a chunk of your hair, no number of apologies you gave seemed enough & thankfully he just seemed to find it funny.

Once you tamed the bird’s nest sat on top of your head you stood in excitement looking on the fairground that had been at the heart of so many of Steve & Bucky’s stories, Coney Island where dreams where not quite made of but that didn’t matter, you loved it.

‘It doesn’t exactly look the same but I’m sure we’ll find our way around just fine.’ Bucky was practically giddy, pulling your connected hand towards the entrance, ‘you know me & Steve once rode the Ferris wheel with these two dames, Sandy & Delores I think their names were, & Steve freaked out because it was so high up & threw up on his date.’

You always noticed his accent thickened when he talked about his youth, seeing him like this made you wish you had known him back then, but having heard many stories about Bucky from Steve, he would probably have been chasing tail rather than wasting his time hanging about with you

He led you to a food shack that, according to the sign, served New York’s best hot dogs, ‘whaddya say Doll, one hotdog or two?’

‘One please, with onions & mustard.’

‘Coming up, what my girl wants, my girl gets.’

You sat on the bench whilst he waited for your order, the day certainly had taken a turn & you were beyond grateful for Bucky, he really was the sweetest guy you knew so it didn’t even shock you with how extra he was being in an effort to take your mind off things.

You realised as he approached, carrying way more hot dogs than any normal human could eat at once & a huge bag of candyfloss under his arm, that you hadn’t thought of him at all with Bucky around. He really was the best & you would be lying if you said you didn’t enjoy him referring to you as his girl, the man was the hottest guy you’d ever laid eyes on so a few hours escaping reality & experiencing what it was like being Bucky Barnes’s Girl wasn’t something you were going to pass up, even if it was just for the day.

He plonked himself down beside you, handing you your order & placing the candy floss at your side, then throwing his arm over your shoulder pulling you as close as possible to you, he always seemed to like you close. You shuffled into his side, so you could rest your head on his shoulder as you both sat eating your food & watching all the people casually walking by.

‘Do you wish you could go back?’

‘Sometimes, if only to see my Ma & Sisters but there’s a few things now that are better.’

‘Hmm’ you took a bite, was it the best? Maybe, but maybe it was the setting & company you found yourself with that was making it taste better than it actually did.

‘Yeah, the food,’ He proceeded to take a dramatically large bite making you giggle as he chomped it down, ‘the technology, the company too.’ He gave your shoulder a squeeze & leaned down to kiss your head that was happily resting on him.

‘Hmmm well I’m glad you’re here, I’ll tell Tony to hold off on the time machine to send you both back.’

You loved making the Super Solider laugh, he didn’t do it often, but it was like music to your ears when you were blessed with it, so when he found that comment as funny as he did, you joined him in letting it all out, there you were, two idiots laughing on a bench & it was wonderful. You felt so much lighter, like nothing could bother you with Bucky around, you felt safe, cherished & looked after, you needed someone like Bucky. Fat Chance.

You spent the rest of the day on rides, laughing, eating & sharing stories, there was a moment on top of the Ferris wheel where you thought Bucky was leaning in to kiss you, but he just found a bit of lint on your shoulder & was trying to assess if it was Ant Man needing assistance so needed to get closer.

Sure, you were disappointed, & no you didn’t see any actual lint, you always harboured a harmless crush on the Super Solider, who wouldn’t with him being so sweet & handsome, but it was such an odd feeling to not feel at all sad that less than 24 hours ago you were in love with someone else then unceremoniously dumped, or at least you thought you were in love. Hmm.

He walked you to your apartment block, insisting on making sure you were safe in your home before he left, you supposed he of all people knew the dangers of the world so of course invited him up, you didn’t want him to ever leave your side if you were being honest.

You were both settled on your sofa, him nursing a beer & you a glass of wine, ‘Don’t think I don’t appreciate this Bucky because I absolutely do, but why did you do all this for me today?’

‘Why wouldn’t I want to cheer up a person going through something, especially when they are my favourite person?’

It was like your heart skipped an entire beat hearing those words, the oversized Super Solider wasn’t the most forthcoming with his feelings ever, you thought, so to hear that from him meant the world to you, ‘Your favourite?’

Come on Bucky, now or never, ‘Look, Tony said I shouldn’t ask you to marry me or anything & I won’t, I won’t, I promise, but he said I should just shoot my shot, so look it started out as me wanting to cheer you up & make you smile because it’s always my favourite thing to do but at the same time maybe I just let you know that when you’re ready there are other people out there that would be happy to have you all to themselves & will know the treasure they’re holding. Not saying who, but if you don’t mind an age gap of say 72 years, there’s a certain single super solider that wouldn’t mind taking you to the movies, dinner & dancing.’

He let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding, he just came out with it, simple as that & his brain wasn’t even shouting at him to jump straight out of your window to the safety of not knowing what it feels like to be rejected from the only woman he’s wanted for 80 years.

You smirked trying your absolute best to stop yourself from jumping his bones, ‘Steve can dance?’

Thankfully he knew Steve was more like a brother to you, so you were just playing with him, so he dramatically clutched his chest, ‘Why … why would you willing to inflict pain on me like that Petal?’

You giggled narrowing your eyes, ‘So he can orrrr….?’

Watching how his eyes darkened sent a thrill down your spine & a deep throb to your clit, he moved closer towards you on the sofa, knees knocking, tracing finger up & down your thigh whilst he drew his tongue along his lower lip, it was a hypnotic, ‘You’d be too much for Steve sweetheart, you need someone who can be firm with you.’

You arched your brow, loving where this conversation was going & the way he grasped you flesh, you dropped your shoulder & looked up at him as innocently as you could drawing out your voice as seductively as possible before biting your lip, ‘is that right Sarge?’

‘Absolutely Petal.’ He couldn’t seem to take his eyes away from where your teeth indented your plump pout, he was desperate to run his thumb along it to release it & replace it with his mouth.

‘hmmm so a firm, single, super soldier?’

Almost looking cocky he managed to pull his focus back to your eyes, raising a brow, ‘Know any?’

You had your finger & thumb pinching your chin in faux contemplation, ‘Not ringing any bells Sarge.’

‘Let me remind you.’

Ding, Ding, Ding. He pulled your face to his crashing your lips together, holding your head in his hands, the contrast between flesh & metal was so uniquely Bucky & you weren’t sure if you ever wanted to go back to two regular hands.

It felt as though every kiss you had ever had before now were pecks on the cheek in comparison, because Bucky Barnes could kiss like nothing else, the absolute passion & desire he could communicate with his tongue had you on a plane of existence you never knew was available, what else could he do with it?

Every moment connected was erasing the last year of your life, why did you waste your time on that waste of space when this was available the whole time?

It wasn’t long until you were pulled onto his lap, straddling his thick thighs & grinding down onto the prominent bulge he was sporting, moaning as it made contact with your centre.

Between kisses he finally managed to string a full sentence together, ‘Are you sure? Feel like I’m taking advantage of your weakened emotional state.’

You giggled into his mouth, ‘Have you been watching Dr Phil again?’

‘Maybe, but I don’t want you to regret anything.’ The way he held your face back to take a pause & make sure it was what you wanted almost made you cry, this sweet man who did nothing but take care of you wanted you & there wasn’t a better feeling you’d ever had.

Connecting your foreheads, you looked deeply into his gorgeous ocean eyes, ‘The only thing I will regret is not doing it sooner & wasting my time on him.’

‘Really?’

You nodded, ‘Make me forget soldier.’

Your mouths were connected again but this time his hands moved with purpose freeing you of the layers that kept him from the entirety of you, quickly reciprocating you pulled his hoodie over his head, momentarily breaking your kiss.

‘The second you want me to stop you tell me Petal, you gonna be a good girl for me?’

You nodded going straight back to kissing him as he pulled your jeans off taking your pants with them, ‘Need your words flower.’

‘Yes Sarge.’

The serum running through his veins kicked in & he wasted no time reattaching your lips in a frantic kiss, working his way down to your jaw, neck & chest, spending that extra second admiring the sight before him.

‘You’re perfect sweetheart.’

‘You too gorgeous.’

He smiled at your words, that wonderfully adorable smile that he only allowed you to see, the adrenaline buzzing through you temporarily overtaken by the endorphins at the thought of this wonderful man wanting to be with you.

It was only a moment of being an adorable puppy, a switch before he was back to the insatiable Super Soldier that was about to plough you so hard you’d forget your own name, you had no doubt Bucky would be capable of it.

‘Not here Petal.’ He hoisted you up, his strong arms keeping you attached to his lips as he walked you through your apartment to the bedroom, gently bending to deposit you on the mattress still not parting your lips for a single second until he was positioned above you.

His mouth began descending back down you neck & chest until his lips found their way to your bra & he tsk’d at it getting in his way & without missing a step a knife appeared from his boot & he swiftly sliced the front of it inciting a gasp to escape, it was the single hottest thing you’d ever experienced & it set your whole existence on fire.

‘I’ll buy you a new one flower.’ it was thrown, along with the knife onto the floor, & his tongue wasted no time swirling around your nipple, the other being squeezed by his cool metal finger tips, the sensation making your back arch & you were already desperate for more.

‘Touch me Bucky.’

You could feel him smile against your chest & like all good soldiers did, he obeyed your command, keeping his mouth attached to your chest he traced his hand down your body, loving the way you squirmed as it hit your ticklish spots, you were so soft & as he gently parted your legs he could smell how wet you were.

Drawing a single finger along your folds, he made you shudder as he teased you gently, admiring how soaked you were for him, ‘All this for me Petal?’

Shyly nodding at him you watched as he made his way down, settling between your legs, it should have felt weird for another man to be seeing you in this state so soon, but it didn’t. It felt as though Bucky was the only one who should see you like that, vulnerable & open to everything he was about to give you.

His nose nudged at you, every hair stood on edge, your breath hitched & your heart thudded in anticipation. ‘Fucking perfect’, the first contact with his mouth to your glistening pussy released the beast within him that had been dying to taste you since the minute he laid eyes on you. It wasn’t gentlemanly, or loving, it was some caveman shit & lord you were not prepared for his tongue. Within the first minute you were on the verge of climaxing, he ate you out like he hadn’t eaten in years, yet his technique was a sharp as a knife, he worked you til he could feel you right on the edge before he cruelly pulled his mouth from you making you whimper & the loss of him.

Yes, you had been a good girl & if anyone deserved an orgasm it was you, but he didn’t want to ever stop tasting your nectar or move from between your legs. If he buried his cock in you he would blow his load within a minute he was that turned on by you, so he needed to at least make this bit last as long as possible for you.

If keeping you on the brink meant he could spend all night between you legs so be it, he carried on flicking your clit with the tip of his tongue, sucking it then burying his tongue in your cunt, over & over. Every time he pulled away you let out an ungodly whining noise or begged him to keep going.

‘No, No no, please.’ You were desperate at this point & willing to get on your knees to beg.

‘Please what?’

‘Please Sargent, please let me cum.’

‘Can’t sweetheart, can’t ever stop, you taste so good.’

He doubled down sucking at your clit & you almost sobbed the moment it was taken away; did he want you to have a tantrum? You were on the brink of one if he did it again.

‘Please, please, please’

You were babbling, tears escaping your eyes & right where he wanted, if you didn’t know what was going on you wouldn’t notice him lasting the 0.7 seconds he was predicting from him being so desperate to be inside you.

You were at the precipice of euphoria, your orgasm on the cusp, the anticipation of him pulling away had you on high alert & you could feel every single thing he did waiting for it to be snatched away at the very last second, but this time he didn’t pull away, he plunged his metallic fingers in you as you saw white & exploded through your pleasure to absolute ecstasy.

Curling his two thick digits he hit your spot over & over taking you to another straight away, the pleasure at a level you hadn’t ever experienced before, if he was talking to you you were clueless, everything was muffled & you didn’t even notice the hollowness once Bucky moved so he was covering you with his body.

‘Look at me Sweetheart.’

You managed to roll your eyes, which you assume had detached at some point during the second orgasm & look at his gorgeous blue ones, did they always make your heart skip a beat?

‘You’re really pretty, you know that Bucky.’ Your voice came out a bit hoarse but the cute smile on his face was worth the pain from straining your throat.

‘And you’re the most beautiful woman I have ever seen.’

You hid your face in the crook of his neck, ‘You ready for me gorgeous?’

You nodded against him. ‘Words sweetheart.’

‘Ye.. yes, want you to fuck me Sarge.’

‘That’s my girl’

He pumped his cock once, twice, you were looking down between your bodies, when did he even take his jeans off? He was huge, dauntingly so, the perfect cock, long & thick weeping & desperate for you.

He chuckled at your expression whispering in your ear, ‘It’ll fit darlin.’

‘If you say so Soldier.’ You really weren’t convinced.

His heavy length sat at your opening & slowly he pushed into you as he looked at your completely blissed our expression, head leaned back, eyes closed & mouth moaning the most sinful noises with every inch he added, he latched onto the neck you were perfectly presenting for him, mapping every spot that made you clench that bit tighter.

‘Fuck your pussy is chocking me darlin. Not gonna last.’

‘Mmnn fuck, so good Buck so so fucking good.’

Finally, he was fully seated in you, you’d never felt so full, so complete, you squeezed his ass to let him know he could get going but he stayed still, ‘just gimme a sec, been a while.’

Your giggled at his heavy breathing but quickly stopped once his hips began slamming into you, by god you needed a pounding & he complied perfectly, your good Soldier & all thoughts were lost as he repeatedly thrust his powerful body into you.

‘Fucking gorgeous you know that, wanted to fuck you since the day I met you. Fucking perfect, perfect pussy, like it was made for me.’

‘God Bucky, harder.’

‘You sure?.’

‘Yeah, gimme all you got, I can take it.’ you weren’t sure that you could, but you wanted to give it a try.

‘Not gonna last darlin. You gotta give me one more though.’

His metal fingers connected with your swollen clit sending a jolt of electricity through your body, you weren’t sure if you had ever made such an obscene noise before, it was too much but not enough at the same time.

‘Feels so good.’

‘You my good girl?’

‘Yes Sargent, want you to fill me up.’

‘Fuck sweetheart, don’t say that, I won’t ever fucking stop.’ You were making him go into overdrive, he was feral for you, his perfect angel with the most sinful mouth.

‘Don’t want you to, want you dripping out me for days.’

‘Jesus Christ, my perfect filthy girl.’

You were so overwhelmingly full of the Super Solider, the tip of his huge cock nudging the spot within you at rapid fire had the blinding pleasure begin to rip through you once again as you finally hit your third climax of the night clamping down on him as his hips stuttered & release followed painting your walls with his seed, pumping the cum into you repeatedly until his motion ceased & he lowered his lips to you.

Silence, still connected he watched you carefully as you opened your eyes, blinking from adjusting to the bright light having held them shut from the bliss you were coming down from.

He leaned down to kiss you, sucking your bottom lip before he gently moved the hair from around your face, ‘What you thinkin’?’

‘I wasted a year of my life on someone who wasn’t you.’ Reaching up to him you repeated his action, tucking the wayward strands behind his ears, caressing his cheeks with your fingers, it felt like a dream & you didn’t want to wake up.

‘Hmm just think of it as you lowered your standards so much for him, that he made me look like an ideal candidate in comparison.’

You hated that he didn’t think of himself highly enough, you shook your head smiling at his goofy grin, ‘Don’t say that please.’

‘Ok, how about this, seeing you lower your standards to that idiot made me get my act together & be the man you deserved.’

‘Better. Or maybe I was completely blind & now I can see.’

He rested his forehead against yours looking deeply at you, you were waiting for a serious meaningful declaration of love to come out, instead ‘you look like a minotaur from this close.’

You laughed batting the super soldiers arm ‘I think you may have gotten your mythical creatures mixed up there.’

‘Nope, it’s the one-eyed creature.’

‘Nope, it’s a human with a horse’s body.’

He shrugged his shoulders, ‘Agree to disagree.’

‘Absolutely not Barnes, where’s my phone?’

‘Oh, now you calling me Barnes, huh, what happened to Sargent.’

You shook your head at him, loving his playful teasing, ‘Your dick is soft, you only get Sargent when sex is on the cards.’

‘Oh, is that right?’ he planted a long slow kiss on your lips.

‘Yep & for people who know the difference between a Minotaur & a Cyclops of course.’

‘Of course,’ He agreed nodding away smugly. ‘Good thing I’m ready to go again then isn’t it? What’s my name?’

You felt him growing within you & it set your skin on fire, it was an indescribable sensation & as you let out a moan & batted your eyelashes at him you couldn’t help but submit to the huge Super Solider, ‘Sargent, Sir.’

‘Are you my good girl?’

‘Yes, Sir.’

‘Will you be my girl?’

‘Yes, Sargent.’

Both your smiles were as wide as the sun as he began picking up the pace of his hips, nowhere near the frantic level it had been before, this was different, slow & intimate, & as if they were magnets your lips found each other’s yet again.

‘Happy Valentine’s Day darlin’.’

🧡💛💚💙💜🤎

737 notes · View notes

eternal-love · 11 months ago

Text

Austin and Me

“Wife to the ‘king’. Icon to the world. Destined for more.”

Summary: At 18 years old, she fell in love with Austin, at 20 years old, she became his wife, by 22, she was his doll. In which Cynthia’s life changed drastically after falling head over heels with a man that promised her the moon and the stars. She takes us down the memory lane of what could’ve been— the perfect marriage.

Inspired by the book: Elvis and Me by Priscilla Presley.

I do not condemn any of the portrayals I decide to do about certain people, it’s just fanfiction. And it would be divided in parts.

English isn’t my first language so I’m trying my best!

All my life I’ve been going back and forth between México and L.A, it’s been my two homes since I can remember. I was born to a new formed family, my mother met my dad when she already had a baby which was my sister, and since then my parents had two more kids.

I’ve always dreamt of being an actress, ever since my father forced me to watch ‘Viva Las Vegas!’ and ‘King Creole’ with him. For two years, my innocent little me actually believed Elvis was still alive and somehow young, so my dream was to act besides him. I cried hours when my older sister told me Elvis had died decades ago.

My parents always told me that acting was a waste of time and that I wouldn’t make it, not because I wasn’t talented but because out there, there were people that were the same or even more talented than me.

But somehow, I was making it, I had my debut when I was 14 years old and since then I was constantly booked— I adored doing any sort of horror movies, I was a scream queen if you know what I mean.

Once I turned 18 years old, my career was stable, I wasn’t no A-Lister but people at least recognized me, that’s when I was invited to a party, which obviously— my parents didn’t want me to go, they were very strict when it came to permissions, specially when those permissions involved other actors.

“You want us to let you go to a party with other actors?” My mom asked rhetorically as we were setting the table for dinner.

“Absolutely not.” My father interrupted firmly, he was quite strict.

“It’s the weekend, why can’t I go? I’ll be with Elle and her sister.” Hollywood was separated from my family life, my parents didn’t like hearing about actors or nothing, just me and my movies.

“Who are those people, we don’t know them. So no.” My mother was harsh whenever she wanted to, and I get now their distress of being adamant to not let me go to that party, I wish I had listened to them.

I was a girl that was sheltered all her life, so with a sigh and pout I walked to my room, mumbling some cuss words as I knew it would be difficult to convince them.

Surprisingly, Elle and Dakota convinced them, Dakota was older, she had been an adult for quite some time and she knew how Hollywood worked. Freaking out I waited for the day and picked up something from my closet, which now seemed to be all wrong in the eyes of an excited me.

Vintage clothing, go-go boots, Mary Jane heels. I chose something I could work with. I chose a 60s baby blue dress, it only reached mid my thighs so I knew it was good, I grabbed some blue heels too and for my hair I went all out as always, I liked the 60s, my fashion icons were women from that era so I teased my hair to the high heavens, creating a bouffant, my makeup was also heavy around the eyes, black eyeliner and two pairs of falsies, I liked it. I smiled once I saw myself in the mirror, this was me.

The party was surprisingly chill, nothing like the parties I heard about so I was comfortable but I stuck out like a sore thumb, I started to regret going all in on my own style until I saw him. Long blond hair, tall, blue eyes, perfect nose and he was wearing black pants and a white tee. I recognized him immediately, not only was he Hudgens’ ex but he was also the guy that was on one of my favorite movies: Sharpay’s Fabulous Adventure.

We stared at each other for some long minutes, until he finally got closer to me.

“Hey— I know ya. You’re the girl from that movie about the psychotic grandparents.” He said playfully, he pushed his hair back.

“I am. Cynthia.” I extended my hand shyly and he accepted it, shaking it and squeezing it a little bit. I was not a fan of the long hair but he looked handsome enough.

Austin knew my age but there’s no problem on asking, once he knew I was legal enough, he hit it off right away. Austin couldn’t help but eye my whole look which made me think he was judging me.

“I like your dress.” Austin laughed. Feeling embarrassed, I snapped at him.

“I don’t even even know why I decided to wear this stupid dress and stupid hair today!” I snapped harshly, which only made him laugh.

“Little girl has some spunk.” He joked which made me feel even more embarrassed after snapping at him.

“Thanks.” I rolled my eyes playfully. He was 7 years older, for some reason he acted as if he was 20 years my senior.

Since that night, we both started seeing each other. He was my first real boyfriend— I think he liked that, he liked the idea of teaching me what love was, he felt that responsibility.

My parents weren’t at all okay with my relationship, for some reason they said that no relationship with an actor could ever turn right. Once again I wish I had listened to them. He trusted me enough to talk about his late mom with me, when we were in his room after an hour of being intimate or whatever we were doing.

“I wish my mom could’ve met you. She would’ve really liked you.” Austin whispered to me in full confidence, he felt like I was the kind of gal his mother always wanted for him, not someone like Vanessa.

“I wish I could’ve met her too.” I whispered back to him softly, I hated seeing him with tears in his eyes while he talked about his mom because I didn’t know how to comfort him.

“She was my whole world… my mama.” Austin rubbed his eyes and sniffed some tears, I tried cuddling closer to him.

Take my advice here: never date a mama’s boy.

“Why you? Why can’t he go back to dating women older than him? You’re only 18.” My mom nagged me, sometimes I felt bad because not only did she have to worry about me but also for my younger sibling, who were barely even teenagers.

“He’s not like you imagine, mami.” I tried excuses for my relationship, they didn’t even know him that well to judge him.

“Oh really? He’s just another damn white actor. Tu crees que tu papá va a dejar que te cases con alguien cómo Austin? (Do you think your father will allow you to marry someone like Austin?)”

I stayed silent, marriage had not been discussed by Austin and I, we were still in the honeymoon phase of the relationship. I was happy— we were happy. Out first Valentine Day’s was amazing and it made things finally official to everyone. Austin gave me this beautiful locket with his picture inside, great gift.

I think he also liked that things were pretty much private between us, I barely posted him on my Instagram since he barely posted me on his, he liked that I wasn’t loud, bitching and moaning about our relationship.

“Should I marry her?” Austin asked his older sister, Ashley, who was engaged herself.

“I don’t know, Aus. She’s not your type.” Ashley never really liked me, she was weirdly a Trump supporter and well— it’s not like Trump was the most inclusive person.

“She’s exactly my type, she’s not bossy or loud. She’s a brunette— well I would rather her being more natural and drop the jet black hair. But she’s exactly what I want.” Austin said.

“You do whatever you want, just remember that marriage ties you down. Don’t let her cut your wings.”

I was 19 years old— marriage was the last thing on my mind. I was happy with my career and surely acting in more stuff gave me more fame and people started to recognize me more. But every action has its consequences and not wrapping it before tapping it caught up to us.

Have you guys heard of shotgun weddings? Well us was in some way. But the wedding should be another part of this.

So, this is the beginning. Austin will be kind of an asshole just cause his behavior is kinda inspired by Elvis.

#Spotify #austin butler imagine #austin butler #austinbutler #austin butler fic #austin butler fanfiction #austin butler x reader #elvis presley #priscilla presley #elvis and me

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befuddled-calico-whump · 11 months ago

Text

Total $hit$how: Roses for the Knuckles

in which Hunter doesn't always listen

cw: referenced violence, adult language, implied abuse

previous /// masterlist /// next

×~×~×

“You'll each get one hour. Nowhere near enough time for anything real, but it should serve its purpose.”

Everyone was in the room with the mats, where they should've been running through their morning training. Obstacle courses or fighting or some shit, but instead of doing what they were supposed to, Sahota was following muscle girl's dumb idea.

Hunter knew what its 'purpose' was. Proving them all wrong, demonstrating that he was better than them for the hundredth time. Why was he even gonna bother? Why not just tell them no and be done with it? Why not just do what Vic wanted?

He didn't know what the big deal was anyway. Muscle girl had been in the army or some shit, so hadn't she already killed people? And fucking Manak didn't seem like he gave a shit about anyone else, so why did he care? Hunter didn't care. It wasn't like he knew Finley anyway, and he could just forget about the whole matter after she was dead and they had what they wanted.

If he would’ve told Vic about this last night during their training session, maybe he could’ve put a stop to this bullshit, but the ancient law of snitches get stitches kept his mouth shut. It wasn’t that big a deal anyway. Just a waste of time.

Hunter slouched as Sahota droned on and on about the rules, body and face rigid as he addressed the group. Like a fucking statue.

“I want each of you to come up with some arbitrary information that you want from me, and then I want you to try to extract it. You are permitted to do anything, so long as I can recover from it by tomorrow.”

Whatever that meant. It had been two days since he'd got his face beat in, and he already seemed just fine.

Muscle girl raised her hand. “What's the point?”

“I’ve been in the business for a while,” Sahota replied. “I know a good technique when I see one. If you manage to impress me, you win. I'll let you do it your way.” He thumbed at the scabbed-over cut running through his lip. “But don’t count on it.”

Some of the rest threw in their own questions, but Hunter tuned them out, pinching the skin of a knuckle between two fingernails until flowers started blooming there. No one would want to hear his side of the argument, his ‘we should listen to Vic, not Sahota’. If they didn't hate him already, he'd bet they definitely hated him after the video, after he was the only one who didn't want to go save their asshole trainer. But he'd been right, Vic had been right. Sahota got back just fine, not the slightest shift in his stupid slate-gray color unless you counted the bruises on his face.

He was right, but it seemed like no one wanted to look at him anymore. Not that they had in the first place, but it seemed more on-purpose now. Manak had been just as icy as ever when they'd worked together on the list, a task mostly completed in bitter silence. Hunter hadn't helped much, just kinda leaned back in his chair and looked for new patterns, distracting himself from the red ribbon of irritation that started coiling around the other man as soon as Sahota told them to work together.

And whatever, he didn't care. He didn't need Manak to like him, or Sahota, or muscle girl, or even… even the big guy. No, he didn't need them, not when he had Vic on his side, not when Vic wanted him to stay.

“Cavan, why don't you start us off?” Sahota said, and muscle girl straightened, her neutral blue brightening.

Cavan. Cavan, Cavan, Cavan, he’d try to remember it, but sometimes names were hard.

“I want the rest of you training. Spar for the first hour, then branch off into individual skills.” He gave Cavan a curt nod, and she followed him out, leaving a fading trail of blue behind. Hunter couldn’t tell if she was excited or nervous, and didn’t really care.

Beside him, the big guy let out a heavy sigh. “So… sparring?”

“Dibs on Jericho,” makeup guy said quickly, sidestepping towards the big guy and slipping an arm through the crook of his elbow.

Jericho, Jericho.

That left him with Manak. Whatever. Smug little richboy wasn’t that great with his fists, and Hunter wouldn’t mind breaking his stupid snobby nose. The big guy—Jericho—seemed to catch a whiff of Hunter’s plan though, a brighter flash that was probably alarm arcing through his purple.

“Actually, I think I’ll fight Harbor,” he said, shaking himself free of makeup guy, who put on a pouty expression. Hunter scowled up at him, squaring his shoulders.

“Yeah? What if I don’t wanna fight you?” he challenged, scanning the big guy’s—Jericho, it’s Jericho, fucking dumbass—silhouette for a shift in his color. The purple didn’t change.

“Do you not want to?” A little smile crossed his face. “You’re pretty good. I just want to see what you’ve got.”

Hunter scrunched his nose. He was good, but he knew what was really happening. Just the b–Jericho trying to save Manak’s ass. Whatever. Whatever, a fight was a fight. Training was training and he didn't need to be liked. He didn't need to be chosen for him, not by them.

“Fine.” He lifted his fists. Roses for the knuckles. “Fight me.”

~~~

The first hour went fast. Sparring always went fast, at least for Hunter. Maybe ‘cause it was something he was actually good at. Muscle girl (Cavan) came strolling back in near the end of the matches, and makeup guy (Benny?) took her place. From the dull in her blue, Hunter guessed she hadn't been successful. He coulda told her that.

Jericho spent the next hour looking over the folder with her and Manak, so Hunter spent his time wandering and practicing with patterns.

Find a pen, find a tool, find one of those screws that has an X on top, until makeup guy came back and Manak replaced him and his head was pounding.

He ignored the oncoming migraine.

I want you to come back after.

The next hour passed, the headache dug blunt teeth into his skull, and then it was Hunter's turn.

~~~

Sahota was sitting comfy when he entered, bound in place by ropes that wound around his wrists and the arms of the chair he was planted in. No sign of any blooming colors in his slate-gray, no hint of an expression on his bruise-mottled face.

Like an oil slick, he thought. Guess it's your turn to wear it.

The three who'd gone before him hadn't done shit by the looks of it. If anything, Sahota looked bored. Hunter could change that.

“So what,” he said, lingering in the doorway with his hands stuffed into his jacket pockets. “Do I just start?”

“What information are you pretending to be after?” Sahota asked, hardly shifting in his seat. Hunter wished he'd slouch, or sneeze, or yawn, or do something a normal human would do.

“I dunno,” he said, eyes darting away from the stiff slate shape of him, looking for anything shinier. “Your birthday or whatever.”

“Creative bunch.”

Hunter scowled, pulling his hands from his pockets and pinching a fresh cut that cracked through the back of his hand like a line in a broken plate. A little shower of rose petals started pouring from it in reply. “Can I hit you?”

“Do it.” Sahota rolled his neck, shrugging his shoulders like he was prepping himself for the first blow. “Is that your plan for Finley?”

“I don't have a plan for Finley,” Hunter said. “I didn’t ask to do this. You can just kill her for all I care.” That's what Vic had said to do. Why was Sahota of all people trying something different? He was in the spy shit too, shouldn’t he know better? Didn't he want to follow Vic?

The trainer’s gray sat plain and stony as Hunter talked, not the slightest flash of surprise, or approval, or even just being pissed off that he didn’t want to play along popping up.

“Are you going to participate?” he asked in a flat voice. “Or should I have you send for Davis?”

He'd like that, wouldn't he? Hunter leaving, giving up, going away. What would he think, if he knew that Vic wanted him here, if he knew that maybe, maybe Vic liked him better?

“I’ll play the stupid game,” Hunter said, rubbing his knuckles. “Just wanted you to know that it’s stupid.” A pattern had begun to swirl around them, starting out small and starry and distorting into silvery splatters. They might’ve been a warning, but Hunter didn’t know for what. That Sahota would get pissed and try to beat him up? That he’d try and kick him off the team? Fat chance, not when Vic was here to say otherwise.

“What’s your birthday?” he muttered. Sahota replied with a silent stare, his stupid gray color unchanging, his stupid expression stony and blank. Fuckin' statue.

Hunter hit him. Not hard, or anything. A little backhanded stroke across the face that didn't draw the slightest ripple through Sahota's gray. The back of his hand stung with the blow. Roses.

Sahota planted the even stare on him again, like he was challenging him, saying, ‘is that all you got?’

Hunter’s upper lip pulled back into a snarl. “When’s your birthday?” he said again, practically spitting the words out. The splattering silver whirled around him like a tornado. He tried not to look at it. He didn’t need his headache getting any worse.

Sahota still didn’t answer, so Hunter popped him across the other cheek.

“Do you really think this will get you anywhere?”

“You think I’d fucking know that?” Hunter snapped. “I’m not a psycho like you. I never tortured anyone.”

That seemed to have an effect, the gray getting a few shades darker in the middle of Sahota’s chest. Hunter’s mouth tipped up in a grin.

“S’wrong?” he said, circling the chair in an unhurried stride. “Don't like being called out on it?”

But just as fast, the gray was gone, and Sahota was quiet again. Of fucking course.

“When's your birthday?” Hunter said, this time leaning over the trainer's shoulder to hiss it into his ear.

“You’re sloppy,” Sahota replied, not seeming to care when Hunter popped him in the jaw. Barely even a grimace.

Sloppy. Just like he'd said when they fought the first time. Well who was the one getting hit? Sahota was sloppy, for letting the rest of the team have their way when an easier solution was right in front of them.

“When's your birthday?”

“Is that all you have to say? Does your entire plan revolve around asking the same question on repeat?”

“I told you, I don't have a fucking plan,” Hunter snapped, hitting him a little harder than he'd meant to. Closed fist tangling with the bruises on his cheek, reopening the cut that cracked his knuckles, rose petals.

That got a little gasp from Sahota. A blinking wince that made Hunter hesitate, his fist dropping to swing at his side.

I'm sorry. He wasn't. Sahota asked to do this, Sahota said he could hit him. He could take punches, they could both take punches, it was no big deal.

“I want to listen to Vic,” he said in a small voice. “I want to just… just kill her. If that's the easy way.”

Sahota's eyes narrowed. “You've never killed anyone.”

“Don't pretend you know me,” Hunter said, his voice rising again. “You don't know shit.”

He had, probably. He'd never actually watched them die, but he'd been in enough gunfights and brawls and shit that he'd probably killed someone. “I don't care, anyway,” he said, taking a half step backwards. The silver-spatter pattern swirled faster now, dizzy and bright. “Vic knows best, so if he says that's what we should do…”

“Vic doesn't always know best,” Sahota said. “Not for you.”

There it was. Hunter scowled, scanning the trainer's shape, seeing no sign of the jealous black cracks that had come crawling out of his throat before. Not like that meant shit. Maybe they weren't jealousy. He didn't know fuckall about what they could be because he didn't know fuckall about Sahota.

“What do you know about what's best?” he grumbled. Maybe he should've gone to Vic about this bright idea after all. Maybe this had all been a ploy to trick Hunter into going against Vic’s idea, to highlight him as a problem, to make him another outsider.

“I know this isn't the life you want," Sahota replied. "Finish this job and get out, or you'll end up wishing you had.”

Had Vic told him about the plan? About letting him stay? Was he just spouting this bullshit because he couldn't stand the thought of Hunter sticking around?

“You don't know what I want,” Hunter spat. “There’s nothing else for me. There's nothing else to want.”

Sahota grimaced. His gray was starting to darken at the center again, spreading like black clouds. “Harbor—”

“You want me to get out?” Hunter cut him off. “Fucking fine, I'll get out. Already said this was stupid.”

The green, the burning of chlorine in his nose hit him before he could turn around. Vic.

“Done already?” the handler asked in a voice that was danger-quiet. Like if Hunter answered wrong there'd be trouble. He'd heard it before. With teachers at school, with his dad at home, with Rex and the syndicate.

He froze. Sometimes the best answer was silence.

“I heard you're running them through an impromptu training exercise, Sahota,” Vic said, and Hunter realized the tone wasn't for him. He felt the tension seep away from his shoulders; vines unwinding and hanging there like deadweight limbs.

“Quite an interesting lesson plan today.”

“It's a demonstration, sir.” Sahota’s eyes dropped. “Proof that interrogation doesn't work the way they think.”

“Oh? Do you not think my word is proof enough for them?”

“I didn't mean that.”

Vic clicked his tongue. “I was under the impression that today's training was meant to be a little more standardized. Was that a lie?”

“No, I… it seemed like something too small to bother you with. Once they failed, we'd move on. Nothing would change.”

“So you'd rather keep it from me.”

“No, sir.”

Vic let out a little hm, letting silence sit prickly in the room for what was probably a full minute before he spoke again. “I do apologize for interrupting.”

Sahota didn't lift his gaze. Or even say anything.

“It's fine,” Hunter put in. “This is a waste of time anyway. Right? We should just—”

“No no, it's not my place to swoop in and change the curriculum for the day,” Vic said, letting out a small sigh. “I'm sure it's exactly as beneficial as you say, Sahota.”

Hunter didn't know why the change in his tone wasn't letting him relax, why the splatters in the air were turning razored at the edges, why some anxious color was starting to squeeze him again.

“In fact, why don't I watch the rest of the lesson? It's interrogation, right? You're letting them ask you questions?”

“Yes, sir,” Sahota said in a flat voice.

“Wonderful. Hunter?”

“Yeah?”

“Carry on.”

Hunter shook his hands loose, nervous energy bundling up in his fingers, tiny vines tangling between them like thread. Sticky and annoying. Vic wanted to watch? But what if he fucked it up? What if he wasn't good enough?

“When's your birthday?” he asked, his tone emptier than it had been before. Sahota didn't answer, just like before. Hunter hit him, not like before. This time he was careful to aim for even, unbruised color, to pull back on the blow.

He turned back to face Vic, feet shuffling him away from the man in the chair. “That's what I've been doing, Vi—sir. Pretty much just that.” Nothing to see here, no reason to watch, to find faults.

Vic chuckled. “And this is your idea of an interrogation?”

Hunter shrugged, letting out a quiet, “guess so.” Vic couldn't blame him for being bad at it, right? He'd never done this before, so it wasn't his fault, right? All he had to go off of was movies and the bloodied remains of Rex’s discarded rivals, and at the time he was too busy hoping it would never be him dead on the cement to memorize the fucking injuries.

“Here.” His handler stood, laying a hand on his shoulder, gently guiding him so he was standing in front of Sahota again.

Silent, stony, Sahota.

“Let me help you out.” Vic pressed something into his hand. Cold metal, warmed by fingerprints. He didn't want to glance down, but it was from Vic, so he made himself look, eyes confirming the shape that he held. Brass knuckles.

A thought sped through his mind as he looked at them, wondering whether Vic just always had the weapon with him, or if he'd packed it for the occasion, if he knew this would be the outcome before he'd even stepped into the room.

“Try them on.”

Metal slipped past his fingertips to circle his knuckles, the shiny brown quickly choked out by dull green vines. Vic patted him on the shoulder.

“Looks good on you.”

Something pleasant zipped through Hunter at the words, but it felt wrong, out of place

“Go on, Hunter. Hit him again. And this time, don't hold back.” Vic squeezed his shoulder. “Let's show you what a real interrogation can look like.”

Hunter clenched his fist around the metal that enclosed them, letting it pinch the skin on the inside of his fingers. Hit him again, hit him with a weapon, hurt him, why did Vic want him to hurt him? Weren't he and Sahota partners?

“Vic…”

“What are you waiting for?” The handler leaned in, hands on his shoulders, lips on his ear. “Show me you can handle this much. Show me you belong here.”

Hunter tried to steady himself with an inhale, but the chlorine smell was choking him and the room was all dizzy from the spinning silver. He kept upright, locking his gaze on the man in the chair who sat stiff-backed. Unflinching.

He didn't want to hit him, he didn't want to hit him again, he hadn't even wanted to watch him get hit on the video two days ago but it was what Vic wanted.

The black cracks were back, branching out from the pit of Sahota's throat as they met eyes, and Hunter knew then that it wasn't hatred. It wasn't annoyance, or even jealousy.

It was fear.

~~~

@theonewithallthefixations , @violets-whumperflies , @whump-me , @pirefyrelight , @soheavyaburden , @snakebites-and-ink , @whumpsday , @kixngiggles , @echo-goes-aaa

#love when hunter makes casual references to his questionable and Really Pretty Sad past its one of my favorite parts of writing him #anyways this was one of the first scene ideas i had!!#it was originally supposed to be a kinda humorous comic but then i got to hunter's turn and went 😶#total$hit$how #interrogation #angst #stoic whumpee #implied abuse #beating

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intoanotherworld23 · 2 years ago

Text

Love On Camera III

Pairing: Reader x Chris Evans

Warnings: NSFW 18+ ONLY DNI, there is smut in this chapter so you have been warned

Summary: You had always wanted to become a famous actress one day, you just never thought it would be as an adult film actress, and your first movie happens to be with the devastatingly handsome Chris Evans

✨Please do not copy and paste my work or steal my work or publish my work as your own or I will have you reported✨

Part 2 Part 4

Walking into the building you were feeling more peppy than usual. Mainly cause you were getting to see Chris again.

Ever since you and him talked and exchanged numbers he's all you've been able to think about. Wondering if this was something that would become more, or if he wanted something casual.

Regardless you were just smitten with the fact he wanted to talk, and spend time with you. He was always sure to ask how you were, and wanted to get to know you. Know your likes and dislikes.

As you walked into your dressing room the schedule was already on your dresser. Taking a look at you your face dropped a little. The first name you saw on their was not the one you wanted to see.

You were scheduled to film a movie with Johnny Sins today. Not that it was a big deal, but you were just looking forward to being with Chris instead.

Johnny was a nice guy from what you saw, but something about him was off. Something about him seemed bad to you, and you wanted to stay away from him as much as you could.

Disappointed that you didn't have another film with him until a couple days. This is what you were warned about and told. You didn't always get to pick who you wanted to do movies with.

Reading over the scenario you almost rolled your eyes at how cliche the scene was. You were a school girl who was caught cheating, and the only way the teacher wouldn't tell on you was if you fucked him.

Not wasting another minute pouting you decided to go ahead and get ready. Doing your hair and makeup overly done trying to look the part. Putting your hair up into high pigtails since they instructed that's what Johnny specifically wanted.

Just as you were about to slip on your outfit a knock on the door came. Tightening the robe around your body so you weren't as exposed. Walking over to the door to see exactly who you wanted.

"Hi beautiful." Smiling as Chris stood on the other side wearing a white knitted sweater with black pants.

"Hi there." Greeting as you opened the door further to let him in. Still feeling a bit nervous around him still.

"How are you?" He asked as he sat on the couch crossing one leg over the other.

"Can't really complain." Shrugging your shoulders as you set next to him. "How bout you?"

"A little bit upset doll." He said his eyes focusing on the ground. "Not gonna lie."

"Why's that?" Asking with concern something was actually wrong. Hoping it wasn't something you possibly said or did.

"I don't get to shoot a scene with you today." Hearing him say that had your stomach doing somersaults. You didn't expect him to say that.

"Well you can't have me all to yourself." You teased playfully shoving his shoulder making him chuckle.

"I want you all to myself." He growled as he looked deep into your eyes.

The atmosphere in the room was becoming thick and heavy with lust. Feeling your thighs clenching together when that familiar ache appeared between your legs.

He could tell by your body language he was getting to you. Grinning when he knew how easily he could turn you on even with just his words.

It felt like something was pulling was closer to him, but you had to push back before anything dirty happened on this couch. Not that you didn't want anything to happen.

"What are you doing tonight?" Asking when you saw him leaning in.

"Hopefully you." He winked making you smile with a giggle. "No I'm not doing anything tonight."

"Did you want to come over to my place?" Confidently asking as you stood up straighter. "I'll cook dinner and everything."

"Yeah sure that sounds amazing." Feeling better when he accepted your offer.

Surprised he agreed to hang out with you tonight. Not thinking that he would want to, but he seemed just as happy as you were. Maybe something would spark between you two.

Maybe it was just you being overly optimistic. Maybe it was just that part of you that wanted something to happen. Wanting to be wanted by Chris was something you now desired.

"You getting ready for your scene?" He asked noticing the school girl outfit hanging.

"Uh yeah." Laughing at the ridiculous outfit as you picked it up. "Sexy right?"

"I would have that thing ripped up so quickly." He playfully joked but behind his eyes you could tell he was serious.

It was like a magnet was attached to you and you found yourself throwing your arms around him attaching your lips together. He was stunned for a second before he wrapped his arms around your waist.

Both of you breathing heavily as you got on top of him, and your tongues meshed together. Grinding yourself on top of him feeling his erect cock poking through his pants. He was clearly wanting this just as much as you did.

Moaning into his mouth when you found yourself becoming drenched with arousal. Your entire body was ignited by his touch, and you just wanted to drown in him.

"God I want you so bad." Groaning in your ear as his lips moved beneath your ear and your neck.

Gasping as his hands moved to your hips digging your body deeper into his erection. Both hands on his shoulders as you let him take complete control of your body.

"Just wanna feel you wrapped around my cock." Emphasizing the word cock making you bite your bottom lip.

Feeling a shudder rake through your entire body as your overly sensitive covered clit was rubbing against his clothes. Making your lower stomach tingle and your toes curling.

"Chris." Whining as you felt yourself soaking your panties probably onto his pants.

"Tell me what you want baby?" His lips moving to attach to your collarbones. Your hand gripping onto his hair as you felt lust consume your body.

"I want you Chris." You started as you looking into his eyes rotating your hips. "I want your cock."

Hearing that and he suddenly flipped you onto your back while looking in your eyes. Mouth hanging open as you watched his every move. He was swift but also animalistic. It was like you were the pray and he was the hunter.

Hands on either side of your head as he hovered above you. Lips smacking onto yours as his hips pushed against yours digging his cock against your thin panties.

His mouth swallowing your moans so nobody heard the two of you. Not that anybody would be disgusted by it considering where you worked. They probably did have some type of rule about outside relationships with other porn stars.

Keeping himself up on one hand as his other went to go unbuckle his pants. Feeling your chest heaving up and down as you anticipated the feel of his cock again. Only to be interrupted by loud knocks on the door.

"Y/N there ready for you." Hearing the director tell before hearing his receding footsteps.

Groaning as Chris leaned his forehead against your chest. It was just your obvious bad luck that you would be interrupted from possibly having amazing sex.

"Perfect." Grumbling as Chris stood up adjusting himself to hide his evident erect penis.

"Don't worry we can pick up where we left off tonight." Smacking your ass as you walked over to change into your outfit.

The thought of tonight had your entire body tingling with excitement. You never would get tired of Chris's sexuality nor his stamina. If anything he is exactly what you needed in this life .

"Whose your man today?" He asked as he straightened his tussled hair.

"Johnny Sins." As soon as you said that name he turned around to you with a weird look on his face. "What?"

"I'm surprised they paired you with him." His words now concerning you as he looked pretty shocked.

"Whadda you mean?" Trying not to sound too worried but now overly curious as to what was wrong with being paired with him.

"I've just heard he can be a bit rough." He tried to shrug it off like it was no big deal not wanting scare you.

“I mean nothing too bad right?” Sounding almost hesitant when you asked him.

“Nothing too terrible just that I’ve seen he can leave bruises on a woman.” Your eyes went a little wide at the thought of him marking you up.

As he said goodbye you stood there not feeling a bit worried about your scene. You didn't mind it rough but just the way he seemed concerned had now you rethinking things.

Taking a deep breath as took a swig or tequila hoping that would calm your nerves. Feeling the sensation burning down your throat as you scrunched your face together. Mentally preparing yourself for what you were about endure.

——————————————

"And cut." The director yelled feeling Johnnys large body lift off yours. Panting as you felt the heat rush to your face.

Hissing when you felt Johnny swiftly pull his cock from your abused hole. His cum dripping from inside you down to your thigh. Your neck covered in sweat after he just railed into your body for the past hour.

Your pelvis and chest were painfully pressed up against the wooden desk. Groaning as you tried to move your shaking legs, your pussy feeling beaten and raw. It was like you got into a car wreck, and someone just had sex with you.

Just knowing that your entire body was covered in his hand prints. He was constantly grabbing and pulling your body around like a rag doll. Your ass was sore from how many times he smacked you.

Of course you had to act like you liked it for the cameras, but in no way were you really enjoying yourself. Johnny was too rough to your liking, and you were hoping you didn't have to do another film with him again.

"Fuck you were amazing baby." Johnny growled in your ear as you fully stood up.

"You too." Pulling the best smile you could just wanting to go home.

"Best pussy I ever had." It didn't sound the same as when Chris said it. Something about his words seemed off and dark.

Johnny gave your ass a sharp spank making you gasp. He just laughed as he walked away wiping his crotch with a clean white towel. Standing there in exhaustion trying to wrap your head around what you just went through.

Parts of you felt violated for how roughly he treated you. Of course it was something you were bound to encounter sooner or later. You just didn't think it would be on only your second film. Especially with someone as well known as Johnny Sins.

As you looked over you saw Chris standing there with his arms across his chest. His nostrils were flared and his cheeks were red. The look on his face was one of jealousy and anger. Hopefully it wasn't towards you. Was he watching the whole time?

When he saw the look on your face though his softened immediately. Waving to you to come over to him which you did. Awkwardly walking over to him but his eyes remained glued to yours not once looking up and down your body.

Having a clean robe already to wrap around your naked marked body. Making sure you were nice and snug. Wrapping an arm around you as he walked with you to your dressing room.

"I'm sorry." He apologized when he saw how shaken up you were from Johnny's actions. "Let's get you something to drink."

“Yeah I’m gonna need it.” Grumbling as you sat down the pain enhancing between your legs.

“Why don’t you take something?” He suggested as he started looking through the drawers for something for you to take. “Here take this.”

Handing you a bottle marked ibuprofen along with a water bottle. Popping two pills in your mouth and then chugging them down. Chris chuckling as he watched you eagerly drink the medicine down slammed the bottle on the counter.

“You weren’t kidding about him being rough.” Leaning back in your chair as you looked over at him.

“I mean he’s well known and famous, but he’s got a dark side to him.” Chris wished he could have prevented you from that situation, but he has no say in anything. “If I could have taken his place I would have.”

“You can’t have me all the time Chris.” Giving him a cheeky wink as he laughed.

“Oh darling you wouldn’t be able to handle me everyday anyway.” He threw that fact back at you.

“Okay horn dog get out so I can get changed.” Standing up as you shooed him to leave.

“Nothing I haven’t seen before Y/N.” His eyes looking up and down your body with a huge smirk.

“Get out.” Shaking your head at him with a laugh.

Walking with his to the door as you shut it behind him. Leaning back against the door as you smiled to yourself feeling happy with your relationship with Chris. He was sweet and kind and funny, and knew exactly what he was doing in the bedroom. Things couldn’t be any better with him.

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