#like it looks like if u took a barbies arms off and put them on backwards . my shoulders are so scary genuinely i was grossed out LOL | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

1kook · 4 years ago

Text

imax & climax

summary; The occasional dark horse candidate among Barbie movie binges— Jungkook gets weirdly horny and fucks you to the tune of a classic Barbie movie soundtrack. warnings; fingering, blowjobs, tit play, praise kink, standing sex, unprotected sex, reverse cowgirl kinda idk lol, daddy kink that morphs into i love u kink tags; jk is an avid history channel viewer, jk hates Barbie movies ik we took an L today girls 😔, jk goes thru like 4 personality changes (commanding > soft > mean > in love), honestly idk what to tag it’s a mess, he’s still cheesy and romantic but also 👀 just read word count; 9.8k

notes; there is no rest for the wicked, aka miss 1kook writes another part for this fic i swore wasn't gonna be a series except this time we ditch the gentlemen persona and go into maximum overdrive. its not proofread bc i wrote this entire thing at 4 am last night after inhaled a whole bucket of spicy popcorn

[ part 1 ; netflix & chill ] [ part 2 ; hulu & wohoo ]

Jungkook sees it on display during your weekly Target trip. You know he won’t say anything because despite how long you’ve dated he still likes to pretend he’s the epitome of adult maturity. Yet the way his eyes linger over the electronics section, cart rolling to a stop in front of the massive screen, tells you all you need to know.

“Baby, the toilet paper is this way,” you sing, giving the front of the cart a gentle tug that pulls it and his thoughts away from the television that seems to hold reign over his interest.

“Ah,” he mumbles as he shakes himself out of whatever trance he was in. “Right.”

The Target trip ends rather uneventfully; you grab all the items you came for and make the executive decision of swapping Jungkook’s tangerine bathroom soap with strawberry instead. Normally he’d put up a good fight, argue about the comfort that came with consistency, but today he says nothing. You chalk it up to that flatscreen that hypnotized him earlier.

“You wanted it,” you announce rather pointedly in the car. He’s backing out of the parking space now, one hand on the wheel the other pressed to the side of your seat. His jaw twitches as he tries to maneuver around a stray shopping cart someone didn’t return to the retrieval area. He’s wearing that dark jumper you like, with the high collar that covers all of last night’s bruises up wonderfully.

Jungkook scoffs as he finally gets the two of you back onto the main road, Target and the flat screen left behind. “I didn’t,” he defends. “Just thought it was neat.”

You snort. “Neat. Okay, grandpa, did it tickle your pickle?” you tease, obnoxiously leaning over the center console to get all in his face. Jungkook greets your proximity with a palm against your forehead.

“Please don’t ever say that again,” he laughs, pulling to a stop at the next red light. He turns to level you with an easygoing grin, sparkly anime girl eyes extra shiny under the red glow. “Only want you to tickle my pickle.”

You gag. “That’s actually disgusting.”

——

You graduate on a Saturday and your dorm stay expires on the Tuesday that follows. You spend the entire day shoving all your belongings into a variety of trash bags, from your weighted blanket to the collection candles you and Doyeon swore to light every night and never did. Speaking of Doyeon, she cries through the entire process. From the moment you take down the first wall decoration she’s in tears, and not even her mom, who’s come to help out, can quell her emotions. The girl cries and cries. She cries throughout the clean up, like she hadn’t spent the week before cursing the funky aircon system to hell and back. It’s probably the nostalgia that comes with leaving college, you assume. When Jungkook picks you up around noon, even your eyes are glassy.

Jungkook’s mom, who you only just met a few months ago, is over at his place when you arrive. You get along fairly well, in fact, you would even go as far as to claim you got along really well. You had first met her over this past spring break when Jungkook invited you along to his family trip to some tropical island. The Jeons were lovely people. In fact, had Jungkook not explicitly introduced them as his parents, you would’ve thought they were some sitcom actors carrying out the role of most in love, sophisticated lovers to ever exist. Yeah, they were super into each other, and you suppose it’s why Jungkook is the way he is, loves as hard as he does. The only thing that broke their attention away from each other was the sight of their precious Jungkookie bringing you to a family event.

It was hard to keep them entertained. Every second was spent worrying about your appearance, your demeanor, whether or not you looked like a devil beside their (your) angelic boy. It certainly didn’t help that Jungkook was wearing that obnoxiously floral shirt at the restaurant you went to, the first three buttons undone almost lazily. It was a look your boyfriend rarely showed, always so meticulously dressed. Of course, he had that cute boyish style of his that consisted almost exclusively of baggy pants and designer tee’s a little too plain to cost as much as they did. But even those outfits had a specific Jungkook rhythm to them— the darker tones always went with the pants that had twelve buckles on them; the long sleeves always went with the jeans. He was awfully particular about those kinds of self-set rules, and this jarring floral print did not fit any of them. It was too provocative, the black skinny jeans he’d paired with it too devious.

Maybe he knew what he was doing to you dressed so hot like this, but knowing Jungkook, you doubt he did. His parents hadn’t batted a single lash his way, eyes laser focused on your every word as you stumbled through three plates and dessert. It was a battle you fought alone, and one you barely survived.

So despite you impressing his parents, she still gives you an odd look when you enter Jungkook’s swanky townhouse with all your garbage bags of items. You promise her it’s just for the weekend, until your parents clean out your old room that they’ve filled to the brim with holiday decorations and miscellaneous objects. You’re not trying to take her baby chick out of the nest. (Yet.)

You watch TV for a couple hours, mostly her favorite soap operas on his 67 in. screen. It takes up a huge spot on the wall where it’s mounted, glossy black screen glaring back at you. Even his mom scolds him for such a huge screen, and you wonder how she’d feel about the absolute giant he ogled at the Target last week. Super angry, you think, and the image of her raging in flames while Jungkook apologizes like the momma’s boy he is makes you giggle.

She leaves a little after sunset, kissing and hugging the both of you on the doorstep like she’s going off to war and will never return. She’ll be back by the weekend, desperate to check on her baby boy, but you let her have her moment. It’s weird seeing how dramatic the Jeons are compared to how reserved Jungkook is.

You pounce on him the second she’s gone. He goes down with a muffled yelp against the sofa, hands grasping at your waist until you straddle him and begin going to town. Your fun lasts all of two minutes before the old lady novella Jungkook’s mom had been watching cuts to commercials and a loud advertisement for irritable bowel syndrome medication begins playing.

“Oh, that is so not sexy,” you whine childishly, trying to roll your hips over him again. Jungkook laughs, all low and sweet as he sits back up again.

“Give it a rest,” he says, shifting you until he’s got you hugged between those stupidly strong arms of his. His pecs feel strong and comforting beneath your cheek, and the feeling makes your tiny pouting session end earlier than usual. “Come on,” he mumbles as he manhandles you around, until your back is pressed against his chest and you’re sitting between his legs. “Let’s watch this film on Mesopotamian folklore and its overall significance to the nations it birthed after its downfall.”

——

You rarely use the key Jungkook gifted you a few months back. The majority of your visits to Jungkook’s house were either the result of Jungkook picking you up from somewhere and bringing you back, or Jungkook inviting you over after dinner. In short, he was always with you when you arrived at his stoop.

Today you’re alone, juggling two boxes of takeout and some cheap wine in one hand as you fight to unlock his door. He hadn’t answered his phone, which leads you to believe he’s holed himself up again in that damn study. He likes to do that sometimes, lock himself away like some modern day Rapunzel until he finishes whatever project he has this time around. When he gets like this, it’s like all other body functions are forgotten, his brain zeroed in on the lines of code you barely understand.

Just as you suspect, the house is too dark when you finally break in. The hall light is off, which isn’t out of the norm, but so are the kitchen and living room lights. You pad down the hall, flicking on the light to the living room to set down your offerings onto the edge of the coffee table. There’s a scrambled pile of notes on top that seem too disorderly to disregard. You whirl around, making to head back out into the hall and down to the study, when you see it.

A good 90 inches mounted on his wall. It’s a monstrosity of a screen, devouring nearly the entire surface of the wall, from stainless end to stainless end. It’s ridiculously thin in the way all modern TVs are, but this one is even more so given the fact you hadn’t registered it in your peripheral when you walked in. It’s just barely short of a Jumbotron, the kind they have at baseball games to make sure you can see every nose hair on the pitcher.

His mom was going to kill him.

“Jungkook?” you call out slowly, inching back out into the hall with your gaze glued to the screen. Like maybe you’ve imagined this all and that isn’t the stupidly gigantic television screen Jungkook had gawked at just a few weeks ago.

There’s a soft hum down the hall, the sound slipping beneath the bottom gap in the door frame. You make a beeline for the room, oddly unsettled with the huge screen. The door gives way, exposing your boyfriend’s hunched back and the blue light from his monitors that highlights his frame. “Hi, sweetie,” you begin, inching over to him.

“Hi,” he sighs, leaning back into your touch when you step behind him. His dark eyes are weary from staring at his tablet for too long, his usual tender expression melted into one of mild irritation. “Can’t figure this out,” he says, tapping his stylus against one line of absolute nerd gibberish you don’t bother trying to decipher. Maybe another day you would have entertained him, but today you cherish this moment with him knowing it might be his last before his mom comes over and kills him.

“Sounds like break time to me!” Your proclamation makes him frown, a frustrated groan pulling itself from his lips. His head droops forward again, chin touching his chest. But there’s a hint of relief in his groan that tells you all you need to know. “Baby needs a break,” you smile, pressing a peck against the back of his head.

“You’re baby,” he tries to fight, but his limbs are so pliant under your touch that it practically means nothing. “I’m the head honcho around here.”

“Uh huh,” you appease him, finally managing to tug all that muscled body out of his seat. “And apparently that means making dumb purchases.”

“What dumb purchases? Are you talking about the cactus again?” he asks, letting you guide him back down the hall.

“Yes, Kook, the cactus you haven’t watered in three months,” you drawl sarcastically, the sad plant sitting in the kitchen a reminder of both your incompetence. “Namjoon would hate you for that.”

Not amused by the insinuation of his favorite senpai being disappointed in him, Jungkook goes to fight you on that. By then you’ve stopped at the entrance of the living room, glaring at the straight up theater screen that sits on the wall. “Oh.”

“Yeah, oh,” you mimic, flopping down on the ground beside the coffee table. Jungkook doesn’t follow, choosing to sprawl himself over the couch instead. “What’s with the Jumbotron?”

He stretches his arms out, moaning something sinful at the way his bones pop. “It adds to the experience,” he says. “Movies are more enjoyable when the pictures are bigger; a tall aspect ratio and stadium seating really add to the experience.” He was such a nerd.

You snort. “The experience— Oh, I’m sorry. Didn’t know I was speaking to Mr. IMAX here.”

His cheeks flush a soft pink at your jab. “Don’t be mean,” he mumbles, tugging on your arm as he sits back up. You find your way onto his lap, neatly seated over one thigh like he’s the Santa Claus at the mall; not a single gray hair in sight but you’d still let him call you his hoe, hoe, hoe. Realizing there’s more important matters to attend to than Jungkook’s Christmas ham, you shake those images away.

“Good thing I brought a movie,” you beam, gesturing to the pretty pink case resting over top the takeout bag.

Jungkook doesn’t even spare it a single glance as he burrows into your neck. “What? No, we’re finishing the docuseries on—“

You groan loudly to muffle the rest of his sentence. “Kook, I don’t wanna watch another episode on Stonehenge being done by aliens,” you whine, picking up the movie case to brandish in his face.

It’s admittedly the wrong move when Jungkook’s eyes roll themselves into another dimension. “Absolutely not,” he says. The case is quickly discarded off to the side as he attempts to distract you with a kiss against your cheek.

Too bad you’re evil and determined. “No! We are watching the Princess and the Pauper and that’s final,” you exclaim, scrambling for the movie before he can hurl it out the window. He catches you by the waist, your fingers just an inch away from the pink case. “Babe!” you cry, but his fingerprints are bruising their way into your skin.

“No more Barbie movies,” he begs, yanking you back onto his lap. He does so with so much force that it makes the two of you tumble to the side, your head bouncing on the cushions as he catches himself over you. “Please.”

“I hate you,” you fuss, pointedly ignoring the tiny mole beneath his lip that drove you crazy. “We’ve seen every single thing on the History Channel this week, but we can’t watch one Barbie movie?”

Jungkook sighs, dropping his head down against your shoulder. He smells good and feels even better over you, but you’re not going to stop until the Princess and the Pauper is breaking in the new Jumbotron. “It’s weird,” he huffs, voice muffled against the fabric of your shirt. “Especially when we start getting… experimental, and I have to listen to Barbie sing in the background.”

“First of all, her name is Annaleise in this movie,” you correct, squirming beneath him to no avail. “Secondly, how do you think I feel when you’re eating me out while some old British dude narrates the creation of the Hanging Gardens of Babylon?”

Jungkook scoffs, finally letting himself snuggle completely into you. “You don’t even realize it because you’re screaming the whole way through.” That earns him a sharp tug at his ear that has him sputtering apology after apology.

“It’s boring!” you feel the need to emphasize.

Jungkook sits up with an uppity look on his face. “It’s not my fault you don’t appreciate the cinematography that comes from educational pieces,” he points out, rather presumptuously.

You shove him off of you. “I don’t care about cinnamon topography, just play the damn Barbie movie,” you hiss, swiping the movie case from the other end of the couch and pressing it to his chest. If words could hurt, yours definitely do. Jungkook crumbles against the couch, childishly stomping one sock-clad foot against the ground as you gesture toward the movie player.

He doesn’t move, and you’re about to begin another tirade against his snobby movie critiquing habits when he procures a sleek, tiny remote that you would honestly mistake for an iPhone from a distance. It has, no joke, about seven buttons max, four of which are just the up and down, left and right arrows. You let out a low whistle at that. Wow. Technology sure was advancing.

The TV turns on to some minimalistic home page, tiny widgets showing every app it has; the bottom row is dedicated almost entirely to Jungkook’s massive streaming service provider collection. After a moment of brewing in his feels, Jungkook quietly announces, “it’s on Amazon Prime.” This is news to you, being able to watch a Barbie film on a streaming service and not the old disk you scratched when you were ten. Something distinctly carnal flashes in your chest when Jungkook clicks through all the payment options without a care in the world. Oh, that was definitely going into your horny 3 am dreams.

Despite his earlier protests, you know Jungkook will soon fall into his usual movie watching habits. He settles into the couch beside you. You cuddle up next to him, enveloping him with the grip of a killer octopus choking out its prey, except Jungkook is usually the one doing the choking in this relationship. Still, it’s not close enough, and you throw your legs over his thigh. You’re practically sitting on him at this point.

You have no doubt the speakers on this thing are average; it was too thin to really pack any punch. However, that was the TV sans the Bluetooth speakers Jungkook has installed all around his house.

(You swear when the android uprising finally begins, your boyfriend will be the first one out.)

The speakers really amplify the sound. The opening sequence has your bones rattling inside your body, the loud music of the selection screen reverberating through the entire living room. It reminds you of that pounding COMING SOON clip that used to play at the beginning of DVD’s back in the day. Jungkook scrambles to lower the volume. “Sweetheart, you’re cutting off my circulation,” he wheezes afterwards.

“What? This is how we always watch movies,” you say with a frown.

“Yes, and I always end up with less oxygen than before.”

He doesn’t let you argue, which is good, because you could make a thirty five slide PowerPoint presentation on the advantages of watching movies like this. One, your boyfriend was warm. Two, your boyfriend smelt good. Three, your boyfriend’s ripped body awoke some ancient being inside of you that would not rest until his cock was halfway down your thro—

He hauls you into his lap. The angle forces you to let him go, instead met with the jarring nothingness of having his hot body ripped away. Meanwhile he gets to wrap you up in his arms, hold you like a teddy bear to his chest. “I hate this,” you huff, but the movie is already starting, the beautiful blonde Anneliese appearing on screen. You lean back against his chest, pout still evident. “This is ridiculous,” you snort, her face blown up on this jumbo screen.

“Shut up,” he says, settling in behind you. “Movie’s starting.”

Most Barbie movies you watch end up in one of two ways: either Jungkook falls asleep twenty minutes in or he stays up until the end to critique every aspect of it. With the way he’d gone soft from your early battle, you’re guessing he was going to knock out before the Princess can even meet the Pauper.

As much as you hate to admit it, the huge screen does incite quite a thrill in you. There’s something so nostalgic about watching one of your favorite childhood movies on a screen this huge. The size showcases the sheer perfection that is every single Barbie movie. You lose yourself in the movie, singing along to the opening song and growing agitated when the antagonist appears.

Jungkook says nothing, and you’re half convinced he’s taken his first preferred route and snoozed off, when his fingers twitch around your waist.

There it was.

The occasional dark horse candidate among Barbie movie binges— Jungkook gets weirdly horny and fucks you to the tune of a classic Barbie movie soundtrack.

“Absolutely not,” you say, slapping a hand down over his before he can slip beneath the fabric of your shorts.

He lets out an indignant noise, a puff of air running along the side of your face. You ease his hands back over your stomach, taking extra care to knot your fingers with his. “We’re supposed to be breaking in your new screen,” you remind him, glancing up to catch his unimpressed expression.

He complains quietly, but he settles.

For all of twenty seconds.

“Oh my god,” you sigh, trying to act like the subtle rutting of his cock on your behind was a nuisance and not the luxury it is. “Babe, the jumbo screen… look at it.”

“Not even jumbo,” he murmurs against your ear, hot breath sending a shiver down your spine that has your toes curling. You fight to keep his hands still, but the muscles in his forearm tense, inked skin contracting as he slips them between your thighs. You suck in a sharp inhale, trying to maintain your immovable front. Jungkook sees the fortress you’ve built around yourself in the name of watching The Princess and the Pauper, and spares you no mercy with his attack. His hands massage the skin of your thighs, tiny shorts doing absolutely nothing to save you from him. “Jumbo didn’t fit.”

The back of your mind registers the fact he was apparently trying to get a TV even bigger than this. You tuck it away for later to snitch to his mom. For now, you’d very much appreciate it if he could make you cum before the two girls perform the iconic “I Am a Girl Like You” song.

His hands are so smooth, soft skin tracing over your body like you were nothing but a slab of clay ready to be molded under his touch. He abandons your thighs to creep them under your shirt, where he wastes no time tugging the cups of your bra down to fondle your breasts.

Belatedly, your stupid tongue remembers to move. “I know something jumbo that fits,” you babble, rolling your head back against his shoulder. Jungkook laughs at the utter stupidity of your sentence, and the aforementioned jumbo thing fattens against your ass, before brushing his lips against yours. The airy laughter, one of your favorite sounds in the world, is swallowed up by your greedy mouth. “Can fit in two places, actually,” you murmur when he pulls away. His fingers massage the doughy skin of your boobs causing your back to arch slightly. “Wherever he wants it to.”

“Really,” Jungkook teases, obviously entertained by your silly dirty talk. He’s grown used to your outlandish remarks in the past few months of your relationship.

You like to believe Jungkook has fully accepted your occasional bouts of weirdness. He’s had the last few months to grow familiar with the inner workings of your mind, and even absorbed some of it into his own personality. Which is why he doesn’t seem the least bit bothered by you referring to his cock as jumbo, when there were admittedly more fitting words to describe it as.

(Thick, juicy, angry, demon cock, if he really wanted to know.)

“Where do you think it should go?” he asks, the low hum of his voice snapping you out or your thoughts. There was no need to daydream about a cock that was right in front of you. His hands slow their gentle caress over you, fingers closing in on your nipples.

A sharp hiss pulls itself from your throat, chest arching as he tugs and toys with your hardened nipples. “Wh-Wherever,” you pant, reaching your own hands down back between your thighs. The phantom of his palms linger, making your hands feel sorely inadequate. “Wherever Daddy wants,” you purr, swallowing harshly when he twists a nipple.

Jungkook groans, resting his forehead against your shoulder. “Don’t,” he sighs, hands faltering over your breasts. Eventually they drift away, settling around your waist as you slip your fingers under the front of your bottoms.

“Why?” you laugh, pointer finger brushing along your clit. “Don’t like it when I call you that, Daddy?”

He lifts his head to watch you play with yourself. His hands grow tight around your waist, labored breath filling the air to harmonize with your breathy moans. You’re absolutely soaking your panties, sticky arousal making the fabric stick to your folds. “You know I do,” he murmurs, watching the outline of your knuckles through the fabric of your shorts. “Thought you wanted to play nice today.” He takes in a sharp inhale when you ease your finger into yourself, a breathy moan escaping from your lips.

You were already so wet, and you’re really not surprised this is how the two of you would break in his new IMAX, high definition flatscreen. Your pussy tightens around your finger, thigh muscles jumping at the intrusion. Fuck, you needed him so bad.

You smirk, drawing your hands out from their hiding spot. The television is the only thing lighting the room, the two of you shrouded in relative darkness. At first, your hand is shadowed by the glow of the screen, nothing more than an outline. But when you turn it just right, the light catches, highlighting the glistening skin of your fingers. It makes Jungkook shudder.

Ever so slowly, you bring your fingers up to his face. The tip of your middle finger runs teasingly against his plump lower lip, his shaky exhales sending a cool breath over your knuckles. “Open, Daddy,” you encourage, watching with rapt attention as he envelopes your fingers between his lips. He sucks, tongue dancing between each digit to slurp off your juices. “Do I taste good? Do you like it?”

You know he loves it, but it never hurts to ask.

Between the two of you, you each had your own share of distinctive interests when it came to sex. Kinks, if you will. You adored the softer, vanilla aspects of sex— the languid makeouts, the slow rutting against his thigh, the whispered praise, the cute pet names. Meanwhile, despite his initially reserved exterior, Jungkook preferred the other end of the spectrum. (You should’ve known from the get go!) He loved it fast and hard, so hard it would make you cry. He liked watching you squirm and beg for his cock while he pushed you to new heights. He liked the sticky, sweaty sex that left you feeling like a used rag beneath him, something you would have never expected given his neat and kind nature.

However, as with all things Jungkook, you always came first. Jungkook’s dream sex style was often pushed to the side in favor of pleasuring you. So quick and rough sex was more of a rare, once in a blue moon, type of luxury. Up until recently, sex had been mostly what you wanted. Either way you did things, Jungkook was fine as long as he got to hold you close.

It was only a few weeks ago that you discovered your shared daddy kink, him obsessed with the idea of shoving you around, something he would otherwise never do. You, on the other hand, found a pleasant satisfaction from being good for him, a stark contrast from your usual sharp tongue and nonexistent filter.

You pull your fingers from his mouth, the sleek drip of your arousal replaced with his saliva. Jungkook grunts as he hauls you further onto his lap, swollen cock nudging itself between your cheeks. “You know I love it, baby,” he growls against your ear. His hot breath fans over your skin, sending shivers down your spine. “Have you had your fun now?” he asks, tracing the pads of his fingers around your nipple teasingly.

“Mhm,” you moan. Jungkook’s hands decide they’re done toying with your tits, drifting back down to their original target between your shorts. “Want Daddy to fuck me now.”

He places a kiss against the side of your neck, right over the vein that runs beneath the skin. Jungkook kisses and nips down your skin, until his hair is tickling your collarbones as he sucks a hickey against the juncture between your neck and shoulder. “Is that the right way to ask for something?” he purrs, rubbing your cunt over your shorts.

It’s nowhere near as fulfilling as it would be without the garments. Nonetheless, it makes you ache for him, thighs quivering at the simple touch like you’re a bumbling virgin being touched for the first time. You’re nowhere near that, but every time with Jungkook was exhilarating enough to the point it felt like it was.

“Pretty please,” you pant, covering his hand with yours.

Jungkook rewards you with a fluttery kiss against your shoulder. “Good girl,” he hums. He finally gives you what you want, bypassing the fabric of your shorts and panties to dip his fingers between your folds. You gasp, hips jumping at the sudden brush of his hands along your quivering folds.

“Inside please,” you whimper, knees moving back and forth, only stopping when he helps you out of your bottoms. He places his free hand on one of them, stilling your writhing to fully focus on pleasing the burning fire inside of you. “Jungkook—“

A slap against your cunt that makes you squeal. “Ah ah,” he warns, voice a low tenor against your skin. If you focus hard enough, you can feel the faint brush of a smirk against your neck. “We’re playing a different game right now, pretty girl.”

On screen, your favorite childhood movie is bearing witness to the sinful acts at your boyfriend’s hands. It shouldn’t be surprising how easily you fall into his arms, onto his lap, especially with your history of movie watching with Jungkook.

From your very first date you were enamored with him; the dip of his Cupid’s bow, so innocent and cute, embodied every single aspect of his personality. He was the sweetest, softest boy, one your brain could never conjure in a thousand years. Jungkook’s level of care was hard to come by nowadays; he was a gentleman through and through.

These days he was growing out of that mature persona, and you like to think it’s thanks to you. Your wildness rubbed off on him, made him confident enough to geek out in public, or be adventurous in private. It helped nourish his impulsivity, which led to things like the Super Bowl Jumbotron watching you fuck now.

Despite knowing all this, knowing the way he is, the slow grind against your ass sends a thrill of arousal up your limbs, sensations converging just beneath your mound. “Yes, Daddy,” you mewl accordingly.

Pleased with your obedience, he rewards you by circling your throbbing clit with his thumb. It’s a terribly slow motion, pad of his finger easing over your engorged bud every other second. You wanted more, needed more. You squirm beneath him, attempting to push your clit against his palm. Your efforts are in vain when he clamps a hand down on your waist. “Sit still,” he growls.

You whimper. “Need more,” you rasp out. Your whole body is acting out now, shifting and turning as you try to wiggle closer. Your mouth brushes against his jawline. The sharp angle is the first thing your muddled thoughts focus on, lips hungrily latching onto his porcelain skin to suck a purple blossom onto it.

Any other day Jungkook would bask in the attention, let you bruise his skin up until he was violet from love.

Today... well.

You were playing a different game.

The hand that had been exploring your nether regions suddenly snaps up, catching your chin between his fingers. The wetness that has coated his digits smears messily across your skin, and you whimper when he squishes your cheeks beneath his fingers.

“No ‘please’?” he huffs, turning your head to meet his eyes.

Dark chocolate eyes you’ve come to associate with love and adoration stare back at you unimpressed. His pronounced brow bone twitches, like he’s holding the true intensity of his glare back for your own sake. He slots his mouth against yours with no warning, tongue pushing its way past your lips. It’s messy, his tongue licking into your mouth like you’re nothing but a lollipop for him to suck on. It pulls a surprised moan from your lips that he swallows quickly enough, biting down on your lower lip harshly. When he pulls away, he’s got that same bored look on his face. You feel small under such a cold look, shoulders scrunching up damn near your ears in a subtle attempt to hide from him.

The action makes Jungkook scoff as he leans away from you. He leaves you on his lap alone, like a tiny island desperate to join the main land. You shuffle around in a hurry, looping your arms around his neck in a last ditch effort to calm him down. It does nothing for Jungkook, who only prods his tongue along his cheek as he regards you with a calculating gaze.

After a moment, he finally says, “on your knees.”

Your heart falls out of your chest. “Huh?” you whisper hoarsely, wide eyes taking in his unimpressed expression. “Knees? But Daddy,” you whine, lower lip quivering as you glance down at the hardwood floor.

Anywhere else you wouldn’t have minded. In fact, anywhere else you would’ve been on the floor before the sentence even left his mouth. You loved sucking his dick almost as much as he loved eating you out. However your knees were embarrassingly frail against hard flooring, which is why most blowjobs had been administered in the comfort of his bed or the couch. Sometimes on carpeted surfaces, but Jungkook never pushed when he knew you would be aching the whole time.

Which is why his current demand has you standing stiff. “O-On the floor?” you murmur.

The stark truth was that Jungkook had you terribly spoiled. His constant pampering had convinced you you were invincible. His love was practically handed to you on a silver plate, cloth napkin folded like a crane beside it. He had never made you do something you didn’t like, and he had never put you in an uncomfortable position, mentally or physically.

Until now.

Jungkook gestures for the ground with a curt nod. “Is there a problem?” he inquires.

You look back again, eye the dark wood planks beneath you, glossed over enough to make them shine even in this weak light. “No,” you belatedly respond, slowly pushing yourself off his lap and onto your feet. Your big shirt falls back down, covers the tops of your thighs as you stand nude from the waist down. You’re tempted to just yank it down even more, hide beneath the cloth so he doesn’t have to see you whine and bitch about your knees aching.

Jungkook was so cool. He was so suave and composed. He was the opposite of you, which is why the two of you meshed so well together. You’ve thought about it about ten times tonight, but it was true. Despite all that, there were times his mature exterior made you feel small— small and silly. Like now, with him sitting against the sofa, dark eyes tracing up your legs in amusement.

You sink to the ground, very pointedly avoiding his gaze. The wooden slats are cold and hard beneath your knees, your kneecap immediately screaming in discomfort. Jungkook leans forward with his elbows on his knees, messy curls covering half of his face. “You know,” he hums, reaching out to trail his knuckles across your cheekbone. “I kinda like having you like this,” he admits, “below me like the good little girl you are.”

Your breath stutters as it leaves your lungs, fidgeting hands tugging at the front hem of your shirt in a feeble attempt to cover yourself up. Jungkook smirks at the movement, eventually retracting his hand to give you one, condescending pat on the head.

A hearty sigh escapes his lips as he settles back onto the couch cushions. “Keep me entertained, will you?” You gawk, but you know it’s not a question. He reaches over for the remote to turn the volume up on the Barbie movie.

Your favorite song on the entire soundtrack is playing, almost mocking you as you shuffle closer to him. Two hands tentatively placed on his thighs as the two animated maidens flounce around the screen. He doesn’t bat a single lash your way, eyes focused on the huge screen behind you instead.

His sweatpants give away easily, elastic band snapping away from hips. You have to fight that and his boxers down, Jungkook sitting like an immovable boulder in front of you. You barely manage to free his cock— the same jumbo cock you had referred to earlier —and it almost slaps you across the face from the force of its recoil. Your breath catches in your throat, a short-lived squeal as you flinch at the movement.

The sound causes him to look your way, over the bridge of his nose. “Do you mind?” he says scornfully. “I’m trying to watch a movie.”

“S-Sorry,” you stammer, quickly grasping his cock between your fist.

But apparently you’re doing everything wrong tonight. Jungkook hisses. “Shit— would it kill you to lick it first? Like you’re trying to start a damn fire on my cock,” he mumbles, head lolling back to watch the screen again.

You move in slower this time, careful to lick your palm before trying to grab him. When you do, it’s even more delayed, fingers hesitantly tightening around his swollen member. You’re trying to gauge his reaction, worried eyes flickering up to him every few seconds. Jungkook doesn’t object, craning his neck to the side to crack a joint there. With his clearance you carry on.

The strokes are slow at first, hand barely reaching over his tip like he likes. You’re weirdly anxious you’ll mess up for him, make him look at you with contempt. You suppose it’s because of the game you’re playing that you’re on edge. Usually, Jungkook adheres to your rules, soft as they may be, and he never pushes where you don’t want. Tonight, it’s like you’re a show dog desperate to impress her owner. In short, you were his bitch.

You loved it.

As much as you wanted to be good for him, the mere thought of your normally sweet-hearted boyfriend glaring down at you does something to you, makes your pussy clench.

It’ll haunt you for weeks. The image of such unimpressed eyes leveled your way because you couldn’t handle his dick will stain the insides of your eyelids. Even though he’ll brush it off, kiss you and tell you it’s fine, the inner conceited hoe in you will never let it go, will recall the memory every time your hand is under your panties.

Still, you’re terribly desperate to impress him. He was your other half, your lover, your sweetheart, your goddamn king; he deserved only the best— not some half-assed, scaredy-cat blowjob that would leave him reeling back afterwards.

With that belief and a sticky blob of spit later, you’re pushing him into your throat. It’s the first reaction you get since he’d started feeling you up, a deep, raspy groan straight from the pits of hell, that has you working even harder to swallow his cock down. “That’s it,” he pants, carding his fingers through your hair. “Good girl.”

You positively mewl under the praise, tongue growing heavy in your mouth as you swallow more and more of him down. The hard tip of his cock pulses inside, rubbing against your palate and then your throat. A gag catches in your throat, one you quickly subdue by shifting your hips.

Fuck, he was so big. Just the feeling of his cock brashly rubbing against the corners of your lips has you fantasizing about how he’ll undoubtedly stretch your pussy apart later. You moan, letting your eyes flutter shut as you try to wave those images away.

When his cock hits the back of your throat, you’re ten chapters deep into an erotic novel all about sucking Jungkook‘s dick. If your eyes weren’t already shut you’re certain they’d be at the back of your head anyway. It twitches against your tongue, one thick bead of precum sliding down your throat.

It seems to be the final straw for Jungkook, who clamps a hand down on the back of your head, forcefully pulling you away only to shove you down again. With his grip in your hair, he really goes to town. You whimper at his brutal movements, his cock nudging the back of your throat with every harsh tug of your hair. The slippery, wet glide of his cock against your mouth fills the room with a lewd squelching that drowns out the movie.

Your pussy quivers with each new intrusion, thighs pressing together as if that will quell the searing ache between them. It doesn’t, and when Jungkook finally bursts in your mouth, creamy cum splattering against your tongue and lips, it only grows.

“Fuck,” he growls, pushing you away as he sinks back into the cushions. His chest heaves beneath the material of his t-shirt, sweat dripping down from his hairline. Normally, you’d take this opportunity to crawl back onto his lap, lick and kiss away at his body while he recovered. But truthfully, you were both still new to this whole experience so there were still the occasional lulls between actions.

Sensing your uncertainty, Jungkook tugs you onto his lap. He presses one soft kiss against your cheek, eyes momentarily losing their hard edge to assure you everything is fine. You give him a tiny nod, as if assuring him you’re okay. He presses his mouth to yours, plush lips soothing over your raw lips. It’s brief, the kiss; he guides you through it but switches back quickly. He pulls away and bites down harshly on the side of your neck. “So perfect for me, pretty girl,” he murmurs, soothing his bite over with a swipe of his tongue.

You dissolve into a mushy puddle on his lap, muscles growing weak from his touch. Jungkook kisses down your neck, over your t-shirt clad chest, before he’s nudging you back down onto the cushions. With him looming over you, your body instinctively has you spreading your legs apart. His t-shirt comes up with one yank over his shoulders, sinewy muscles coming into view.

“Yum,” you whisper, hands reaching up to trail over his v-line. They’re quickly slapped away, a startled gasp pulled from your lips as Jungkook takes your wrists in his hands.

One shapely brow is raised in your direction. “Did I say you could touch?” he murmurs, pinning your hands above your head. A gasp catches in your throat from his close proximity. You subconsciously tilt your head up, try to brush your mouth against his, only to be denied with a subtle turn of his face. “How do you want it, pretty?” he asks, releasing the tight grip around your wrists.

Immediately, you latch around his broad shoulders, fingers tracing over the muscles of his arms until they meet at the base of his neck. “However you want,” you purr, pulling him closer until your bodies are aligned, the warm heat of his frame over yours. You kiss the spot beneath his ear once before he trails his lips down.

Jungkook mouths against your shoulder, lips tracing over the juncture where it meets your neck. “Hm,” he hums, taking a tiny sliver of skin between his teeth. “And if I said I wanted it hard?”

His proposal is followed by a slow roll of his hips against your throbbing core, the same dick you had just choked on gliding along your folds. You whimper, toes curling as the pleasure washes over you. Every ridge, ever vein of his hardened cock runs along your sensitive folds, reminding you of the aching flame inside of you. “Th-That’s fine,” you pant, leg lazily thrown over his hip. His hands trail over your waist, collecting your t-shirt as they move up your body until it’s pushed over the swell of your breasts.

When the material is finally discarded off to the side, leaving you in that flimsy bra Jungkook that snaps off, he strikes again. His tongue laps over your collarbone first, pouty lips ghosting over the skin as he makes his way to your breast. He takes one hardened peak into his mouth, drawing a shaky inhale from you. He rolls it between his teeth, tongue flicking the sensitive nub as you squirm beneath him.

Eventually he pulls away with a wet pop. Jungkook smirks, a soft puff of air fanning over your newly bruised skin. “Aren’t you the prettiest little thing.” He pushes away from you with one strong arm, looking down at you with an unreadable expression on his face. “Watch the movie,” he says.

You blink. “Huh?”

Before you know it, he’s tugging you back up onto your feet. He pushes you around, nearly sends you toppling over the coffee table as he positions you to his liking. “Kook!” you exclaim, palms slapping down against the glass tabletop in an effort to catch yourself. Just barely, your reflection glares back up at you.

A tap against your pussy startles you from the sight. “Wha—“

Two hands grab onto your biceps, tugging you up forcefully until your back arches, leaving you bent at a ninety degree angle before him. “Look, sweetheart,” he coos against your ear, voice deep enough that it vibrates through every bone in your body. Your breath stutters in your throat, exhilaration blossoming in your chest. “It’s your favorite movie.”

It is in fact your favorite movie, the same one you had fought tooth and nail just moments prior to watch. On screen, the two damsels are exploring new things in their lives, just how you were experiencing Jungkook’s true intensity for the first time. “It is,” you quietly confirm, back aching from the position.

Jungkook either doesn’t care about your depleting strength or really trusts in you not to faceplant onto his glass coffee table, palms sliding down to the crease of your elbows to hold you. “Tell me what it’s about,” he says

Just as the words leave his mouth, something hard and wet prods against your folds. “Oh,” you cry, fists tightening into balls as the feeling overwhelms you. “Jungkook, please.”

One elbow is let go, and the abrupt release has you scrambling to catch yourself, your glass reflection coming a little too close. This becomes even more difficult when a hand suddenly strikes down hard against your ass, a startled yelp escaping you. Just as quickly as you were released, Jungkook wastes no time snatching your back up, yanking you back until your cunt runs along his cock again.

“C’mon, pretty, thought you knew better,” he sighs playfully.

“I’m sorry,” you whimper, chest heaving with every slow roll of his hips. Your pussy was sopping, desperate to be filled with something. It was even worse knowing his dick was right there, just inches outside of where you need him most. “I’m sorry, Daddy,” you repeat.

Jungkook chuckles, and your heart backflips when he finally begins lining himself up. “It’s okay,” he assures you, in that same gentle tone he uses when you accidentally shove the wrong food down the sink disposal. “Baby’s still learning,” he says, pressing a chaste kiss against your shoulder as he begins pushing himself in. Just the head of his cock proves to be a struggle, swollen tip stretching your entrance wide. There’s an extra sting today from your half-hearted preparation, the both of you relying solely on your own arousal and excitement to let him in. It’s a nice kick.

When he finally pops past that initial tightness, you swear you could transcend into another dimension from the absolute feeling of euphoria that washes over you. “Fuck,” you mewl, fighting against his tight hold. Your efforts are in vain, ultimately choosing to drop your head down as the ecstasy continues to wash over you with each inch he offers you.

A warning squeeze around your wrist. “Language,” Jungkook reprimands, though his voice is strained and light.

You nod mindlessly, toes curling against the wooden floor. “It-It feels so good,” you whine. Your knees wobble dangerously beneath you, until you’re swaying just the slightest bit.

He gives until there’s nothing left, the soft hairs around his dick tickling your lips as he reaches the hilt. “There we go,” he grunts, giving you one final tug to make sure this is as far as he can go. You squeal, the brush against your walls making you ridiculously high. “That’s my girl.”

The praise has your stomach tightening, the pretty images flashing across the screen completely lost on you. You felt so full. The two of you rarely did it like this, without looking at each other straight on, but there was something about Jungkook’s looming figure being distorted by your brain’s memory, his touches wild and unpredictable, that made something inside of you twitch.

“Ohhh,” you whimper, muscles going slack for the briefest moment. The only thing that saves you from falling over is the killer grip on your forearms; when he tugs you up his cock runs along your pulsing walls. “Please, Daddy,” you beg, mouth feeling a thousand times heavier.

“The movie,” he repeats, slowly beginning to pull away from your clenching heat. You moan. “Tell me what it’s about,” he husks, punctuating his seemingly innocent statement with a harsh snap of his hips.

You wail, stumbling forward at the intensity. Still, it’s just a taste of what he has in store for you. He soon picks a pace, not too rushed or slow, as you struggle to keep your eyes open. “I-I don’t know,” you choke out, the images flashing across the gigantic screen practically unrecognizable to your muddled thoughts.

Behind you Jungkook tuts at your incompetence, thrusting forward with an intensity that would have sent you flying if not for the grip he has on you. “You don’t know?” he huffs, tugging your elbows back again as if to secure his grip on you.

His hips are moving fast now, every piston into your warm heat making you tremble. “Fffuck,” you gasp, eyes rolling to the back of your head as he continues ramming his cock into your pulsing hole. You’re met with a harsh yank that pulls you snugly onto his cock, your entire body screaming at the way he nudges against your cervix. Despite the pleasure it gives you, Jungkook seems anything but pleased.

“C’mon,” he huffs, twisting your arms painfully behind your back. “What did we say about that dirty mouth?” His question is followed with a snap of his hips that makes you choke on your spit. “Need you to be good for me, baby,” he groans.

“I-I am good,” you weakly defend, head hanging down limply as you fight to regain some semblance of your senses. But everything feels too much, from the rough push of his hips to the tight grip on your arms. His cock pulls out nearly all the way each time, swollen tip the only thing stopping him. Every thrust makes you quiver, every touch makes you melt.

You suppose he’d been too lenient on you up until now, and that final claim makes him snap. Jungkook scoffs, ramming his dick inside of you. “You’re being fucking terrible right now, doll,” he admits, hammering into you like a crazed man. You sob, the coil in your belly tightening with every brutal shove of his cock. It’s something about the way his composure withers away, all sweetness melting off as he thrusts into your cunt. “I’ve asked you twice now what the damn movie was about, and you didn’t answer either time.”

A hand clamps around your throat suddenly, yanking you up right until his breath fans across your ear. You’re not sure when your eyes had become so teary, but the images flickering across the screen are a foggy mess you couldn’t decipher even if you tried. “__,” he rasps against your ear, his voice scratchy. “Tell me. Now.”

You whimper as he shoves his way back inside, the angry head of his cock testing you. “T-Two girls, one’s a princess,” you cry, knees wobbling as the feeling in your core grows. “They look alike, and-and…”

“And?” Jungkook asks as you trail off, his words followed by a particularly brutal surge of his hips. His cock glides against your walls easily despite the way you clench around him.

“A-And they have problems they wanna avoid,” you stammer, the plot slipping in and out of your mind with every roll of his cock into your core. “So-so they swap places.”

Behind you, Jungkook snorts. “What a stupid fucking movie,” he says meanly, before he begins to piston his cock into you. You’re trembling by now, your orgasm looming over your head with each thrust.

Before you can warn him, the thin string holding you together snaps, the sudden flood of relief making your knees buck dangerously. Jungkook barely has enough time to catch you around the waist, holding you against him as a litany of curses and his name come spewing out of your mouth. “No, no,” you wail, your entire body twitching as the orgasm rolls over you. “Kook— Jungkook!”

“I’ve got you,” he reassures you, fingers holding you tight around the waist. The coffee table you had feared cracking your skull on finally comes to use as you press your hands onto the surface in a feeble attempt to steady yourself.

“I’m sorry,” you whimper, faintly aware of the rock hard cock between your pulsing walls, probably drenched in your cum now. “I-I didn’t—“

He shushes you quickly, settling the two of you back onto the couch. Funnily enough, he doesn’t bother pulling you off of him, his dick snug inside your cunt as he seats you on his lap. “You’re alright, sweetheart,” he comforts, hands soothingly running up your sides. You want to protest, want to get back on your knees and give him another chance to cum all over your face, but Jungkook nudges your chin with a knuckle. “Watch your movie,” he croons.

The Princess and the Pauper is literally the last thing on your mind right now; didn’t he realize how much you wanted to please him? Why was he choosing now to be so stubborn? Oh, that Jeon Jungkook, maybe Doyeon was right to call him an airhead.

Your slander campaign against your boyfriend is cut short when a hand flutters over your mound, thumb idly tracing over your sensitive clit. Before you can turn and look at him, Jungkook is rutting his hips against you slowly. “The screen, baby,” he says, and you want to argue that you can’t possibly enjoy a movie with him being so sneaky beneath you. The words get washed away when he presses down on your clit.

“Koo— Daddy,” you whine, lower lips still trembling from the orgasm you had two minutes ago. Jungkook responds with a kiss against your shoulder, hands trailing around your waist.

“No more of that,” he mumbles as he begins bouncing you on his cock. You moan, every inhale cut short by the shallow thrusts of his cock into your delicate walls. “Just your Kook now.”

“My… Kook,” you pant dreamily. Your cum provides an even better lubricant than before, lewd squelches filling the area alongside your cries as Jungkook chases both your second orgasms.

“Mhmm,” he groans, jostling you over his lap with no rhythm whatsoever. “Yours, baby.” You stretch your hands back, carding one set of fingers through the hair above his ear, pushing the strands away from his face. “Just like you’re mine.”

Something inside of you tightens painfully, and you’re not sure if it’s your heart or your pussy. You guess it’s both, as you stutter out, “y-your pretty girl?” Jungkook hums in agreement, repeating your favorite nickname back to you. The rest of your words die out between the two of you, lost in the slow and soft movements that fill in. You want to tell him you love him, adore him like no other, but every breath of air is stolen away by him.

Eventually the two of your are cumming, your second orgasms much quieter and slower compared to your first. You still mewl, wither against him when you cream his cock, and Jungkook catches you all the same. He guides you through the fog with kisses against your jaw, your dripping pussy helping him through his own.

When all is said and done and you’re both basking in a post-orgasmic make-out, you realize how sweaty and icky you are. “Ugh, this is gross,” you pout as he wiggles you off his lap. He pushes you beside him, letting you flop over the length of the couch as he reaches for something to clean you up with.

“You’re gross,” he retorts softly, blinking in that slow, drawn out way he does when you know he’s sleepy. His t-shirt runs along your neck, collecting the sweat there.

You nudge him with your foot. “I’m not the one who wanted to fuck during a Barbie movie,” you scoff, pinching the skin on his forearm when his gaze lingers a second too long on your creamy pussy. “Look somewhere else, weirdo.”

Jungkook laughs quietly, looking at you with an adoring expression on his face. He doesn’t even finish cleaning you off, tossing the soiled shirt somewhere off to the side in favor of cuddling into you. “Where? My Jumbotron?” he teases, raining down a parade of kisses against your face. “Don't wanna,” he smiles, too soft and boyish for the words that leave his lips next. “Wanna lick your pretty pussy clean.”

“Jeon Jungkook,” you scold, covering your face with your palms in embarrassment. “Look at your stupid IMAX screen and leave me alone.”

He cackles loudly now, in that evil witch way it took him a while to show you, and you know he’s got that big silly grin on his face now. . “The IMAX screen? The same one that made you,” a pause, “climax?”

“Get off of me.”

——

Just as you predicted, Jungkook’s mom gives him the scolding of a lifetime when she drops by the next weekend. The poor woman nearly faints at the theater screen on the wall, only to quickly regain herself. You giggle from your spot on the couch as she whacks his stupidly ripped bicep with the leek you’re supposed to chop up for dinner later.

What you’re not expecting is for her anger to shift to you as she scolds you for letting her idiotic son make such purchases. She gets one playful thwack against your side with the leek before your charming idiotic boyfriend swoops in to save you.

——

#goldenclosetnet #ksmutclub #networkbangtan #bangtanhq #jungkook smut #jeon jungkook smut #jjk smut #mine

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watermelonlipstick · 4 years ago

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Dreams, Chapter 7

If you haven’t read this series before, you might want to start on Chapter 1, or check out the Dreams Masterlist! Here’s the series description:

When Dean dies for good leaving Sam and his girlfriend (the reader) behind, they must figure out how to carry on without him. Alone, reeling, and unsure what to do next, trying to honor Dean’s memory and follow their hearts gets even more complicated when their nightmares become dreams that feel a little too real.

Title: Dreams, Chapter 7

Pairing: (past) Dean Winchester x Reader, (eventual) Sam Winchester x Reader

Word Count: 4184

Summary: Life moves toward normalcy for Sam and the reader, regardless of emotional turmoil.

Warnings: angst, fluff, swearing, s l o w b u r n

A few days later the Kaisers came into the bar for a nightcap and asked you and Sam to come to their house for dinner. You couldn’t think of a reason not to, and honestly thought maybe it would be nice to have something to structure the week around. It had been quiet, just barely beneath solemn while the dust settled and Sam stayed mostly silent while you moved around each other throughout the day. At least at the Kaisers’ Sam would have to talk to you, maybe even sidle up close to you during waking hours to keep up the couples’ charade. A little zap of guilt moved through you as you politely agreed to a time, that the second thought you’d had was about getting closer to Sam under this guise. In any case, the Kaisers were kind, it wouldn’t hurt to have a nice meal with someone else, and if you were going to stay here, it would be a good idea to avoid appearing standoffish. You bought their last drink and were waving after them when Sam came upstairs from changing a keg.

“We’re going to the Kaisers’ for dinner tomorrow,” you offered, trying to keep your voice even and making a point of not staring at Sam too long. It was a challenge; since Sam had kissed you and even more since he’d divulged that longing was part of the tangle of emotions he was feeling, it was on your mind nearly constantly, adding a murky stripe to the ever-present grief.

“Oh, uh, okay.” Sam jammed his hands into the pockets of his jeans like he didn’t know what to do with them. “What time?”

“They said 7:30. Don’t let me forget; I think we should bring a bottle of wine or something, so I can grab one tomorrow.”

“Yeah, that works.”

You wanted to drag out the conversation but couldn’t think of any way to that wasn’t cloying or desperate. If this (hopefully temporary) emotional distance was what Sam needed, it was unfair for you to try to take it from him. A quick nod and you returned to washing glasses.

The rest of the shift passed agonizingly slowly. Sam put on a podcast about Jonestown for the drive home.

You’d decided to walk over to the Kaisers’ with Sam the next day, bundled up on top of a presentable sweater that you hadn’t worn in a few years. Biting wind sliced through your jeans and seemed to creep into your coat even as you dug your chin inside the collar like a turtle, and when Sam noticed he threw an arm around you. His side blocked a bit of the wind and he rubbed your shoulder to warm it with friction. The impulse to curl up into his ribs was fierce, but you fought it down to wrap your forearms around the bottle of red wine that looked the fanciest of the midrange bottles at the grocery store. Where seconds before you had been wishing the walk were shorter, now you could’ve stayed out in the ice forever if it meant Sam would allow himself to be close to you again without being asleep. You’d made peace with the want, trying hard to decide that feeling crazy on top of your grief wasn’t helping anyone.

“Ready?” Sam asked with a tentative smile at the doorway. The Kaisers lived in a version of your cabin, in the sense that many of the houses in the area were log-hewn and rustic. However, they were clearly here to stay. Window flowerbeds filled with pinecones for the season and delicately carved shutters framed warm casts of light streaming onto the snow through gauzy ivory curtains, and their door opened to a tiny front porch where yours simply had a small ungraceful cement platform. For a moment, you thought about how comforting it would be to come back here at the end of a shift. It didn’t feel like somewhere as darling as this could have a half-broken boiler that rattled all day or plastic-coated countertops. This was a home and not a hideout.

You gave Sam what you hoped was a reassuring grin and watched as his long finger pressed an old-fashioned doorbell encased in wrought iron.

Mike answered the door. He had on a fuzzy pullover that made him look even more like a teddy bear than he normally did, nubbly wool spanning his belly like fur. He had the kind of rosy full-cheeked smile some jolly men combined with their booming voices to seem like the Ghost of Christmas Present, and a well-groomed beard with two starkly delineated streaks of gray-white dropping straight down from the corners of his mouth. From previous neighborly hugs, you knew he smelled like piney aftershave. He was a little taller than average, and built former-linebacker solid. You would’ve bet anything he was the perfect dad to call to help move you into a college apartment or scare an ex-boyfriend, and the thought of it made you cheerful and sad all at once. The hand not holding the doorknob had a pint of dark beer. “Great, you’re here! Babs, they’re here,” he added over his shoulder, gesturing an arm to welcome you into the home.

Sam waited for you to go first, shuffling his feet along the doormat in tandem with you as Mike closed the door. You followed Mike’s socked initiative and gently toed your boots off while you handed him the bottle of wine somewhat shyly. For all the years you’d been on your own, there was something so decidedly adult about bringing wine over to the dinner party of a middle-aged couple that felt like those first few meetings of your parents’ friends after college, when you’re not sure whether to call them by their first names or resign yourself to a life of Mr This and Mrs That. Mike seemed to pick up on it, thoughtfully appraising the bottle and squeezing your shoulder, humming about how you didn’t have to bring anything. He clapped Sam on the back and asked him how he was doing before teasing gently about how long his hair had gotten, and you took in the house.

It was bigger than the cabin you were staying in, the staircase to your left suggesting an upstairs that yours didn’t have, but what was far more striking was how warm it felt both in mood and literal temperature. A fire crackled straight through the main room in front of you, surrounded by giant river rock stonework that offset caramelly beige walls. A deep, plush canvas sofa faced the fireplace, flanked by two equally overstuffed armchairs upholstered with burnt sienna stained leather. Quick visual survey gave you a count of 4 throws in the room of various weights and patterns.

The kitchen was over to the right through the dining room. Barbie was wearing an apron covered in piglets and appeared to be basting something in the oven, turning toward you and absentmindedly wiping her hands. Fluffy, soft-looking hair was held back from her face with a pair of no-nonsense tortoiseshell barrettes. “Oh, perfect! I thought I hadn’t left enough time for the roast, but it looks about done. Can I get you two a drink?”

Sam’s soft, encouraging smile was enough to make you feel a little weak in the knees. “Sure! It smells great in here.”

“How about an old fashioned? We’ve been working through a great bottle of bourbon.”

“Works for me,” Sam agreed, and you nodded as well.

A few moments of small talk later, Sam offered to help Barbie with the food. She graciously accepted, giving him some job you knew she could’ve easily done herself as a way to make him feel more comfortable. Mike noticed you looking at the variety of pictures on the wall and started talking about their kids, putting names to each cheerful face. They were a good-looking family, the Kaisers, all big beaming smiles and limbs protectively wrapped around each other over the course of different seasons and major events. You’d had to let go of this idea years ago, long before Dean was gone, but it still made you ache in a nondescript way to see a family so happy and so each others’, not only in the way they loved but also in the way they so obviously belonged. Mike and Barbie were good people, and they deserved this. You tried to focus on the affection in Mike’s face as he talked, asking a few clarifying questions as he went. A few moments later, Sam came up behind you.

“Barbie says we should go sit down.” There was a pinkness to his cheeks and you couldn’t tell if it was the warmth of the kitchen or residual windburn from your walk over.

The table was one of those single-plank, live-edged ones you’d always coveted and knew were far more expensive than they looked. It fit the elevated rustic feel of the Kaisers’ house and the delicious, rib-sticking meal you were eating off of it. As you fawned over the roast and Barbie did the requisite Midwestern dance of ‘oh it’s nothing I’ll give you the recipe’ it was easy to fantasize about belonging somewhere like this, having parents like this, pictures of your cousins and nieces and nephews lining the walls of your childhood home. Indulgent, clearly, even more so than the rich food and smooth liquor, but you couldn’t bring yourself to feel guilty about it.

“So, have you two always worked in the bar industry? That always seemed so fun to me—but I’m too old to do anything like that now,” Barbie asked.

“Oh, come on, you’d be a great bartender,” Sam insisted, always coming down on the exact right spot between flattering and politely flirtatious. “But uh, no. This is the first bar I’ve worked in for more than a few weeks, actually.”

Mike raised his eyebrows in an indication to continue but Sam artfully avoided his gaze. You couldn’t tell what the cue was—how honest was Sam planning on being? An old classic, the technically-true, seemed like the best option. “I worked as a bartender through and a little bit after college.”

“Silly me, I guess I had always thought that’s how you two had met; you seem like such a good team there! How did you meet, then?”

You artfully popped an entire fingerling potato in your mouth to force Sam to take over. “Uh, our, ah, families were friends.” In the sense that Bobby had been like an uncle to you both, maybe. A complete non-answer that sort of encompassed the barebones of the situation if you squinted at it right, but neither Mike nor Barbie seemed to recognize the opacity of it.

“That’s great. I bet your parents were excited then, seeing you get together,” Mike suggested before taking a sip of bourbon. Both you and Sam smiled affirmatively—not together, many of those parents long dead before we had even met—and hoped the moment would pass. “How long has it been, then? Since you got together?”

That one you couldn’t even guess what the right pretend answer would be and prepared to joke ‘too long’ before Sam said, “About two years. We knew each other for a long time before that, though.” It made sense, as far as answers went. ‘About two years’ since Dean was gone, since your lives changed, but it still ripped through you like an electric shock and sent you reeling. You could have spent an hour looking at that statement from every angle but snapped out of it when Barbie gave you a basket of rolls to pass to Mike.

“So that explains why she doesn’t have a ring,” Mike winked, playfully knocking Sam’s arm with his fork still in his hand. “Two years isn’t that long.”

Two years is a lifetime. Sam blushed and looked down at his plate. “Be nice. Kids don’t get married at 20 like they used to,” Barbie teased from across the table, smirking at her husband with so much love behind her eyes. You couldn’t help but wonder if you would’ve looked at Dean like that across some dining room table if things had been different and your mind flashed on the kitchen counter a few nights before, silently clinking rocks glasses together over pie and wanting to hold Sam until the world got more fair.

The plates were cleared and an amazing, sticky bread pudding was brought out. Mike and Barbie coaxed each other into telling stories that made you genuinely belly laugh until finally you couldn’t suppress a tiny yawn and the final drink was poured with a joke about how it wasn’t like you were driving home, so what was the harm? You all moved to the living room in front of the fire, sitting next to Sam on the couch when Mike and Barbie took what must’ve been their normal spots in each armchair. Old cushions folded up around you comfortingly and rolled you slightly into Sam’s weight next to you, lining up the firm stretch of his thigh along yours. Warmth from the fire and Sam, the pleasant sounds of your hosts’ voices and Sam’s answers to them rumbling through you as vibrations when he spoke were so sweet and heavy under the bourbon, and your eyelids began to droop.

Sam’s hand gently covered your knee. “Ready to go?” he asked, low with a private smirk.

You made a conscious effort to sit up straight. “I’m so sorry, I can barely keep my eyes open! Where are my manners?”

Mike laughed a big belly laugh from his armchair. “Babs, we’re outlasting the bartenders!”

Everyone chuckled as you all got up from your chairs, Sam accepting a Tupperware of leftovers before the at-the-doorway conversation of people who didn’t want to go and hosts who didn’t want them to either. You’d been so nervous about the dinner and now you didn’t want to leave, honestly hadn’t really wanted to leave the sofa, just doze against Sam in the heat and company like a child. It had seemed before like maybe Mike and Barbie were just asking you for dinner because it was the thing to do, but they had been genuinely welcoming and you realized that these were the first non-hunter or hunting-related relationships you had made in literal years as you zipped your coat up all the way to the top and followed Sam outside into the quiet night.

“Man, they are really nice,” he remarked, walking closely enough next to you that your sleeves brushed together.

You could barely see his face when you looked up to him. “Yeah. We should have them over sometime.”

“Our place looks like a flop house.”

You giggled, the sound falling softly on the snow around you. “We can fix it up first.”

“No real point in fixing it up if we’re not staying here for a long time.”

“Maybe we could stay a while.”

Sam looked down at you, slowing to a stop even as the icy wind whipped around you. “You want to stay?”

“I mean, I—yeah, I think I do. Unless you think we should go somewhere else.”

“No, I just…I guess I hadn’t really considered it here, the whole “roots” thing.”

“It’s fucking freezing, can we talk at the cabin?”

Sam’s laugh rang out across the woodsy surroundings as he clapped an arm around you and shuffled you both home.

That night you tucked your cold toes between Sam’s flannel-clad legs and tried to imagine Dean as an old man.

If you’d thought December and January were bad, the intense cold snap of February sent you for a loop. Something about the months of darkness and frozen fingers was making you more stir crazy than normal; the idea of coming home to the cabin seeming less and less enticing as the days went on.

And then the boiler broke.

Well and truly broke, not just making the horrible clanging sounds it was prone to, but no heat at all. It had only been a couple weeks since going to dinner at the Kaisers’ and the experimental conversation with Sam about investing time into the cabin which had since fizzled out. A lack of heat at the border of the Upper Peninsula in winter was obviously untenable, and it forced the topic again as you grumpily helped carry in the remnants of another dead tree Sam had felled to heat the home with firewood.

“Is it worth fixing or is this a sign?” you huffed through the tiny clouds of steam coming out of your mouth. “How much would it cost?”

“I don’t have a ton of experience with boilers, but I’m pretty sure it’s the heat exchanger. And I have no idea how much it would cost to fix, but I can try to do it myself if the parts aren’t too much.” Pragmatic, genius Sam with the patience for machinery that you didn’t have. He snaked a long arm out from the bundle of wood he was carrying to open the door and hold it for you to scurry under his arm before closing it after both of you.

Generally, you thought a landlord would probably fix this kind of thing but it always felt a little scary asking him for anything, knowing you paid cash every month and the owner had never asked for a background check. It could have been fine, but every potential conflict seemed like it might be an opportunity to be unceremoniously evicted. Better to either leave before it could happen or solve the problem yourselves. You put a hand on Sam’s chest before he could go back for another bundle of wood. “Let’s talk about it for a second.”

Sam put his hands on his hips and it accentuated the broad span of his shoulders in his thick jacket. “Okay, right. What do you think?”

“Well, I mean, do you want to stay here? Or do you want to go somewhere else, or start moving again or something? We haven’t even really talked about it.”

He seemed to be weighing the options before biting his lip. “Here seems as good a place as any in a lot of ways, you know? Off the beaten path, probably not going to get spotted by anyone we know—knew—and the money is honest.”

You cut him off with a flippant wave of the hand. “Right, but I’m not talking strategically. Do you want to stay here? Do you like it here?”

A moment of silence fell as you searched his face for clues. “I—yeah, I do. I like being in the woods, I like the bar, I like people like the Kaisers and Steve and Jake. Maybe I’ll feel differently in the summer but right now I do.”

The grin cracked open your face slowly. “Good. I like it here too. Do you think the hardware store would have the stuff you need to fix it?”

“Definitely the first place I would check.”

After getting the rest of the wood inside and leaving it next to the small fire already burning to dry out, you started to follow Sam to the car before he turned around a step before the door. “Where are you going?” he asked as you almost bumped into him.

“Hardware store, I thought?”

“Nice try, we can’t both leave with a fire going.”

“Oh, I get it. So you get to go sit in the warm car and hang out in the warm hardware store while I turn into a popsicle over here.” You were half-joking, but it was genuinely freezing in the cabin, even with the fire going. Sam rolled his eyes over a smirk and strode around you, pushing the couch tight to the fireplace before retrieving the down comforter from the bed and throwing it on top. He grabbed a rinsed plastic bottle from the top of the recycling bin and filled it with water hot from the tap before throwing it in the microwave for a second.

“Unless you feel like learning a lot about boilers today, then yes.” He gingerly pulled the bottle out of the microwave and tightened the cap back on, deftly shifting it between hands before tossing it under the comforter on the sofa.

You were having a hard time holding onto your anger as you watched him make a cup of peppermint tea, still wearing his boots and coat as he moved around the tiny kitchen. Reluctantly, you shuffled over to the couch and removed only your boots and gloves before getting under the blankets, tucking your socked feet around the poor man’s hot water bottle and finally smiling only when Sam brought over the steaming mug of tea with more than a touch of affection under the exasperation coloring his face. “Fine?”

“Fine.”

When he came back, you were well into a worn paperback and had put two more logs on the fire already. “Do you need help?” you called over your shoulder from within the comforter cocoon.

“I think I’ve got it, thanks.” His words came into the room on a gust of cold air while he tapped snow off of his boots.

“Think you know what you’re doing?”

“Actually, yeah. The woman at the hardware store—you’d recognize her, Diane I think—knew a fair amount about it. I’m pretty sure I have it under control.” He brought a paper bag weighted with supplies over to the utility closet you knew held the boiler and got to work.

It was nice watching Sam in this element, always had been. As much as Dean had loved doing little projects and fixing things, both Winchesters were far handier than your average bear and Sam’s natural interest in learning lent itself well to tinkering with all kinds of things. Evidently boilers were not an exception. He shucked his coat off to lie flat on his back, looking up at something you couldn’t see with his hands gently resting on his ribcage before reaching to grab a wrench. The twisting motion raised his elbow and tugged his shirt a bit up his torso to reveal a few inches of Sam’s lower abdomen, the trail of hair tracing to his belt buckle in slightly sharper contrast to the taught skin around it given the consecutive months spent without sun. It made you blush and you quickly looked back to your book, grateful for the heat that the fireplace was bringing to your cheeks as cover.

About forty minutes later, Sam tapped your shoulder and startled you out of the goofy historical fiction of the paperback. “Wanna see if it works?”

He had a stripe of oil or something on his cheek but you resisted the impulse to swipe it off, instead nodding and extricating yourself from the heat of the blanket and couch around you. When you turned it on, the boiler clicked loudly twice in a way you thought might be a bad omen before going silent again. You let an extended beat pass and placed a palm on the side. It was already on the edge of being too hot to touch and you momentarily forgot that you and Sam had decidedly not been continuing your new normal level of comforting affection lately before throwing your arms up high around his neck excitedly. He chuckled into your ear and closed the embrace, forearms crossing your ribcage and hoisting you off the ground as he stood up in your hug. You could feel the fingers of one hand splayed out over your back and side through your jacket, the other still holding the wrench tightly.

“Okay, no promises it’s going to last, but I think that was it,” Sam offered as you released each other.

“Crank it! I want it to feel like the Caribbean in here.”

“You say that now, and in 3 hours you’re going to be whining about how hot you are,” Sam grinned, clearly feeling a little proud of himself even if he wouldn’t admit it. He tapped the wrench absentmindedly against his palm for a moment, considering whether he wanted to say something. “When I was at the hardware store she said our landlord might be open to cutting our rent if we offered to fix up the place.”

“Who’s we?” you teased, holding your frozen fingers close to the boiler like it was a campfire.

“I thought you might say that. But seriously, I know you don’t like the color of the walls or the shower pressure or whatever, could make it feel a little less…sterile.”

You tried not to remember that the last time you’d picked out paint was for a bright pink bedroom at age 12. Sam was right, it could be nice. Even more than that, it would be great to have some leftover cash around, and an extra project to kill a few hours of daylight wasn’t a bad idea.

“I kind of like the sound of that. I’ll talk to him about whether he’d be game.” Sam squeezed your shoulder before massaging your neck, admiring the boiler distractedly when you continued. “And seriously, thank you for fixing it.”

Continue to Dreams, Chapter 8

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kyber-crystal · 4 years ago

Text

Baby Fever

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Reader

Words: ~2.4k

Summary: Sometimes, all you need to work up your courage is a little push. And Steve receives just that. When the two of you go to babysit Morgan, he gets a little sneak peek into what a future with you could be like - and he doesn`’t want to let that thought go.

Warnings: this sucks lol, but it’s just a bunch of fluff

A/N: so a lot of my oneshots are about getting INTO relationships instead of being in one prior, but I just couldn’t resist this trope ugh. I CANT RESIST DAD! STEVE UGHHH. also i decided to start making moodboards, inspired by @marvelsswansong teehee. dedicating this to @rynhaswritersblock , who recently joined tumblr! I LOVE YOUUUUUUUUU

...

“Are you guys sure about this?” Pepper looked back and forth between you and Steve as she packed up the last of her things, rolling the suitcases to the front door. "She's a lot to handle...and I know you guys already have a lot on your plate and all.."

"I'm sure," you gave her a reassuring smile, putting a gentle hand on her shoulder. "We're going to have fun, right, Morgan?"

"Yeah!" the little Stark giggled, raising her arms in the air, "We're gonna have so much fun together!"

"We'll be back by tomorrow night," Tony informed you, leaning down to kiss Morgan's forehead, "Bye, sweetheart. Make sure to behave for them, okay?"

"Okay!"

"I can't thank you guys enough," Pepper stated. "It's been forever since we were last able to get a break like this."

"You deserve it," you nodded, "now go! Shoo! Don't worry and just relax! That's the whole point of you going on this trip."

"Alright, alright," she chuckled, "see you soon, then!"

As soon as the door closed behind them, Morgan immediately jumped up into your arms. "Let's go play!"

"What do you want to do?" you asked.

"A tea party!"

"Well..." Steve looked down at his watch, "it's getting close to lunchtime, so how about we have something to eat first, and then we'll play, okay?"

"Yay!"

While you kept Morgan busy, Steve got set to making a simple lunch of grilled cheese for you all to eat. When he brought the plates to the living room, he saw saw you sitting in between Morgan's legs as she was plopped down on the couch, pulling your hair up into a high bun.

"Now, what's this?" Steve raised an eyebrow as he set down the food on the coffee table, ruffling Morgan's hair. "Did you bother her?"

"She didn't," you laughed lightly, "don't worry."

"Do you like it?" Morgan giggled. "I think she looks super pretty!"

"I approve," Steve nodded, giving the little girl a thumbs-up.

"So, Morgan," you cleared your throat, "Who's your favorite Avenger?"

"Daddy is!"

"Besides your dad."

"You!"

“And why is that?”

“Because you can shoot lasers out of your eyes and control the weather! And that’s really really cool!”

“I think you just hurt Steve’s feelings,” you reminded her.

“He’s my second favorite!”

“Really, kiddo?” Steve raised a brow, “after all I’ve done for you? Who took you out to ice cream after your dance recital? Who let you have dessert before dinner when your dad was too busy working? Who let you go sledding with their shield?”

“But Y/N is the cool auntie!”

"See that, Cap? She likes me more than you," you smirked, nudging Steve in the shoulder. "I'm her favorite."

Steve scoffed. “I’m right behind you. I’m her second favorite.”

"I'm better than you are, though."

After you were all done eating, Morgan grabbed Steve’s hand, then motioned for you to all follow her upstairs to her room. Within five minutes you were all dressed up with feathery boas, colorful scarves, bejeweled sunglasses, and bright pink birthday hats.

"You look ridiculous," you snorted as you adjusted Steve’s fuchsia feather boa and sunglasses. "I could just take a picture of you right now and store it for future blackmail use."

"Don't you dare," he warned.

Too late. You already had your phone out and he blinked in surprise as the flash went off. You giggled as you saw the surprise evident in his face.

"Ooh! Let's take a group selfie!" Morgan jumped up and down. Steve let out a sigh but as soon as he saw the eager look in her eyes he couldn't resist. You crowded together as you quickly took the group picture, making funny faces because she insisted on doing so.

Pepper was right in saying Morgan was a lot to handle. If being an Avenger was the most difficult thing to do, this had to be the second hardest job to take. By the time dinner rolled around, you were tired out of your mind from running around the backyard throwing a Frisbee back and forth, commentating on Barbie movies together, cartwheeling through the halls, climbing trees, and her undoing and redoing your hair.

"Why don't you take a break. I'll get dinner ready," Steve offered. "You need to rest."

"But St-" you began.

"It's fine," he waved you both off, "you deserve it."

"Thank you," you yawned, stretching your arms up in the air. As soon as you flopped down onto the couch, you drifted off.

“Auntie Y/N? Where are...oh!” Morgan hopped over and peered over the sofa, seeing that you were fast asleep. She picked up the blanket that had been strewn aside from earlier, and carefully pulled it over your body, before patting your forehead and skipping off to the kitchen to find Steve.

“Uncle Steve!” She tugged on the super-soldier’s pant leg, and he looked down from where he was chopping up cilantro at the counter. The heavenly smell of Italian spice blends began filling the air. “What are you making?”

“Garlic tomato basil chicken,” he responded with a soft smile as he set his knife down and washed his hands, crouching down to her eye level. “It’s almost ready. Is Y/N still asleep?”

“Uh huh.”

“Why don’t you wake her up for me, while I go set the table. Sounds good?”

“Yup!”

"Y/N, WAKE UP!" she began jumping up and down wildly. "Wake up wake up wake up wake up!"

You groaned and stirred awake, rubbing your eyes as you stood up. "Who woke me u- oh, hey!"

"Were you tired?"

"Yes, Morgan, very," you gave her a tired smile, "so I took a nap. Are you not tired?"

"Nope!"

“Alright,” you exhaled, picking her up. “Let’s go eat!” She instantly rested her head against your shoulder.

Steve watched you pick Morgan up and spin her around as she let out a squeal - and felt a rush of pride wash over him in seeing you being so playful with the little girl. You'd make an excellent parent to his future child, he thought to himself. All you needed now was a ring around your finger.

He felt his heart race at the thought - since when did he start feeling this way about you?

"Dinner's ready!"

"Uncle Steve, are you one of those chef guys on TV?" Morgan's eyes widened in awe as she slid into her seat, looking down at her plate. "This looks super cool! How did you do this?"

"No, I'm not," Steve laughed, "This just takes a lot of practice."

For the majority of dinner, Morgan retold little memories along the lines of 'Remember when that one time you came over for Daddy’s birthday and then Uncle Steve came too and I went sledding with his shield? That was so fun!"

The five year-old was definitely talkative, but nobody minded at all. She was too adorable that it didn't matter how chatty she was - even you, the tough, seemingly coldhearted Agent Y/N had warmed up to her.

After a long, jam-packed day, Morgan was completely knocked out, splayed out across the couch clutching her favorite stuffed duck. You quietly crept towards her and picked her up, carrying her upstairs to her room and gently laying her down in bed.

You lingered in the doorway for a moment, watching as her brown hair fell around her face like a little halo, her chest rising and falling with each breath she took. A small smile found its way onto your face as you stood there.

Suddenly you felt a pair of arms wrap around your waist from behind.

"Hey," Steve exhaled, resting his chin on top of your head. You could feel his warm breath against your neck as he spoke. "What're you standing here for?"

"Hmmm...just watching, making sure she's alright..." you hummed, placing your hands over his as he gently rocked you both from side to side. "Uh...what time is it?"

"10:30."

"Wow. Who knew she could tire you out so quickly," you let out a yawn. "I normally don't go to bed until 1 or 2, or at all for that matter."

"You should get ready for bed, too," he suggested, leaning down to kiss your temple. "Come on. You’re sharing the guest room with me, if you don’t mind."

"Sounds good," you yawned again as he released you from his hold, closing the door before turning around and following him down the hall.

You were too worn out to change or wash up, crawling underneath the covers and pulling them up to your chin. Steve slid into bed besides you, and within minutes you were both fast asleep.

"Yeah!" Morgan squealed, jumping up and down on the mattress. "Auntie Y/N! Uncle Steve! Stop cuddling and get up because it's time to eat!"

The two of you slowly stirred awake, then when you realized the compromising position you were in you quickly pulled apart, sitting up as you rubbed your eyes and ducked your heads slightly to hide the blush on your faces.

"Are you guys dating?"

"No, we're not!" you and Steve replied in unison.

"Uh huh."

Much to Morgan's delight, you ended up eating Mickey Mouse-shaped pancakes for breakfast. Afterwards you took to playing Frisbee and several other games outside for a couple hours before heading back in and bingeing several episodes of Sofia the First while eating macaroni.

Though sometimes when you glanced over at Morgan laughing and enjoying herself throughout the day, you felt a pang in your chest. You'd missed out on so many years with your parents - your early graduation from Penn State, being promoted to commander of SHIELD’s strike team at just 21, becoming an Avenger - only being able to experience a fraction of your life with them before their lives were unfairly cut short.

"Are you okay?" Steve glanced at you worriedly, placing a hand on top of yours.

"Yeah...I'm fine."

"No, you're not. Come on...what's up? Just tell me," he pleaded. "I don't like seeing you sad. It makes me sad, too."

You bit your lower lip, squeezing your eyes shut. "I miss Mom and Dad...seeing Morgan reminded me so much of what I was like as a kid...the memories came flooding back. It’s been so long since then, but..."

"I know. I miss my Ma and Dad, too," he sighed. "I know it hurts, but...don't worry. Time heals all wounds. You’ll be alright."

You lifted your head from where it was resting on his shoulder, smiling slightly at him. "You know, I think that's the wisest thing I've heard you say. Not Captain America hasn’t said a lot of wise things, though."

"You think?"

"Yeah."

"Well, I'm happy to help...you know I'm always here for you, right?"

"Mhm. I love you."

"I love you too."

When Tony and Pepper arrived the next day, they saw all of you sprawled out across the living room, cuddled up together amidst fluffy blankets and pillows. You were clinging to Steve like a koala, while Morgan was using his arm as a pillow as she hugged her stuffed duck close to her chest.

"They must've been exhausted," Pepper chuckled, resting a hand on her husband's shoulder.

"They're completely knocked out."

Morgan was the first to wake up. "Daddy!" she giggled, rushing forward and jumping into Tony's arms. "You're back!"

"Hi there," he ruffled her hair, "how did you like spending time with them?"

"It was awesome! They were the best!"

Tony's expression immediately softened as he glanced over at the still-dozing you and Steve. "I'm glad to hear that, sweetheart. Now. Let's wake them all up so they can head back to the compound."

"Hey, Cap? It's time to head home," Pepper gently shook Steve awake. He stirred slightly before sitting up, blinking several times in confusion before he saw her in front of him. "Hey."

"Oh, hi, Pepper..."

"It looks like Y/N isn't about to wake up anytime soon, though..." her brows furrowed together in concern. "She must've done a lot, huh."

"Yeah...she did..."

You stirred awake, sitting up and yawning loudly. “Oh. Tony, Pep...hey! Did I...”

“You knocked out completely,” Steve laughed. “I’ll drive. I know you’re tired.”

"Thanks,” you yawned again, placing a hand over your mouth. “I owe you.”

“No worries.”

He nodded, carefully scooping you up into his arms as Bucky woke up.

"Alright...let's get going. And Tony...it was great seeing you again."

"Likewise, Rogers. We still up for Barbados next month?"

"Definitely."

After a last round of goodbyes, you were on your way back to the Avengers HQs, leaning your head against the cool glass of the window as Steve drove.

"So,” he exhaled, adjusting his grip on the wheel, “you did good over there, putting up with her. She was a lot to deal with.”

“But we had fun, didn’t we?” you turned your head to the side, giving him a soft smile. “I now have a dozen new perfect blackmail photos of you to bring back with me.”

Steve just laughed and shook his head, “I have some of you too, you know.”

“Are you serious.”

"It’s nothing bad, you just fell asleep and I took a picture. You looked cute, if anything.”

You felt heat rise to your cheeks. “Oh.”

“You’re really good with kids, Y/N.”

“...Thanks. You are, too...Morgan loves you.”

“I’d think you’d be an amazing mother to my child someday.” The words came out so swiftly, so smoothly that he didn’t realize what he’d said until he saw your reaction.

You froze in shock. “What did you...what did you just say?”

“When can we have kids?”

“Did I just...hear you correctly...”

“But if you’re not ready to start a relationship, then I understand...I’m in it if you are. When I saw you playing with Morgan...it was like getting a little glimpse to what life with you would be like in the future, of starting a family together...and I don’t want to let go of that idea. I can't imagine doing that with anyone else other than you."

"What's with the...sudden...confession?" you spluttered, cheeks turning an even deeper shade of red.

“I love you,” he said softly, gazing at you out of the corner of his eye, “I love you, and I want to spend the rest of my life with you. I know it seems early for me to be saying something like this but I couldn’t be more confident in my answer. And if you’re willing to let me in, then...I’d be more than happy to become that ideal man you’ve always wanted to have.”

“I think I’m falling in love with you, too.”

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fangirl-creates · 3 years ago

Text

Curtain Call - Chapter 1: Showtime

Blitz found himself lost again. The room he opened his eyes in was small—thick red and white vertical lines were painted on the wall, and a hardwood floor that was so dirty that the dust coated the bottom of his shoes. He looked around for a door of some kind, but the room had no exit. A light bulb dangled from the black painted ceiling, being the only source of light he had.

He was afraid to pull the string and turn it off. He didn’t know what was waiting in this room for him to do that, that once the darkness took over he’d never see the light again. He nearly had a heart attack when the light started flickering, now watching it with fear in his eyes to make sure it didn’t go out. But even with his eyes glued to it, it continued to make him nervous by flickering more. Until finally-

Bzzt.

It went out, Blitz now completely engulfed in darkness. He stood perfectly still, his heart beating rapidly as claustrophobia started to kick in. His breathing was heavy, finding himself curling up into a ball on the dusty floor. It was a defense mechanism, but he felt somewhat safe when he did this.

He heard muffled noises coming from outside the room. Talking. Cheering? He couldn’t make it out.

Footsteps made him stand.

Had someone found him? How would they even get inside? But…what if they were the ones who trapped him in here? What if they were coming to hurt him further?

He backed up against a wall, suddenly feeling it push against his back. His spines felt crushed under it, but he held back the urge to react. For even the slightest sound could let the enemy know he was there—if they didn’t think so already.

The footsteps got louder, the wall pushing Blitz further towards the front of the room.

His back and tail went numb, his feet slipping on the floor as he struggled to fight the wall.

A light nearly blinded him, his arm instinctively going to shield his eyes. But then-

“Blitzo? You ready to go on?”

He opened his eyes and looked in front of him. The front wall had been opened like it was just a curtain, a figure standing in front of it. She was a female imp, dressed like some sort of staff member.

The back wall was gone, the room being reduced to nothing more than a red and white changing tent.

“Well?” She looked at him with a slightly annoyed expression. “The audience is getting impatient.”

Blitz looked down at himself—he was..wearing his old performance outfit? When did he-?

“AHEM.” She cleared her throat rather loudly in front of him, making him look at her.

He didn’t know what to say, but she would most likely get more upset if he continued to stay silent.

“U-Uhm..yeah I’m ready..?” He answered half-heartedly, still confused.

“Finally!” She rolled her eyes. “Now get going.” Her tail swished angrily as she walked away, mumbling something about how she ‘didn’t get paid enough for this bullshit’.

Blitz stepped out of the tent rather quickly, not wanting to get trapped again. The tent seemed to disappear once he did so, leaving him out in the open—a dirt floored, tent hallway.

There were more lightbulbs this time, lining the floor as a guide for him. They blinked in a motion that lured him closer. Cautiously, he walked into the hallway, hearing the sounds from earlier getting louder the closer he got.

He could hear the cheering clear as day now. Something about it made him nervous, like he was about to step into dangerous waters—one wrong move and you could drown.

A loud ‘Whoa’ from the audience made him jump. He could hear people stomping their feet in rhythm to something, more ‘Whoas’ along with the beat.

He felt something grab his arm. He turned to look at it, only to be met with a face he hadn’t seen in years.

Barbie.

What was she doing here?!

She smiled at him, letting go of his arm as she gave him a friendly, light punch in the shoulder. “Ready, Bro?”

“I—I..” He couldn’t speak, his face going pale as he struggled to find the words. None of this made any sense.

She laughed, taking his hand as she led him towards the end of the hallway—another curtain light up ahead.

“Let’s make this one they won’t forget, kay?”

His body stiffened. He didn’t know where she was taking him. He didn’t want to know. “Barbie I-”

Another ‘whoa’ from outside, followed by a familiar voice singing to an audience of thousands. Blitz couldn’t make out who it was, but something about the voice drew him in.

“Ladies and gents this is the moment you’ve waited for..”

Another ‘whoa’. Blitz felt his feet moving closer to the light, Barbie still smiling.

“Been searching in the dark, your sweat soaking through the floor..”

One final ‘whoa’.

“And buried in your bones, there’s an ache that you can’t ignore.”

He stepped closer in tune to the beat. Was it father away?

“Taking your breath,”

Step.

“Stealing your mind,”

Step.

“And all that was real is left behind—!”

He was finally out of the hallway, he and Barbie now inside the main tent. Demon’s eyes were on them like glue, some sort of figure in the middle of the tent. They stood with a bright spotlight on them.

“Don’t fight it, it’s coming for you, running at ya.”

Blitz gulped.

“It’s only this moment, don’t care what comes after.”

He felt Barbie grab his hand again, pulling toward the center.

“Your fever dream, can’t you see it getting closer?”

Lights flashed within the crowd. Cameras probably, he thought.

“Just surrender cause you feel the feeling taking over—!”

The stomping and cheering got louder.

“It’s fire, it’s freedom, it’s flooding open! It’s a preacher in the pulpit and you’ll find devotion—!”

The figure’s eyes were a fiery orange, teeth glowing along with their intimidating grin.

“There’s something breaking at the brick of every wall it’s holding—”

Blitz was suddenly pulled to the center even faster, he and Barbie now on opposite sides of the figure.

“—I’ll let you know…”

In that moment Blitz could see the face of the figure. Once it registered in his mind, blood went cold.

The music paused for a second, leaving the audience in suspense.

The figure’s face—a lion with burned and matted fur, a mane made of flames—leaned over to him, his lips close to Blitz’s ears as he whispered.

“Don’t let me down, Blitzy.”

For some reason, Blitz nodded in response, despite the fear coursing through his veins.

The lion demon turned back to the audience with a big smile, the song resuming.

“So tell me, do you wanna go—?”

The whole circus lit up.

“Where it’s covered in all the colored lights,”

Barbie ran over to him, grabbing his hand once more as she pulled him to another area of the tent.

“Where the runaways are running the night,”

He found himself placed alongside other demons who performed—more faces being recognized the longer he stood there.

“Impossible comes true, it’s taking over you!”

The lion pointed a staff at the audience as they shouted to him on cue.

“OH! THIS IS THE GREATEST SHOW!”

He grinned at them.

“We light it up, we won’t come down!”

“AND THE SUN CAN’T STOP US NOW!”

Like puppets on a string.

“Watching it come true, it’s taking over you!”

“OH! THIS IS THE GREATEST SHOW!”

The ‘whoas’ returned. Blitz suddenly found himself holding onto a large silver ring, standing on a platform so high, everyone below him looked like ants.

He saw Barbie on a platform across from him, holding onto a different silver ring.

Shit.

He knew what this was.

“Colossal we come, these renegades in the ring,”

“WHOA!”

“Where the lost get found in the crown of the circus king!”

Barbie took a few steps back, getting a running start.

“Don’t fight it, it’s coming for you, running at ya!”

Blitz felt his legs doing the same.

“It’s only this moment, don’t care what comes after! It’s blinding outside and I think that you know,”

They both jumped off at the same time.

“Just surrender ‘cause you’re calling and you wanna go—!”

Like instinct they both let go and grabbed onto the opposing ring, doing a spin in unison before landing on the opposite platform.

“Where it’s covered in all the colored lights,”

Again.

“Where the runaways are running the night,”

Again.

“Impossible comes true, intoxicating you—!”

“OH! THIS IS THE GREATEST SHOW!”

They put their hands together the fourth time, spinning around as their tails and legs held onto the rings.

“We light it up, we won’t come down!”

“AND THE SUN CAN’T STOP US NOW!”

“Watching it come true!”

“IT’S TAKING OVER YOU!”

“OH, THIS IS THE GREATEST SHOW!”

Barbie let go of his hands, both of them now spinning on opposite ends of the tent.

Blitz felt the wind on his face, gliding past the audience and that captivating ringmaster below. That…horrifyingly captivating ringmaster. His voice echoed in Blitz’s ears, throughout the tent.

“It’s everything you ever want,”

Blitz felt like he had the hang of this.

“It’s everything you ever need,”

He closed his eyes.

“And it’s here right in front of you,”

He dangled upside down, his arms spread out.

“This is where you wanna be.”

His tail and legs held on tight.

“It’s everything you ever want,”

Don’t let go.

“It’s everything you ever need,”

Don’t let go..!

“And it’s here right in front of you,”

He heard something snap.

He opened his eyes.

“This is where you wanna beeeee—!”

The music got louder.

The floor got closer.

He panicked.

He was running out of time.

Maybe someone would catch him.

Maybe Barbie would-

THUD.

The song did not continue…one final voice was heard before it faded to black.

“Looks like you let me down...”

—————

“NO! SHIT!” He screamed.

His eyes opened in a cold sweat, falling off the bed he was in. The blankets wrapped around his legs, stopping his head from hitting the floor.

He took a minute to check his surroundings.

He was in Stolas’ room. In bed.

The circus was gone.

Barbie was gone.

It was all a dream.

“Oh..”

He untangled himself from the bed sheets, struggling to get up as he proceeded to climb back onto the bed.

Since when did his dreams become so…vivid? So real? And why did it have to be there? With Barbie and…and..

“Blitzy?”

He flinched at that nickname, but soon relieved to find out it was only Stolas beside him. He turned to see the Owl Prince sit up, looking at him with concerned eyes.

“Is everything alright..? I heard you shouting.”

He didn’t know how to explain it. Or even if he wanted to.

No.

No, he couldn’t.

His tail swished. “Yeah I’m fine.”

“Are you sure?” Stolas cupped his face gently, surprised when Blitz leaned into it. “Perhaps I could make you some tea or—?”

“No…no I don’t need it.” He took one of Stolas’ hands, closing his eyes as though if he let go of it, he’d fall again.

“Can we just..” He looked up at him, his eyes looking hurt by something. Something Stolas didn’t know. “…go back to sleep? Please?”

The ‘please’ made Stolas even more worried, sensing something was amiss. Regardless, he let Blitz hold his hand as they laid back down together.

“Ok.”

Blitz let out a shaky breath, his eyes starting to close. He was still afraid he’d go back to that dreamscape, but maybe his mind would let him rest this time. It was all he wanted. It was what he needed.

“And Stolas?”

“Hm?”

“C-Can you…” He bit his lip. “..wake me up if I start to..?”

Stolas put a finger to his lips. “Of course I will. Now get some rest, Blitzy.”

Blitz hid the blush on his face, sinking into the oversized pillow. “Thanks.”

Once his eyes closed, Stolas made it his task to stay up the rest of the night. Owls were naturally nocturnal, anyway.

But even so, he couldn’t help but wonder what had gone on in the imp’s head. What sort of nightmare could have been so bad, that even Blitz would be shaken up by it..?

Whatever it was, he hoped it wouldn’t happen again.

(First chapter of Curtain Call! More coming soon!

Also here’s the song used in the chapter:

https://youtu.be/NyVYXRD1Ans )

#helluva boss #helluva boss fanfiction #helluva boss stolitz #helluva boss stolas #blitzo #barbie wire #helluva boss oc

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hopelikethemoon · 4 years ago

Text

Lense (Javier x Reader) {MTMF}

Title: Lense Rating: Explicit Length: 3500 Warnings: Sex on camera, shower sex, discussions of pegging, and fluff. Notes: You can find everything about Maybe Today, Maybe Forever here. Set the Summer of 1999 a couple weeks after Adventurous. Part one of two parts of their new sexploit. DID YOU ALL MISS ME? This only took me like a week to write. Is it good? I don’t know, my brain’s still fuzzy from my seizure. Summary: Reader and Javier make good on their idea to record themselves.

@grapemama @seawhisperer @huliabitch @beccaplaying @thewallpapergoesorido @twomoonstwosuns @gooddaykate @livasaurasrex @ham4arrow @plexflexico @readsalot73 @hdlynn @lokiaddicted @randomness501�� @fioccodineveautunnale @roxypeanut @snivellusim @lukesrighthand @mrsparknuts @awesomefandomsunited @behindmyeyes-insidemyhead @synystersilenceinblacknwhite @ah-callie @swhiskeys @exrebelshocktrooper @u-wakatoshii @space-floozy @cable-kenobi @cool-ultra-nerd @himbopoes @findhimfives @pedrosdoll @frietiemeloen @arrowswithwifi @cinewhore @random066 @uncomicalhumour @heather-lynn @domino-oh-damn @cyarikaaa @ahopelessromanticwritersworld @im-still-a-pieceofgarbage @ksgeekgirl @yabby-girl @xqueenofthecraziesx @punkass-potato @coredrive @pascalesque @theduchessofkirkcaldy @queenquazar @sabinemorans @buckstaposition @holkaskrosnou @seeking-a-great–perhaps @kochamcie @jaime1110 @katlikeme @cinewhore

“You know, when you said you needed someone to watch the girls for the weekend I didn’t realize it was so Javier could mow the lawn.” Steve said, giving you a pointed look as Javier passed by the window again with the mower.

You laughed, shaking your head slowly as you took a sip of the lemonade you had made, “It’s supposed to rain. He wanted to get it out of the way first.”

Steve pursed his lips together and nodded his head as he arched a brow at you, “What are you two planning to get up to?”

“Do you really want to know?” You rolled your eyes, glancing out the window as Javier paused to wipe sweat off his brow with the hem of his shirt. “The garden center has some Bell peppers and Serranos that were calling my name. We might go pick up a couple and plant them.”

“Without the girls?”

You narrowed your eyes at Steve, “I seem to recall watching the girls two Sundays ago so Connie could ‘try a new recipe’.”

Steve made a face before taking a sip of lemonade, “A new recipe was tried.”

“So I heard.” You smirked a little. “Only took the two of you — what? Two decades to get adventurous?”

“We’re not all you and Javier.” Steve retorted, crossing his arms across his chest as he leaned back against the counter. He glanced towards the hallway, where the girls could be heard laughing and giggling in JoJo’s bedroom. “I still don’t know how the two of you keep that spark alive.”

You shrugged, your eyes flickering back out the window to watch Javier. “You forget that we went an entire summer feeling like strangers. Have the two of you considered therapy?”

Steve shifted his weight from foot to foot. “Yeah, we’ve actually been seeing one. We’re working on a lot of shit that I didn’t realize she was holding onto.”

“We tend to protect the people we love from that kind of stuff.” You chewed on the inside of your bottom lip, folding your arms across your chest.

“You and Javi good?” Steve questioned, his brows drawing together.

“Solid.” You answered without hesitation. “Admittedly, I’m a little antsy not having somewhere to go and work every day. First summer off in my entire adult career.” You grimaced a little. “He’s surprisingly good at the stay-at-home thing.”

“That surprised the hell out of me,” Steve agreed. “I remember how he was at the DEA. Work was home, home was work.”

You nodded, “Yeah. It all balances out.” Reaching for your glass of lemonade, you continued. “You and Connie just need to focus on what’s right for the two of you. Your relationship isn’t going to look like mine with Javier.”

“We’re a bit more conventional.” Steve teased, giving you a look. “Not that it’s any of my business, but… I’m guessing this the sex tape thing. Right?”

You snorted, scrunching up your nose. “You’re right. None of your business.” You smirked as you heard the lawn mower shut off. “But yes.”

Steve scratched at the back of his neck, “Look at that, Connie and I have done something you haven’t.”

“Really?”

He shrugged, “Shocking. Right?”

“Mommy!” Josie called out, tearing down the hallway into the kitchen, “Stevie tried to eat my Barbie.”

“Jesus Christ.” You muttered, “Well, did she actually eat it?”

She stopped short, grinning innocently. “No.”

“Then what’s the emergency?”

Josie pursed her lips, “Olivia said she just got the new Barbie Fountain playset and I want to see it.”

You arched a brow at her, “Are you telling me to hurry up?”

She shrugged her shoulders, “Is it working?”

Steve laughed, giving your back a pat as he stepped past you, “I’ll get the girls ready.”

“What have we talked about lying?” You questioned as you crouched in front of your daughter.

“But I told you the truth.”

The back door opened as Javier came in from mowing the lawn. Josie’s eyes went wide and she reached out to grab your forearm.

“Don’t tell daddy.” She stuck out her bottom lip, looking sweet and innocent in a way that only ever got Javier wrapped around her fingers.

“I don’t know, he might want to ground you.” You tapped her on the nose. “Just be honest, alright?”

“Alright mommy.” She smiled at you, before flinging her arms around you.

“Am I missing out on something?” Javier questioned, lifting his shirt up to wipe off his sweaty face.

“Ew. Daddy! You’re stinky.” She stuck out her tongue and shied away from him. “You need to get hosed down!” She said, just like you sounded whenever Stevie got filthy.

You stood back up, nodding your head towards the hallway. “Go get your bag so Uncle Steve can leave.”

“What’d I miss?” Javier questioned, hooking a finger in the back belt loop of your denim shorts.

“Josie telling little fibs again.” You made a face. “And you do stink.”

“Thought you liked fresh cut grass.” He arched a brow and gave your ass a playful swat. “I’ll shower once they're on their way.”

You leaned in and pressed a quick kiss to his lips, “I might join you.”

“Just the Little Bear backpack?” Steve called out from the bedroom.

“And the Esprit duffle.” You answered, swatting Javier’s hand away as you wandered down the hallway. “Two beach towels, swimsuits and spares.” You explained as you leaned against the doorframe. “Connie said you have spare wings for Sof.”

“We’ve got a dozen.” Steve assured you.

Sofía toddled over to you, wrapping her arms around your leg. You leaned down and scooped her up. “Are you going to be a good little rugrat for Uncle Steve and Aunt Connie?”

She nodded excitedly, “I’m gonna see a kitty.”

“That’s right,” You tickled her stomach, making her squeal. “You’re going to see Mr. Grouch.”

“His name is Oscar!” Sofía corrected you.

You laughed, “Yes, but he’s named for Oscar the Grouch.” You reminded her, “Right Em?”

Emily nodded, “Daddy wanted to name him after Uncle Javier, but mom said no.”

“Oh, I know all about that.” You bounced Sofía in your arms before sitting her back down. “Alright, let’s clear out.” You clapped your hands.

“It was the mustache,” Steve explained. “Have you ever seen a cat with a mustache?”

“I thought it was the whole ‘you hate cats, but Oscar’s glued to you’ thing.”

“That too.” He rubbed at the back of his neck, before shouldering the girls’ bags and herding them out of the bedroom.

Stevie whined as she followed after the girls, “You can’t go with them, Stevie.” You told her, grabbing ahold of her collar so she wouldn’t try to bolt for the door.

“Have fun, Peña.” Steve quipped, fixing Javier with a smirk as he headed for the door. “Hope you have a tripod.”

Javier pressed his tongue to the inside of his cheek, “You’re lucky the girls are here.”

Steve laughed, “Yeah, whatever Javi. Have a good weekend guys.” He said before ushering the girls out the front door.

Once the door was safely closed, you let go of Stevie and went to lock the door. “Once she’s settled, we can let her out back to chase lizards. That should keep her occupied.”

“So you told Steve?” He shook his head, barely able to keep from laughing.

“To be fair, we told him at the bar last month.” Your brows rose upwards. “And more surprisingly, they’ve already tried this.”

“Really?”

“I know.”

Javier gave you a skeptical look, “I don’t know if I believe that.”

“Which is more believable…” You said slowly as you approached him, putting on the most innocent attempt at seduction. “Steve and Connie making sex tapes… or you taking the strap?”

He rolled his eyes, “The latter.”

You smirked, reaching out to ghost your fingers over his stomach, before sliding your hand up his chest and curling your fingers around the back of his neck. “I figured.”

Javier curled his arm around your waist, “Weren't you complaining about me smelling?”

“I’m holding my breath.” You teased as you played your fingers through the sweat-damp hair at the nape of his neck. “Shower?”

He dragged his teeth over his bottom lip and nodded, “Sounds like a plan, baby.” He said as he leaned in to kiss you. It was a slow kiss, one that lingered just long enough to spike a rush of desire in your lower belly.

Javier pulled away, catching your hand and guiding you towards the bedroom.

“Wait, let me put Stevie out.” You reminded him, shaking your hand out of his hold as you went to open the door in your bedroom that led into the backyard. “Stevie!”

“I’ll get the shower running.” Javier told you, before vanishing into the bathroom.

“Alright pup, enjoy your afternoon outside.” You told Stevie as you put her out into the backyard. You followed her outside, grabbing the hose to fill up her big green water bowl.

Stevie barked, wagging her tail, before a scurrying lizard caught her attention and she went bounding after it.

You headed back inside, pulling the door shut and drawing the shades on the door. The last thing you needed was for a neighbor to catch a glimpse into your bedroom today — not that they could with all the flora and fauna around the fence line.

The shower was already running in the bathroom and you could hear Javier whistling to himself as he waited for you.

“I love you just a little more for whistling ‘Livin’ La Vida Loca,’ Javier.” You remarked with a grin as you shouldered the door open and stepped inside to join him.

“It’s catchy,” Javier told you, scratching at the back of his neck as his eyes swept over you. “You’re overdressed.”

“Or maybe you’re just underdressed.” You retorted pointedly as you gave him your own sweeping look. “Someone’s got a swim tan line.” You brushed your fingers over his hip bone where there was a subtle line between his stomach and the skin that was covered by his swim trunks.

“That’s what you get when you have mermaids for daughters.” Javier caught your hand, rubbing his thumb over your palm before lifting your hand to his lips and kissing each knuckle.

“I don’t know, Sofía still freaks out when I try to wash her hair.”

Javier cocked his head to the side, “You’ve got a point there.” He released your hand, reaching down to unsnap your shorts, pushing them down your hips.

You smiled softly at him as you leaned in to kiss him, sliding your fingers through his hair. He managed to work your t-shirt up, breaking away from the kiss long enough to rid you of it and your bra.

“Should we film this?” You questioned, peppering a line of kisses along his jaw as you reached downwards to curl your fingers around his rigid cock.

“Fuck.” Javier hissed out, catching your wrist. “You want me to?” He questioned, meeting your gaze with an arched brow.

You nodded, stroking your thumb over that sensitive spot just beneath the head of his cock just to watch his lashes flutter.

“You gotta stop doing that if you want me to grab the cam, baby.”

“Fine.” You stole another kiss before taking a step back, letting him step back out of the bathroom to grab the camcorder from the bedroom.

There was something hilarious about Javier wandering back into the bathroom — buckass naked — with his glasses on as he tinkered with the camcorder.

“This better come out good.” Javier remarked as he adjusted the viewfinder and looked through it. “Two grand better come out looking cris—“ He stopped short as he focused the camera on your naked chest. “Worth every penny, baby.”

You flipped him off, smirking at him as he panned up to your face. “Is this gonna be a solo film?” You questioned, tucking your fingers into your underwear and shimmying them down your hips. “Because I’m not the one who needs a shower.”

“Baby, I’m recording.” Javier huffed, looking up from the camcorder, his brows furrowed together.

“I’m pretty sure when we watch this in the future, I’ll remember that you were hot and sweaty… emphasis on the hot.” You beckoned him towards you.

“Hang on.” Javier hit stop on the camera, before setting it up on the bathroom sink so it was angled towards the shower. He crouched down, flipping open the monitor and turning it around so he could see what was recording.

“Are we in frame?” You questioned, resting your hand on his shoulder as you peered down at the camera.

“Yeah.” He nodded, reaching behind him to give your leg a squeeze, before hitting record on the camera. “Definitely didn’t have the shower on our record list for the day.”

“We’re good at making things work for us.” You pointed out, reaching for his glasses and taking them off his face and sitting them on the sink by the camera. “I think that’s a recurring theme for us.”

“Fairpoint.” He clicked his tongue against his teeth as he guided you back towards the shower.

The water was the perfect temperature for a hot summer afternoon. You stepped under the spray, winding your fingers through your hair, watching as Javier stepped in to join you. “Did you mean it?”

“Mean what?” Javier arched a brow as he curled his hands around your hips.

“That you’ll consider keeping your hair this length.” You reached out and stroked wet fingers over his hair, slicking it back. “I may have to fight off a new crop of horny students, but…”

Javier laughed humorlessly, “I’ll think about it.”

You tugged gently at his hair, “Good.”

He crowded you back against the shower wall, the water pelting down on his shoulders and sloughing off onto your chest and arms in the process. “And for future reference, you don’t have to fight anyone off, baby.” Javier drawled out as he brushed his lips against yours, before trailing his mouth down your throat.

You sank back against the wall, winding your fingers through his hair as he palmed at your breast with his left hand, while his mouth latched onto the other. You tilted your head to look towards the camera — it was weird to imagine a future version of yourself sitting down to watch this moment in time.

You knew people watched adult videos — you were entirely aware of that particular section of the sex shop. But it had never really been something either of you needed to get the wheels turning. Would you future you enjoy you staring into the camera lense while Javier’s teeth scraped over your nipple?

Javier caught you by surprise when he slid his free hand between your thighs, making you forget all about the camera on you.

He kissed his way back up your chest and nipped at your, “Forget it’s there, baby.” He whispered, dragging his fingers through your slick folds slowly. “That’s a good girl.”

“Screw you.” You laughed, rolling your hips into his touch as you curled your fingers around the back of his neck and guided him in for another kiss. You slanted your mouth over his, your tongue sliding out to find his.

Javier ran his other hand up your side, fingers ghosting over your breast, before trailing back down to grasp at your hip. He groaned against your lips as your own hand slid down and curled around his cock.

You twisted your wrist skillfully as you stroked your hand over the length of him, matching the rhythm he’d set as he stroked his fingers through your slick folds.

He slid his hand around to grab at your ass, pulling you towards him. You broke away from the kiss, letting out a ragged breath as you met his gaze.

“Let’s not spoil all the fun yet.” You breathed out, stroking your fingertips over his collarbone as you slowly dragged your hand over the length of his cock.

“Didn’t have any plans to, baby.” He rasped out, catching your wrist and pulling your hand away. “But I do have plans.” Javier leaned in to kiss you, before pulling back, “Turn around.”

There was something about the tone he took that went straight to your core, fanning out fresh heat through your veins. Oh.

You turned around to face the wall, planting your hands firmly on it. You glanced to your right, staring at the camera for a split second before Javier pulled focus back to him.

He raked his hands up your legs, squeezing at your hips before one hand wandered to press flat against your lower stomach as his other hand guided his cock between your thighs.

“Shit.” You hissed out as the head of his cock slid deliciously against your clit.

You sank back against his chest, using him for support as he started thrusting against you, dragging the heavy length of his cock through your slick folds.

“That’s it, baby.” Javier whispered against the shell of your ear. “You're such a good girl. Fuck.” He loosely curled his fingers around your throat, keeping you pinned against him as he rocked his hips.

You slid your hand behind you, fingers twisting in his wet hair as he rested his chin against your shoulder. “Javier.” You gritted out, trembling in his grasp as his cock kept rubbing against your clit, causing your inner walls to clench around nothing as you careened towards an orgasm. It was just the right kind of stimulation, but still not enough.

Javier slid his hand from your throat up to cup your jaw, urging you to turn your head just enough to look back at him. His lips brushed against your cheek, his breath hot against your damp skin as he continued to move.

“Javier!” You moaned out, nails biting into his forearm as you shattered for him. “Please.”

“You want more, baby?” He questioned, slowing the role of his hips.

Your eyes flickered to the camera, focusing on the red flashing record light, before your attention returned to him. “Yes.”

Javier pressed a kiss to your cheek before he adjusted himself behind you. His fingers brushed against your sensitive cunt as he lined his cock up and slid into you.

He roughly palmed at your breasts as he kept you pinned back against his chest, his thumb dragging mercilessly over the pebbled peak of your nipple.

“Fuck. Javi— shit that’s good.” You managed, reaching behind you once more to grab at the back of his neck as you ground yourself back on his cock.

Javier pressed his lips to your shoulder, trailing his free hand up the length of your bare arm. It was such a tender gesture in contrast to the way he was driving his cock into you.

“I love you,” He whispered, his lips brushing over the shell of your ear. It was incredible that those three little words still sent shivers down your spine. That they still felt new and exciting, even after so many years had passed.

You turned your head, craning your neck so you could kiss him again. His pace faltered and you knew it wouldn’t be long for him. Your inner walls were still fluttering around his cock every time he buried the length of it into you, pressing against the sweet spot with every other thrust. Something snapped.

You slapped your hand against the wall of the shower, breaking away from the kiss as you let your head fall forward.

Right off the heels of your first release, your second orgasm washed over you and it pulled Javier under with you. You clenched tight around him as he kept driving his cock into you, groaning out your name as he finally came apart within you.

Javier braced his arm around your hips, keeping you pressed tight to him to keep you on your feet as he bucked into you.

“I hope,” You started, your words coming out strained as you tried to catch your breath. “Future us enjoyed that.” You remarked, giving a half assed thumbs up to the camera.

He pressed his face into the crook of your shoulder and laughed as he ran his hands over every bare inch of skin he could reach. “I bet I did.”

You shifted onto one foot so you could use the other to rub your toes against his calf, “You know what I’m going to enjoy?”

“Hmm?” He questioned, brushing your hair off the back of your neck so he could press a kiss there.

“Fucking you.”

Javier gave your hip a playful swat as he slid out of you. “I don’t know, I might need to take a nap now.”

You turned around to face him, leaning back against the shower wall. “Should’ve made this tape before you got old on me.” You glanced at the camera, “I bet you have to be extra gentle with the creaky old—“

He didn’t let you finish, before he scooped you up — despite a grimace — and drew your legs around his waist so you were trapped firmly between him and the wall. “What was that?”

“Oh, just thinking about how you’re going to be limping tomorrow.” You retorted as you ran your hands over his shoulders. “Put me down.”

“I’m hoping I’m limping tomorrow.”

You opened and closed your mouth twice as you stared at him, “Challenge accepted.” You said as you tugged at his hair.

#pedro pascal x reader #javier pena x reader #javier pena

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marvels-writings · 4 years ago

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Just a Cold

Maria Hill Masterlist

Requested by Anon: Hiii!! Could u write a Maria Hill x fem!reader where their little girl got sick and Maria is super worried even tho it’s a small cold bc she’s out of town, so she rushes to get home and when she gets there she’s so relieved and happy she can take care of her little girl and be with her wife ughhh I live for this family dynamic!!! Love ur writing!!!

Word Count: 1,292 (longish and fluffy)

Having a daughter was one of the scariest times of Maria’s life. She hadn’t expected her daughter to be away from her to be nearly as scary. But it was, every time she went on a mission she couldn’t help the nagging worry that she might not come back to what she left behind.

Thus, you had a house near the Avenger’s compound with an emergency line there. At this point, an avenger coming over when she was gone wasn’t a surprise. But what neither of you expected was your daughter to fall sick while Maria was away.

The first few days, you tried to hide it but Laura demanded to see her Mama, even if she was sick. Which led to the situation you were in now.

“Sweetheart, are you okay?” Maria asked. Blue eyes darting between you and your daughter as her voice glitched over Skype. You winced slightly at the concern in her eyes and pulled your daughter into your lap. Laura let out a few coughs, droopy eyes lightening up as she waved at Maria.

“It’s just a cold.” You explained, rubbing her back as she went into another coughing fit. You whispered in her ear to help calm her down, wincing whenever she whimpered. Maria watched with wide eyes, it didn’t take her more than a few seconds to guess you’d taken off of work to take care of your daughter.

Usually, both of you took care of her while working from home. But now, with no one to help you, you had to take a few days off of work just to take care of her. Seeing Laura in pain caused her to start to panic, she began texting Fury she was taking the rest of the mission off. Her wife and her daughter being the few people she would do anything for, she needed to be with you.

You noticed and told your daughter to get her cold medicine while you tried to talk Maria out of taking the mission off. Though, part of you already knew you wouldn’t be able to.

“Babe,” You called her attention, she paused typing on her phone and glanced up at you. “You’re not taking the rest of the mission off, I can handle this.”

“And you are not talking me out of this.” She stated, continuing to type on her phone when you spoke again. Resisting a remark about how this mission didn’t matter, she turned to face you.

“Maria, it’s just a cold,” You said, almost pleading her to not drop another mission for your daughter. You knew how she was Fury’s best agent, after Laura, he was slightly pissed about how much time she spent away from work. Even though he didn’t blame her, you knew this would piss him off.

“Baby,” She said, putting her phone down and giving you a mischievous smile. “I’ve got to go.”

“What? NO!” You shouted, trying to make sure she didn’t end the call. But your wife winked at you and ended the call.

Cursing under your breath, you went towards your daughter who had “accidentally” spilled the cold medicine on the ground. The medicine tasted awful, you didn’t blame her for wanting to throw it away. But it was sticky and a pain to clean up.

Her blue puppy eyes talked you out of any anger you could have had with her.

————

If your wife was planning to get to you, she should have been here hours ago. Her mission was across the country in California. You’d checked the flights, she should have been here before your daughter woke up.

None of your frantic texts or calls had received more of a response except for a winking face and assuring you she was safe. Laura had been ecstatic when she heard Maria might be coming home, which had led to a massive energy rush and causing her not to sleep the rest of the night. The five-year-old had gotten less than 3 hours of sleep when she woke up again, demanding breakfast.

As you watched your five-year-old eat oatmeal, you wondered where your wife was while sipping your coffee.

A knock on the door caused you to jump up, almost falling out of your seat. Laura giggled tiredly at the table and went back to her breakfast. You opened the door to see Maria standing on the other side, holding a stuffed animal, cold medicine, a heated blanket, and a blu-ray of one of her favorite movies.

You were surprised you had expected anything less. When it came to you and your daughter, there was nothing less than extraordinary you could expect from Maria. Of course, she would travel across the country in your sweatshirt and jeans and pick up too many things for her daughter.

“Sorry it took me so long,” She apologized, smiling smugly at you. “But it took me a while to find the blu ray for the Barbie movie.”

The instant your daughter heard her Mama’s voice, she jumped out of her seat and stumbled towards the door. You quickly took all the things Maria had bought so she could pick up the little girl. The brunette easily scooped her up and spun her around in the air.

Laura giggled and held her arms out to be hugged, to which Maria happily obliged and cuddled her, shutting the door behind her. You rolled your eyes as Laura began to babble about how bad being sick was and how happy she was that Maria was back.

“I missed you too sweetheart,” Maria smiled, rubbing your daughter’s back and gently setting her in your bed. The bed was already littered with her toys and random belongings, a result of your refusal to let her sleep alone when she was sick.

The brunette noticed the toys and quickly pushed them to the side as she set Laura down. You smiled and handed her the heated blanket while you began to put the toys away. The brunette mouthed a thanks and switched it on, wrapping it around Laura.

Maria began singing to your daughter, a soft smile on her face as she stroked the hair away from Laura’s face. The five-year-old snuggled into her lap, wrapping Maria’s arm around herself.

Within minutes, she was asleep, happily cuddled into your wife’s lap.

Maria watched her sleep, a peaceful expression on her face. She glanced over to you when she noticed you sitting by her side, watching her. A chuckle fell from her lips.

“What are you looking at?” Maria asked, not taking her attention away from her daughter. Fingers running through her hair and scratching her scalp gently.

“You.” You stated, smiling and taking her hand. The brunette stroked your knuckles lovingly.

“If you didn’t expect me to come home when she was sick, I’d be surprised,” Maria remarked slyly, smirking at you and kissing your daughter’s hair. There wasn’t anything she wouldn’t do for the two of you, you were her only family, her whole world. You laughed and shook your head, moving to sit in front of your wife.

“I expected nothing less.” You answered, leaning forwards to kiss her lips.

Maria happily reciprocated, chasing your lips once you pulled away. You chuckled and gave her lips one last peck before pulling away.

The two of you settled around your daughter, settling Laura in between both of you. Maria wrapped her arms around your daughter, her fingers touching your waist and drawing gentle shapes on your ribs. Her family in her arms, warmth, and love-filled her heart as she watched both of you sleep.

She would never admit how both of you had her wrapped around your fingers. But she wouldn’t have it any other way.

A/N: really tired, comments/reblogs are amazing

Tag List: @capcarolsdanver, @versdan, @lesbian-girls-wayhaught, @lovebotlarson, @dhengkt, @hstoria, @natasha-danvers, @veryfunnyal, @xxxtwilightaxelxxx , @ophelias-heart , @never-didbefore , @justarandomhumanhere, @the-most-unicorn-of-them-all , @thatssocamryn , @lesbian-x-blackwidow , @wlw-imaginesss , @hcartbyheart , @summergeezburr , @imnotasuperhero , @a-stressedstudent , @aaron-despair , @rooskaya-yelena , @thewitchandtheassassin , @wannabe-fic-reader let me know if you’d like to be in any of my tag lists!

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aespawpaq · 3 years ago

Text

Netflix and Chill (3)

IMAX and CLIMAX

summary; The occasional dark horse candidate among Barbie movie binges— Sunghoon gets weirdly horny and fucks you to the tune of a classic Barbie movie soundtrack. warnings; fingering, blowjobs, tit play, praise kink, standing sex, unprotected sex, reverse cowgirl kinda idk lol, daddy kink that morphs into i love u kink tags; sh is an avid history channel viewer, sh hates Barbie movies ik we took an L today girls 😔, sh goes thru like 4 personality changes (commanding > soft > mean > in love), honestly idk what to tag it’s a mess, he’s still cheesy and romantic but also 👀 just read word count; 9.8k

Sunghoon sees it on display during your weekly Target trip. You know he won’t say anything because despite how long you’ve dated he still likes to pretend he’s the epitome of adult maturity. Yet the way his eyes linger over the electronics section, cart rolling to a stop in front of the massive screen, tells you all you need to know.

“Baby, the toilet paper is this way,” you sing, giving the front of the cart a gentle tug that pulls it and his thoughts away from the television that seems to hold reign over his interest.

“Ah,” he mumbles as he shakes himself out of whatever trance he was in. “Right.”

The Target trip ends rather uneventfully; you grab all the items you came for and make the executive decision of swapping Sunghoon’s tangerine bathroom soap with strawberry instead. Normally he’d put up a good fight, argue about the comfort that came with consistency, but today he says nothing. You chalk it up to that flatscreen that hypnotized him earlier.

Sunghoon scoffs as he finally gets the two of you back onto the main road, Target and the flat screen left behind. “I didn’t,” he defends. “Just thought it was neat.”

You snort. “Neat. Okay, grandpa, did it tickle your pickle?” you tease, obnoxiously leaning over the center console to get all in his face. Sunghoon greets your proximity with a palm against your forehead.

You gag. “That’s actually disgusting.”

——

You graduate on a Saturday and your dorm stay expires on the Tuesday that follows. You spend the entire day shoving all your belongings into a variety of trash bags, from your weighted blanket to the collection candles you and Isa swore to light every night and never did. Speaking of Isa, she cries through the entire process. From the moment you take down the first wall decoration she’s in tears, and not even her mom, who’s come to help out, can quell her emotions. The girl cries and cries. She cries throughout the clean up, like she hadn’t spent the week before cursing the funky aircon system to hell and back. It’s probably the nostalgia that comes with leaving college, you assume. When Sunghoon picks you up around noon, even your eyes are glassy.

Sunghoon’s mom, who you only just met a few months ago, is over at his place when you arrive. You get along fairly well, in fact, you would even go as far as to claim you got along really well. You had first met her over this past spring break when Sunghoon invited you along to his family trip to some tropical island. The Jeons were lovely people. In fact, had Sunghoon not explicitly introduced them as his parents, you would’ve thought they were some sitcom actors carrying out the role of most in love, sophisticated lovers to ever exist. Yeah, they were super into each other, and you suppose it’s why Sunghoon is the way he is, loves as hard as he does. The only thing that broke their attention away from each other was the sight of their precious Sunghoonie bringing you to a family event.

It was hard to keep them entertained. Every second was spent worrying about your appearance, your demeanor, whether or not you looked like a devil beside their (your) angelic boy. It certainly didn’t help that Sunghoon was wearing that obnoxiously floral shirt at the restaurant you went to, the first three buttons undone almost lazily. It was a look your boyfriend rarely showed, always so meticulously dressed. Of course, he had that cute boyish style of his that consisted almost exclusively of baggy pants and designer tee’s a little too plain to cost as much as they did. But even those outfits had a specific Sunghoon rhythm to them— the darker tones always went with the pants that had twelve buckles on them; the long sleeves always went with the jeans. He was awfully particular about those kinds of self-set rules, and this jarring floral print did not fit any of them. It was too provocative, the black skinny jeans he’d paired with it too devious.

Maybe he knew what he was doing to you dressed so hot like this, but knowing Sunghoon, you doubt he did. His parents hadn’t batted a single lash his way, eyes laser focused on your every word as you stumbled through three plates and dessert. It was a battle you fought alone, and one you barely survived.

So despite you impressing his parents, she still gives you an odd look when you enter Sunghoon’s swanky townhouse with all your garbage bags of items. You promise her it’s just for the weekend, until your parents clean out your old room that they’ve filled to the brim with holiday decorations and miscellaneous objects. You’re not trying to take her baby chick out of the nest. (Yet.)

You watch TV for a couple hours, mostly her favorite soap operas on his 67 in. screen. It takes up a huge spot on the wall where it’s mounted, glossy black screen glaring back at you. Even his mom scolds him for such a huge screen, and you wonder how she’d feel about the absolute giant he ogled at the Target last week. Super angry, you think, and the image of her raging in flames while Sunghoon apologizes like the momma’s boy he is makes you giggle.

You pounce on him the second she’s gone. He goes down with a muffled yelp against the sofa, hands grasping at your waist until you straddle him and begin going to town. Your fun lasts all of two minutes before the old lady novella Sunghoon’s mom had been watching cuts to commercials and a loud advertisement for irritable bowel syndrome medication begins playing.

“Oh, that is so not sexy,” you whine childishly, trying to roll your hips over him again. Sunghoon laughs, all low and sweet as he sits back up again.

——

You rarely use the key Sunghoon gifted you a few months back. The majority of your visits to Sunghoon’s house were either the result of Sunghoon picking you up from somewhere and bringing you back, or Sunghoon inviting you over after dinner. In short, he was always with you when you arrived at his stoop.

His mom was going to kill him.

“ Sunghoon?” you call out slowly, inching back out into the hall with your gaze glued to the screen. Like maybe you’ve imagined this all and that isn’t the stupidly gigantic television screen Sunghoon had gawked at just a few weeks ago.

“You’re baby,” he tries to fight, but his limbs are so pliant under your touch that it practically means nothing. “I’m the head honcho around here.”

“Uh huh,” you appease him, finally managing to tug all that muscled body out of his seat. “And apparently that means making dumb purchases.”

“What dumb purchases? Are you talking about the cactus again?” he asks, letting you guide him back down the hall.

“Yes, hoon, the cactus you haven’t watered in three months,” you drawl sarcastically, the sad plant sitting in the kitchen a reminder of both your incompetence. “Heeseung would hate you for that.”

Not amused by the insinuation of his favorite senpai being disappointed in him, Sunghoon goes to fight you on that. By then you’ve stopped at the entrance of the living room, glaring at the straight up theater screen that sits on the wall. “Oh.”

“Yeah, oh,” you mimic, flopping down on the ground beside the coffee table. Sunghoon doesn’t follow, choosing to sprawl himself over the couch instead. “What’s with the Jumbotron?”

You snort. “The experience— Oh, I’m sorry. Didn’t know I was speaking to Mr. IMAX here.”

His cheeks flush a soft pink at your jab. “Don’t be mean,” he mumbles, tugging on your arm as he sits back up. You find your way onto his lap, neatly seated over one thigh like he’s the Santa Claus at the mall; not a single gray hair in sight but you’d still let him call you his hoe, hoe, hoe. Realizing there’s more important matters to attend to than Sunghoon’s Christmas ham, you shake those images away.

“Good thing I brought a movie,” you beam, gesturing to the pretty pink case resting over top the takeout bag.

Sunghoon doesn’t even spare it a single glance as he burrows into your neck. “What? No, we’re finishing the docuseries on—“

You groan loudly to muffle the rest of his sentence. “hoon, I don’t wanna watch another episode on Stonehenge being done by aliens,” you whine, picking up the movie case to brandish in his face.

It’s admittedly the wrong move when Sunghoon’s eyes roll themselves into another dimension. “Absolutely not,” he says. The case is quickly discarded off to the side as he attempts to distract you with a kiss against your cheek.

Sunghoon sighs, dropping his head down against your shoulder. He smells good and feels even better over you, but you’re not going to stop until the Princess and the Pauper is breaking in the new Jumbotron. “It’s weird,” he huffs, voice muffled against the fabric of your shirt. “Especially when we start getting… experimental, and I have to listen to Barbie sing in the background.”

Sunghoon scoffs, finally letting himself snuggle completely into you. “You don’t even realize it because you’re screaming the whole way through.” That earns him a sharp tug at his ear that has him sputtering apology after apology.

“It’s boring!” you feel the need to emphasize.

Sunghoon sits up with an uppity look on his face. “It’s not my fault you don’t appreciate the cinematography that comes from educational pieces,” he points out, rather presumptuously.

You shove him off of you. “I don’t care about cinnamon topography, just play the damn Barbie movie,” you hiss, swiping the movie case from the other end of the couch and pressing it to his chest. If words could hurt, yours definitely do. Sunghoon crumbles against the couch, childishly stomping one sock-clad foot against the ground as you gesture toward the movie player.

The TV turns on to some minimalistic home page, tiny widgets showing every app it has; the bottom row is dedicated almost entirely to Sunghoon’s massive streaming service provider collection. After a moment of brewing in his feels, Sunghoon quietly announces, “it’s on Amazon Prime.” This is news to you, being able to watch a Barbie film on a streaming service and not the old disk you scratched when you were ten. Something distinctly carnal flashes in your chest when Sunghoon clicks through all the payment options without a care in the world. Oh, that was definitely going into your horny 3 am dreams.

Despite his earlier protests, you know Sunghoon will soon fall into his usual movie watching habits. He settles into the couch beside you. You cuddle up next to him, enveloping him with the grip of a killer octopus choking out its prey, except Sunghoon is usually the one doing the choking in this relationship. Still, it’s not close enough, and you throw your legs over his thigh. You’re practically sitting on him at this point.

You have no doubt the speakers on this thing are average; it was too thin to really pack any punch. However, that was the TV sans the Bluetooth speakers Sunghoon has installed all around his house.

(You swear when the android uprising finally begins, your boyfriend will be the first one out.)

The speakers really amplify the sound. The opening sequence has your bones rattling inside your body, the loud music of the selection screen reverberating through the entire living room. It reminds you of that pounding COMING SOON clip that used to play at the beginning of DVD’s back in the day. Sunghoon scrambles to lower the volume. “Sweetheart, you’re cutting off my circulation,” he wheezes afterwards.

“What? This is how we always watch movies,” you say with a frown.

“Yes, and I always end up with less oxygen than before.”

“Shut up,” he says, settling in behind you. “Movie’s starting.”

Most Barbie movies you watch end up in one of two ways: either Sunghoon falls asleep twenty minutes in or he stays up until the end to critique every aspect of it. With the way he’d gone soft from your early battle, you’re guessing he was going to knock out before the Princess can even meet the Pauper.

Sunghoon says nothing, and you’re half convinced he’s taken his first preferred route and snoozed off, when his fingers twitch around your waist.

There it was.

The occasional dark horse candidate among Barbie movie binges— Sunghoon gets weirdly horny and fucks you to the tune of a classic Barbie movie soundtrack.

“Absolutely not,” you say, slapping a hand down over his before he can slip beneath the fabric of your shorts.

He complains quietly, but he settles.

For all of twenty seconds.

“Oh my god,” you sigh, trying to act like the subtle rutting of his cock on your behind was a nuisance and not the luxury it is. “Babe, the jumbo screen… look at it.”

“Not even jumbo,” he murmurs against your ear, hot breath sending a shiver down your spine that has your toes curling. You fight to keep his hands still, but the muscles in his forearm tense, inked skin contracting as he slips them between your thighs. You suck in a sharp inhale, trying to maintain your immovable front. Sunghoon sees the fortress you’ve built around yourself in the name of watching The Princess and the Pauper, and spares you no mercy with his attack. His hands massage the skin of your thighs, tiny shorts doing absolutely nothing to save you from him. “Jumbo didn’t fit.”

Belatedly, your stupid tongue remembers to move. “I know something jumbo that fits,” you babble, rolling your head back against his shoulder. Sunghoon laughs at the utter stupidity of your sentence, and the aforementioned jumbo thing fattens against your ass, before brushing his lips against yours. The airy laughter, one of your favorite sounds in the world, is swallowed up by your greedy mouth. “Can fit in two places, actually,” you murmur when he pulls away. His fingers massage the doughy skin of your boobs causing your back to arch slightly. “Wherever he wants it to.”

“Really,” Sunghoon teases, obviously entertained by your silly dirty talk. He’s grown used to your outlandish remarks in the past few months of your relationship.

You like to believe Sunghoon has fully accepted your occasional bouts of weirdness. He’s had the last few months to grow familiar with the inner workings of your mind, and even absorbed some of it into his own personality. Which is why he doesn’t seem the least bit bothered by you referring to his cock as jumbo, when there were admittedly more fitting words to describe it as.

(Thick, juicy, angry, demon cock, if he really wanted to know.)

Sunghoon groans, resting his forehead against your shoulder. “Don’t,” he sighs, hands faltering over your breasts. Eventually they drift away, settling around your waist as you slip your fingers under the front of your bottoms.

“Why?” you laugh, pointer finger brushing along your clit. “Don’t like it when I call you that, Daddy?”

You know he loves it, but it never hurts to ask.

Between the two of you, you each had your own share of distinctive interests when it came to sex. Kinks, if you will. You adored the softer, vanilla aspects of sex— the languid makeouts, the slow rutting against his thigh, the whispered praise, the cute pet names. Meanwhile, despite his initially reserved exterior, Sunghoon preferred the other end of the spectrum. (You should’ve known from the get go!) He loved it fast and hard, so hard it would make you cry. He liked watching you squirm and beg for his cock while he pushed you to new heights. He liked the sticky, sweaty sex that left you feeling like a used rag beneath him, something you would have never expected given his neat and kind nature.

However, as with all things Sunghoon, you always came first. Sunghoon’s dream sex style was often pushed to the side in favor of pleasuring you. So quick and rough sex was more of a rare, once in a blue moon, type of luxury. Up until recently, sex had been mostly what you wanted. Either way you did things, Sunghoon was fine as long as he got to hold you close.

You pull your fingers from his mouth, the sleek drip of your arousal replaced with his saliva. Sunghoon grunts as he hauls you further onto his lap, swollen cock nudging itself between your cheeks. “You know I love it, baby,” he growls against your ear. His hot breath fans over your skin, sending shivers down your spine. “Have you had your fun now?” he asks, tracing the pads of his fingers around your nipple teasingly.

“Mhm,” you moan. Sunghoon’s hands decide they’re done toying with your tits, drifting back down to their original target between your shorts. “Want Daddy to fuck me now.”

He places a kiss against the side of your neck, right over the vein that runs beneath the skin. Sunghoon kisses and nips down your skin, until his hair is tickling your collarbones as he sucks a hickey against the juncture between your neck and shoulder. “Is that the right way to ask for something?” he purrs, rubbing your cunt over your shorts.

It’s nowhere near as fulfilling as it would be without the garments. Nonetheless, it makes you ache for him, thighs quivering at the simple touch like you’re a bumbling virgin being touched for the first time. You’re nowhere near that, but every time with Sunghoon was exhilarating enough to the point it felt like it was.

“Pretty please,” you pant, covering his hand with yours.

Sunghoon rewards you with a fluttery kiss against your shoulder. “Good girl,” he hums. He finally gives you what you want, bypassing the fabric of your shorts and panties to dip his fingers between your folds. You gasp, hips jumping at the sudden brush of his hands along your quivering folds.

From your very first date you were enamored with him; the dip of his Cupid’s bow, so innocent and cute, embodied every single aspect of his personality. He was the sweetest, softest boy, one your brain could never conjure in a thousand years. Sunghoon’s level of care was hard to come by nowadays; he was a gentleman through and through.

Any other day Sunghoon would bask in the attention, let you bruise his skin up until he was violet from love.

Today… well.

You were playing a different game.

“No ‘please’?” he huffs, turning your head to meet his eyes.

The action makes Sunghoon scoff as he leans away from you. He leaves you on his lap alone, like a tiny island desperate to join the main land. You shuffle around in a hurry, looping your arms around his neck in a last ditch effort to calm him down. It does nothing for Sunghoon, who only prods his tongue along his cheek as he regards you with a calculating gaze.

After a moment, he finally says, “on your knees.”

Anywhere else you wouldn’t have minded. In fact, anywhere else you would’ve been on the floor before the sentence even left his mouth. You loved sucking his dick almost as much as he loved eating you out. However your knees were embarrassingly frail against hard flooring, which is why most blowjobs had been administered in the comfort of his bed or the couch. Sometimes on carpeted surfaces, but Sunghoon never pushed when he knew you would be aching the whole time.

Which is why his current demand has you standing stiff. “O-On the floor?” you murmur.

The stark truth was that Sunghoon had you terribly spoiled. His constant pampering had convinced you you were invincible. His love was practically handed to you on a silver plate, cloth napkin folded like a crane beside it. He had never made you do something you didn’t like, and he had never put you in an uncomfortable position, mentally or physically.

Until now.

Sunghoon gestures for the ground with a curt nod. “Is there a problem?” he inquires.

Sunghoon was so cool. He was so suave and composed. He was the opposite of you, which is why the two of you meshed so well together. You’ve thought about it about ten times tonight, but it was true. Despite all that, there were times his mature exterior made you feel small— small and silly. Like now, with him sitting against the sofa, dark eyes tracing up your legs in amusement.

You sink to the ground, very pointedly avoiding his gaze. The wooden slats are cold and hard beneath your knees, your kneecap immediately screaming in discomfort. Sunghoon leans forward with his elbows on his knees, messy curls covering half of his face. “You know,” he hums, reaching out to trail his knuckles across your cheekbone. “I kinda like having you like this,” he admits, “below me like the good little girl you are.”

Your breath stutters as it leaves your lungs, fidgeting hands tugging at the front hem of your shirt in a feeble attempt to cover yourself up. Sunghoon smirks at the movement, eventually retracting his hand to give you one, condescending pat on the head.

His sweatpants give away easily, elastic band snapping away from hips. You have to fight that and his boxers down, Sunghoon sitting like an immovable boulder in front of you. You barely manage to free his cock— the same jumbo cock you had referred to earlier —and it almost slaps you across the face from the force of its recoil. Your breath catches in your throat, a short-lived squeal as you flinch at the movement.

The sound causes him to look your way, over the bridge of his nose. “Do you mind?” he says scornfully. “I’m trying to watch a movie.”

“S-Sorry,” you stammer, quickly grasping his cock between your fist.

But apparently you’re doing everything wrong tonight. Sunghoon hisses. “Shit— would it kill you to lick it first? Like you’re trying to start a damn fire on my cock,” he mumbles, head lolling back to watch the screen again.

You move in slower this time, careful to lick your palm before trying to grab him. When you do, it’s even more delayed, fingers hesitantly tightening around his swollen member. You’re trying to gauge his reaction, worried eyes flickering up to him every few seconds. Sunghoon doesn’t object, craning his neck to the side to crack a joint there. With his clearance you carry on.

The strokes are slow at first, hand barely reaching over his tip like he likes. You’re weirdly anxious you’ll mess up for him, make him look at you with contempt. You suppose it’s because of the game you’re playing that you’re on edge. Usually, Sunghoon adheres to your rules, soft as they may be, and he never pushes where you don’t want. Tonight, it’s like you’re a show dog desperate to impress her owner. In short, you were his bitch.

You loved it.

As much as you wanted to be good for him, the mere thought of your normally sweet-hearted boyfriend glaring down at you does something to you, makes your pussy clench.

When his cock hits the back of your throat, you’re ten chapters deep into an erotic novel all about sucking Sunghoon‘s dick. If your eyes weren’t already shut you’re certain they’d be at the back of your head anyway. It twitches against your tongue, one thick bead of precum sliding down your throat.

It seems to be the final straw for Sunghoon, who clamps a hand down on the back of your head, forcefully pulling you away only to shove you down again. With his grip in your hair, he really goes to town. You whimper at his brutal movements, his cock nudging the back of your throat with every harsh tug of your hair. The slippery, wet glide of his cock against your mouth fills the room with a lewd squelching that drowns out the movie.

Your pussy quivers with each new intrusion, thighs pressing together as if that will quell the searing ache between them. It doesn’t, and when Sunghoon finally bursts in your mouth, creamy cum splattering against your tongue and lips, it only grows.

Sensing your uncertainty, Sunghoon tugs you onto his lap. He presses one soft kiss against your cheek, eyes momentarily losing their hard edge to assure you everything is fine. You give him a tiny nod, as if assuring him you’re okay. He presses his mouth to yours, plush lips soothing over your raw lips. It’s brief, the kiss; he guides you through it but switches back quickly. He pulls away and bites down harshly on the side of your neck. “So perfect for me, pretty girl,” he murmurs, soothing his bite over with a swipe of his tongue.

You dissolve into a mushy puddle on his lap, muscles growing weak from his touch. Sunghoon kisses down your neck, over your t-shirt clad chest, before he’s nudging you back down onto the cushions. With him looming over you, your body instinctively has you spreading your legs apart. His t-shirt comes up with one yank over his shoulders, sinewy muscles coming into view.

“Yum,” you whisper, hands reaching up to trail over his v-line. They’re quickly slapped away, a startled gasp pulled from your lips as Sunghoon takes your wrists in his hands.

Sunghoon mouths against your shoulder, lips tracing over the juncture where it meets your neck. “Hm,” he hums, taking a tiny sliver of skin between his teeth. “And if I said I wanted it hard?”

When the material is finally discarded off to the side, leaving you in that flimsy bra Sunghoon that snaps off, he strikes again. His tongue laps over your collarbone first, pouty lips ghosting over the skin as he makes his way to your breast. He takes one hardened peak into his mouth, drawing a shaky inhale from you. He rolls it between his teeth, tongue flicking the sensitive nub as you squirm beneath him.

Eventually he pulls away with a wet pop. Sunghoon smirks, a soft puff of air fanning over your newly bruised skin. “Aren’t you the prettiest little thing.” He pushes away from you with one strong arm, looking down at you with an unreadable expression on his face. “Watch the movie,” he says.

You blink. “Huh?”

Before you know it, he’s tugging you back up onto your feet. He pushes you around, nearly sends you toppling over the coffee table as he positions you to his liking. “hoon!” you exclaim, palms slapping down against the glass tabletop in an effort to catch yourself. Just barely, your reflection glares back up at you.

A tap against your pussy startles you from the sight. “Wha—“

It is in fact your favorite movie, the same one you had fought tooth and nail just moments prior to watch. On screen, the two damsels are exploring new things in their lives, just how you were experiencing Sunghoon’s true intensity for the first time. “It is,” you quietly confirm, back aching from the position.

Sunghoon either doesn’t care about your depleting strength or really trusts in you not to faceplant onto his glass coffee table, palms sliding down to the crease of your elbows to hold you. “Tell me what it’s about,” he says

Just as the words leave his mouth, something hard and wet prods against your folds. “Oh,” you cry, fists tightening into balls as the feeling overwhelms you. “ Sunghoon, please.”

One elbow is let go, and the abrupt release has you scrambling to catch yourself, your glass reflection coming a little too close. This becomes even more difficult when a hand suddenly strikes down hard against your ass, a startled yelp escaping you. Just as quickly as you were released, Sunghoon wastes no time snatching your back up, yanking you back until your cunt runs along his cock again.

“C’mon, pretty, thought you knew better,” he sighs playfully.

Sunghoon chuckles, and your heart backflips when he finally begins lining himself up. “It’s okay,” he assures you, in that same gentle tone he uses when you accidentally shove the wrong food down the sink disposal. “Baby’s still learning,” he says, pressing a chaste kiss against your shoulder as he begins pushing himself in. Just the head of his cock proves to be a struggle, swollen tip stretching your entrance wide. There’s an extra sting today from your half-hearted preparation, the both of you relying solely on your own arousal and excitement to let him in. It’s a nice kick.

A warning squeeze around your wrist. “Language,” Sunghoon reprimands, though his voice is strained and light.

You nod mindlessly, toes curling against the wooden floor. “It-It feels so good,” you whine. Your knees wobble dangerously beneath you, until you’re swaying just the slightest bit.

The praise has your stomach tightening, the pretty images flashing across the screen completely lost on you. You felt so full. The two of you rarely did it like this, without looking at each other straight on, but there was something about Sunghoon’s looming figure being distorted by your brain’s memory, his touches wild and unpredictable, that made something inside of you twitch.

Behind you Sunghoon tuts at your incompetence, thrusting forward with an intensity that would have sent you flying if not for the grip he has on you. “You don’t know?” he huffs, tugging your elbows back again as if to secure his grip on you.

You suppose he’d been too lenient on you up until now, and that final claim makes him snap. Sunghoon scoffs, ramming his dick inside of you. “You’re being fucking terrible right now, doll,” he admits, hammering into you like a crazed man. You sob, the coil in your belly tightening with every brutal shove of his cock. It’s something about the way his composure withers away, all sweetness melting off as he thrusts into your cunt. “I’ve asked you twice now what the damn movie was about, and you didn’t answer either time.”

“And?” Sunghoon asks as you trail off, his words followed by a particularly brutal surge of his hips. His cock glides against your walls easily despite the way you clench around him.

“A-And they have problems they wanna avoid,” you stammer, the plot slipping in and out of your mind with every roll of his cock into your core. “So-so they swap places.”

Behind you, Sunghoon snorts. “What a stupid fucking movie,” he says meanly, before he begins to piston his cock into you. You’re trembling by now, your orgasm looming over your head with each thrust.

Before you can warn him, the thin string holding you together snaps, the sudden flood of relief making your knees buck dangerously. Sunghoon barely has enough time to catch you around the waist, holding you against him as a litany of curses and his name come spewing out of your mouth. “No, no,” you wail, your entire body twitching as the orgasm rolls over you. “hoon— Sunghoon!”

“I’m sorry,” you whimper, faintly aware of the rock hard cock between your pulsing walls, probably drenched in your cum now. “I-I didn’t—“

He shushes you quickly, settling the two of you back onto the couch. Funnily enough, he doesn’t bother pulling you off of him, his dick snug inside your cunt as he seats you on his lap. “You’re alright, sweetheart,” he comforts, hands soothingly running up your sides. You want to protest, want to get back on your knees and give him another chance to cum all over your face, but Sunghoon nudges your chin with a knuckle. “Watch your movie,” he croons.

The Princess and the Pauper is literally the last thing on your mind right now; didn’t he realize how much you wanted to please him? Why was he choosing now to be so stubborn? Oh, that Park Sunghoon, maybe Isa was right to call him an airhead.

Your slander campaign against your boyfriend is cut short when a hand flutters over your mound, thumb idly tracing over your sensitive clit. Before you can turn and look at him, Sunghoon is rutting his hips against you slowly. “The screen, baby,” he says, and you want to argue that you can’t possibly enjoy a movie with him being so sneaky beneath you. The words get washed away when he presses down on your clit.

“Koo— Daddy,” you whine, lower lips still trembling from the orgasm you had two minutes ago. Sunghoon responds with a kiss against your shoulder, hands trailing around your waist.

“No more of that,” he mumbles as he begins bouncing you on his cock. You moan, every inhale cut short by the shallow thrusts of his cock into your delicate walls. “Just your hoon now.”

“My… hoon,” you pant dreamily. Your cum provides an even better lubricant than before, lewd squelches filling the area alongside your cries as Sunghoon chases both your second orgasms.

Something inside of you tightens painfully, and you’re not sure if it’s your heart or your pussy. You guess it’s both, as you stutter out, “y-your pretty girl?” Sunghoon hums in agreement, repeating your favorite nickname back to you. The rest of your words die out between the two of you, lost in the slow and soft movements that fill in. You want to tell him you love him, adore him like no other, but every breath of air is stolen away by him.

Eventually the two of your are cumming, your second orgasms much quieter and slower compared to your first. You still mewl, wither against him when you cream his cock, and Sunghoon catches you all the same. He guides you through the fog with kisses against your jaw, your dripping pussy helping him through his own.

“You’re gross,” he retorts softly, blinking in that slow, drawn out way he does when you know he’s sleepy. His t-shirt runs along your neck, collecting the sweat there.

Sunghoon laughs quietly, looking at you with an adoring expression on his face. He doesn’t even finish cleaning you off, tossing the soiled shirt somewhere off to the side in favor of cuddling into you. “Where? My Jumbotron?” he teases, raining down a parade of kisses against your face. “Don’t wanna,” he smiles, too soft and boyish for the words that leave his lips next. “Wanna lick your pretty pussy clean.”

“Park Sunghoon,” you scold, covering your face with your palms in embarrassment. “Look at your stupid IMAX screen and leave me alone.”

“Get off of me.”

——

Just as you predicted, Sunghoon’s mom gives him the scolding of a lifetime when she drops by the next weekend. The poor woman nearly faints at the theater screen on the wall, only to quickly regain herself. You giggle from your spot on the couch as she whacks his stupidly ripped bicep with the leek you’re supposed to chop up for dinner later.

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creativeskullcreations · 4 years ago

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Outside chapter 12: Move Out!

Whoo, got this up in time! :D

And we're meeting Stacy's other two friends! I hope y'all like them, or at least grow to like them cause we'll be seeing them a lot more in the coming chapters. They're important to the story. ;D

The apartment was full of boxes of Stacy's stuff that Will had spent however long packing for her. To the young woman, who hadn't been home in weeks, it was an odd feeling seeing her home in boxes, with her shelves and closet empty. Currently she was helping to move said boxes into the U Haul outside. By which I mean she was holding the door for Will and Mason, who were the ones actually moving the boxes. While the boys were busy, Lisa was cleaning out the cupboards and fridge, which Will had forgotten about completely despite being there so often.

"Seriously, Will! You've been over here for how many days, and never thought to check the fridge for leftovers?" Lisa asked as she threw the food, Tupperware and all, into the trash. "What, were you just bringing food from home everyday?"

"Yes." Will answered seriously, not looking up from his work. The blonde woman stared dumbfounded before rolling her eyes.

"Unbelievable! Mason! You hearing this shit?" She called. Mason gave a thumbs up as he walked by, arms laden with shoe boxes. Stacy watched him closely, not wanting to lose her old games in case he dropped them. Not that she could do much to catch them with only one arm, but she could at least yell at him for it.

"It's not that big a deal, Lisa." She told her friend, after making sure Mason could navigate the stairs okay. "Really, most of the stuff in there had probably already gone bad anyways."

"That's not the point! It's still a waste!" The blonde insisted, dumping a bottle of juice with clouds of mold floating in it into the trash. Stacy winced, knowing she'd bought that back in December and then forgotten about it. It was still mostly full, too.

"Yeah..." She moved back to the couch, where she'd left her bag. Inside the bag was Scout with the Switch. It was a risk bringing her while they did this, but somehow Stacy felt it would be a bigger risk to leave her behind. So she'd brought her along, making her she had the Switch to stay entertained, even if she had to keep the sound off. And so far, nobody seemed to have noticed.

She opened the bag, peering inside. The Puppet was curled up in the bottom, the Switch off and sitting next to her. "Hey, you okay in there?" She asked quietly.

"I'm fine!" Scout hissed back. "Close the fucking bag!" Stacy did so, zipping it all the way shut and leaving it on the couch. She sat next to it, watching the others work to pack up her home, moving the boxes down to the U Haul in the street. She wanted to help, but the few times she attempted to she dropped stuff, and then Will finally made her stop.

Still, she felt restless, so much so that eventually she grabbed her bag and stood up. "Hey, I'm going for a walk! I'll be back later!" She called out. Mason, who was nearby, gave her a wave of acknowledgement.

"Don't get eaten by the gators." He told her. She waved back, but ignored him as she went down the stairs, pausing just at the door to open it back up and grab Scout out of it.

"Hey!" She protested, but Stacy ignored her, holding her in the crook of her right arm as she swung her bag back on. It was difficult to do one handed, and she did need to try and maneuver around Scout, but she managed to get it back on

"We're going for a walk. You need some air." She told the Puppet as she did this. Said Puppet still struggled to try and break free, pounding fabric fists against her arm.

"No I fucking don't! I need to go back in the bag!" She fought against her Host, but was ignored as Stacy continued out of the lobby and walked down the sidewalk outside. Eventually she gave up, realizing that her fighting would only attract the attention of strangers. Instead she huddled back against Stacy's body at the largeness of the world around her, that she only now viewed completely unobscured. She stared with wide eyes as the human hurried her way down the street, crossing it periodically, until she came to a place empty of buildings.

Greenery covered the area, a shade the Puppet had never seen before in fact. There was a large body of water in the middle, and some odd, colorful object in one "corner" of the area. Tiny Hosts, children, were playing on the objects, but Stacy went right by them. Instead she headed down the path to a more secluded and wooded area. She sat cross-legged by a tree, finally letting Scout go. The Puppet flopped over in her lap.

"Why are we even out here?" She griped, staring at the grass. There was a weird red bug not far away, that she hoped wouldn't come close to them. If it even tried she would smack it.

"Because you need fresh air. You can't just hide in the bag all day, no matter what Will says." Stacy told her. "Besides, I don't like watching them do all that for me, knowing I can't help them." She very much did NOT look at her stump, absolutely not. Instead she stared through the trees at the still somewhat visible lake. There were ducks on it, and she could see a couple of people feeding them.

She wondered if Scout would like feeding them.

Rather than getting up, though, she stayed seated, letting Scout look around instead. She'd been meaning to bring the Puppet out here, but hadn't had a chance before the hospitalization. And then there was the remainder of the healing, taken place at Will house - now her and Will's house - during which he'd barely let her out of sight. It was only after an intense, whispered argument that he'd even begun to let up and allow her to do stuff for herself again, though he'd still hovered.

And now they were finishing packing up her apartment, ready to make the move complete. It was a shame, in her mind. She really did love her independence. But, it was better for everyone involved if this move happened. Especially Scout. If her and Will staggered their schedules, someone could be with her at all times.

(Stacy didn't know yet why that was so important, though. She just knew she didn't want Scout alone.)

But now, at least, she could take Scout out to enjoy some nature. And even now she had crawled down to the ground to pick at the grass, and Stacy winced when she thought of the grass stains that would form. But, she didn't stop her, letting her explore around a little, and look at things. Scout even picked up a stick, though she only used it to swat a ladybug.

Soon the Puppet climbed back into her lap, looking mildly disgusted and agitated. "I hate it here. It smells fucking weird, and I want to go back to your house."

Stacy snorted, but complied, getting up with only a little difficulty. Scout climbed up to her shoulder, stick still in hand. "Fine, we'll go back. It's almost lunch time anyways. Also what you're smelling is the trees and grass."

"The trees and grass fucking stink." Scout grumbled, and Stacy did laugh quietly at that, and got smacked lightly with the stick for it.

"Well, you're not wrong." She admitted, grabbing the stick away from the Puppet and dropping it on the ground. "It can be kinda an acquired taste, so to speak."

"Ew." Scout muttered, covering her nose as they started back the way they'd come. She glared suspiciously at the plants as they passed, as though she was worried they'd spray their stench right at her.

Stacy wondered what she'd think about skunks when she found out about them.

They made their way back to Stacy's apartment in silence, though it was a more comfortable silence than before. As Stacy made her way back upstairs to her apartment, Scout took the chance to hide in the bag. Stacy may believe her friends were good, but that didn't mean Scout did. Not that it mattered much, anyways.

Soon after Stacy got back, the group decided to go for lunch, which really just meant that Mason went to get McDonald's. Stacy asked for a Happy Meal, then slipped the opened toy into her bag for Scout when no one was looking. She didn't know if the Puppet would even want the little Barbie, but it certainly didn't hurt to offer it up.

They all ate quickly, talking and laughing as they did. Lisa ribbed Will on when he would propose, now that they were living together. "You only have so long before her other hand goes." She pointed out jokingly. "Then where will you put the ring?"

Will just shrugged, and Stacy pelted her with chicken nuggets. Mason laughed.

"The neck, obviously. She'd need a nice collar to help keep her out of trouble." He explained. "I could even make you a fancy chain for night time if you need it."

"Wow!" Stacy gave an over exaggerated gasped, though she wasn't really offended. Far too often had she sneaked out at night to go explore some place or another. "And right after I threw my nuggets at Lisa, too!"

"Don't fault me on my timing!" Will smacked a ketchup packet on the back of his head, making a horrid squelching sound. "Ew! Will!" The man's voice jumped up several octaves, but Will just kept on chewing his burger.

"Oof. That's gonna need a shower. You're showering when we get home Mason." Lisa said as he tried to clean his hair with some napkins.

Eventually, though, they managed to finish eating and get back to packing. And after that it wasn't long before all of the boxes loaded up into the U Haul. As they filtered out, Mason, Will, and Lisa carrying the last few boxes, Stacy paused to take one last look.

The living room looked just like it had before she moved in. Kind of sad, really, even with the memories it brought back. She could almost see herself and her family helping her move in four years ago, and remembered the excitement she'd felt back then. Or when she'd bring Will over, before he'd moved out here himself, and how much fun they'd have.

She didn't want to leave. Will had to come back up and lead her out, then drop the keys off at the office with her.

Stacy got into the U Haul with Mason and they made their way to Will's house. They would unload it tomorrow, with another fast-food lunch somewhere in there. Until then they were all due for a good night's sleep and some real food for supper.

After Mason and Lisa left and Will started on dinner, Stacy opened up her bag to finally let Scout out. "Finally!" The Puppet gasped out dramatically, flopping out onto the couch. "I though I was going to fucking die!"

"Oh please, you were fine." Stacy snorted. "And don't worry, tomorrow we'll be working here and you can stay in the bedroom. I'll make sure Lisa and Mason stay out of there."

"Uuuuugh!" She groaned, rolling onto her back. "How much longer do I have to deal with them?!" She yelled at, and Stacy almost did laugh at that.

"You aren't dealing with anything but being in the bedroom." She told the Puppet, standing up to go set the table. "Do you wanna eat supper with us tonight?" She asked, more than a little hopeful.

"Nah, you guys go on ahead." She said, already making her way across the couch to the remote. "I found this cool show I wanna watch instead."

"Oh. Did you want me to bring you some food, then?" Stacy hoped she would say yes. She didn't know for sure if Scout needed to eat, but didn't want her to go hungry either way.

"Nope." The Puppet said, in a tone that signaled the end of any discussion on it. Stacy didn't push, and instead went into the kitchen herself. She leaned on the counter on her good hand and sighed heavily.

"You can't make her eat or join us if she doesn't want to." Will told her, deadpan. Stacy pouted.

"I know. But!" She shot up. "What if she needs to eat? What if she starves herself because of something I did? Or because she hates it here?" Will stopped stirring the meat in the pan, fixing his girlfriend with a hard stare.

"Stop freaking out." He told her, then blinked as he realized something. "Wait... Did you take your meds today?" He asked.

"No they need to be refilled. But I'm fine without them, these are real concerns, Will!" She insisted, and he just sighed, turning back to the pan.

"Yeah... we're getting those refilled as soon as possible." He muttered, though not quietly enough.

'Will!" Stacy smacked the counter, but was ignored.

#hello puppet #fanfiction #outside #Scout #Stacy Stein #Will Carson #Mason Kamiya #Lisa Montgomery

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excindrela · 5 years ago

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12 Days of Demon Ayno - Day 3 (18+ M)

Supernatural AU

Pairing: demon! Ayno (Noh YoonHo) VAV x Female Reader

Genre: Fluff & S M U T

Warnings: Fingering, Graphic sex (semi-public, mirror, un-protected)

Word Count: 2435

AN: Welcome to Day 3 of the 12 Days of Demon Ayno! As promised, here’s the SMUT! (Oh don’t worry- there’s more where this came from!) I love feedback- so if there’s something you like, or something you want to see- tell me!! Hope you like it!

Demon Ayno: Summoned, Thanksgiving, 12 Days: Day 1 | Day 2 | Day 3 | Day 4 | Day 5 | Day 6 | Day 7 | Day 8 | Day 9

On the 3rd Day of Christmas: You Took Ayno to the Mall

You were sifting through the mail, which at this time of year consisted mostly of ads and catalogs, when you saw the envelope. Oh no. You’d almost forgotten: the office Christmas party. There was no getting out of it, and worse, somehow your co-workers had found out you had a boyfriend. This meant you were going to have to take Ayno. You glanced over at him, sitting on the couch totally engrossed in yet another insipid Hallmark Christmas movie, and wondered how you were going to pull this off. There was no way he was going to just blend in: Ayno was tall and beautiful- the platinum blonde hair you were currently gracing him with making him even more of a standout. Once you put him in a suit and tie, he was going to stop traffic and hearts. You felt yourself getting lightheaded at the thought.

Right on cue, Ayno’s head swiveled in your direction, eyes already glowing burgundy and full of sparkle, as he gracefully rose and crossed the room in three short strides to press his body against yours and capture your mouth with his. “Did you need something?” he asked suggestively.

“Nope. I’m good.” You half lied.

Never one to take no for an answer, Ayno began softly kissing your neck. “Mmmmm...your pheromones suggest otherwise.” He said softly between kisses.

“With you kissing me like that, how could they not?”

You felt his lips curve into a smile. “I don’t see the problem…”

“The problem”, you said attempting to push him away, “is that once we get going, we don’t stop! …and I unfortunately have things to get done tonight.”

“I hope you were planning to add me to your to-do list” he mock pouted.

You laughed “You are always on my to-do list.”

* * *

Any thoughts you had that you were going to leave Ayno at home and just say “he couldn’t make it” went out the window at the end of the staff meeting the next day when Megan, who you usually referred to as Mega Bitch Barbie, cornered you and asked in front of everyone “So! Will we finally be seeing this mysterious boyfriend of yours at the Christmas party?”, the tone of her voice implying that no such person actually existed. Right then and there you decided that Ayno was definitely going, and in the most lethal look you could mentally conjure for him.

* * *

“Soooo…we have to go shopping.” You told him.

“Shopping?” he asked excitedly “Can we go to the store with the chicken feet and the large spikey fruit?” Ayno loved grocery shopping.

“No, sorry- this is not a trip to the Asian market. We have to go to the Mall.”

He looked a little disappointed. “Do we have to go through every store? Many of them seem the same. And some of them stink and make me sneeze.”

You laughed lightly. “I promise we will avoid Yankee Candle and Bath & Body Works. I have to find a dress to wear to the office Christmas party.”

“Oh. When will you go to this party?”

“In a couple weeks. You’re going too.”

Ayno’s whole face lit up. “I will go with you? You think it is ok to let people see me and meet me?” he asked.

“Of course! …and before you ask, yes, I will tell them you’re my boyfriend.”

“I promise I will try not to be awkward. I will say little and stay right next to you.” he said in a rush.

Your heart hurt a little- he was trying so hard. “You’ll be fine. You’re doing a great job of acting human.”

Ayno beamed and gave you one of those full body hugs you loved. “Do I need clothes for this too?”

“Well yes- and no. You do need a suit. But I was thinking I might just conjure your clothes.”

Ayno looked wary. “Is that a good idea? You know what happens…”

He wasn’t wrong in his concern. You had learned that when Ayno said he appeared however you desired him, he meant it literally. If you truly desired him to look like SpongeBob SquarePants in a pink housecoat and hair curlers, that is exactly what he would look like…and the change would take only moments. So, if you desired him to wear the outfit on the cover of GQ- that’s what he would be instantly wearing. The problem came in when you started thinking about things you’d like him to do to you and started picturing him naked…which was why you had invested in some actual real world clothes for him- those didn’t just disappear off his body the second your thoughts went NC-17.

* * *

You started with the department stores. Nordstrom & Bloomingdale’s were too expensive, and Dillard’s had a whole lot of nothing. That meant you had to hit the mall stores.

Ayno had proven to be good to shop with: three levels of consumer paradise always fascinated him, he offered honest assessments of anything you tried on, and had seemingly endless patience with the process- particularly if you gave him your cell phone to play with. He was totally addicted to Candy Crush.

This next store looked sort of promising. Over bright lighting, hard to navigate displays, tons of disposable fast fashion, and from the overhead speakers Mariah Carey was loudly declaring that all she wanted for Christmas was you. You saw several dresses you liked right away, and they had most of them in your size. The salesgirl lead you to the dressing room area at the rear of the store. They were co-ed dressing rooms that sat down a long hallway with wooden stadium style seats on one side and then the dressing rooms on the other with doors that reached almost to the floor. You stepped inside the room to discover it was actually rather spacious and had one of those awesome three panel mirrors that you could angle so you could actually see yourself from every position all at once. The first two dresses were absolute no goes: One of them was ill fitting, and the color on the other one washed you out. The third dress was a possibility if not a little boring. You actually had to take your bra off for dress number four: one of those tight stretchy neoprene numbers that looked almost like vinyl. Ok, this dress was a little too body-con for an office party, but you looked sexy as hell. You were tousling your hair, turning and admiring yourself when you heard a knock on the dressing room door. You were about to tell the salesgirl you were fine, when you heard Ayno’s voice low and husky “Open the door”. You cracked it open to see his eyes blazing burgundy and full of lust. He pushed through the dressing room door and locked it behind him. He moved around to stand behind you, wrapping one arm around your waist and pressing you to his body, the other hand rubbing your thigh and pushing the already-too-short-hem of the dress ever higher. “Mmmm you do look sexy, don’t you? He said as he captured your earlobe with his teeth and began nibbling and tugging on it. “Ayno! Stop!” you hissed. “What’s the matter baby? Afraid someone will hear us?” “YES! We will get thrown out! Or arrested!!” “Then you’d better stay quiet” he growled as he pushed 2 of his fingers into your mouth. This was the closest you had ever gotten to sucking Ayno’s cock, so you went to work on his fingers with all the pent-up frustration of having been denied that privilege. His large hand kneaded and grabbed your ass as you swirled your tongue around his fingers and sucked hard. While weaving a trail of pale strawberry marks across the top of your shoulders, he worked the dress to your waist; and still feeling the smooth skin of your bare ass, he glanced down at it. “Oooo…you are feeling sexy today! You’re wearing- what do you call this again? A “thong”? Such pretty black lace…” his eyes flared a brighter burgundy as he looked up at you in the mirror “…too bad it’s in my way.” Ayno bent down, and with one hand occupied by your mouth, he used the other to pull the string taut, and brought his teeth down to rip it away from the “whale tail” at the top. You felt it give way and slingshot between your legs, coming to dangle uselessly in the front. “That’s better” he said as he brought his free hand down to smack your ass. You squealed in surprise and jumped forward slightly. “Shhhh…I can’t fuck you if you won’t stay quiet.” Ayno admonished as pumped his fingers in and out of your mouth. He pulled them out with a pop and trailed them between your ass cheeks before sliding lower and slipping them into your juicy pussy. You sighed as he slid them in and out quickly causing a squelching sound. “Is all this for me?” he whispered. You nodded and whimpered slightly, suddenly needing to feel him buried in you. You moaned in protest as he abruptly removed his fingers, bringing his hand around to the front of you, running his fingers up and down between your folds before placing your swollen clit between his thumb and forefinger and gently rolling. You gasped, bighting your lips to keep silent as he brought his other hand up and gently lifted your chin until you look up and meet his eyes in the mirror. You could feel your tension building, as you ground your ass against Ayno’s hard cock, still straining to be freed from his pants. Suddenly he stopped, kissed your cheek and whispered “Not yet” low in your ear as you moaned in protest of your stolen high.

Ayno reached up slowly removed the straps from your shoulders and rolled the dress down your sides and off your body until it fell to the floor. He turned you slightly sideways and said, “Spread your legs, bend over, and put both hands on the left mirror.” Your core grew hot with anticipation as you followed his instructions. Then he reached over and adjusted the right panel of the mirror so you could see your naked body bent before him: breasts hanging free and dripping pussy on display like an open rose. You watched breathlessly as Ayno took his finger and ran it gently along the edges of each petal, and slowly swirled around the opening before pushing a single digit back in. A sigh escaped your lips as he worked the digit slowly back and forth before withdrawing it covered in your juices to swirl around the lips again. “So beautiful.” He murmured as he repeated his actions before bringing his fingers to his lips and licking them clean. His eyes never left yours as he unzipped his pants and let them fall to the floor next to the dress. He gently stroked himself and then brought the tip of his length to your waiting hole. He stroked the head of his cock up and down between your slick folds, lubing himself until you saw him prod the entrance, and begin teasing you by inserting just the head, and then withdrawing it. “Oh god Ayno- don’t tease me! Just fuck me” you pleaded. “So impatient” he said clucking his tongue at you. “Are you going to stay quiet?” he asked as he pushed in again. “Yes” you whispered desperately. He grabbed your hips and sheathed himself all the way in in one long steady stroke. You watched as his shaft disappeared inside you one centimeter at a time, your walls stretching as he pressed in until his thighs were flush against your ass. Then he dragged slowly all the way back out, allowing you to feel his every ridge. For a moment you could see his cock coated in your juices glistening in the dressing room lights, before he pushed himself all the way back in watching as your wet pussy lips parted to welcome him. Every time he pressed in you could feel the sweet stretch against your walls as he filled you and then the feeling of emptiness as your walls touched again when he withdrew. Ayno’s eyes met yours in the mirror “I love watching your pussy take my cock. Do you like it too? Do you like watching me fuck you?” he asked. “Yes, god yes…please Ayno, this is torture! Fuck me hard...” you whined. “Your wish is always my command” he said as he continued thrusting fully in and out of you, his pace building rapidly. The slap of his thighs against your ass was muffled by the sounds of Blink 182 telling you they would not be home for Christmas; but you watched your ass cheeks jiggle as his thighs connected, and your breasts bounce with every stroke. He continued pulling his full length out and slamming back into you despite the frenetic pace he now had. Your breath was coming in shallow pants as you reached one hand down to your throbbing clit and squeezed your eyes shut. You weren’t aware of how loud you were moaning until Ayno reached forward and clamped one hand over your mouth. “C’mon baby – don’t be scared- you don’t have to hold back.” he coaxed, seeing you fighting to keep your climax at bay. You could feel your stomach tighten and your legs starting to shake. Your moans became high pitched as your orgasm sent waves of pleasure through your body. Ayno pulled out and spun you around- pressing you against his body, your mound grinding against his bare cock and your whimpers lost in his mouth as you rode it out.

Suddenly there was a knock at the door. You broke away from the kiss, your whole body going stock still, shaking legs still being supported by Ayno. “Hi! How’s it goin’ in there?!” the voice of the overly cheerful salesgirl asked. Ayno broke into a huge grin. “Great! Thanks!” you called back, hoping you didn’t sound as shaky as you felt. “Was that a good size for you? Did that fit ok?” she asked. Ayno’s whole body began shaking with silent laughter. “Yep! It was perfect. Fit like a dream.” you answered back trying not to laugh. “Ok! Let me know if you need anything else!” she said as she moved on to check the next patron. “Maybe some new underwear…” you mumbled under your breath.

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