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thewritingginger · 4 years ago

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Valentine’s Day In

This is a bit late to say the least, I was hoping to post this on Valentine’s Day but school work had my ass occupied so for the past week I was going back and forth between school work and writing 😒

Also I know I have a bajillion wips todo, a few of which are Valentine’s Day prompts

bUt

I got a super cute fluffy idea for Valentine’s Day and the motivation came to me so I hope we can let it slide for now. Right? 😅

Anyways I hope you enjoy ~ Also I wrote this while listening to THIS, so if you want you can listen to it while you read as well :3

Fandom: Obey Me! Pairing: Satan x GN! Reader Word Count: 2,866 words Warning(s): Cheesy, kinda rom-com-y, probably not perfect lol

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The forecast was said to be sunny with slight cloudiness. When you opened the window this morning the sky was indeed cloudy, but instead of sun it was matched with a downpour.

You and Satan had planned the whole day together.

Starting with a relaxing morning of talking and reading in eachothers arms. Then to go for a walk around town, window shopping till dinner time. But since it was stormy outside and you weren’t really in the mood to get dressed up to then get soaked.

But although going out wasn’t really an option anymore, you were still going to spend your day relaxing with Satan as you’ve already planned.

The agenda was already in motion as you and Satan started your day having breakfast together, followed by hanging out in his room reading and cuddling. When it came to be around noon you went to take a shower. Once you were out, your hair still damp, you headed back to Satan’s room. But when you knocked on his door and opened it, the room was empty.

“Hmm.” Since he wasn’t in his room, you went to the study. But came to find he wasn’t there either, infact, he wasn’t anywhere in the house. ‘Where the hell is he?’ Letting out a sigh, you headed back to your room and texted him.

Y/n: “Hey, where are you?”

Satan: “Sorry, something came up and I didn’t get a chance to tell you. I should be home in a couple hours. 💚

Closing your messages you sigh, falling onto the plush mattress of your bed.

Since Satan wouldn't be around for a while you spent your time doing some work. In the time waiting for him you finished up an assignment for class and tidied up your room a bit. Nothing too exciting but it beat just sitting around. While scrolling through Devilgram you got another message from the awaited demon.

Satan: “I’m probably gonna be another hour or so.”

Sitting up in bed, feeling a bit defeated, you leave to go downstairs. On your way down you ran into Beel and Belphie. “Hey, Y/n.”

“Hey, Beel. Whatcha guys up to?”

“Nothing much, actually we wanted to see if you wanted to come hang out for a bit.”

Considering the request, you accept. “Sure, why not. Satan won't be home for a bit longer anyways.” You say, a bit sadder than you intended.

“Great! I got some new snacks I want you to try. Come on.” Beelzebub says with a smile, throwing his arm over your shoulder.

~~~

It had been awhile since you’ve entered the twins room. The time was spent eating different treats and chatting. Feeling ready to leave you stood up, “Well I think Imma head out. I had a lot of fun with you guys but I don’t want to intrude anymore.”

“Wait!” Beel says. Belphegor sighs at his brother's outburst.

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothings wrong.” Belphegor corrects. “It’s just that we don’t get to spend much time with you it seems. With you dating Satan and all, Beel just thought we could have you around a bit longer.”

You frown a bit. “I’m sorry guys, I didn’t know you felt that way.”

“Yeah, yeah. Just sit back down.”Belphie sighs, making you laugh.

~~~

Knock. Knock. Knock.

“Door’s open.” Beel hollars, not looking up from the card game the three of you are playing. The door opens,

“There you are.” You turn towards the familiar voice to see the man you’ve been waiting for. “Sorry I kept you waiting.”

“You should be.” You sass.

“Mind if I take her from you guys?” Satan asks his brothers. They nod their heads, engrossed by their game. Putting your cards down you say your goodbyes to leave the room with Satan. Once the door is closed you smack his chest, causing him to laugh. “Woah, easy.”

“You know, you left me high and dry, right?” You cross your arms, brow raised.

“Yes, yes I did. Won’t you forgive me?” Placing his hands on your hips, he looks down at you with his gemstone eyes.

“Fine! But don’t think I’ll let it slide again.”

“I wouldn’t expect it.” He smiles, punctuating his sentence with a chased kiss.

Back at your bedroom, you walk in while Satan stays on the other side of the door. “Well, aren’t you gonna come in?” You say.

“Nope. That’s because I’m leaving you to get dressed.”

“Wait, why?” You asked, confused.

“You’ll just have to find out, won’t you.” He grins, “Now get dressed. I’ll wait for you downstairs.” Before you can say anything else, he closed the door. And with that you spent the next hour getting ready.

Stepping in front of a mirror you take a look at your work. Wearing your best outfit, admiring how the rich green fabric accentuates your body perfectly. Your hair styled. Face fresh. Brushing the invisible wrinkles from your front you head to the stairs. From the top you see Satan standing at the bottom, dressed in his finest suit. His eyes light up when they land on you, a smile accompanying the starlight gaze.

Descending the staircase you take your time letting your eyes wander down his frame. His hair is combed back, allowing a clear view of his shape features. His body’s adorned with a well fitted suit, the breast pocket housing a pocket square in his signature color. Trailing your vision down to where his hands join at his stomach. A bouquet of peonies resides between his palms.

Nearing the end of the staircase he extends his hand, guiding you down the last few steps. Standing before him he looks down at you, words yet to be spoken between you. Bringing your hand to his lips he places a kiss on your knuckles.

“You look perfect.” He confesses, almost in a whisper as if speaking to himself. “These are for you.” Offering your hands the flowers, he smiles.

Looking down at the bouquet you admire the layered petals in variants of blush pink. Taking a breath of the sweet smell you sigh. “They’re gorgeous, Satan. You didn’t have to get me any~.” You’re cut off by a strong arm taking yours.

“Of course I did. Every beautiful person deserves the small treasures of life.” His voice is like butter. The way each syllable rolls off his tongue effortlessly, always seeming to have an answer for everything.

“Where are you taking me?”

“You’ll see.” He says with a wink.

Reaching the back of the house you are led to a door that leads into another study of sorts.

Upon opening the door you hear soft jazz and the fireplace crackling in the air. Looking around you see candles lit and flowers everywhere. A few vases of the same pink flowers in your hands scattered around the room and petals trailing a path through double-doors that lead to a patio area that has a full view of the lush garden with a pond. Outside under the covering you see a table set for two with more candles littered about. A bottle of wine and two glasses reside there waiting for you. Breathing in the smell of the earth mixed with the rain you sigh.

You’re speechless. The music. The setting. Him. It’s all perfect.

“Oh, Satan. This is… amazing. How~ When?” Your mind is racing.

“I’ve been working on it all day. Since we couldn’t go out for Valentine’s Day, I thought I’d bring it to us. Do you like it?” He asks, worried he might have done too much.

Placing your bouquet on the table, you turn around to wrap your arms around his shoulders, drawing him in for a kiss.

Pulling back you gaze into his eyes, your fingers gently raking through his golden locks. “I love it.” Satan smiles, relieved. ”So, I’m guessing that’s why Beel and Belphie asked me to hang out. You just needed a distraction, and here I thought they actually missed me.”

“Well, truthfully, I did ask them to make sure you didn’t come downstairs. Though, what they did to accomplish that I had no part in. But enough about that, please ~.” Satan says, gesturing at the quaint table. “Would you like to sit down?” Satan asks, pulling out your chair. Accepting his invitation you sit down. His fingers linger awhile after pushing you in, as he makes his way to the other side of the table. Handing you a glass of wine he poured, your fingers hold his for a moment before separating once again. “You’re not cold are you?”

You shake your head. “No, I’m fine.” You were definitely more than fine, you actually began to feel a bit warm. The way his eyes look over you. Unable to read what he must be thinking. Your guesses and wishes of what those thoughts may be only made you warmer. Shaking yourself from those thoughts you relax into your chair.

Sitting in comfortable silence. The music playing, lulls you into a trance. Sipping your wine you sway to the mellow notes. You don't notice right away how Satan is watching you. His chin propped on his hand, a smile pulling at the corners of his lips. When you see him eyeing you, you sit up straight and laugh a bit. You feel your cheeks heat up slightly.

Getting up, Satan offers you his hand once again.

“Won't you dance with me?”

“Of course.” You say, taking his hand.

Standing in the middle of the covered area, your left hand enclosed in his as your right rests on his shoulder. His strong arm wraps around your back holding you close. Swaying to the notes playing in the air, you rest your head on his chest. Breathing in the scent of his cologne mixed with his natural musk. His cheek rests upon your head, pressing a gentle kiss in your hair.

Looking up, your eyes meet, foreheads touching. His eyes alone are enough to speak a thousand words for him. They tell you everything he doesn’t.

They compliment you. Say how much they adore you. They say, ‘I need you!’

In this silent conversation your free hand moves to cup his cheek. The sweet touch makes him sigh into you. Reachin up he holds your wrist to kiss your palm. His eyes, never leaving yours. You can’t help the giggle that leaves your throat. The sweet yet sensual motion creates butterflies in your stomach.

Releasing you, allowing your hand to resume its place on his shoulder as his, goes to rest on your hip.

“You know I love you, right?” He says. A flirtatious glint in his eye.

“Well of course you do. It’s only natural.” You say playfully making him laugh. His toothy grin makes your heart flutter.

“Is that so? Then tell me Y/n, what else is ‘only natural’?”

Your breath gets caught in your throat for a moment. No matter how long you’ve been together he still somehow manages to make you flustered and giddy. Biting your lip in thought, you smile.

“Well, ignoring the fact you’re a demon and I’m a human.” You start. Pulling another low chuckle from the blonde. “I’d say, this moment and every other moment shared between us is. Being with you, whether in sweatpants on your bed or dressed up like we are now, every minute spent with you is perfect.”

“So you’re telling me I didn’t have to do all this then? I wished you told me sooner, it would’ve saved me a lot of time” He says with a chuckle and slapping his shoulder only made him laugh harder. But you couldn’t help but laugh along with him.

“You think you’re so funny, huh?”

“Well I’d like to think I’m quite humorous” He says, pulling your waist into his. Leaning down for a kiss but you pull away.

“Is that so? Then prove it.”

He studies your challenging eyes. Kissing his teeth he accepts your jab. “Ok. Then how do you suspect I’ll do that?”

“Hmm.” You look to the side, pondering the question. Then an idea popped in your head. “Ok Mr. Humorous, why don’t you prove to me just how fun you can be by jumping into the pond.” You say, holding back a smile. Seeing him process your request, you are about to laugh when you see him beginning to take off his blazer. “What are you doing?”

“What does it look like? I’m doing as you asked.” He says with a smirk.

You watch him remove his blazer and button up, followed by his shoes and socks. Standing straight in all his shirtless glory you take a moment to appreciate his physique. His smooth skin stretched over toned muscles. The flexing of his arm as he moves to sweep his hair back to look at you.

“What are you waiting for? Take off your shoes, unless you want to get them dirty.” He says. You let out a hum as his words shake you from your thoughts. He laughs, as if knowing what had you distracted. “You didn’t really think I’d be walking out there alone did you? I expect you to help me out since you’re the reason I’m going to be in there.”

“Fine. But only if I get to push you in.” You say taking off your shoes. He smiles at your requirement.

“Fine by me.”

Holding your jacket over your head to shield yourself from the rain as much as possible you and Satan begin to walk across the grass.

At the pond Satan turns to you, “So are you gonna push me in or do I have to jump in?” Laughing at his question but mostly at his appearance. Already drenched without stepping a single foot into the water.

“Oh I’m gonna push you in.” You say. Inching to the edge of the pond, ready to push Satan in. When your hands make contact with his hot skin a hand wraps around your wrist and before you knew it you were going down with him.

Splashing into the water you come up gasping at the frigid temperature. “Satan!” You say splashing water in his face. All you can hear is the rain and the hearty laugh coming from the demon’s chest. Slicking your hair out of your face you look at the man still laughing. “It’s not funny!” Though despite your words you couldn’t suppress the laugh that comes out of your mouth as well.

“It’s pretty funny if you ask me.”

“That was not part of the deal.”

“Well actually, our deal was you get to push me in. Nowhere in that agreement did we state I couldn’t pull you in with me.” He says, stepping closer to you. His strong arms holding you close edging away the cold around you.

“Well remind me next time to cover all bases because that was cheap and you know it.”

“They don’t call me a demon for nothing.” He says. His voice low, a small smirk playing his lips. Droplets of water fall from the loose strands of hair around his face.

“You look like a wet dog.” You say, pushing his wet hair back.

“I think we both do but that doesn’t matter, right? What was it you said earlier? No matter where we are, as long as we are together, it's perfect? Well to that I couldn’t agree more.” His words make you smile, warmth fills your chest. Wrapping your arms around his shoulders, pulling him in. Once your lips touch the arms around your body tightens, lifting you up. Encircling your legs around his waist your kiss deepens. Your tongues dancing with one another. The taste and feeling of him sends electricity through you. Your fingers coil in his wet locks. Everything around you faded away. You couldn’t feel the rain or hear the music playing in the house anymore. Your senses are completely consumed by him. His touch. His smell. Everything. You wanted it all. You couldn’t care less where you were at this moment. You’d sooner let yourself drown in the water around you than let go of him. How can one person have such an affect on you?

Pulling away, both catching your breaths, your foreheads resting against each other. Though separated, the heat between you two is ever-present. His large hand cradles your cheek, keeping you close. His eyes shut for a moment to collect himself before looking back to you. His gaze is softer than before,

“I love you more than you know. Thank you for being mine.” Your chest swells. Stocking his cheek you kiss his lips once more.

“You don’t need to thank me, Satan. But I will ask you to warn me next time you decide to throw me in water.” You tease, but you both know you don’t really mind how things turned out.

“Let’s go back inside and warm up by the fire.” He smirks.

“I’d love that.”

Satan carried you back to the study where the rest of the night was spent by the fire where many more heated touches were shared. Maybe getting soaked in the rain wasn’t so bad after all.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------- Oh lord she can never post anything on time or in a timely manner huh? . . . Nope! :)

But I hope you enjoyed this somewhat. I know it’s not perfect but I still think it’s pretty cute. Cheesy ... but cute :3

I hope you had a good Valentines day with your 2D or 3D baes.

Till next post ~ 💛💛💛

#obey me!#shall we date obey me #shall we date #obey me satan #shall we date satan #satan #satan x reader #x gn reader #obey me x reader #fluff #valentines day

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a-pretty-nerd · 4 years ago

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Torture (Klaus Hargreeves x Fem!Reader)

Request: "I was wondering if u could do a KlausxFemale reader where Klaus needs to cum but Y/N wont let him as "torture" I thought this could be really fun."

A/N: Bruh, the Klaus fandom is wildin' I love this. If you like my work, don't be afraid to interact! I love hearing from you guys and getting requests! I also post original content on my Wattpad if you wanna check that out. And if you wanna support me further, I have a Patreon!

Warnings: NSFW, dom/sub relationship, edging, etc.

Klaus had been particularly bad the last week. He was especially needy, both emotionally and sexually. Every night he craved your body and asked to bury himself deep inside you. One thing that always annoyed you about Klaus was his habit of forgetting your own sexual needs.

Sex was always a comfortable vice for Klaus, and sometimes his desire for you consumed him so much he forgot to check on you a little. Just a few unsatisfied or annoying nights. But tonight, you would have your revenge.

You see, you fully planned to edge him for hours on end. You dressed yourself just right, just to drive him wild with lust. To make sure he knew you were in charge. He looked you up and down, licking his lips as you watched lust wash over his expression.

"Is it my birthday?" He joked as he approached you. You sat on the bed, black leather straps decorating your bra covered breasts and thighs. Heels hugging your feet as you lifted your leg. You stopped Klaus dead in his tracks, placing the heel to his stomach. He looked down, bringing his hands to caress your ankle and calf. He slowly knelt down to the floor, kissing up your leg.

"What will I call you tonight, darling? My lady? Ma'am? Mistress?" He purred, reaching his hands up to your thighs. You hummed in thought.

"Call me whatever you like. Tonight isn't for me," you pressed your heeled foot against the growing bulge in his tight skinny jeans, "its for you." He let out a soft gasp as his hips thrusted up at your touch. He reached his hands back to better buck up for more friction. You let the needy man dry hump your foot before you brought the toe of the shoe lower, pressing against his twitching balls. He let out a sharp moan.

"Ohh fuck. You're not happy with me, are you?" He asked after a little while of painful teasing. You pressed a little harder, knowing it would hurt him just right. His jaw dropped.

"You've always been a fast learner, huh? You're right. I'm not happy with you. Can you guess why?" You asked, removing your foot from his cock, and pushing him to the floor. You stood over him, looking down as he palmed his bulge with his hand.

"I forgot to do the dishes?" He asked. You kicked away his hand.

"No."

"I ate the last-" you chuckled at him.

"No." He thought for a little, watching you press your shoe onto his chest.

"I've been extra needy lately?" He finally asked.

"See? I knew you'd get it."

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to be so annoying." You knelt down, pressing your chest to his so he got an amazing view. You felt his aching bulge twitch against your clothed pussy.

"Its not that, that bothers me baby." You cooed. "You've been so wrapped up in your own head, you almost forgot about me." You started to grind yourself down on him. Making his breath hitch in his throat. "I thought I'd give you a little reminder." You whispered to him before pressing your lips to his. He held you close to him, kissing you back passionately and letting out sweet little moans as he did.

"I'm so sorry baby, I didn't mean to-"

"Shhhhh. I know you are. And heres how you're going to apologize to me." You took his hands and pressed them over his head. You kissed and bit down his neck, working back up to nibble on his ear. "You're gonna do what I tell you do, understand?"

"Yes mistress." He breathed.

"You're not gonna so much as move unless I say so. You're not gonna cum unless I say so. And you're gonna be a good boy for me now, right?" You purred in his ear. He nodded, stilling underneath you, balling his hands into fists. "Good. Now," you let go of his hands, turned and knelt over his face, "eat up." You ordered.

Klaus's eyes widened at the sight of your soaking wet pussy hovering over his face. He reached his hands up to press your ass closer to his face before he buried himself in your tight hole. You let out a surprised gasp as he wet tongue lapped at your swollen clit through the fabric of your panties. He made sinful noises as he ate you out, moaning as he bucked his hips up into your face.

You knew he was painfully hard by the way he groaned when you pressed your palm against his cock. You had no intentions of rewarding him now. You ran your fingers along the struggling length in his pants. It pulsed and twitched, precum soaking through the fabric. You took his balls in your hands and squeezed roughly. He let out a pained moan into your folds. He started to pant as he went back to eating you out.

Soaking your panties, desperate to make you cum. You felt him suck at your clit and flick it gently with his tongue before engulfing it again. You bit your bottom lip in an attempt to quiet yourself. You felt you orgasm approach, grinding your hips down against his tongue. His arms hooking around your legs to keep you anchored to him. Your legs started to shake as your first orgasm rushed over you. Making you grind harder and hard down on him.

You soon pulled yourself off, already a shamefully panting mess. You stood to pull your panties off, instructing him to take off his pants. His hard cock sprung free happily. It was a bright, angry red at the head. He was so hard for you, it hurt. He whined as he watched you kneel over his cock.

"Now, since you were such a good boy and made me cum, I'll give you a little treat. But remember, you can't cum yet, not until I say so, alright?"

"Yes mistress." He nodded, his eyes rolling back in his head as he felt you sink onto him. His cock sliding in and filling you up perfectly. You still felt so sensitive from your last orgasm, you almost came again as he stretched you out so perfectly. Fuck he felt so good. And the way he moaned and gripped your thighs. Fuck, he made you weak.

You started bouncing on his cock, slowly, painfully slow. You watched his brow furrow, making him whine and pant. His nails gently dug into your flesh as he tried to urge you to fuck faster, harder. Unaware that a pace like that would be worse for him. His cock pressed up against your g-spot as you rode him, sending a flow of warm heat up your body. You moaned and soon you grew impatient. You needed to cum again. Your bouncing picked up, pounding your pussy onto his red, angry cock.

"Oh, oh, shit- ah- oh fuck!" He cried as you fucked him. He looked up at you, his eyes absolutely blown out in bliss as he begged. "Please, please, I wanna cum." He pleaded.

"Already? I'm not even close to being down with you." You growled, reaching a hand up to gently choke up. He let out a sweet gasp as you fucked him. Your second orgasm crashing into you, forcing a loud shout out of your lungs. You rode it out, slowly coming to a stop to feel him pulse inside you. "Fuck...what a good toy you're being for me." You told him, giving him another sloppy kiss. "This time, I think I'll let you fuck me." You told him. A light flickered in his eyes. You stood, bringing him to the bed where you bent over. You waved your soaking wet pussy at him, letting him come behind and rub his wet cock over your tight hole. You let out a loud moan with him as he push forward. His hands coming down to either side of your hips.

"Fuuuuuuuck. You- You feel so good." He purred before he started to trust. Starting at a good pace, not too fast and not too hard. You gripped the sheets as he fucked you. A third orgasm threatening to topple over again. "Shit. I'm close...I'm close...baby please. Please can I cum inside you?" You didn't respond at first, that third orgasm threatening to milk him dry. "Fuck! Please! Please! I need to cum! I need to! Ah! Ah! It hurts!" Suddenly he felt you push him back, forcing him to stumble back and away from you. Unable to keep his balance he toppled to the floor, sitting up just in time to watch you straddle him again.

You wrapped your arms around his head as you sank down on him. He held you tightly, trying to keep you close, trying to keep you from leaving him again.

"Hehe naughty boy, you almost came inside me didn't you?" You mocked him.

"Please let me cum. Please-fuck! Ah! Fuck It hurts, please! I need to cum." His eyes shut tight, holding you close to him as he buried his head on your shoulder. He bucked his hips up into you as you fucked one another. Finally, you gave in.

"M-Make me cum one more time and I just might-" he kissed you passionately before he threw his head back to the floor. His hips bucking up into you wildly, deeply. He grip keeping you on his cock as his feet kicked at the floor. He grounded his feet, pushing up with his thighs so deep. A few more hard, deep thrusts, you came around him. Letting out a sharp gasp.

"Y/N! Please!"

"Cum! Cum for me baby!" You told him, as soon as it left your lips, one last thrust drove his cock against your cervix. His cum flooding your willing pussy. He slowly began to relax as his orgasm raged on, making him twitch at times. He let out sweet and hopeless moans and curses. When he finally relaxed, you rested your head on his shoulder and kissed his cheek and neck. "Good boy."

"F-Fuck....babyyy..." he moaned.

"You did so good for me baby." You told him as he pushed back the sweat soaked hair that clung to his forehead. "You're such an amazing lover." You praised and held him tight to reassure him.

#klaus hargreeves #tua #klaus hargreeves x reader #klaus x reader smut #klaus harvreeves smut #klause harvreeves x reader lemon

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dw-writes · 4 years ago

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Sinful Saturday - On Command - Jesse Custer x Fem!Reader

WOOF OKAY!!! This took a LONG time to get out but here it is!!! (a little late, I’m sorry, i needed to make sure it was edited and what not but wanted to put it out this weekend). The prompts for this were originally taken from Kinktober, but since I couldn’t get this piece finished for that, I decided to put it here!!! I hope you guys enjoy!! Please let me know what you think!

Sinful Saturday posts WILL have warnings at the top of them, so that everyone knows what’s going on and what they will be getting into. I wanna use these days for exploring and practicing some things, so I don’t want anyone getting surprised when they read it. Thank you!!

Warnings: 18+ for: Drug Mention, Alcohol, Edge Play, Force Orgasm, Mind Control, Unprotected Sex

Fandom: Preacher on AMC

Pairing: Jesse Custer x Fem!Reader

“So,” you asked late one evening as you washed the dishes that Jesse brought you. He arched an eyebrow after his second time bringing you a stack of plates, each one filthier than the last – an expected sight after a Sunday evening barbeque at the church. You cleared your throat when he set it down and went to grab the last stack. “That power of yours,” you murmured.

“What about it?” he asked when you trailed off. He set the dishes at your elbow, then stepped around you. His hand trailed over the swell of your hips and his fingers pressed into the curve at the top of your ass. He picked up the drying towel.

Your cheeks warmed. It wasn’t the first of Jesse Custer’s lingering touches, and it wouldn’t be the last, especially not if you could get out the request on the tip of your tongue. You’d confessed it to Cassidy one night while the two of you drank, and he had insisted that you bring it up to the Preacher.

“Betcha some nice smack that he’d go for it,” said the vampire after taking a long swig from his coolant concoction. You choked on your mouthful of whiskey, coughing as it struggled to go down the right way. “If I’m right!” continued Cassidy as he leaned towards you, “You have to get me some.”

“No!” you protested.

“Spoil sport,” he grumbled.

Jesse nudged your shoulder and whispered your name. You hummed when you looked up. “Where’d ya go?” he gently asked. He’d lit a cigarette sometime during your daze, had even pulled an ash tray out of one of the cupboards.

You clucked your tongue and gently pulled it from his lips. He let you. He didn’t say anything when the tips of your fingers brushed his mouth. If you were a betting man like Cassidy, you’d wager everything you had that he had actually leaned in so they would. “Just thinking,” you finally said as you snuffed it out.

“Gotta be mighty important if it’s got you so occupied,” he mused. His chin lifted and he stared down his nose at you – not in a superior way, no, but in an inquiring way, in a way that made your face heat even more. “Or is it someone?” he teased.

You gasped out a laugh and focused on rinsing the dishes but didn’t say anything. It was stuck there, clinging to the tip of your tongue.

“It is, ain’t it?” he drawled, “Someone?” He shifted next to you, his hip pressing against yours as he took the next dish from you.

“Someone,” you managed to confess. You licked your lips. Sweat prickled over your brow and along your upper lip as the nerves rolled through you. “Yes,” you added while nodding.

“Who?” he asked.

And there it was. The Word. The Voice. It didn’t sound any different coming out of his mouth, nor did it ring any different when it entered your ears. But there it was. The Word. Genesis. The Gift from God. It didn’t open your mouth, but it lifted your eyes from the soap that covered your hands to his sweltering gaze and the smug little smirk that tugged up the corner of his lips. It was an answer to his question, and that seemed to satisfy the Word.

You dried your hands with the damp towel by your arm. Clearing your throat, you asked, “What all did Cassidy tell you?”

“Cass didn’t tell me a damn thing,” Jesse stated as he set the plate aside. His boots were loud as he shifted again and leaned on the sink, so close you could smell the afternoon sweat and dirt on him. He twirled a finger towards the room. “High ceilin’s, late nights, that desert silence,” he let out a slow sigh that almost tried your patience, “Not a great combination for keepin’ secrets, you know?”

“Bullshit,” you huffed.

His smirk grew into a sly grin and he shrugged. “I was up, getting’ a beer, heard the whole thing,” he confessed. Then, he sucked on his teeth, and that smolder returned to his eye. “Swearin’ in a church, now I think that’s a sin.”

You snorted. “Pot,” you said, flicking water at him, “Kettle.”

He laughed.

You handed him another plate.

He added it to the stack without drying it. “You know somethin’?” he asked. You hummed as you tried to focus on the dishes. They needed to be done, after all, or they’d start to stink come the morning. “Never took you for someone who liked to be told what to do,” he mused. The sweat formed a thick drop at your temple and rolled down your jaw. “Stop.”

(The fucking Word.)

Your hands froze. Your breath caught in your chest as another kind of heat bloomed in your face, the kind that melted down your throat and rolled like a summer heatwave right down to your thighs.

Jesse leaned his elbow on the counter and watched you. His eyes trailed from your lips, which you rolled together, to your chest that rose in deep and anxious breaths, and down to the subtle movement of your legs as you pressed them together.

He hadn’t done a damn thing to you, and yet you felt your underwear stick as they grew more and more wet the longer he stared and the longer he waited.

You knew it was coming when his eyebrow arched and the Word said, “Sit on the counter.”

You did, and you fidgeted with the button of your shorts, especially when Jesse splayed his fingers over your knees and pushed them apart. He moved slowly, mirroring the progress of his body between your legs with his hands along your thighs, until he pushed his fingers beneath the hem of your shorts and yanked you flush against him. Your fumbling hands fell from your half-undone zipper to brace against his stomach.

“Don’t think I said you could do that,” he whispered.

“You didn’t say that I couldn’t,” you replied just as softly. You watched his throat bob as he swallowed. You hesitantly turned your hands down, let them slip over the front of his jeans and down to the hard bulge of his cock.

Jesse grabbed a fist full of your shorts and stepped back, yanking them and the panties beneath them down to your knees in one jerk. You gasped and gripped the counter with a breathless, “Fuck!”

Once he pulled them over your shoes, he tossed them over his shoulder. He stepped back to you, gripped your thighs so tight that it hurt, pulled them high around his waist until you were tipping back. You reached for him, had your fingers combing through his hair when his mouth opened and the Word said, “Don’t touch me.”

Your hands slapped against the counter; elbows locked to keep you upright. You clenched your jaw. “That’s not fair,” you complained.

Jesse released one of your thighs. He hummed as he toyed with a button on your shirt, taking his time with popping it open, as well as the next, and the next, until the hem of your bra peeked through the gap, then the front clasp. He arched an eyebrow. “Don’t remember sayin’ this would be fair,” he murmured. He leaned forward to press a slow, opened mouth kiss against the swell of your breast, while his hand wandered back down. His fingers were warm. It felt good when he slid them over your clit, down through your folds, and back, smearing the liquid that had built up. He groaned against your skin, “Just look at you.” He leaned away from you, watching how easily his fingers pushed into you, how you pressed a foot against the counter to push your cunt into his hand.

You clawed at the counter. Jesse was certainly taking his time in pumping his fingers, rolling his thumb as slow as possible over your clit, all with a grin that slowly grew the more you squirmed in his palm. You shifted your weight, pressing your shoulders back against the cabinet, then made quick work of the rest of your buttons. You looped the sleeves around your hands. Pushing away from the cabinets, you slung the shirt around the back of his neck and tugged him to you, crushing his mouth against yours.

His fingers dug into your thigh, pulling it further up his side.

You rocked your hips into his hand, looking for more friction, more movement, more something that would break the tension building in your body.

He complied by pulling his fingers free from the taut muscles of your pussy and setting an almost intolerable pace against your clit. You couldn’t describe the noise that rumbled up your throat – something like a moan, and something primal – but whatever it was snapped Jesse from his surprise as he suddenly yanked the shirt from behind his neck and broke the sloppy kiss. You tried to follow him. The Word – fucking Genesis and fucking Jesse with his fucking command – stopped you a hairs width from his collar.

“Now,” Jesse panted as he tossed the shirt away, “That’s cheatin’.”

“I didn’t touch you,” you whined.

“You did,” he replied. He completed one more quick circle with your clit, then flicked his fingers up and away from it, stepping out of reach. “Touch yourself,” he said with all the power of God.

You pushed yourself back until you hit the cabinets. You fought the urge that tugged at your muscles – going so far as to grip the cabinet knob next to your head – as you slowly pushed two fingers into your mouth. You let your mouth drop open as you dragged them out, pushing you tongue between the two digits. A small droplet of saliva clung to the swell of your bottom lip when you pulled them free and dropped them to your clit.

Jesse watched every movement like a predator. He wasn’t nearly as slow or as teasing with his fingers as you had been – no, he sucked off the juice that coated his skin the moment he stopped talking, groaning at the taste of you in his mouth. He made a point to remove his collar as he did, tossing it gently on the counter – or was it the nearby table? – so that it wouldn’t get lost or damaged. His mouth made a pop when he pulled his fingers free.

(A sound that made you gasp a bit, made you bite your lip while you slowly traced the letters of his name against your clit.)

He tugged the shirt out from the top of his pants, unbuttoned it, shrugged it off. It landed somewhere with your clothes on the floor. Then he finally stepped closer. He hovered just beyond your knees as he undid his belt.

You swallowed, watching his fingers as intently as he watched yours – he watched the way you stroked your entrance, barely pushed your fingers inside, then trailed them up again between your lips and around your clit; you watched him drag his belt through the buckle, tug on it until the silver latch gave, then pull it clean out until it dangled by his fly. Fuck, you thought it would be burst open with how hard he was.

“Look at me,” he whispered, devoid of power and full of need. You hesitated; his fingers popped open the button of his jeans. His other hand slapped the cabinet next to your head. You jumped and your eyes snapped to his face. Your ears strained for the sound of him opening the zipper but couldn’t hear a thing beneath your own ragged breaths. “Good girl,” he rasped. His rough fingers covered yours, pushed your fingers into your pussy as far as you could reach. He dipped his head closer to yours. “It’s the quiet ones that surprise you, ain’t it?” he said into your ear. His lips brushed over your lobe. He guided your fingers in lazy thrusts that faintly squelched and groaned. You whined in response. “Like this. Never thought I’d get ya like this.” His tongue lapped at your pulse. He latched onto the spot with his mouth.

“Jesse!” you gasped. You twisted your hand around the knob. He sucked on your neck and grazed your skin with his teeth and moaned a faint response. You coaxed his fingers to a faster pace. Your face burned. “Jesse, you’re gonna leave a mark!”

He pulled away with a lewd pop. His thumb brushed the spot. “’s the point,” he replied. He braced his hand besides your head and watched your face. “Are you gettin’ close?” he asked. His eyebrow quirked up. “Feels like ya’re.” He bit his lip as he stretched his fingers further past your own. “Makin’ an awful mess, too,” he pointed out. You thumped your head against the cabinet. “Tell me,” said the voice that made the stars.

“Yes!” you exclaimed, then whimpered a gentle, “Fuck, I’m almost there.”

“Oh, are you?” His forehead knocked gently against yours. You squeezed your eyes shut. “Look at me,” he breathed. You did. His fingers wrapped around your hand and pulled it from your weeping cunt. You opened your mouth to protest, to shout and scream and call him a bastard, but he sealed your lips shut with his own and shoved his tongue past your teeth. He brought your wet hand to his hair, then gripped your hips and tugged you to him. His swollen cock slipped against your pussy.

You whined, a sound that was swallowed by Jesse’s savage kiss. You’d never realized how big he was – you had imagined his cock once, maybe twice, but you’d never given too much thought to the size. He was thick, spreading your soaked lips with every teasing rock of his hips. Your legs trembled at the thought of him inside you. You tangled your fingers in his hair.

When he spoke next, it was against your mouth, so close that you thought you could feel the power of the Word when he said, “Tell me you want this.”

“I want this,” you obediently said.

His hand wedged between your bodies. He rubbed the wet tip of his cock against your clit. “Say you want me to fuck you,” Genesis demanded. Jesse planted sloppy kisses over the column of your throat.

“I want you to fuck me,” you panted. You trailed your fingers down the back of his neck.

He lined himself up with your entrance. His head already stretched you and gave you an idea of what to expect. You whimpered out his name. He straightened, pulling his wandering mouth away from your chest with a smirk you hadn’t seen on his face before. “Beg for it,” he whispered. The Word whispered, “Beg for it.” Hell, the entire fucking universe whispered, “Beg for it.”

You sobbed, “Jesse please!” The tread of your shoe caught on his jeans as you tried to pull him closer to you, tugging them down over his ass. “Please, Jesse, fuck me!” Your voice cracked. “Please, I need it, I need you, I—” He gripped your thighs and snapped your hips against his, stuffing you full and stretching you wide. You dropped your head back with a echoing wail, “Fuck!”

Jesse balanced you on the counter’s edge. His belt jingled as it tapped the lower cabinets. He pushed your legs further apart and smoothed his palms over your inner thighs. “You kiss your mother with that dirty mouth of yours?” he teased.

You started to retort – because how dare he make such a comment – when he gave his first thrust, jolting you back with the force. You squealed. Pulling yourself closer, you looped your arms around his shoulders and pressed your face tight against them. It muffled your loud cries that cracked and pitched with every thrust of Jesse’s hips.

His teeth grazed the shell of your ear. His breath puffed hot in your hair, adding to the sweat that coated your neck. “You’re takin’ my cock so fuckin’ good,” he groaned. You whole body tensed at the lewd compliment, making your walls squeeze around him. It drew out a deep groan and a long, “Fuuuck!” He kissed your temple, your cheek, your jaw, and shrugged his shoulder to turn your head towards him for a messy, open mouthed kiss, one you eagerly returned. His hands left your thighs and flew to your knees, sliding under them until your legs were hooked in his elbows.

Your body shifted with the new position, ass slipping across the slick juice that cover the counter beneath it, and you slapped your hands on the counter to keep from tipping backwards into the cabinets. Jesse’s thrusts faltered for a moment when your mouth fell away from his. His eyes were wide, his face flushed. He slid his hands down to your hips to balance you. “Don’t stop?” you whined, “I’m fine!”

“Sure?” he asked. His hands gripped the counter edge instead.

You adjusted your weight a second time and rolled your body up, bucking your hips against his, completing the thrust he had paused. “Yes!” you moaned. He hissed and resumed his pace. “Just don’t let me fall off the counter,” you added between strangled whines.

He hiked a leg up over his shoulder and kissed your calf. “Never,” he promised. He bit the spot when you bucked your hips up again. Genesis crept up his throat as he said, “Come for me.”

And you obeyed; the tension in your body snapped like a dry twig. You slapped a hand over your mouth to muffle the startled mewl that tumbled out and felt how hot your face was.

Jesse was no better – his face was warm against your leg and the guttural groan that he buried in your calf was enough to make you wet all over again. His hips stuttered and his thrusts grew frantic. “God-fuckin’-dammit,” was his muffled cry. Then, shortly after, came the Voice, “Come for me.”

Tear sprung to your eyes as your second orgasm broke. Your whole body was on fire. Your skin tingled at his touch as he slid his hand over your hip and down your pelvis, his thumb finding your clit with ease. You sobbed into your palm. It had never felt so sensitive before!

Jesse’s other hand smacked the upper cabinets. The spread of your legs and the angle of your hips made you breathless. You patted around above your head, your pants and moans and faint hiccups no longer muffled, until you found his hand. He pinned yours beneath his, squeezed it tight. His hips slowed while his thumb moved faster, until you were clamping around him a third time. Then his pace lost a rhythm, and he pushed through your orgasm until he was coming himself, the head of his cock just barely past your entrance as his cum pumped into you.

Your legs trembled and went limp over his arms.

Jesse released a hard huff as he watched the cum drip down your pussy. You squeezed his hand. He only gave a distracted hum. You gave it another moment before you sat straighter, tilting your head to press a hesitant and chaste kiss to his lips. His free hand cupped your cheek. He brushed his nose along yours when you pulled away.

“Can you help me down?” you murmured.

You felt him smile. “Maybe,” he answered just as softly.

“Why maybe?” you asked.

“Dunno if I have the strength,” he replied. You grinned. He pulled your entwined hands to his mouth and pressed a kiss to each of your fingers. “Lemme get a clean washcloth, get you cleaned up,” he said when he was done.

“Then we can finish the dishes,” you added.

“Maybe.”

“Maybe?”

“You heard me.”

#jesse custer #dominic cooper #jesse custer x reader #jesse custer/reader #preacher #preacher on amc #amcs preacher #amc's preacher #preacher imagines #lemon #sinful saturday #toss a queue to your witcher

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itsanerdlife · 5 years ago

Text

Bad For You 1/28

Pairing: Howie Stark x Reader

Warning: Fuckboy manners. Violence. Reader gets cheated on. Language. Lies. Flirting. Cattiness. Arguing. A few slaps. Sassiness. Slutty boys. Frat Boy bullshit.

A/N: College AU. For my sister, cause I finally gave in. Haha.

Posting: Tuesday. Thursday. Saturday.

“You don’t know me like that.” “Mmm bet I do, baby girl. You want a bad boy who will be good for only you. I’m that guy. Like I want a good girl who’s bad for only me. That’s you, baby girl.”

Howie Stark made one hell of an impression. It started off with mistaken identity. A hand on your ass, your hand across his cheek. What should have pissed him off, set him off differently. Howie Stark is enticed by you and you are so fucked. Bad boy, never afraid of a fight, such a smooth talker, womanizer, and always on your mind. It just wasn’t fair. It wasn’t right, you have a boyfriend. Howie’s making everything’s a little blurry. You’re a little cynical and bad boys just aren’t your type. Or could that change with a flash of Howie’s crooked grin?

Tag List Is Open!!

First day of Fall semester of your second year of college. You stop in front of the steps, replying to Wanda’s text. Waiting for you in class, with a seat saved. Your hair fell around you, your hoodie and leggings were a easy run on a early morning. A large hand cups one side of your ass, a large body pushes up against you a second later.

You whirl around on the heels of your sneakers. Your palm slams across his cheek with a loud smack. He looks down, startled. But his head pulls back, surprise on his face, his cheek turning bright red.

You’re momentarily surprised as well. He’s ridiculously gorgeous, strong jaw line cleanly shaven, rumbled, wild dark brown hair, his eyes are the shade of whiskey aged to perfection. He stands taller than you, but he’s not a massive guy, well built. Arms taunt with muscle noticeable with the way his long sleeve hugs him.

“Damn girl.” He smirks, and the breathe left your body. “Early in the morning for a swing like that.” He chuckles.

“Early in the morning for your hand on my ass.” You manage to bite back. Keeping your composure so the random gorgeous stranger doesn’t realize the affect he has on you.

“Sorry, mistaken identity.” He grins, eyes running over you. “I could have sworn those legs were in my bed this morning.” He licks his lips, pressing them together as his eyes slowly work over your legging covered legs.

“Oh fuck boy, these are legs that’ll never be wrapped around you. Keep wishing though.” You scoff, rolling your eyes. You turn heading up the steps, you only make it to the landing before the door.

“I’ll add it to my Christmas list!” He calls after you. You glance back, pulling the door open. He grins, backing away from the steps. You shake your head, stepping into the building without so much as giving him another look.

---------

You settle into the seat with Wanda, pulling out your notebook and pen. You settle in, as Wanda speed texts next to you. You were waiting for the History course to start, your hand absent mindedly rubbed over the palm that had slapped the gorgeous stranger. There’s a soft sting in the skin still, but the stranger thing. You could still feel the warmth of his hand on your ass.

The doors of the hall open once more. You glance back, double taking as the gorgeous stranger stands inside. His eyes run down the tables, looking for an opening. But he double takes as well when his eyes skip across you. A smirk on his lips, he starts down the stairs, you force yourself to turn back around, facing front.

“What’s that look for?” Wanda looks over at you.

“What look?” Your brow pulls down.

“You’re scowling, but your cheeks are flushed.” She points out.

“Just ah, tired.” You shrug, running your hand through your hair.

“You should try a good slap. Really wakes you up.” A smug voice comes from behind you. You suck in a slow, deep breathe. Wanda looks from you to the guy behind you, and back. You slowly turn your upper body, to look back at him. A crooked grin on his lips, sleeves pushed up on his arms, and eyes tracking you.

“You’d think you’d learn to mind your own business.” You lift a brow.

“I don’t know. I liked having my hand on your, business.” He drags his teeth over his bottom lip. Your mouth runs dry. “My mom says I never learn the first time.” He chuckles softly.

“You apparently didn’t learn how to treat a woman.” You scoff. He grins, leaning forward on his table, closing in on you from the level behind you.

“Baby girl, you have no idea how I could treat you.” His voice soft, with a gravel to it. His bottom lip tucked between his teeth again as he drops back against his seat.

“I’m good.” You snort. “I’d rather not catch whatever you’re passing around, that keeps the school nurse busy.” You pop your shoulder, batting your eyes.

“I like a girl who can bite.” He grins.

“What fuck boy doesn’t?” Your head tips, watching him.

“Ouch. Baby girl, no need to be mean.” He pats his hand on his chest, grinning at you.

“Stop calling me that.” You huff.

“Tell me your name.” He chuckles.

“Hell no.” You retort.

“Dude, I’m ten minutes late and you’re tormenting someone already?” Another guy drops into the seat next to him. Holy fuck, they look ridiculously alike. Your eyes flick from one to the other.

“Is the puppy yours?” You lift a brow at the guy. They both exchange the same grin before looking at you.

“He’s my little brother if that’s what you’re asking.” He laughs. Brothers, holy fuck those are some strong genetics.

“Well put a leash on him. He’s barking up the wrong tree.” You roll your eyes.

“What did you do now?” He looks at his younger brother.

“Nothing.” He laughs.

“He grabbed my ass.” You explain.

“Howie.” The brother looks over.

“Mistaken identity. Swear.” He grins, but never looks away from you.

“Yet you’re still hitting on me.” You lift a brow.

“It was a really nice ass.” He shrugs, that grin plastered on his lips.

“I can’t be the first person to slap you.” You shake your head.

“You slapped him?” The brother grins.

“Yeah Peter you hear that, she slapped me.” Howie grins, nodding.

“You clearly deserved it.” Peter laughs, looking at his brother.

“That’s an understatement.” You roll your eyes, turning back around.

“Come on, just your name. You know mine.” You glance back, he’s leaning forward again.

“I didn’t ask for yours.” You smirk back at him. “You’ll have to work for mine.” You sass, turning back around. Wanda lifts a brow, a grin on her lips.

“Red, what’s her name?” Howie turns to Wanda. Wanda presses her lips together, looking from you to Howie. “Come on, pretty please?”

You knew he was flashing that grin at her, you could practically feel the heat coming off it. You press your lips together, holding in the smile building. Pulling your hair over your shoulder you shake your head slowly. Wanda grins at you.

“Y/N.” Wanda tells him.

“Thank you, girl.” Howie’s voice smug.

“But the thing you need to know.” Wanda adds. “She’s got a boyfriend, Sir Fuckboy.” She laughs, turning around in her seat to face the front as the professor walks in.

“Fuck.” You hear Howie whisper. The sound of muffled laughter from Peter follows.

----------------------------

Everything Peaches 9/3/19 @mo320 @courtmr @avxgers @eliza-kat @irepeldirt @jordan-ia @jcc04220 @dumblani @nishanki1 @allyp1023 @joannie95 @rogvewitch @rileyloves5 @sarahp879 @sexyvixen7 @doctoranon @abschaffer2 @tony-stank3 @tomhardy41 @bookluver01 @teller258316 @nickimarie94 @wandressfox @cutekittybast @amandab-ftw @carostar2020 @thelostallycat @henrietteoaks @nea90sweetie @circusofchaos @bettercallsabs @miraclesoflove @queenkrissy11 @shield-agent78 @elite4cekalyma @sadyoungadult @destiel-artemis @isabelcrichards @iwillbeinmynest @sweet-honey15 @scooby-doodoo @chanelmadrid13 @killerbumblebee @spookygrantaire @geeksareunique @supernatural508 @itzmegaaaaaaan @optimistic-babes @elizabethaellison @rainbowkisses31 @aspiringtranslator @mariekoukie6661 @pure-princess-97 @capsheadquaters @youclickedthislink @futuremrsb-r-main @lovemarvelousfics @notyourtypicalrose @petersunderoos96 @loving-life-my-way @itsy-bitsy-spidergirl @buckystolemyheart @booktvmoviefangirl @thatpeachybandgirl @supernatural-girl97 @thefridgeismybestie @dumbbitchenergytm @eggingamazinglove @awkwardfangirl2014 @queenoftheunderdark @laneygthememequeen @writingaworldofmyown @shann-the-artist-moon @supernaturallover2002 @daughterofthenight117 @mcuwillbethedeathofme @verymuchclosetedfangirl @for-the-love-of-the-fandom @ocaptain-mycaptainmorgan @crazy-little-thing-called-buck @letsgetfuckingsuperwholocked @stupendoussciencenaturepanda @supernatural-strangerthings-1980

Howie 'Damn Boy' Stark: @gabile18

BFY: @coley0823 @lakamaa12

#Marvel #OFC!Howie Stark x Reader #Avengers #OFC!Howie x Reader #Bad For You #Marvel Fanfiction #OFC!Howie Stark Series #Avengers Fanfiction #OFC!Howie Series

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ofstarsandvibranium · 5 years ago

Text

Forgive Me Father

Fandom: Marvel

Pairing: Stucky x Reader

Summary: After the first sinful church incident, you would think that the boys would behave from now on. Oh how wrong you were. For @themarvelwriter #SinfulSecretsChallenge. My prompt was "We messed around in the confessional booth."

Warning: smut in church.

A/N: Can be a spinoff to this fic or be read as a standalone. Again, I’m writing this with the knowledge of how Catholicism works, since I am Catholic.

Ever since Steve and Bucky debauched you in church, you were wary about bringing them with you ever again. But when they promised they wouldn’t do anything during mass again and had looked genuinely sorry, you allowed them to tag along with you for today’s mass.

So, after walking into the church, blessing yourself with the holy water, and settling in a pew, in the front this time, the three of you behaved appropriately throughout the entire service.

It was during the end portion of the service, that you started to become weary. Steve’s arm went around you, pulling you closer to him. Bucky proceeded to scoot in closer, nearly smushing you in between the two.

You look at them cautiously, but then proceed to listen to some final words by the priest. When it’s time to sing the closing song and you all stand, the two’s proximity doesn’t waver.

With the final note and an applause, people begin to exit the church, but you stay. Why? Because both Steve and Bucky have you trapped in-between them.

“Guys, what-”

“We just wanna show you something, dollface,” a small smirk on Bucky’s lips makes your eyes narrow.

“I have a bad feeling about this.”

Steve chuckles behind you, his front pressed up against your back, “Don’t worry, honey. You’ll like it. Promise.”

Once the last of the congregation had left the church, Steve and Bucky nod at each other. Bucky’s metal fingers slip into yours and he pulls you along to the other side of the church where the confessional booths are.

Again, you begin to question, “What are-”

“We’re gonna have a group confession. We scheduled one.”

You seemed to relax, “Oh! Alright.” you follow Bucky inside willingly. The room was small, but big enough to fit the three of you with some room left. Once the door shut behind Steve, it clicked with a lock. You looked at them confused, “I thought this was a confession. Don’t we have to wait for the priest?”

Bucky smirked, licking his lips as he stared at you, a stare filled with a lust, “Oh, dollface, we’re gonna confess alright. Stevie and I are gonna confess all the dirty things we wanna do to ya, right now.”

They both move towards you with a predatory essence, making you walk back until you hit a wall, “You guys promised you wouldn’t do anything-”

“During mass, sweetness,” Steve said with a smug look, “And, correct me if I’m wrong, but mass is over,” he gave a dark chuckle.

You scowled, “You two planned this.”

Bucky shrugged, “Well, I did say we had it scheduled.”

“And,” Steve interjected, “I do recall you once saying that you fantasized doing ‘naughty things’ in the confessional. Ain’t that right, Buck?”

He nodded, “I remember that too, Stevie. So,” Bucky stepped closer to you, his front pressed right up against yours, you could feel his bulge nudging at you, “Whaddaya say, sweetheart?”

A part of you, the logical and religious side of you, wanted to reject. You wanted to oppose this because this was so wrong on so many levels. But....they were right. You did fantasize about doing some “naughty things” in the confessional booth. The church was definitely empty.

You gulped down and breathed out, “Alright.” Once that word left your lips, Bucky pulled you into a heated kiss. As his lips were on yours, he moved you away from the wall and pressed your back against Steve’s chest. You felt another pair of lips press against your neck, hands roaming your body, getting familiarized with you once more.

Forgive me, Father, for I have sinned, you said in your mind as Steve hiked up your dress and Bucky’s hand slid into your panties.

“Let’s get you nice and wet, baby girl,” Bucky murmured against your lips. You grinded into his touch while also Steve was basically dry humping you. His lips occupying your neck, hands kneading your breasts.

“Oh my fucking God,” you moaned and Steve snickered.

“Saying the Lord’s name in vain? Some good church girl you are, sweetheart.”

You gasped when Bucky inserted a finger into your evergrowing wetness, “Mmmm. Already dripping for us, aren’t ya, baby girl? How ‘bout we get you soakin’, just to ensure you’re ready for us?” he stuck in another finger, your walls stretching around them, and he began to pound his fingers in and out of you. Your hands immediately gripping his shoulders to hold on for dear life. You wrapped one leg around Bucky’s waist, allowing his fingers to move deeper into you.

“Fuck,” you whimpered, “Oh my God. Oh my God.”

“Don’t think God’s gonna help a naughty girl like you, sweetheart,” Steve murmured into your ear before nibbling at it.

You whined, “Please, no more teasing. Fuck me. Want both of you inside me.”

Bucky smirked as his eyes caught yours, “That your confession, baby? Want us to pound you right here in the confessional?”

You nodded, “Please, Bucky, Steve. Want you two so bad.”

Bucky moved his head to the side to look at Steve, “Whaddaya think, pal, should we give her what she wants?”

“I think she’s been good enough. Deserves a reward.”

Both men quickly worked on their jeans, pushing them down and freeing their cocks that were red, hard, and leaking for you.

Steve rubbed his tip over your slit, collecting juices along it. Then with his fingers, he scooped up some more, spreading it over his cock, paired up with Bucky’s spit that he was happy to give up. Both wanted to ensure that Steve was wet and slick enough to enter you.

Bucky sat in one of the chairs, pulling you down with him. Steve stood behind you. With a nod from both men, they slid their hard cocks into you, filling you up in an instant. A collective groan from the three of you echoed in the small confessional.

“Confess, sweetness, how good do we feel?” Steve moans as you work both of them, Bucky in your pussy and Steve in your ass.

“So fucking good, baby. You both fill me up so well. Love feeling both of you inside me.”

“Goddamn, I love it when we’re like this. Together as one. So fucking sexy,” Bucky grumbled, his metal arm reaching behind you for Steve, their lips meeting in a hot and desperate kiss.

You whimpered, watching the men you love show affection towards each other. You loved to watch them, their electric raw love mystifying before you.

Steve pulled away, chuckling, “Feelin’ neglected, Y/N?”

You shook your head, “No. I just love watching you two.”

Bucky smirked, “Hm...maybe once we’re done with you, Stevie and I can have a go at each other while you sit and watch, hm?”

“Oh fuck,” you grumbled at just the thought of it. Your mind imagining how fucking sexy it would be to watch Steve fucking Bucky or Bucky fucking Steve while you sat there playing with yourself while you watched.

A loud smack was delivered to your ass, making you jolt forward. Bucky snickered, “Don’t get ahead of us, sweet thing. Trust me, the real thing will probably be better than what you got brewing in your head.”

You giggled and mumbled a sorry as you nuzzled your face into his neck, your hips still grinding down and against both super soldiers.

“Might need to bathe in holy water for months after this, huh, sweetheart?” Steve asked, hands grabbing hold of your ass, loving how it jiggles with every thrust.

You shook your head, “Don’t care. Just want you two. You two always-shit! I’m close!”

“It’s okay, baby, go ahead and cum for us. Let us feel you, come on.” Bucky uses his hands to quicken your pace, the harder and faster you go, the quicker your climax seems to approach. Faster. Harder. Deeper. Rougher.

“Oh my God!” you cry out as your entire body shakes with pleasure, a powerful orgasm coming over you.

Both of your lovers groan in pleasure and delight as your walls flutter and clench around them. You move roughly against them, desperate to ride out this orgasm as much as you can until it fades and you collapse onto Bucky’s chest. Your own heaving and covered in sweat.

Your boys still.

“Sweetheart? You okay?” Steve asks cautiously as he nudges your face with his nose.

You nod, “Yeah. That-Fuck, that took a lot outta me.”

Bucky loving rubbing circles on your back, “Think you can handle Steve and I more or do you wanna sit this one out?”

“I think I’ll sit this out,” you mumble as you lift yourself off Bucky and Steve slowly pulls out of you, carefully helping you to your feet and down onto the chair beside Bucky. You tiredly wave your hand towards them, “You two go ahead and finish each other off. I’ll be okay,” you say with a soft smile.

Steve and Bucky hesitantly move towards each other, giving you another glance. When you give them a nod, they both continue themselves. You watch them in a post orgasmic haze as the loves of your life get lost in sin with each other.

In the back of your mind, you’re mentally planning of all the prayers and real confessions you need to attend to make up for this.

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky x reader #steve rogers x reader #stucky x reader #stucky #smut

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or-ng-c-ss-dy · 5 years ago

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winning is fun (losing is too)

i think the thing in this fandom is to post fics directly to tumblr. so im gonna try that out i guess...here you go.

you can also find it here on ao3, it’s member locked so fair warning.

another warning, this fic includes themes of internalized homophobia/biphobia. no other warnings apply tho.

some chuckie t/oc for your night, 18+ only, 4.6k words.

----

He had looked for Orange Cassidy everywhere, the little closet they had been hanging out in, the men’s locker room, even in The Elite’s private locker room. And then in stairwells, in the halls. And then he threw his hands over his eyes (he was a gentleman after all) and walked into the women's locker room to look for the unofficially-official third Best Friend, maybe was hanging out with Kris Statlander again.

Instead of finding him, Chuck got unceremoniously thrown out onto his ass by several of the women in there, and there was still no sign of Orange.

Which was unfortunate, Dynamite had long happened and people were finally starting to filter out to their hotel rooms or to catch a late dinner, and Chuck wanted to leave too. But not without Orange, although he was getting closer and closer to just leaving him there and letting him find his own way back to their room.

“Orange, c’mon, man. Did ya fall asleep somewhere, I know you’re all small and stuff so you can sneak into little places to sleep, but we have beds back at the hotel that are more comfy.” He tried, calling out to the empty hallway.

Trent had joined him for the search for a little while, but ended up giving up when he got too hungry. Chuck let him go, but he wasn’t going to leave Orange there. Not really, as tempting as it was to just go hit the bar and find the greasiest slice of pizza the city had to offer all by himself, it wouldn’t be the same without Orange.

He ended up rounding the corner and nearly running straight into Luchasaurus, who stopped him with huge hands on his shoulders. Jungle Boy peered down at him from his place up high on Luchasaurus’ shoulders.

“Shoot, sorry about that.” Chuck said. “Hey, it’s alright. You look worried about something, though, is everything alright.” “Yeah, I’m just looking for my pal, Orange Cassidy. You seen him?”

Luchasaurus thought about it for a second. When Jungle Boy started tapping on the top of his head, he pulled his hands off of Chuck’s shoulders and gave him an apologetic smile.

“No, sorry. But Jungle Boy here heard the showers still going, maybe he’s in there?” “Ah, thanks! I’ll go look.” Chuck said, patting Jungle Boy’s leg before scooting on past the pair.

Sure enough, he could hear the shower running from the hall. He had just been in the men’s locker room, but there were other people in there and he had just gotten out of the shower, so he didn’t think to look for Orange in there. But there he was, standing under the spray of the water in the otherwise empty shower room.

Orange was naked other than his sunglasses and a pair of shower shoes that he instantly recognized as the pair that he had brought, far too big for Orange’s feet. And he was leaning against the wall, his usual blank look on his face. Chuck couldn’t help but feel relief wash over him, he hadn’t realized that he was nervous over Orange until he had finally found him.

He didn’t think that PAC would try anything outside of the ring, but the man was pretty much like a wild animal those days. Maybe he would try to get to his newly found rival when people weren’t looking. Luckily, it just appeared as if Orange had fallen asleep while standing up in the shower again, this time in the locker room instead of in their home bathroom.

“Christ, buddy, there you are. You worried me sick.” Chuck said, approaching Orange.

Orange shifted slightly, head tilting in Chuck’s general direction. Other than that, he didn’t really move or react, although Chuck knew him well enough to see the slight tilt of his lips.

“Sorry.” He said after a moment.

It took until that point to register that Orange was naked. He had seen his friend naked before, of course he had, through shared locker rooms and showers with no stalls, but it was different when other people were there alongside them. He had even carried on mostly-one sided conversations with Orange while they were naked, but it was different to be alone with him while he was naked.

Chuck was suddenly very aware of the fact that his dick was right there, soft between short, blond curls, and that his chest was perfectly toned and glistening with droplets from the shower. His skin was a soft, pretty pink, steam curling around his body, and it was information that his brain supplied to him before he could stop himself.

It didn’t mean anything, Orange was just objectively attractive. Just because he was thinking it, it didn’t mean that he was attracted to his friend, it was just a fact of life. It was easy to write the thoughts off as that, he had been doing it for years after all. He wasn’t into men, of course he wasn’t. Gay people were perfectly cool with him, something that had taken him an embarassingly long time to realize after growing up in Kentucky, but he was straight and that was that.

After all, he liked girls. So that was what he could focus on.

It took a grunt from Orange to pull him out of his thoughts, flushing from being caught so far off guard.

“Oh, uh. It’s okay, man. Just hurry up, I’m hungry.”

Chuck went to leave Orange to it, figuring that he should probably get out of there before his mind wanders any further. Instead, he stayed looking for just long enough to see Orange start to move at a snail’s pace, hand raising from its place at his side to slowly rub as his chest.

It was ridiculous. Chuck scoffed and crossed his arms, moving in closer to Orange before he could stop himself.

“Really, dude?” “Yeah.” “Do you need help with that or something?” Chuck said, rolling his eyes.

It was meant to be a joke, he thought it came out sounding like a joke. But Orange just nodded, letting his hands fall back to his side and...well, presenting his body to Chuck. Chuck just stood there, staring at him, eyes wide.

“Seriously?” “Yeah. Help me out.” Orange said, a twist forming at his lips. “Absolutely not, wash your own damn body. What do you take me for, your boyfriend?” Chuck said, a little too harsh for his own liking.

He flinched at the sound of his own voice, a little too harsh, a little too revealing. Orange seemed to take it in stride though, pouting and trying not to laugh. He lifts his hands up and does that stupid thing he does in the ring, loose hands gesturing in the vaguest ‘come on” signal of all times.

“C’mon.” “Don’t you start that crap, OC.”

Chuck knew that he couldn’t resist Orange when he made that face, but that usually extended to doing something stupid like jumping down a flight of stairs just for the hell of it or taking another shot, not...not getting his hands on his naked, perfect body.

Christ, he was in deeper than he thought.

“Please, Chuck.” He said, wry smile crossing over his usual look of indifference. “Ugh,” Chuck groaned obnoxiously, “fine. But you’re buying the first round...no, the first three rounds as payment for me having to touch your gross, sweaty bod. And I’m getting top shelf stuff in my diet coke.”

He hoped that would deter Orange, that he wouldn’t agree to the terms set by Chuck. But Orange simply gave him another lazy smile and a soft huff that might’ve been a laugh.

“Fine by me.” “Huh, seriously?” Chuck said, completely struck. “Yeah. Bathe me, Chuck.” Orange said, deadpan voice not matching the smirk on his face.

Was Orange just playing? Maybe he wasn’t expecting Chuck to actually do it, maybe they were both playing this strange game of bluffing. Gay chicken with higher stakes, because he wasn’t sure if Orange was just trying to fake him out or not, but he defintely wasn’t trying to fake Orange out. Not when the thought of touching him like that had his mouth dry, swallowing hard, made him want to say all the words that he wasn’t allowed to say.

If he touched him, would Orange push him away? Orange was looking at him through his sunglasses, expression turning unreadable. Was he waiting in horror or anticipation over the idea of Chuck actually touching him? They had touched before, obviously, wrestling was all about contact between two sweaty, half-naked people, but it was different when there wasn’t the sport and the crowd and the ref.

It was just them. Chuck shook slightly as he stepped up, hand extending slowly until it finally landed flat on Orange’s chest, laying there. He could feel the slick heat from the water, giving way to the radiating heat of Orange’s body. He had taken a few good chops that day, skin bruised and broken under Chuck’s fingers.

Chuck looked up at Orange’s face, looking for any disgust in his face. Instead, Orange’s pink lips were gaped open slightly, chest heaving slightly. Chuck wanted to ask if it was okay, but the words got stuck in his throat and he worried that, if they managed to free themselves, that they might shatter the moment between them. That the spell would be broken and they’d spring back like they had been doing something wrong.

Instead, he reached over Orange’s shoulder, the motion bringing him just a little bit closer into his space, grabbing for the shampoo on the shelf behind him. Chuck looked at the label, suppressing a laugh as a huff when he realized that it was orange-scented. He had seen it in their shared bathroom at home, in hotel rooms, but it was funnier when he was the one about to rub it into Orange’s hair and he almost wanted to make some joke about it. Instead, he popped the top and poured some in his hands, rubbing them together to lather the soap up.

He was thankful that Orange was a good deal shorter than him. It made it so he didn’t have to stand on his toes or...or have Orange kneel down to be able to wash his hair. Instead, he turned him around with a firm press on his shoulder and got his soapy fingers into that water-darkened blond hair. Chuck rubbed at his scalp gently, careful not to press too hard as PAC had also been fond of using his hair to lead him around the ring.

Orange let out a contented sigh, a soft huff of sound that had Chuck’s face flushing slightly. It had been an involuntary little sound that he had coaxed out of Orange, and he couldn’t help but want to get more noises out of him. Just another thought that he couldn’t control.

He was glad that he hadn’t put his shirt back on yet, too busy looking for Orange to finish getting dressed. Because Orange tilted his head back, soaking wet against his bare chest as Chuck massaged shampoo into his temples for a little too long. From that angle, he could see the way Orange’s eyes closed contentedly behind the sunglasses that he was still wearing. It made him feel warm and itchy in ways that he couldn’t even begin to describe, in a way that was both pleasant and deeply unpleasant, but all together unbearable.

Chuck forced himself to gently guide Orange under the spray, forced himself to not grab him close or to shove him away entirely with both hands on his back. Washing his hair was the easy part and, yet, he was already spiraling, already looking for ways of self preservation.

Instead, he reached back over for the bottle of body wash on the shelf as Orange washed the shampoo out of his hair. His body wash was orange-scented too but it wasn’t as funny anymore, the faint scent of oranges that usually hung around him amplified in the hot, damp shower air in ways that had him fighting to catch his breath.

He worked the body wash between the palms of his hands, readying himself for the fact that he was about to become more acquainted with the body of his friend than he’d ever thought he would. Than he ever thought he’d be allowed.

Chuck started at Orange’s shoulders and arms, the safest places he could think of, rubbing the soap over him in circles. His muscles were firm under his hands, God, he had worked hard on those things. Chuck knew that from his appearance, but it was different when he was touching as opposed to just looking.

He scrubbed up and down his arms and shoulders until he couldn’t put his chest off any longer. It was an odd angle, hands pressed against his chest, nothing like washing himself and nothing like the playful showers he had with various ex-girlfriends. The washing hadn’t been the point of those, just a pretense to some rather-mediocre sex that would’ve been better in a bed anyway. Chuck figured that it’d probably be easier if Orange was facing away from him, a more familiar angle, but that would mean being crotch-to-ass and...well. There were a lot of reasons why he didn’t want to do that.

Mainly a rather...pressing issue that was starting to strain against the front of his sweatpants. Chuck couldn’t adjust himself without leaving a wet, soapy hand print that would’ve made it obvious as to what he was doing, so he just hoped that Orange hadn’t noticed it.

He hadn’t checked if Orange was into it though. He could’ve, easily, considering that there was nothing covering him. Chuck was almost too afraid to look, to figure out what it meant to Orange. If he was into it, opening a door that neither of them would be able to close. Or if he wasn’t into it like Chuck was, making him the creep that was looking too far into things.

So he kept his eyes cast on Orange’s perfect chest as he washed him, arms moving around him to wash his back as well. God, they were too close, he could feel the even exhale of Orange’s breath fanning over his neck, making him shiver despite the heat of the shower, of the body pressed so close to him.

It was all making him confront the parts of himself that he hadn’t let himself ever confront, all in vivid color. The pink of Orange’s skin, of his lips, the ghostly white of his own knuckles and the soap that he was lathering him up with, and the deep blue of the eyes that were boring into his own. He hadn’t even realized that Orange had taken his sunglasses off until he was nearly choking on his own breath.

Chuck caught sight of his own reflection in the glasses, put up on the shelf next to Orange’s soaps, and he could only see a man that was so far out of his element, so desperate to understand the desperation that was clawing up from the pit of his stomach. Thrust into some part of himself that he didn’t understand, throwing away the walls they had built between each other without even knowing, all for the sake of something that had started as a joke.

Maybe it had never been a joke. But he had done enough analysing for one day and he really had to do Orange’s legs next.

...Oh. He hadn’t realized what would mean until he slid his hands towards those legs and moved over cut hip bones, far too close to the place that he hadn’t dared look. He couldn’t wash Orange without moving closer to his...well. His crotch region.

Chuck figured that he should probably back off, should tell Orange to do the rest of his own damn washing. Play it off as a joke that had gotten a little too awkward for his liking, gotten a little too gay.

He’d need to crouch down to get to his lower half and that would mean that he’d have to be face to face with Orange’s dick. It was time for the joke to end, but maybe it was never a joke. Maybe he had been completely serious, maybe it had all been to get his hands on his body. A manifestation of the deepest parts of himself.

He wasn’t drunk enough to be philosophizing like that, and he certainly wasn’t drunk enough to be touching Orange at all. He usually kept his distance until he was a few drinks in, and then he could reason with himself as to why he was touching Orange. Instead he was blindingly, obviously sober.

Instead of pushing back or finding a way to end the strange thing that was happening between them, Chuck found himself being carried away by all of it. By the ragged sound of Orange’s breathing and the steam that was curling around them like the ghosts of fingers. His pants were damp from the water and from the sweat that had broken out on his body, and they were far tighter than sweatpants were supposed to be, and he couldn’t hold back any longer.

Chuck found himself wanting whatever was building between them. He sucked in a breath and crouched down at Orange’s front to wash his legs, letting himself be confronted by the evidence of what was happening between them.

Because Orange was hard, hanging heavy and blood-flushed between his thighs. Chuck’s hands rubbed slowly over his thighs and he let himself look up into the face of his friend, into those lust darkened blue eyes that were staring down at him. Orange’s hands hadn’t really moved from his side but they were hovering over Chuck’s head like he was about to grab for him, to pull him close and...and…

Would he let him? Would he open his mouth for Orange, let him slide in, let him fuck into his face? Or was that too much, too far, because, if they broke that damn, what other barriers would they push past, what other lines would they cross? Would he do the same, fuck his pretty mouth and maybe even his perfect little ass? A few handjobs in the shower, that could be written off as something that happened in some strange heated moment, but anything else had more intent.

Something that they couldn’t just write off.

Orange’s indecisive fingers finally landed, curling around the line of his jaw and guiding him up until he was standing. He was taller than Orange, it was obvious really, but it hadn’t felt like it mattered until he was pretty much looming over him, casting a shadow over his features.

They both looked lost, he knew that much was true, and it felt strange to have Orange’s hands on his skin despite how much he’d touched him while washing him. But his fingers hadn’t moved from Chuck’s jaw, and Chuck’s hands found his hips, gripping him tight enough that he worried he’d leave more bruises on his sensitive, easily marked skin, and the thought made him want to mark him up even more.

“Chuck.” Orange said, voice broken as it shattered the illusion between them.

But it had never been about a friendly shower, had it?

Chuck’s hands pulled Orange against him, the hot line of his body soaking his sweatpants and, God, he didn’t care because it felt so good. He thought about kissing him, kissing that confused look right off of his face. Instead, he leaned down and brushed his lips down the side of his neck, the first real sign of his intentions.

Orange gasped, a soft sound that whistled past his ears, and Chuck gave his own groan in return. It made him feel bolder, gripping Orange tighter and canting his hips forward to let him feel just how into their weird moment he had gotten.

He was suddenly very aware of the fact that they weren’t exactly in a private setting. Anyone could walk right in, walk around a small wall, and find them there. Hell, anyone with a camera could get them on video, the Bucks seemed fond of walking around and filming everything about backstage.

Did he even care? He had Orange’s lithe little body pressed up against him and that was the only thing he could bring himself to focus on, the rest of it just faded away. The Young Bucks, Cody Rhodes, Kenny Omega, and Adam Page could all stroll in to film something for their show, and he’d yell at them like they were the ones in the wrong, all so he could keep grinding against that tight, pliant body in his arms.

Chuck let his tongue drag up the side of his neck, lapping a droplet of water off of his skin. Emboldened by the soft sigh that dropped from Orange’s lips, he let himself nip at the patch of pale skin that was right under his ear. Leaving hickies was some high school crap, but he just wanted to see his marks on Orange’s pale skin. He had seen the way that his skin was lit up after a match, blindingly bright red, and he wanted to be the one to mark Orange up.

“C’mon, Chuck.” Orange panted out, pretty pink lips parted invitingly.

Fingers wound into the short hairs at the back of his neck, Orange had to push up on his toes to press their lips together and kiss him in earnest. It was a good fucking kiss, something that he didn’t know how much he wanted until it was actually happening. Orange’s tongue slid across his bottom lip and Chuck responded in kind. He felt Orange’s lips quirk up and couldn’t help but break the kiss to laugh, tilting their foreheads together.

“This is ridiculous.” He murmured, stroking over Orange’s face fondly. “Yeah.” “My pants are getting soaked, dude.”

Orange huffed out a laugh at that, a soft sound that made Chuck lean in just to kiss him again. God, he was cute. He always knew it in the back of his mind, but it was being dragged out to the forefront just from a few kisses and some light grinding.

“Take them off, then.”

Hands found the waist of his sweatpants, tugging them down. His erection bobbed between them and Orange angled his hips to rub them together, catching them both in his smaller fist. Chuck let out a groan, tipping forward to muffle his sounds in Orange’s wet skin.

“Christ, that feels good.” He said and Orange hummed in agreement.

A part of him was still worried that someone else would walk in, a part of him thought that the possibility made it even better. Orange seemed to get that they had to move quick, but Chuck thought that he might not mind someone walking in. They’d see that Orange was his now, and that thought had him moaning.

“C’mon, OC, faster. You don’t want anyone walkin’ in on us, do ya?” He groaned, and Orange let out a soft moan in return, hand moving a little faster.

The water didn’t really alleviate any of the friction, but Chuck was too wrapped up in the moment to give a shit. After all, Orange was moaning prettily, blue eyes locked on his own brown ones. Chuck tilted his head up, brushing their lips together as he thrust into Orange’s fist.

“Don’t want anyone seeing you moan like a little slut for me, this is all for me, baby.” Chuck said, grin turning a little wild as Orange let out a louder moan.

His cheeks flushed prettily and Chuck wondered what else he could make flush with just a little bit of pressure. His mind was moving at a thousand miles a minute, the image of fucking into Orange right then and there flooding his mind. It was a little sleazy if he was being honest, and completely ungentlemanly, but the thought of bending him over and taking him from behind had him getting closer and closer to orgasm.

Chuck cradled the hand circled around them, encouraging Orange to stroke a little faster and a little tighter. A part of him did want it to last, wanted to stay in that moment forever, but he knew that they had to get it over with.

Orange was jacked, that much was true. He worked out hard for the muscles that he rarely used, but he still felt small in Chuck’s arms. It drove him a little wild, he could probably pick him up and drive right into him.

“Gonna take you back to our room after this, we’re skipping dinner. Gonna bend you over every fucking surface, get my dick in your perfect little ass, OC.” Chuck panted out, bending over to say the words right into Orange’s ear. “Chuck…” He panted, sounding strained, and Chuck nipped at the shell of his ear. “Yeah? You like hearing what I’m gonna do to you, baby?”

Orange nodded quickly and Chuck let out another huffed laugh, tilting his face down to press their mouths together in something that might’ve been a kiss if they weren’t otherwise distracted by trying to get off. Instead of a kiss, it was more or less something to muffle the soft noises coming from Orange’s mouth.

Who knew that he’d be so loud? Maybe he wasn’t even loud, maybe it was just the fact that they were in a semi-public place, but every soft moan and gasp sounded like a scream in the otherwise quiet air. And Chuck wasn’t exactly quiet either, biting back his own moans.

“We ain’t gonna leave that hotel room for nothing, Orange. Now that I’ve got my hands on you, I’m not gonna stop until we pass out, and then I’m gonna start the moment we wake back up.” “At home?” “You know it, baby.” Chuck said, groaning when Orange shuddered against him.

Despite the noises that he had been making, it took a few seconds to realize that Orange had cum. He painted Chuck’s chest with white, shaking in his arms and jerking himself through it. The realization had Chuck cumming as well, spurting hot cum in the place where their bodies connected.

“Holy shit.” He groaned, tilting to press their foreheads together as they panted together in the afterglow of their shared orgasm.

And then Orange was laughing, a soft huff, and Chuck was worried that he did something wrong. Or that Orange just thought of what had happened between them as some sort of joke, that it didn’t mean the same to him.

But Orange leaned forward, kissing him again, a soft brush of lips against lips.

“You said the s-word.” He murmured and Chuck had to laugh too, cupping his face. “What can I say, OC, you just bring it out of me,” Chuck said, “now, c’mon, we both need to shower. I made some promises to you that I intend to keep.”

He figured that they couldn’t shower together if they actually wanted to get out of there, not to mention the very pressing issue of someone walking in. But he couldn’t resist slapping Orange’s ass before walking away, grin spreading over his face as he went over to his own shower and started the water.

When he chanced a glance over at Orange, he saw him washing himself quickly, desire to leave overriding his laziness. Chuck moved quickly as well because he absolutely intended to keep all of those promises.

As his stomach grumbled and Orange’s practically called back in response, he figured that they could break one of those promises.

After all, they’d need the energy.

#my writing #otp: gentleman's club #let's go with that for a shipname #nsfw/#long post/

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sweet-steddie · 6 years ago

Text

All Wrong (g.d. & e.d.)

Requested: No ma’am!

Summary: Angst, believe it or not! Visiting the Dolans’ house after you get off early from work puts you all in an awkward situation.

A/N: I haven’t written angst for any fandom in a long ass time, so I’m definitely rusty! If you didn’t want angst from me, no worries. I have plenty of other fluffy requests just waiting to be filled and posted for you all to see! On another note, I’m still stunned every single day to see people reading and reblogging my work. I love you guys, wow!! Hope this one is just as fun as the other ones. Enjoy!

2k+

My tires come to a near screeching halt as I hastily pull into the lot in front of Ethan and Grayson’s house. I put the car in park and quickly do away with my seat belt, grabbing all of my essentials that are within reach and all but throwing myself from the car and shutting the driver’s side door with my hip. I can only hope that the boys are home as I approach their front door.

I had texted them about an hour ago, asking if they were down to hang out. Surprisingly, I hadn’t gotten a response from either of them. But, I chalked that up to them maybe filming for a video. Seeing their cars in the driveway now more or less confirms that theory. I had figured that if I showed up anyways and happened to arrive while they were shooting, I’d just chill out until they were done. Keeping this in mind, I knock lightly on the front door, careful to keep my noise to a minimum.

I wait for a few long seconds, tapping my foot somewhat impatiently. It occurs to me suddenly that there’s a spare key under the doormat and I don’t wait much longer before I’m bending over to retrieve it. I allow a few seconds more of a grace period before I jam the key into the lock, twisting it with practiced ease and shoving the door open. I tiptoe in and quietly withdraw the key from the door, pushing it to a gentle close behind me before walking a few strides to the living room and setting down all of the junk that I brought from the car on the nearest surface.

“Grayson?” I call out, shrugging off my jacket and letting it blanket my belongings on the couch. A few seconds pass with no response, save for the sound of music playing in the distance. It seems to be coming from the direction of the bedrooms. I roll my eyes, kicking off my shoes.

“E?” I try instead, once again, to no avail. I exhale through my nose, following the the music to its source, which appears to be Grayson’s room. I hum along to the music as I get closer to his door, tapping my fingers rhythmically onto my thigh before lightly twisting the doorknob and pushing the door open ahead of me.

“Hi - “ I begin, only to stop abruptly in my tracks, the air whooshing out of my lungs and my mouth hanging open around unspoken words. My greeting falls on deaf ears. Four pairs of deaf ears, to be exact. The scene unfolding before me includes a naked Grayson, nether regions obscured by the girl that’s fully sheathed on his length. Her features are impossible for me to decipher in my haze; all I can see is that she has long, honey blonde hair that’s messy from clearly strenuous activity. She’s laying on her back, taking every punishing stroke that Grayson delivers into her. He’s glistening with sweat, hard pecs prominent under the sticky sheen. His stomach visibly flexes with each roll of his hips.

Next to them is an equally naked Ethan, except he’s sitting with his back resting against the headboard, a brunette girl grinding sensually on his lap. Her palms are resting on the wall behind the bed and I vaguely register Ethan’s large hands cradling her, running up and down her back. Now that the door is open, I can clearly hear the sounds of grunting and groaning and moaning and creaking bed springs over the music that I heard from the living room.

“Oh!” I exclaim reflexively, still unable to look away. It’s like watching a train wreck. And speaking of train wrecks, I’m pretty sure that something equally destructive is happening in the depths of my stomach. It’s like two holes open up, one in my chest and one in my gut, as I watch my boys fuck into the nameless girls. At the sound of my exclamation, all movement comes to a halt. Grayson makes eye contact with me first. He looks like he’s seen a ghost.

“Shit! I didn’t know you were,” he trails off uselessly, gaping repeatedly like a fish out of water, “when did you get here?” he settles on instead. I find myself physically unable to answer and, as we continue our intense eye contact, it dawns on me that I should probably look away or something out of courtesy. I decide to slap a hand over my eyes. There’s silence for a considerable length of time, the previously drowned-out music now the only noise consuming the five of us.

“Fuck, I thought you had work until 8,” comes Ethan’s familiar voice after a moment, tinged with shock and maybe a little bit of panic. My throat feels too dry to even produce much sound at the moment, but I give it a shot nonetheless.

“I got off early,” I respond meekly, realizing much too late that my choice of words is more than ironic in the current situation.

“Who is she?” I hear a female voice chime in this time and I almost visibly startle, suddenly remembering that the boys and I aren’t the only people in the room.

“Is she gonna join us?” the other girl asks and, by this time, I’m absolutely numb. Before the questions can advance, I interject.

“I’ll see myself out, I just. Sorry. Shit, sorry. I’ll just be,” I gesture behind me, not even sure with my temporary lack of sight if I’m motioning in the correct direction, “I’ll go.” I finally splutter out before removing my hand from my eyes, but keeping them closed as I grab wildly for the doorknob and pull the door shut with a resounding click. Once I open my eyes back up, I hastily spin on my heel and move as fast as my bare feet can carry me back to the living room, gathering my things back up just as quickly as I’d set them down when I arrived.

The sound of Grayson’s bedroom door reopening gets drowned out in my near-frantic haste to slip my shoes back on and force my arms back into the jacket that I’d previously shrugged off. I scan the couch for anything I might have missed, eyes too glazed over at this point to truly register my surroundings. I’m so hyper focused on making my escape that I jump at feeling a hand on my shoulder. I plaster on what I hope to be a look of nonchalance before I turn to face two anxious looking twins, both donning nothing but boxers and guilty frowns. Before anything can be said, I watch the blonde and brunette girls sweep through the area, now redressed, looking disheveled and more than a little disgruntled.

They waltz past Ethan and Grayson without so much as a word, implying that they must have been asked to leave, mid-fuck. The front door slams behind them and then, silence. No more music, no more creaking bed springs, no more nothing. I allow my eyes to journey around the room that I’ve seen a million times, scanning over the details as if it’s my first time visiting. Try as I might, I just can’t seem to face the boys; not right now.

“Please say something,” comes Grayson’s voice lowly after several wordless seconds. And that’s when I feel the telltale pinch behind my eyes. The stinging that follows is accompanied by a flood of tears welling up above my lash line. I bite the inside of my top lip hard enough to leave a harsh indent and leave my eyes watering from physical pain, instead. I clear my throat to no avail, cheeks still warm as my first tear spills. I swipe it away without a second thought, focusing intently on my shoes.

“Babe,” Ethan starts, beginning to walk towards me, but I put a hand up and he stops in his tracks. I take a deep breath in and look up at the boys with already bloodshot eyes. Up close like this, I can see Ethan’s neck and collarbones marred with love bites. Grayson appears to have a particularly prominent mark on his chest. I laugh humorlessly; nothing about this situation is funny.

“Why am I crying?” I ask rhetorically and, as expected, neither boy answers. They seem to be having trouble maintaining eye contact with me now. “You guys can fuck whoever you want, date whoever you want. I’m jealous for no goddamn reason.” I feel myself slowly getting worked up again.

“It’s not fair for me to be acting like this,” I continue, talking to myself more than anyone else at this moment. No one seems to know what else to say, so we stand in tense silence for a moment. I clap my hands together, gaining the boys’ eye contact for the first time since I began my outer monologue. “Well if that’s all,” I begin, leaning down briefly to pick up my keys, “I’m gonna head out.”

“You aren’t staying?” Grayson asks in the smallest voice I’ve ever heard issued from his mouth. His disheveled hair is a nasty reminder of what I walked in on and my momentary inclination to give in is gone without a trace.

“No, I’m not staying,” I declare, feeling so many emotions that I barely feel anything at all. That’s the last thing that’s spoken before I shuffle toward the front door. “I’ll put your spare key back,” I say without turning around, pulling the door closed in my wake and flipping up the doormat with my foot, dropping the key lazily onto the ground before kicking the mat back into place.

I unlock my car and get back in. The turnaround time between me leaving the car and coming back is so short that the car hasn’t even begun to heat up in the sun yet. I jam my keys into the ignition and start the car up, taking one more deep breath before the tears begin to finally fall at their own will. The strong front that I’d almost totally maintained while inside the boys’ house is a mystery to me, considering that I felt like I was deteriorating from the inside out ever since I set foot into Grayson’s room.

A few shaky, uneven breaths escape me as I peel out of the lot, making a beeline for my own apartment several miles away from here. I don’t bother to wipe my tears as they cascade continuously down my cheeks, knowing that there’s no use. My chest feels tight, a contrast against the empty feeling that had swept through it minutes earlier. When I reach a stoplight, I’m able to glance at the way my hand is fisted so tightly around the steering wheel that it’s beginning to cramp.

I reflect on my misery, justifiable or not. Grayson and Ethan don’t belong to me. They’re their own people and I feel like an idiot, assuming that they would remain celibate until I finally decided to partake in sexual activity with them. I realize that, over the time that I grew as close to them as I am now, I had internally concluded that their only means of pleasure were self-inflicted. The silly little make out sessions that I’d indulged in with the both of them were meaningless.

A part of me had always convinced myself that their kisses and lingering touches and pet names meant something. I had found solace in being their plaything and the title had never felt more fitting than now. I’ve always considered myself to be special in their lives. And maybe I am, in a way. But it was made abundantly clear today that, romantically speaking, I didn’t have a horse in the race.

I subconsciously complete all the right turns and stops until I’m rolling into the parking garage designated for my apartment building. As I swing into a parking spot and stop the car, I come to another crushing realization: neither Grayson nor Ethan has reached out since I left. The silence that they had maintained when I walked out of their house had translated to their lack of text messages or missed calls. Before they have a chance to prove me wrong, I power my phone off and throw it onto my passenger seat as if it had singed my hand. One recurring theme clouds my mind as I stare out of my window: I was wrong about them. I was wrong about us. I was wrong.

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onewhoturns · 5 years ago

Text

Mayo

Fandom: Oxenfree Pairing: Jonas/Alex one-sided Characters: Jonas, Alex Word count: 976 Rating: T for language Summary: Alex keeps Jonas company during a smoke break at Ren’s gig.

“I look like a complete tool.”

“Good.” Alex’s lips hook into a small (vaguely pert, a little too self-satisfied) smile as she watches her feet, balancing on the curb like a beam as she paces one way, then another, quick steps in time to the ghost of a rhythm heard through the closed door. “Maybe it’ll help you quit.”

He wants to glare at her, he does, but he settles on a side-eyed glance as he takes another drag off the stupid thing. Exhaling with a sigh, he rolls his eyes. “I can’t believe I let you pick this.”

She catches his eye for a second before her foot slips on the wet curb and she overcorrects, stumbling onto the sidewalk to avoid splashing into the puddled street. In an instant their expressions have swapped, Jonas holding back a snicker as Alex rolls her eyes. She’s blushing, though he’s not sure how he can tell in the yellow light of the streetlamp. Maybe he can just feel the heat off her face as she half-falls against the wall to his right, hands jammed back in the pockets of that well-worn red jacket.

“Don’t complain, you know you love it.”

She’s very clearly ignoring her fall, trying to change the subject. She hasn’t been drinking - not yet, though that should change once they all head back to Jamie’s place post-gig - but she has that glow about her, bright-eyed with a frenzy just under her skin. He sees a lot of Ren in her, to be honest. Especially when she’s grinning at him like that. As insufferable as Ren can be sometimes, Jonas can’t deny his positivity is good for Alex.

He scoffs, but the smirk hasn’t left his lips as he examines the neon sign in the window of the dry cleaning place across the street. “Right. Who wouldn’t love ripping sick hits of something called Unicorn Farts.”

Alex lets out a bark of laughter, and just for that he blows the next stream of vapor right into her face.

She closes her eyes, exaggeratedly breathing in the secondhand vape, nose raised right into his personal space as she lets out a mocking, “Mmmm.”

There’s a half second that his throat tightens, memorizing her face, that hummed smile, the attempt at eyeliner smudged over her closed lids-- how close she is. She confuses the hell out of him, sometimes. Like how he doesn’t know if he wants to elbow her in the ribs or kiss her. He opts for neither, bopping her on the forehead with the mouthpiece of his e-cig.

Her brow furrows and lips hook mischievously again as she rolls her eyes and turns back to the empty street, scuffing a foot against the brick wall of the venue. “How much longer, fart-sucker?”

He pulls a face at the jab, but at least any un-brotherly thoughts are purged from his mind. “You know, I never asked you to come with.”

Her eyes watch her feet as she fidgets, foot tapping between wall and ground in an inconsistent pattering. “Yeah, but if I didn’t you’d probably ditch us.”

She says it jokingly, but he feels that twinge of guilt anyway.

It’s not that she’s clingy, she really isn’t. But ever since the island - or maybe ever since ever, he’s only known her a couple months, even if it feels like ages - Alex is the one that keeps them all together. She was the one dragging his sorry ass out to Aural Fixation to “support” Ren and his stupid Vampire-Weekend-knockoff band tonight.

Jonas snorts. “No I wouldn’t,” he lies. Or maybe it’s not a lie. “You know, I don’t hate him.”

“I know.”

“He’s actually not that bad.” Okay, maybe he’s just trying to convince himself at this point.

Truth be told, Ren can be incredibly annoying. And maybe part of it is his propensity for messing with his brain chemicals, and maybe part of it is Jonas’s annoyance that Ren does that shit and still manages to be a A/B student, and get scholarships, and somehow be friends with everyone. Be friends with Alex, when she ends up babysitting him when things inevitably get weird. Alex tried to explain it to him once, the things Ren brought to their friendship, but he didn’t get it. He’s grown to understand it a bit more now, the way Ren can drag her out of it when she gets that detached look, when her eyes glaze over, how he makes her laugh and distracts her from whatever it is going through her head.

Her lopsided smile isn’t as mischievous as before. It just looks a little sad. Again, Jonas’s throat tightens.

“Seriously, Jonas, it’s fine. I know you two are like oil and water.”

Guilt. “No…” His protest is unconvincing even to his own ears, and Alex quirks a skeptical eyebrow. “...Okay, maybe sometimes. But you’re like-- that thing. The thing that lets them mix. Emosolutions or whatever.”

“An emulsifier?”

“Emulsifier. Yeah. You make us mayo.”

She’s obviously trying not to laugh. “Right. Mayo, okay.”

“Hey, chemistry isn’t my forte, alright?”

“Alright, Alton Brown.”

He shoots her a sidelong glance, hiding his relief that the sadness seems to have dissipated under a facade of minor irritation. He takes one last drag and lets out a beleaguered sigh. “Fine. Let’s just go back inside.”

She nearly bounces away from the wall, shucking off her jacket again and tying it around her waist in anticipation of the heat in the venue. And then the door is open again, and she’s giving him that look, and he rolls his eyes and follows her back inside to the heat and the music, and she puts out her hand to guide him through the crowd, and he takes it.

Because of course he does. Of course he would. He would follow her anywhere.

#oxenfree #my writing #oxenfree fic #jonalex #jonas/alex #alex/jonas #alex #jonas #alex oxenfree #jonas oxenfree #post-island #oh hey look i finally wrote something

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sweetchcolate · 6 years ago

Text

fandom: Inuyasha

words: 2934

inukag week, day 6: alternate universe

a/n: inspired by this post by @nokaninja, especially the bit with “the flowers were his moms idea.” For some reason, I pictured Izayoi calling her son “nunu” and it all devolved from there.

@inukag-week

“Inuyasha? Inuyasha?” A pause. “Nunu?”

“Gah, ma! Quit it with that nickname! I’m a grown ass― erk, I’m grown up now!” he yelped, ears flattening against his skull.

“I’m sorry, honey.” His ma’s smile was anything but apologetic, amusement hanging on her lips. She was fuckin’ teasing him about this old ass nickname he got for himself back when he was a brat and badly lisping: whenever his ma called him by his name, he tried to mimic her, but with little success. Eventually, he shortened “Inuyasha” to “inu,” more palatable to eleven-months-old him, and completely dropped the “I” over time, thus creating “nunu.”

Unfortunately for him, the nickname stuck. Since that fateful day, he was forever referred to as “nunu” by his parents, and and it didn’t change even as he turned into an adult.

His ma sighed, as if she could read his thoughts. Her eyes were glazed, faraway and nostalgic, seeing something that couldn’t be seen. “Oh, Inuyasha, you could be one hundred years old and have three thousand grandchildren of your own, and you’d still be my baby nunu. I remember when I could hold you up in my arms: you weren’t longer than my forearm.”

“That one of those ‘you’ll understand if you have kids of your own’ lessons, huh?”

His ma nodded. “Right. Today’s is ‘my child is hiding something and I’m wondering what.’”

“W-what makes you think I’m hiding something?” Shit, was he that transparent or was that just his ma’s mom senses?

His ma sipped her coffee calmly before pointing out, “You keep looking at the time and brushing your hands through your hair. Also,” she grinned, impish, “your ears were twitching all day long.”

Of fucking course! He covered the traitors with his hands with a low growl. “These damn ears stand out too much…” he muttered.

His ma laughed. “So, I was right, you were hiding something. Let me guess…” she brought a hand to her chin, supporting her elbow with her other hand, a gesture she had taken from his old man.

He was going to have to tell her anyways, so might as well be now since they were on the subject. “I’m meeting someone,” Inuyasha explained.

“Ooooh,” his ma cooed, clapping her hands in anticipation, eyes bright. “Who is it? Tell me, tell me!”

“Uh…” He looked away as heat crept up his neck and cheeks. Suddenly, he was way too warm, palms sweating, his heart thudding in his chest like a jackhammer and his mouth dry. “It’s… y’know… Higurashi Kagome.”

“Higurashi?” she repeated, something in her tone making the hair at the base of his neck rise and a shiver crawl down his back. “From the Higurashi shrine, near the park with those swings you loved so much?”

“Yeah.”

“Oh…” was all his ma said in answer, face frozen into something impassive, but eyes glinting with dark memories.

Fuck, he thought, nails digging into his palms as his heart gave one last throb before dropping to his stomach. That wasn’t the reaction he was expecting: he thought she’d be surprised, excited, supportive. Anything but this half-hearted, half-disappointed “oh”.

Worse is that he genuinely liked Kag― spending time with Kagome, but he also wanted his ma to be happy with his choice of partner: she was a good judge of character, and all the previous people he associated with that she didn’t like turned out to be shit.

His past relationship with Kikyo was another mess of its own.

“So, you don’t… approve?” he asked at last, voice tight because of the hard lump that had formed in his throat.

His ma blinked, as if she had woken up from a nightmare. “Oh no, not at all! It’s just…” she bit her lip, brows furrowing in worry and sadness, “little Kagome’s said to have the most spiritual power in her family in generations.”

Ma… She really was afraid of a repeat, wasn’t she? “Don’t worry, ma. Kagome can’t purify my ass― erk, my butt.”

His ma reached for his hand, rubbing a thumb on his knuckles like when he got sick as a kid, but Inuyasha thought this was more for her comfort than his, this time around. “I know being half-human protects you from total purification, but it doesn’t mean that it’s not painful or unpleasant.”

“Bah,” he drawled, waving a nonchalant hand, “it aint too different from the new moon nights. I trust Kagome not to zap me.”

Hi ma smiled a bit at his choice of words, slightly cheered up. “So, how did you meet her?”

He scratched the base of his ear, flushing a bit at the memories. “Eh, it ain’t nothin’ too glamorous. Her little brother Sota’s in one of my classes and it’s usually his ma who picks him up.”

“Oi, Sota! Ya still here?”

The boy looked up from where he was sitting, smelling of dried sweat and fresh tears. “Mama’s not here,” Sota said with a little smile, trying to appear strong, but his wobbling voice betraying his worry and fear.

“She’s probably late or somethin’, kid,” Inuyasha crossed his arms, pointing with his head at the mess left behind him. “C’mon. Since ya’re here, help me clean up.” That would distract the kid and change his mind until mom came to get him.

It was a good hour later, when it grew dark outside and Sota babbling away, that a girl barged in, clearly out of breath. “Sota!” she called, pushing her dark hair away from her face with both hands, revealing worried blue eyes and flushed cheeks. “I’m sorry I’m late!” she breathed.

“Kagome!” Sota yelled, flinging himself in the girl’s arms. “You really came for me!”

The girl, Kagome, placed a hand on Sota’s shoulders, patting his head. “Yeah, Mama’s had a problem with the car and I wasn’t home until recently. I’m sorry I took so long to come, kiddo.”

Sota shook his head. “It’s okay, sis! I helped Inu-sensei put away the benches and he said he would teach me a new move next time!”

Kagome tilted her head. “Inu-sensei?”

“That’d be me,” he drawled, finding it a good time as ever to inject himself in this conversation.

The girl looked up, eyes first stopping on his face before continuing their way upwards, catching… “Dog ears?”

Inuyasha bristled, the hair all over his body rising. Fuck, he forgot to put back his cap after the parents left earlier, having picked up their children from their martial arts class. Sota was a good kid and didn’t mind his dog ears: if anything, kid seemed to have a bit of a hero worship going on with him. Inuyasha’s half-demon status was, in his eyes, something amazing rather than fearful.

That didn’t mean it applied to his sister.

Kagome approached him, the top her head barely coming up to his clavicles. She even had to tilt her head a little, curled hair fanning over her shoulder and held back by a plaid headband (which matched her shirt), to look him in the eyes properly, crystal blue against his yellow-gold.

Well, at least she had the decency to face him, instead of avoiding his gaze. He’d give her that.

Suddenly, without warning, Kagome’s hands shot up towards his ears, fingers tweaking them this way and that. Her brows rose and her eyes shone with surprise. “Wow! They’re real!” she exclaimed with child-like joy.

He didn’t even have the time to react before she flushed, pulling her hands away. “Oh my god, that was so rude! I’m sorry, I don’t know what came over me!”

Inuyasha’s words tapered off as his ma broke into a fit of laughter, doubling over and strands of dark hair pooling over the table. His ears stuck to his skull in his embarrassment and he carefully pulled her hair away from falling into her cup of coffee and the plates of food. Eventually, his ma straightened up, brushing tears that had gathered at the corners of her eyes.

“Oh, nunu,” she said at last, shaking her head in amusement. “This is priceless.”

“Glad to know you get a kick outta your son’s ear misadventures,” he huffed, not really hurt by his ma’s reaction.

“That’s not why I’m laughing so much. It’s just… when I was pregnant with you, your father and I didn’t know what you’d look like. We knew you’d be half-demon, but we didn’t know which features you’d inherited: his hair or mine? His eye color or mine? His demon strength or mine?”

Inuyasha raised a brow, a bit interested in hearing about his early days and how this tied in with Higurashi Kagome tweaking his ears and getting his ma to laugh her ass off.

“When I first held you, I was a mess. It took me over a day to give birth to you, I was exhausted, hungry, half-loopy from all the painkillers, and couldn’t tell your dad from the nurses. And apparently, the first thing I did when I met you was blubber “puppy ears!” and nuzzle them.”

A groan left Inuyasha’s lips and he smacked his face in exasperation. This damn obsession with his ears… It cursed all the women in his life! Even his freakin’ stepmom, his old man’s first wife, slipped a comment about it when they first met! His ma, for her part, never failed to give him funny looks when it happened: he thought that she had grown desensitized to her son having odd features, even for someone part demon, but nope.

Turned out she was the fucken original Inuyasha’s ears fanclub member!

“So, how did you react?” his ma asked and he rolled his eyes.

“Y’know exactly how.”

“And yet, if you’re meeting up with her now, it means your grumpy attitude didn’t discourage her,” she teased.

Kagome was stubborn and gave back as much as she got. While most people cowered when his temper made an appearance, she had yelled right back, claiming he was “rude” for exploding on her when she had apologized for tweaking his ears.

Despite their rocky start, Inuyasha got to know Kagome better, since she became responsible for picking Sota up once his classes were done: she was stubborn, she was reckless, and she drove him absolutely nuts. Kagome was his total opposite: an optimist to his cynic views, openly kind to his gruff attempts at comfort, cheerful to the almost permanent scowl on his face, and so on.

Worst of all? She was a master sneak: slowly, so gradually he didn’t realize it, she had slipped past his walls, picking a spot in his heart and nestling there as if she owned the place. It wasn’t long before he had her name on his lips almost every day and before the syllables “ka-go-me” made his ears perk up in interest and his heart beat hopefully.

Inuyasha from a year ago would have been disgusted at his open vulnerability when it came to Kagome. Inuyasha of the present wouldn’t have it any other way.

“She gets attached too easily,” he answered in the end, voice fond and eyes soft, unable to find the words to properly describe Kagome.

His ma raised a brow, one corners of her mouth tilting up not quite in disbelief, but more like she knew something that he didn’t.

“What?”

Her smile grew wider, like the cat that ate the canary. “Nothing. I’m just glad you seem to be looking forward to that date. Speaking of which,” she said, tone pitching at the end, “when are you leaving?”

“Uh…” he took a quick look at the clock. “In an hour or so. I’m meetin’ Kagome at her place.”

“And what are you going to do?”

He shrugged. “Eat a bit, see a movie, hang out.” Honestly, he hadn’t planned this far ahead: being in Kagome’s presence was enough. He didn’t mind following what she had in mind as long as she was happy.

His ma pouted, tracing the rim of her coffee cups, as if disappointed he didn’t give her more meat to chew on. “And are you bringing her a gift?”

“Why would she need one?” Inuyasha blinked, genuinely confused.

“To commemorate, to show you were looking forward to that date, to show you care or simply to make her happy. There are many reasons, honey.”

To show I care… to make her happy… the words looped in his mind. What could he get for her without acting like that Hodo guy from her middle school days? Well, for starters, nothing related to illnesses or “get better” gifts! He could also scratch shrine/priestess-related stuff: she already had all a girl could dream of in that matter, thanks to her family.

“What about jewelry?” he asked his ma, looking for advice. Yeah, that sounded good: a necklace, to match with the black pearl hanging around his neck!

“Mm, it might be my own experiences talking, but I think it’s better to keep jewelry for later dates or for when you’re in a stable relationship,” she answered, fingering the thin silver chain around her wrist, a memento from his old man. She looked up with a small smile, “But what about flowers?”

“Inuyashaaaaa!” Kagome called from above, waving his way before she went down the stairs as quick as she could.

His heart lurched at the sound of her voice and he clutched the bouquet tighter behind his back. Shit, hope she didn’t see the flowers!

In the end, he had picked them as a gift, per his ma’s suggestion. They were a deep pink, almost red, their smell soft and their petals velvety. He also made sure to pick sturdy flowers which needed little care, so that Kagome could keep them for a long time.

Or at least, he hoped she would.

Kagome skipped over the last few steps, her momentum carrying her forward. Inuyasha stepped in front of her to catch her, breath knocked out of his lungs when she collided with his chest with an oof! He had to place a hand on her back to steady her, fingers sinking into her fluffy green top and drawing her closer instead.

“Thanks for stopping me, Inuyasha!” Kagome chirped, tilting her head back to catch his eyes. Her red lips curved up into a pleased smile, blue eyes soft, the tip of her ponytail brushing his hand.

He flushed. “Ya’re welcome.”

Kagome glanced at him up and down, taking in his outfit. “You clean up real nice!” she said. “I really dig your jacket too. I’m almost jealous!” she laughed, tugging lightly on the lapels, teasing.

Inuyasha never really had much of a reason to wear his red bomber jacket in the past, despite it being his favorite. It was one of his old man’s mementos, and he didn’t want to risk ruining it during fights with arrogant demon punks who got too frisky with him.

He also avoided wearing the thing, as its vibrant color would draw in people’s eyes and bring out scowls. It was like painting a big fat target on his back, turning himself into a matador’s red cape and the crowds into enraged bulls, as if he didn’t get enough flack for being half-demon.

It figured Kagome would enjoy his jacket: she seemed to appreciate about him what other people derided him for.

“Thanks. You… uh,” he swallowed, mouth dry and ears twitching. “You look good too.” Real cute.

She beamed, blue eyes glittering, twirling on the spot to show off. “Thank you! I almost didn’t wear this top, because Sota said I looked like ‘a green caterpillar’.” She mimicked her brother’s voice at the end. “The brat!”

Inuyasha smirked, teasing. “He ain’t wrong.”

Kagome mock-gasped, bringing a hand to her chest. “Well fine! Guess I will go back home to change into another shirt, since some people don’t have an eye for fashion.” With a huff, she whirled around, ponytail swinging, hands on her hips. Her brown skirt clung to her legs as she took the first few steps towards the shrine.

“Oi, Kagome,” he called, following after her. He waited until she turned around, a questioning look on her face. Inuyasha swallowed hard, throat working, heart damn near vibrating in his chest. His hand shook behind his back.

“If you’re going back up, t-take this too!” he managed, voice breaking at the end. Inuyasha whipped out the bouquet of flowers as his face erupted in flames, blushing so hard he was sure he was as red as his jacket. He avoided looking at Kagome, eyes settling on her bright earrings instead.

The blood rushed in his veins and his heart pounded in his head like a headache, so loud his ears barely caught Kagome’s faint gasp, a small hitch in her breath. When her hands wrapped around the bouquet, cool fingers brushing against his, he almost flinched, the muscles in his arms spasming.

He risked a quick glance at Kagome’s face: she was staring at the flowers with stars in her blue eyes. Her mouth was slightly open in wonder, cheeks as red and bright as the flowers he had offered her. Inuyasha was pretty sure he also saw sparkles shining around her.

Kagome brought the flowers to her face, inhaling deeply a few times. “They smell so good,” she whispered, as if afraid to break the moment. She then touched his hand and when he didn’t pull away, slipped her hand in his, squeezing.

“Thank you, Inuyasha,” she told him, voice gentle and full of feelings. “They’re wonderful.”

“Ya’re welcome.”

He squeezed her hand back.

#inuyasha #inukag week #inukag #inukag week day 6 #my fanfiction #sweetchcolate's nonsense of the day

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jiminthestreets-bonesinthesheets · 6 years ago

Text

Lost in Translation

Title: Lost in Translation

Fandom: Star Trek

Pairing: Mckirk

Rating: Explicit

Tags: minor character death, hurt, little bit of self destruction, stranded, possible smut down the line, new addition... there will be fluff!!

Summary:

“Attention citizens. This is the crew of the Enterprise asking for your aid. On Stardate 2264.78 a shuttle manned by our captain and fourteen cadets was ambushed by an unknown source and chased out of sight of our ship and into open space. Those cadets as well as our captain, James Tiberius Kirk, are still missing. We are asking anyone with any information on their whereabouts, or regarding the attack, to please contact the Enterprise immediately. Our family would appreciate any assistance you can give.”

AO3 Link

Masterlist

Special Thanks: wanted to give a huge shout out to my girl Katie, AKA @goingknowherewastaken for being a huge inspiration for this fic as well as for being a huge help (especially when it comes to putting up with my frantic ramblings lol) you're awesome boo <3

A/N: So this is a work in progress but it’s basically finished and I’ve been making great headway with this recently, so this will be the first fic I’ve ever finished! Woohoo!! And I'm thinking that I’ll probably stick to a Sunday post schedule.

Also a little note for y’all to keep in mind while reading. I have tagged this fic “possible eventual smut” and that’s because right now I don’t have any planned buuuuut… I'm going to leave that option up to you guys! Between the readers here and AO3, if you're still with me by the end of this fic, leave a comment and let me know if you would be interested in an epilogue or end scene with smut. I’ll post a reminder at the end, but keep it in mind while reading.

And if anyone is interested in being tagged for future posts for this fic or any others I may post, please let me know and I’ll add you to the list! Thanks for reading <3

Chapter 4:

The storm was raging, and had been now for almost two full days and nights. Now on day three of the torrential down pour Jim was at his wits end. Still with an injured knee, he limped around their crappy shelter as best he could while attempting to patch it up. There were holes everywhere it seemed, and he had run out of shuttle scraps to use for repairs. Water was coming into the shelter from every angle, the ground beneath them was soaked, his already suffering cadets were shivering and with injuries so bad he couldn’t risk moving them, and he was sure his worst fear was coming true.

After last night’s winds and brutal drop in temperature, two of his young cadets had woken late that day with deep, chesty coughs. Pneumonia. And what could he do about it? Nothing, absolutely nothing, not a god damn thing and he hated himself for it. He had tried to get his cadets off the ground as best he could, tried to keep them warm and dry, but one man could not fight the endless amounts of rain this storm was throwing at them. And it seemed, from what Jim could see, there was no end in sight.

After one last failed attempt at fixing more holes, Jim ducked into the shelter to check on his crew. They were holding on, they had been for ten days so far, but who knew how much longer that would last. The two cadets who had definitely come down with pneumonia were still coughing, struggling to breathe in the driest corner of the shelter. And of the other five, three were in and out of consciousness, and the last two were more then likely going to be fighting infections as bad as Colten’s was.

With nothing more he could do, he pulled himself to lean against the back wall of the shelter. He leaned his head back against the cold metal, the sound of the rain hammering on the metal scraps of their shelter drowning out his worries for the time being. He allowed sleep to take him in hopes that tomorrow would bring the familiar faces of his bridge crew, and the handsome doctor he found himself craving more and more each day. As his eyes slowly closed he thought about strong hands on his face, arms wrapping tightly around him and pulling him close, firm fingers running through his hair as a melodic chant of “Jim, Jim I'm here, it’s ok,” drawled in a sweet southern accent pushed him closer to sleep. And just before his eyes closed completely, a whispered, “Bones…” left his lips and he was finally asleep.

~~~~~~~~~~~

“Captains log, Stardate 2264.89. Last night was probably the best sleep I have had since the crash. I had hoped that perhaps today would bring better fortunes for me and my remaining crew, but unfortunately it was exactly the opposite. Some time in the night we lost two more members. Cadet Owen McDouglas had not only injuries from the crash, but possible pneumonia as well. And Cadet Obnerick Niich, I know he had some pretty bad injuries, but the actual cause of his death I am afraid I will never know. He was one of the members I thought might make it through to rescue. His injuries were not as severe as most others, yet he was gone before I woke up this morning…”

Jim was sitting at the edge of the shelter, looking out into the haze of rain still pouring from the sky above. He was cold, fed up, angry, and soaking wet. All he wanted was to get to the ship, to beam aboard and head straight for his best friend, to Bones, to home. But he had no way of getting there, no way of getting any sort of signal to them, or communication. Getting home was looking more and more like it was never going to happen.

“I hope that the admirals…” he stopped, shaking his head. At this point who cared what the admirals thought, he certainly didn’t. If they ever found the wreckage and his comm, Jim wasn’t making these logs for them, he was making them for Bones. Yeah, the admirals would want to know what happened to him and each individual crew member that passed in their time on the planet, but that didn’t mean they actually gave a rats ass about any of them, but Bones would. Bones would not only want to know what had happened, but would care about what happened to him. And if anyone knew that grump of a doctor it was Jim, and he knew that Bones would not give up until something was found. And if the only thing he found was this comm, then Jim was going to make sure that Bones knew he was thinking of him too. “You know what, I don’t give a damn what the admirals think. Bones… I'm sorry for this, for all of it. But I want you to know that I'm not sorry that you weren’t on this shuttle with me, things are bad down here, really bad. Most of my fourteen are either dead or… or dying, and I wouldn’t be able to live with myself if that was you, Bones.”

Jim reached up with his free hand to wipe away a stray tear before continuing, “But I'm not giving up yet. I’ve still got five cadets counting on me, and I know you won’t let me go so easily. If I can count on anyone in this galaxy, it’s you, Bones. I know you'll find me…”

~~~~~~~~~~~

“Captains log, Stardate 2264.9-” Jim paused, he felt like he couldn’t breathe let alone finish his sentence. Fourteen days in, fourteen days shipwrecked on this so far deserted planet, fourteen days of hell he wished he never had to experience. All he wanted was the ship, the crew, Bones… he wanted Bones more then he could express, and fourteen days in he was starting to seriously worry that he would never see him again.

With as calming of a breath as he could manage, he wiped the wetness from his eyes and tried to continue, “Bones… I lost them, I lost them all. I failed every single one of these cadets, our family, I failed our family, Bones!” His voice gave way as the sobs began to take over his entire body. “Cadet M’haka, Cadet Nyara Blanir, Cadet Liam Tyler, Cadet Blake Shaw, and Cadet Dierdra Graff… the last of my crew gone. Some perished from their wreck injuries, others from pneumonia, and a few from I don’t even know what, but I know you could have saved them, Bones.”

He looked out across the endless empty in front of him, the storm still raging on with no end in sight as he spoke again, “It’s been… fourteen days now since the crash, the storm is still going on, I'm cold, wet, hungry, home sick… alone. I have yet to see any sign of life, no species of any kind, and now with all of my fourteen crew members gone… I'm completely alone, Bones.”

~~~~~~~~~~~

For the next three days Jim slept. There was really nothing more he could do. He had no more cadets relying on him for aid, the rain was still hammering down on the shelter, seeping through the cracks and running like a river underneath him. He was soaked through to his core and if something didn’t give soon, he was going to be this storms next victim. But four days later he woke to warmth on his skin, a small ray of sunshine came sneaking through one of the cracks in the shelter landing on his face.

He stretched into it, let his cold skin absorb the welcome heat. Slowly he crawled out of the shelter and into the sun that was already high in the sky above him. Once outside he laid on his back, arms out wide and revelled in the humid air breathing it in deep. Finally, finally his shivering would stop, his clothes would be dry for the first time in days, and his skin could return to its normal non-wrinkled texture. The ground beneath him was already dry and back to its desert like state, but he couldn’t be happier to finally see the sand covered ground surrounding him.

After what felt like hours of just laying in the sun, Jim sat up and faced the shelter. A pang of guilt and sorrow hit his chest hard, hindering his breathing as he thought about the fourteen bodies inside. He had to face it, there was no getting home for them. There would be no bodies to burry if he was ever found, no closure for their families, no peace for his cadets, hell, no one may ever even know what happened to any of them but what was he supposed to do about it? What could he do? With every fibre of his being he wished with everything he had that he could give them the peace and closure that they all deserved and it killed him that now he wouldn’t be able to do that, or at the very least inform their families of their bravery in the face of death.

Bones would know what to do, he thought as he sat up wrapping his arms tightly around his knees, Bones always knows what to do. But Bones wasn’t there, and Jim had to do something. Not only did he have his cadets to think about, but he was also now completely out of food and almost out of water. If he didn’t come up with some kind of plan he would be joining the cadets soon enough. All protocol stated to stay where you were, to never leave the original site if you were lost or wrecked, but he was starting to think that he wouldn’t have much choice soon.

He looked around himself, seeing desert in every direction. Not a single tree or bush anywhere in between, not even a blade of grass, aside from a small mountain to his right. It was a fair distance away, and he could potentially spend a few days crossing the desert to get to it, especially on a wrecked knee. But there was the potential of finding a water source up there as well as hope that there could be something more on the other side. Maybe people, something he could eat, someone who could help. Normally he wouldn’t take the risk, but at this point he didn’t see any other option.

He reached into his pocket and took out his comm. “Captains… captains log, Stardate 2264.96. Bones, I know it’s against protocol but I’ve decided I have to move on. The storm finally stopped this morning and I can’t stay here and wait to die. I… I'm out of food, I barely have any water tablets left, and that mountain to the right seems to be the best option. I'm hoping that at the very least I can find water and maybe some better shelter, and maybe there’s more to this planet on the other side of the mountain. If I could find some kind of food that would be great, then at least I could survive a bit longer, and if I could find people, hopefully people advanced enough to help, that would be a miracle. So far the only thing that’s on this side of the mountain is desert. But… leaving the cadets here, it feels wrong, Bones, though I can’t exactly take them with me. I’ve already let them down and now I don’t know what to do.”

Jim moved the comm away from his mouth, staring again into the shelter at his cadets. A soft wind had started to blow through, cooling the already sweltering heat. When the wind hit the shelter his eyes darted to a piece of metal that began bouncing around, causing a loud bang to linger across the desert. The piece of metal was hanging on by a thread, it must have been dislodged some time during the storm and Jim hadn’t noticed until now. He watched it flap back and forth, continuing to crash into the metal pieces underneath it, and finally Jim had an idea.

He forced himself up on weak legs, already shaking from lack of food, and slowly limped his way over to the broken piece of the shelter.

~~~~~~~~~~~

Leonard placed the padd on the table beside Jim's bed, more like slammed it down. What little resolve he had left was gone, he couldn’t hold back the tears any longer and let them take over. Eighteen days and Jim was now alone, the Enterprise at this point was no where even close to finding him, and it was starting to sound like Jim was giving up on the ship and even himself.

Jim had grieved for the cadets he lost, kids, and so did Leonard. Fourteen young and promising lives gone, but Leonard also grieved for Jim. He knew that if anything had happened to any of those kids while they were missing, Jim would blame himself. Even if there was absolutely nothing he or anyone else in his situation could have done, Jim would blame himself entirely, and now he was blaming himself for the deaths of fourteen cadets. He could hear it in his voice, they way he spoke about their loss, about letting them down, failing them. He knew that even though Jim was here, in this room with him, body warm under his touch, that a small part of him died on that planet along with those kids, and now Leonard grieved for it. If Jim woke up this would be a hard bump to get over.

The door creaked open then, and without looking up he knew who it was. “Spock.”

“Doctor.” He came inside and closed the door behind him. He could see that Leonard was crying, that he was holding Jim's hand and running his thumb melodically across his fingers, and that he had abandoned the padd behind him on the table. “Have you finished the logs, Doctor?”

Leonard shook his head, gripping Jim's hand tighter in his, “I can’t Spock,” he whispered, not looking at the Vulcan, “I can’t finish them.”

“You must,” Spock spoke not with an air of authority, but an almost plea, which Leonard had never heard in the Vulcan's voice before. “I know this is difficult for you, I listened to the Captain’s logs as well. But I assure you, all will come together in the end, Doctor. If anything, you must finish them for Jim.”

Without so much as another word Spock silently slipped from the room. Leonard heard the soft click of the door and Spock's steady footsteps leaving the sickbay, then reached back to grab the padd. He let it sit in his lap for a while before he tapped the screen and brought up the next log. Turned out, the next ship log that fell in line with Jim's logs, was one of his.

He looked at the stardate on the log, the same stardate as Jim's last log. Eighteen days of no Jim, of searching the stars and endless planets for him and the cadets, and coming up empty handed every time. Leonard remembered the feeling of hope that would rise in him every time Spock would take a landing party to the surface of a new planet, the anxiety he would feel for the hours or sometimes days they would spend searching the surface, and the gut wrenching heartbreak he would feel when Spock would walk into the sickbay and shake his head. Every time Leonard would find himself in the bathroom, huddled over the toilet and emptying what little was in his stomach. And it only got worse.

With each passing day, and each Jim-less planet they searched, Leonard worried more and more that Jim was already lost. That they would never find him, or possibly find him dead. He didn’t know which was worse.

“CMO’s log, Stardate 2264.96. It’s been eighteen days of searching every god forsaken planet we’ve come across and we haven’t found a god damn thing in this black hell hole up here. No sign of Jim or his shuttle, or the god damn idiots who attacked us in the first place. And now Jim's out there, in god knows what state, on some god damn planet, and surrounded by who knows what kind of bacteria and infectious diseases. And the damn med kit on that metal death trap he was in ain’t got nearly enough supplies for fifteen people to survive on for more then two weeks, and it’s been longer then that already! If we don’t find them soon then… damn it! We need to find him! I need the kid back more then I even knew, actually… maybe I did know, I just couldn’t say it. God, I wish I had… to hell with this! I need a drink.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A/N: Little more angst, and next is the chapter I’m pretty excited about.... the Bones centered chapter!! XD

But I also thought I’d let you guys know that I had a bit of a revelation this morning lol. While trying to update this fic for y’all I decided that I’m going to slightly alter the original path I had outlined for this. Not so much alter but rather add to. So, this fic is probably going to be a little longer then I originally anticipated, but who doesn’t love a good long Mckirk fic? lol Anyways, hope you guys enjoyed this update, hopefully more to come soon!! And as always your wonderful thoughts are always welcomed, and thanks for reading! <3

Tags: @goingknowherewastaken @bi-e-ne @medicatemedrmccoy @weresilver-in-space @resistance-is-futile81 @0dannyphantom0 @jimboy-mccoy @reading-in-moonlight @flaminglupine @haveyouseenmymind

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sunshineandfangs · 6 years ago

Text

Sugar and Spice

Step 1: Spice Santa

@howeverlongs and @joey-prue. So a little late depending on the time zone, but I did it!

Warnings: BDSM, dirty talk, blindfolds, toys, edging, NSFW

Caroline snapped her mouth shut with a sharp click of her teeth, regretting the words she let fly as soon as they escaped her lips. They were meant to be provocative and cruel and Klaus hadn’t done anything to deserve it.

She watched him warily, wondering if an apology would be sufficient.

“Klaus, I-”

Her words cut off as he appeared in front of her, his thumb gently caressing the swell of her lips. With a shift of his hand, he grasped the back of her neck, the pressure a firm reminder.

“I know you’re stressed, Caroline. So I am going to give you the chance to apologize properly. Do you understand?”

The first stirrings of arousal competed with regret in the coil of her belly, and she lowered her eyes.

“Yes, Master.”

“Good girl.”

A tiny shiver ran down her spine, one he noticed judging by the slight tightening of his hand.

“It’s a shame,” he continued, “I had delightful plans to help you relax today. And now, I have to adjust them.”

“I’m sorry, Master.”

“I know you are,” he said with a parting stroke of his thumb along her jaw, as he retreated a few steps. “Now, strip.”

Caroline was quick to obey, her hands flying to the hem of her shirt.

“Slowly,” he commanded with a heated glance, even as he turned to retrieve something from the closet. “I had wanted to peel you out of your clothes layer by layer, but I don’t think you’ve re-earned that privilege. Shall I narrate for you?”

The question was largely rhetorical, though she replied dutifully. Biting her lip, Caroline rolled the edge of her shirt in her fingers, wondering what delicious torment he had in store for her.

“Your shirt would have gone first, my fingers stroking the soft skin of your sides.” She obeyed, pulling the fabric off, almost feeling a phantom touch of his hands, though he still stood across the room.

“I would have played with those lovely breasts of yours, sweetheart. Rolled my thumbs across your nipples. You enjoy the roughness of the lace, don’t you?”

“Yes, Master,” she breathed as she pinched and pulled at her nipples. Wet heat already pooling between her legs.

He finally emerged from the closet, box in hand, eyes glinting with wolf-gold as he watched her play.

“Now, as much as I enjoy your delightful choices in lingerie, it would have been the next piece to go.”

Her bra fell in a flutter of fabric.

“I’m afraid there’s no substitute for my mouth on your breasts. Would you have liked that, pet?”

She nodded eagerly, “Yes, Master.”

“I suppose you could re-earn such a gift. And seeing as it was your tongue that got you in trouble, it’s only fair that it gets you out of it, hm?”

Setting the box aside, he perched on the edge of the bed, his own arousal obvious as he gesture for her to come to him.

“On your knees, Caroline. Your palms stay on the floor.”

She swallowed as she crawled to him, breasts swaying as she moved. Soon settling between his legs, she nuzzled against his erection and peered up at him from beneath her lashes.

Twisting his fingers in her hair, the slight pull was all the signal she needed. It was a bit of a challenge to pop the button of his jeans with her teeth, but she managed. The zipper far easier to grasp.

“Tongue only,” he reminded her as his cock sprung free.

She swirled her tongue around the tip, tasting the pre-cum that was already leaking from it, before tracing the vein from tip to base. A tug on her hair guided her back to the head of his cock, and she dutifully obeyed. Varying from kittenish little ficks to long indulgent glides.

“Such an eager little whore. Licking her Master’s cock in the hopes of a reward.”

Caroline moaned in reply, her tongue still busy, the words sending another pulse of arousal to her core.

“Good pet,” he cooed, patting his thigh and pulling her head upward.

Her eyes lit up with anticipation as she scrambled into his lap. He let out an amused chuckle and lowered his head to her breasts.

“My pet,” he uttered as he gave her a sharp nip, soothing the sting of his teeth with his tongue. Caroline pressed closer, as he tortured one nipple with his talented mouth and then the other. Panting and jerking in his arms, a hazy portion of her mind wondered if he was about to get her off with nipple play alone.

A chastising slap on her ass, jolted her from her thoughts, even as it pushed her dangerously close to an orgasm.

“None of that, my little slut. You haven’t earned that yet.”

In a blur of speed, Caroline found herself sprawled on the sheets beneath him. He smirked down at her as he gathered her wrists in his hand, securing them to the headboard with a set of spelled cuffs. So distracted, she hadn’t even seen him grab them.

Leaning down farther, he pressed a quick possessive kiss to her lips before following the line of her jaw to the sensitive spot behind her ear. She jolted with a moan as he sucked on it before he continued his journey down her neck, between her breasts and along her sternum. A brief swirl of his tongue in her belly button sent her stomach twitching at the tease, but he didn’t linger dipping lower to the top of her pants.

He looked up at her with a wicked expression.

“Naughty girl, you’ve soaked through your jeans.”

Caroline blushed a bit as she squirmed. It was true. She was soaking despite the fact he hadn’t really touched her much.

Unlike her top, he made quick work of her jeans and panties, chucking them along with her shoes somewhere behind him. Unable to resist, he leaned in, nose just hovering above her clit as he inhaled. A growl rumbling up from his chest. Wound tighter than a coil, Caroline bucked her hips hopefully upward, but he pulled away in an instant.

She whined, and he just tutted at her.

“Oh, sweetheart, I’m afraid you won’t get your release for sometime.”

Sitting back on his heels, he ran his fingers along her upper thighs before gripping them and spreading her legs wide. His hands moved tauntingly closer to her core before slithering down to her ankles and tethering them to the posts on the foot-board.

Caroline groaned in dismay.

“All this tension, pet. All this anxiety you’ve kept bottled close until you couldn’t hold it back. You’re going to take it all and focus every drop of your attention on not coming.”

His eyes bored into hers, but there was no tell-tale dilation of compulsion. Her own widened, wondering if she could truly hold back.

“Master,” she pleaded.

He hushed her. “It won’t be more than you can endure, my Caroline. Do you trust me?”

Caroline softened, “Always, Master.”

“Good girl,” he praised moving upward to press a surprisingly gentle kiss on her lips. Ending the indulgent exchange, he peered down at her, hands cupping her face.

“Safeword?”

“Hummingbird, Master,” she uttered near purring as she pressed her cheek closer to his hands.

“Are you ready?”

“Yes, Master.”

The affectionate blue of his eyes flashed back to gold, and that was the last thing she saw as he slipped a blindfold over her eyes.

Caroline writhed in her bonds, unsure how much time had passed. Thoughts slipped away from her as the toy continued to vibrate within her. It pushed her right to the precipice of release before backing off again. A constant swelling wave that no matter how close it came never crested.

At first she had endured, moaning and whimpering, but determined to hold steady. As time slipped away, she started to tease him, hoping he would give in and grant her release. That hope soon faded into a litany of ‘Please, Master’ and then a broken chant of slurred ‘pleasepleaseplease.’ Eventually even that gave way to incomprehensible garbles as she had to focus every ounce of her being on obeying his order.

Something in the air shifted, and a part of her registered that Klaus had moved closer. The bed dipped as he moved onto it, and after a moment the constant buzzing ceased. Her pants were loud in the new silence, her body trembling. When the harness was unbuckled the toy slipped from her with barely a tug, slick with hours of arousal.

“Come,” he ordered, as his lips drew her clit into his mouth.

Caroline screamed, exploding into an orgasm. It was like being struck by lightning, sudden with sensation everywhere. Caroline felt herself pull apart into a million pieces before each crashed together again only to be shattered anew.

She must have blacked out, for when she came to she was curled against Klaus’ chest. He had changed into drawstring pants, and the feeling of his skin against hers was grounding. As was the hand that gently ran up and down her spine.

“How do you feel, sweetheart?” He questioned quietly, his hand still stroking her back in the same soothing, grounding motion.

“Exhausted,” she whispered, voice cracking a bit, her mouth dry and tongue clumsy. “But better.”

She twitched just enough to peer up at him and offer a tired smile.

“Thank you, Klaus.”

“You’re welcome. I will always be here when you need me.” He pressed a kiss to her brow and pulled her a bit closer, nudging her head toward his neck. “Now, drink, my love, and rest.”

Caroline hummed, energy slipping away again as she bit into his neck and took a few long pulls of his decadent blood. She licked at the last trails of it as the wound closed, and let herself be pulled into a doze. Content and relaxed as Klaus presence enveloped her.

AN: Please, note that smut is light-years out of my comfort zone in terms of writing it. The most I’ve ever done is a quick RP exchange with a friend of mine in a different fandom. I basically went with some of the things I’ve enjoyed reading before. So shrugs I hope you like it. On that note, I’m not even in the realm of being an expert on BDSM either so yeah.

#12kcxmas #klaroline shippers club #klaroline #klaroline fanfiction #klaroline drabbles #my writing #Citrus

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waterstar2016 · 7 years ago

Photo

I recently saw a post about someone asking why some of us find the TMNT characters attractive. I’m sorry, I can’t remember who it was.

For me it’s Raphael. 99% holy fucking shit he floats my boat. Sure, he’s a mutant, he’s a turtle, and yes he has green skin. Don’t forget that he’s absolutely fucking huge. Swoon.

The reason I say 99% is because there is a part of me that is drawn to Leo. The control he exudes, those blue eyes, how each of his movements seem perfectly executed, and that strut! He looks like he is as almost as strong as Raph, just in a more compact form. And talk about kinky vibe, yum. The submissive part of me screams “YES!” to his persona. The scene in the first movie when he yells “Enough!” Leo flips in the air and tells Raph to back off after landing on the buildings edge, Katana singing and dust and rubble exploding away from his impact (Woah). April is backing up, hell, I would too with that gaze focussed on me. But part of me would be tempted to not move. Anyways…

I found myself wondering why I was attracted to fictional characters that weren’t even human (I eluded to this in my first post “Why?”) I’ll expand on that post. I’ve always been drawn to the big, strong and or burly type. The ones that you know could pick you up and carry you away. Vin Diesel makes my heart pound and I really wouldn’t mind ending up in a dark corner with him. I am not afraid of the dark. *grin*

So, here’s my explanation as to why my body sings at the thought of Raphael. Leo, I summed up above because this is going to already be a long enough post.

Raphael:

1. His size. I’m pretty tall for a woman and I am not delicate. Being 5’11 and not small statured (have a curvy figure and a little bit of extra weight that I am working my ass off trying to lose), I have a 36” inseam (impossible to find jeans at a reasonable price) I have always, ALWAYS felt like the “big” girl. I tower over all of my girlfriends, have been called an Amazon by friends and boyfriends (hence the idea for my OC Immogene) and have found that the majority of my relationships have been with guys that were shorter than me. I have confidence in myself most of the time, I just feel awkward in certain situations. I would be rich if I’d gotten a dollar for every time a guy would come up to me, compliment me, and then walk away. There were a few guys that I was with that I felt like that if I went on top, there was a small chance that I could crush them (yes I know, probably not gonna happen, but my head would go there) I love doggy style, but if the guys a little short, I’d have to kneel on the edge of the bed while more time is spent adjusting the height that my ass is at, than the actual fucking (“Shit, hun lower your ass, I can’t stand on my tip toes this long.”) Meanwhile, I’m waiting to be pounded into the mattress… I’m pretty strong. I lift weights a few times a week and do not shy away from heavy work.

I’m the one in the grocery store with the little old lady beside me who looks at me and then looks at the top shelf. I know she wants to ask me to grab something up there, but she’s afraid. Sighing, I will turn and gently ask “Is there something I can grab for you mam?” Crisis averted, she realizes I won’t pounce and I finally get a smile “O yes dear, could you grab me the olive oil? Thank you. Wow, such a tall girl, pretty though.” I’m the girl that guys get intimidated by. Have you read my fanfic “Two Shades of Green”? Immogene resembles me in so many ways and Brian’s character is actually based upon a few guys that I dated.

With Raphael, well lol, there would be NO worries about me crushing him. In fact, it would be the opposite. I would love the feeling of being utterly surrounded by his massive form. Don’t get me started on his thick fingers. Mmmm. Not many people can manhandle me (one guy I dated was 6’5” and could lift me with one arm…for the first time in my life, my mouth actually went dry. Too bad I found out he already had a fiancee *rolls eyes*…asshole) and the thought of being swept up and held by those gorgeous biceps draws an interesting tingle. For me to have to reach up to kiss him, for him to be able to put me where he wanted me to be? Bring. It. On.

2. His personality. Raph is so passionate. He has an internal fire. He has an attitude. He’s full of testosterone. He’s protective of April. He love’s his brothers. Raph and Leo may fight (a lot) but there are scenes in the where you can see the brotherly love. Like most Raph fans out there, I feel he is the type that is hard as nails on the exterior, but on the interior he’s a big pile of goo. I would love to be the one that could cool his jets (and then heat them up in different ways ;)). I get the feeling that if Raph’s character found someone, she would be his entire world (yes I know I am a romantic and a sap, but I try to let slowly ooze out, not flow over you like Niagara Falls).

Raphael speaks from the heart. The expressions on his face convey such raw emotion (thank you movie magic!). He’s a rebel. One of my favourite lines in the 2016 movie was “Normal, what fun is that?” Total high three for that one. I went to University and did two degrees at the same time. I target shoot, I can rough it in the bush for a few days (as long as there is a nearby water source), I fish, I can throw a baseball further than most guys I know, I love getting my hands dirty and am not afraid to open up a DIY book when my fridge stops working. I also love star gazing, wearing makeup occasionally to make my eyes pop and wearing skirts. Don’t get me wrong I know there are other woman that do these things…it just seems to be rare where I come from. Or, at least I’ve been told it’s rare. In the past those hobbies, skills and habits made me intimidating. I actually had one guy take me camping and who broke up with me shortly after (I found out the reason why from a mutual friend) because I could actually do what I said I could - start a fire, paddle a canoe for hours (I actually dragged him and that damn canoe over a beaver dam because he was scared), set up a tent, etc. He didn’t believe me when I told him I was ok to go camping a little off the beaten path (yes, I know, good riddance). I was raised by my father. He brought me up to believe that a woman could do anything she wanted to (my dad was actually a mentor for young woman in his field who were just starting their careers. He helped so many gain confidence and be proud in a male dominated career choice) I feel that Raph’s (and have personal experience with “Raph” types) personality would be drawn to someone who was sweet, caring and kind, but had a backbone. He would be the type to encourage you to be who you were (girlfriend or not). Reading a fair number of blogs I am not the only one that feels this way about this characters personality. I can see him really shy and afraid of rejection at first but not being able to resist testing the waters with an occasional dirty comment just to see the reaction. When he finds out that she’s interested. There would be no going back.

Referring to the quote about “Normal” again, Raph himself realizes he likes who he is at the end of the movie. Love that ending.

A violent teddy bear suits Raph to the T. Yes he can crush you, yes he would enjoy it (if you were the bad guy), but if you were someone he loved…those same actions would be expressed in an ENTIRELY different way. He would crush you to him and enjoy it just as much. Even though I don’t think he would admit it, Raph wants acceptance. Most of the time he expects the worst from someone. I often ended up in a not so great relationship because the guy accepted most of me (that didn’t take long to piss me off. I would move on to try again). I still struggle some days, but most of the time I am good with who I am now.

3. His voice. The timbre of it, the batman voice, the accent, and that chuckle. He can convey so much emotion in that voice. Good choice on the actor they chose to play him! One Raph Imagine even mentioned him singing to you! I can totally see that. I could listen to that voice for hours.

4. How he moves. Raph has a rolling walk. Shoulders moving with each step. It’s predatory. It’s fucking delicious. Combine how he moves with his never failing focus on his target makes me want to run and hide, but, in a place I know he will find me. The sit-ups on the pipes in the 2016 TMNT movie. His Sai piercing the metal in front of Casey’s face, when Raph doesn’t want him getting any closer to April. The motorcycle scene. I could go on. He moves instinctively. He doesn’t have to plan his next move, his body just does it. Imagining him doing that rolling walk, with me as his target. Hella yes.

For these reasons and a few more I haven’t listed here are why I found myself thinking of a mutant turtle as a partner to bump in the night with. There is absolutely nothing wrong with you or me for feeling this way. We each have things that turn us on, grind our gears, lift us up or put us down. The creators of TMNT just happened to be very good in making Leonardo, Raphael, Donatello and Michelangelo each exhibit a typical male stereotype. We are bound to find one (or more than one, or even bits and pieces of each) of those personalities striking a chord with our own.

There are so many fandoms out there. If you find one that rubs you the right way. Close your eyes and let your imagination run wild. Your thoughts are yours and yours alone.

Thanks for reading.

#why?#tmnt #tmnt raphael #tmnt leonardo #fantasizing over fictional characters

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sickdaysofficial · 7 years ago

Text

Anywhere but Here

Sickdays 3, Day 2: Anywhere but Here

Fandom: My (@lickstynine’s) OCs

Characters: Russ and Cody

Around the third block bell, Cody started to get a headache. Assuming he was just dehydrated from practice that morning, he pulled the water bottle out of his backpack and chugged its contents. That seemed to help, so he brushed off the residual lethargic feelings as boredom from class dragging on.

By the time lunch came around, he was feeling a little worse for the wear. He forced himself to eat a bit anyway, knowing he needed his energy for the game that evening. They were going up against West Jackson High, their biggest competitors, and the coach had been running the team ragged getting ready for it.

Sitting across from him at their usual lunch table in the courtyard, Russ noticed Cody’s half-assed attitude towards his food and raised an eyebrow.

“Not hungry?” Russ posed it as a joke, seeing as Cody was always hungry. He figured Cody, like him, was nervous about the game tonight.

Cody nodded. “Yeah… I feel kinda shitty, actually. If tonight weren’t the game, I’d go home early and sleep.”

Russ frowned, now a little worried about his boyfriend. “Are you sure you’ll be okay to play tonight?”

“He’ll be fine.” Tamara chimed in. “He’s probably just tired cause he stayed up late playing video games and jerking off.”

“Excuse you. I jerk off, then play video games.” Cody’s smart-ass reply reassured Russ that he probably wasn’t feeling too horribly, and would be okay for the game. At that point, the dark-haired boy returned to his previous train of thought, stressing about his own performance in tonight’s game.

The bleachers surrounding the football field were packed to the brim, parents, teachers, and students waiting eagerly for the game of the season. Whoever won would be going onto regionals, and whoever lost would be getting shit from the other school for the rest of the year.

Cody was sitting in the locker room, praying he might somehow get struck by lightning before the game started. He felt infinitely worse than earlier. His headache was back with a vengeance and he could feel a fever burning in his cheeks. He considered asking the coach to let him go home, but just as he sucked up the courage to do it, Desmond, their disaster of a second-string quarterback, walked by, smacking into a wall and almost knocking over another dude. Cody sighed. He wasn’t about to let his team play the biggest game of the year relying on Desmond. He just couldn’t.

Across the locker room, Russ was casting worried glances at Cody. He wanted to help his boyfriend, put an arm around him and tell him it would be okay, take him home and take care of him. He couldn’t, though. The whole football team was watching them right now, and they still had a game to play. Russ sighed, anxiously biting his lip as he finished getting dressed. Meanwhile, Cody downed a fistful of Ibuprofen, hoping that would be enough to subdue his fever and headache for the game.

At the call of the coach, the boys headed out onto the field, nervous but eager for the game to begin. They set up to kickoff the game, and Cody was massively relieved to feel the Ibuprofen taking effect. He could actually focus on the game for now, and worry about being sick later.

Russ was thrilled to see that his boyfriend seemed to be doing alright for now, sprinting around the field with as much energy as ever. As the first quarter progressed, they were dominating West Jefferson, and the crowd on their side of the stands was going insane. Russ could see Hayley and Tamara standing up in their seats, cheering loudly.

Much to Cody’s dismay, the usefulness of the Ibuprofen faded as quickly as it had arrived. By the time the first quarter drew to an end, his head was pounding, and he was getting a queasy feeling in his gut. He hoped that he might be able to drink some water and relax a moment, and maybe feel better by the second quarter; he sank onto the bench with an exhausted sigh. He closed his eyes and brought the water up to his lips, zoning out a little as he had a moment to relax. The next thing he knew, the coach was calling his name.

“Griffin! Griffin! Earth to Griffin!” Coach Hunter was standing over him, looking very displeased.

“Huh?” Cody blinked and looked up at his coach, trying to ignore his growing nausea.

“Get your ass out on the field!” The coach dragged Cody to his feet, taking the water bottle and shoving the husky brunette boy towards the rest of his teammates.

Cody jogged back out onto the field, trying to keep his focus. As much as he wanted to power through, he was feeling worse and worse. His face was flushed and radiating heat throughout his helmet, and his stomach was churning like a washing machine full of sneakers. His vision teetered a bit, and he shook his head to clear it. Realizing the game was about to start, he hastily called out the play at hand to his team. His voice cracked in the process, but it was still audible enough.

The ball was promptly snapped into his hands and Cody almost fumbled it, his focus slipping even further. Knowing he wouldn’t be able to run worth shit in this state, he passed the ball onto the running back, Ty, just before his vision wavered again. He stumbled and clutched his stomach, which felt like it was crawling up the back of his throat. A horrific realization flooded his spinning head: he was going to throw up any second now, and there was nowhere to go. He didn’t have any more time to feel self-conscious about it, barely managing to pull his helmet off before a wave of watery vomit spewed from his mouth, splattering on the turf and dripping down the front of his uniform.

A gasp of horror radiated through the crowd, and Russ turned to see what was going on. His heart dropped to his shoes as he saw Cody doubled over, puking his guts out on the field. He instinctively moved to go help his boyfriend, and promptly got slammed into the ground by several hundred pounds of incoming buff dude. Winded and a little dazed, he didn’t even try to sit up until he heard the whistle blowing in the distance. He gingerly climbed to his feet, every inch of his body aching from the impact. As his focus steadied, he could see the coach hurrying out onto the field to grab Cody and drag him to the sidelines.

Limping over to the bench, Russ knelt down next to Cody, looking worriedly up at the coach. “Is he gonna be okay? What’s going on, Coach?”

“Not sure, and not sure.” The coach’s blood pressure was visibly rising as he tried to figure out what to do without his only decent quarterback. “That was a nasty hit, you took, Butler. Are you okay to keep going?”

Russ nodded right away, knowing he’d certainly be needed now that Cody was out of the picture. “I’ll be okay.”

The coach nodded. “Then grab Desmond and get your ass back on the field.” He turned back to Cody just in time to get his shoes puked on. “DIDN’T I TELL SOMEBODY TO GET ME A BUCKET?”

“Sorry sir!” A scrawny freshman hurried over, offering the requested bucket to the coach.

Rolling his eyes at the small boy, the coach shoved the bucket into Cody’s lap before he could get puked on again. The feverish quarterback heaved loudly, more watery vomit splattering into the bucket. The coach rubbed his temples, disheveling his thinning hair as he watched the game unfolding. As Desmond tripped over his own feet and dropped the ball, the coach groaned in dismay, realizing they were essentially boned without Cody.

“Dammit, Griffin? Why’d you have to go and get sick today, of all days?” He grumbled.

Cody sighed shamefully. He hadn’t wanted to miss the game, but finishing it wasn’t really an option at this point. “S...sorry. Wasn’t on p-heuurrghhhhh… purpose…”

Coach Hunter sighed. As much as he wanted to be mad, he was honestly just concerned. Cody was clearly really sick, and he probably needed to go home and rest, rather than sitting on the sidelines of a game in the sweltering heat, puking his guts up. He gave the shaky brunette a firm pat on the shoulder, staying close enough to keep an eye on the sick boy while he barked orders to the team.

By the time the game was over, the ref’s final whistle seemed like a mercy killing. The team hadn’t scored a single fucking point since Cody left the field, and had spent the rest of the game getting their asses royally handed to them by West Jefferson. Coach Hunter sighed morosely. So much for another year destroying at regionals.

Russ stumbled over to the bench, sitting down next to Cody with a grimace. “Hey, man. How do you feel?”

“Shitty…” Cody grumbled, burping hollowly into the bucket. His stomach had been empty since before halftime, but that hadn’t stopped the queasy burps or periodic dry heaves.

Russ frowned, reaching over to pat Cody’s back. He was drenched with sweat, and his body was aching all over, but he was only concerned about his boyfriend’s well-being. “Come on, I’ll take you home.” He climbed to his feet and helped Cody up, murmuring to the coach that they’d bring the bucket back later.

“It’s no big deal, Butler. It’s just a bucket. They cost like a dollar.” The coach waved the boys off. “Just get him home and to bed.”

“Yes, sir.” Russ nodded, practically carrying Cody out to the parking lot. His beat-up third-hand truck was parked against the fence, wedged in between some preppy girl’s Corvette and an ugly old van.

He hoisted Cody into the passenger seat, grimacing as he had to put weight on his sore leg. He was almost positive he’d done something to his knee, but he didn’t really have time to deal with that right now. Once Cody was in the truck, Russ hopped into the driver’s seat, trying to worm his way through post-game traffic to get his poor sick boyfriend home.

Cody groaned and whimpered the whole drive, periodically pausing to retch into the bucket. Russ winced sympathetically, reaching over to pat his back. “You’ll be okay, babe. We’re almost home…”

They finally pulled into Cody’s driveway just as Cody’s parents were getting home from a late dinner. Russ helped Cody out of the truck, waving at the middle-aged couple. “Hi, Mr. and Mrs. Griffin.”

Cody’s mom smiled and waved. “Hello, boys! How was the game?”

“Not great, actually. Cody got sick and we got destroyed…” Russ sighed. “Er, I need to get him inside. If you could get the door?”

“Of course, dear!” Cody’s mom scurried over and held the door. “Do you need anything?” She asked Russ.

The dark-haired boy shook his head. “No, I can take care of it. Uh, do you mind if I crash here? I’m super tired, and it’s really late…”

“Go ahead. Just let me know if you need anything.”

“Yes ma’am.” Russ nodded as he headed up the stairs, basically carrying Cody. “Thank you.” Once they were upstairs, Russ helped Cody sit on the edge of the bed. “Hang on a sec. I’ll get you some clean clothes to change into, then you can shower and go to bed. How does that sound?”

“Good…” Cody nodded meekly. He was miserable and drained at this point, just letting out the occasional quiet burp or heave.

Russ nodded, still just ignoring the pain in his knee for now. He pulled out some comfy pajamas for Cody and helped the shorter boy over to the bathroom. “I’ll be out here when you’re done, okay?” He was closely monitoring his words for fear that Cody’s parents might hear them. Cody nodded again, shuffling into the bathroom to shower.

Russ sat in Cody’s desk chair, trying to give his bad leg a chance to rest. He was waiting patiently for his boyfriend to return when he heard a thud from the bathroom. Panic sending his heart rate through the roof, he jumped to his feet despite the pain and ran to check on Cody.

Knock knock knock.

“Dude, are you okay?”

No reply.

Not willing to wait any longer, Russ tried the door. Thankfully, it was unlocked and he was able to let himself in. Cody was laying on the floor of the shower, trembling faintly. He didn’t seem to have hit his head or anything on the way down, but he was definitely too weak to get back up. Russ’s heart nearly broke in half at the sight, and he dropped to his knees, reaching into the water to help Cody up. He didn’t care in the slightest that his clothes were getting soaked.

“Shit, babe, are you okay?” He asked quietly.

Cody shook his head. “Feel sick… wanna go to bed.”

Russ nodded, trying not to freak out as his brain scrambled to figure out the best course of action. “Alright, okay. Just… lemme rinse the soap out of your hair, then we can dry off and you can sleep.” Cody didn’t even reply, just leaning on Russ and trembling faintly. Russ wrapped his arms around Cody for a moment, giving him a tight hug. “It’s okay. You’re gonna be okay. We’re gonna be okay…” It sounded like he was trying to convince himself more than his boyfriend, but at least it relaxed Cody some.

After a bit of struggling, Russ managed to rinse all the soap off of Cody and get him dry enough to dress. Not trusting the shorter boy to walk, he took a deep breath and swept his boyfriend off his feet. Russ was plenty strong enough to carry Cody, but his hurt knee was protesting intensely. He brushed it off for the moment, much more concerned about Cody’s well-being than his own. When they go to the bedroom, Russ just fell onto the bed with Cody on top of him. The shivering brunette cuddled up to his boyfriend, burying his face in Russ’s chest.

Russ gently stroked Cody’s still-damp hair. “Get some sleep, babe. You’ll feel better in the morning.”

Cody nodded, mumbling, “Night… love you.”

Russ’s cheeks turned bright red as he whispered, “Love you too…”

For more, or to tell me I suck, go check out @lickstynine.

#vomit tw #emeto #fever #july 24 2017 #day 2: anywhere but here #sickdays 3 #submission #lickstynine

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sour--strawberries · 8 years ago

Text

It’s my party and I will cry if I want to

fandom: Stony (Steve x Tony)

universe: post CA:CW, where Tony and Steve were lovers before everything got destroyed

summary: it is Tony’s birthday and he is not looking forward to it with his team and Steve being gone. Turns out that he has more friends and life likes to surprise.

length: 4 275 words

warnings: starts with angst to end with kind of fluff

a/n: okay, not gonna lie, I was struggling with this fic. initially it was suppose to have a sad ending, but, honestly, I don’t like writing sad endings if I don’t plan on making it better. so, I changed it! I think I am much happier with his fic now. hope you like it! title is a lyric from the song by Lesley Gore “It’s My Party”. Inspired by SPIDER-MAN: HOMECOMING - NBA Finals Spot #1 - "The Invite".

Happy Birthday, Tony!!

———–

It’s my party and I will cry if I want to

“Tony…”

It was too nice to wake up. Not yet.

“Tony… Hey, babe.”

A wet kiss just in the middle of his forehead. He knew the drill. It was a warning and if he won’t wake up, the wet kisses would continue, leaving wet spots all over him. Someone was acting like an overly happy puppy.

Tony stuck his tongue out in disgust, making a face into the pillow. “Whaaaat?”

“Open your eyes.”

A nose nuzzling against his nose. Go away, puppy.

With a groan, Tony complied, knowing that he won’t get any more rest anyway. He saw bright blue eyes looking back at him.

“Happy birthday, sweetheart!”

Tony laughed briefly at the cheerful tone and sappiness coloring every word. Of course.

“Don’t remind me,” he grumbled, hiding his face back into the pillow. Another year to add to his already many years.

“Hey,” Steve urged, gently turning Tony on his back and climbing over him, peering down at his boyfriend with a smile. “Don’t go back to sleep, you have a birthday party to attend.”

“But that’s in few hours,” Tony said, very hard trying to not sound whiny, but of course it came out as a whine.

“I know, but we could spend the time before the party together,” Steve wiggled his eyebrows in a way that was supposed to be sexy but turned out cute and funny.

“Sounds nice,” Tony smiled lightly. He would like that scenario. “So, seeing that it is my birthday, I can decide, right?”

“Absolutely.”

“Alright, then…” Tony walked fingers up Steve’s arm, until it stopped on soldier’s shoulder and he put his palm on Steve’s nape, drawing him closer, “I want to stay in bed for a while longer.”

Steve snorted in humor, sinking in closer. “Of course, we will do what you want.”

“What I want?”

“What you want,” Steve whispered, grazing his lips over Tony’s slightly parted ones. “What you want… What you want… What I want…”

Tony blinked, thinking that he heard wrong. When he opened his eyes, it wasn’t their sunny bedroom anymore. He was on a cold, concrete floor, part of his shattered armor laying around motionlessly. There was a taste of blood in his mouth, instead of the promised kiss. Blue eyes were still looking at him, no warm affection anymore but cruel determination.

“What I want,” came a hiss from blood covered lips and a silent scream opened Tony’s mouth when a hand pierced through him. There was a shatter of the case of the arc reactor breaking, a sickening sound of his bones crushing and then a hand grasping at his heart, stopping his breath. The fingers clenched, breaking the vessels and crushing the organ. He realized that the hand wasn’t flesh and bones covered in a leather glow, but hard and metal and cold. It was the last thing his mother felt before her last breath, before her neck was crushed. He choked on his own blood and the blue eyes observed. Cold. Distant. Unloving. Unforgiving.

Tony opened his eyes abruptly, feeling without breath and cold sweat on his back. He saw white sheets and sunlight seeping through the window, instead of endless snow colored with blood of three people. His chest hurt and his heart was beating too fast and too rapid, hidden behind the artificial sternum and thin, scarred skin.

It was just a nightmare. One of the many.

“Good morning, boss.”

Tony didn’t answer right away, giving himself some more time to calm down. Slowly, he rolled on his back and threw arms over his head, blocking the sun. “Hi, Fry,” he answered, sounding defeated and the day just started.

“Do you wish me to lower the blinds?”

Oh, it would be so easy. To stay in darkness and forget about everything. To vanish from the outside world.

“No, thanks,” Tony said, slowly lowering his hands and staring at the white ceiling, missing the blue eyes looking at him. He cringed remembering how his dream ended.

“By the way, let me be the first one to say this, happy birthday, boss.”

Birthday. Like every year. Tony never looked forward to his birthday and this year it would exceptionally painful.

It was almost a year since he was gone. Almost a year since Tony hid that phone away into his desk and swore to never touch. Almost a year since he tore the letter and scrambled for a tape to put it back together, not ready to erase him from his life. Almost a year since blue eyes looked at him for the last time.

“Thanks, Fry,” Tony answered, feeling his mouth becoming dry. He needed water. Heavily, Tony lowered his feet to the soft carpet, planning to start yet another painful day.

“Boss, if I may suggest something—”

“HAPPY BIRTHDAY!!”

Tony almost got a heart attack at two people busting into his bedroom. He didn’t see much, but Rhodey and Pepper saw way too much in that brief moment and Tony jolted his bare ass into the bathroom, slamming the door behind.

Behind the closed door, he heard Pepper’s embarrassed cough, while Rhodey wasn’t that subtle and whistled.

“Nice, Tony! Next year I am buying you a pajama!”

“Fry,” Tony asked painfully, rubbing his forehead. “Why didn’t you warn me?”

“Sorry, boss. I tried to.”

Tony almost jumped out of his naked body, when someone pounded on the door.

“TONES!” Rhodey hollered. “Get out! Happy birthday!”

“Tony, are you alright?” Pepper asked, joining the screaming man.

“I am fine…” Tony grumbled. Of course, they had to take him by surprise. Tony didn’t have any plans for his birthday. In fact, he preferred to be left alone and forget that he didn’t have guests to invite over, no boyfriend to be kissed by. His small family was broken and became even smaller. If he even could call them a family. Maybe they never were a one to start with.

While Tony was lost in his own thoughts, Pepper and Rhodey were in a middle of a heated explanation of today’s plans.

“We are taking you out for breakfast! To that pancake place! The one you like so much, where you can get all the coffee you can drink! You remember it?”

Yeah, he remembered. He remembered when he had been in the small cafe with the whole team, and Clint smeared maple syrup all over the table and Thor smashed a coffee cup in the way only Asgardians could.

“Later, Pepper is taking you to a beauty salon for a visit to get you all pretty—”

The image of him, Pepper and Natasha, splayed on the chairs and pampered by the staff, appeared in his head. He didn’t even have a chance to take Wanda there.

“— Happy is sending invites for the party in the evening—”

Party. He didn’t feel like having a party. He could bare being with Rhodey and Pepper, and even, he needed them so much, so much he was scared what might happen if he lost another person.

“Tony! Are you excited?!”

Was he excited? With a heavy sigh, Tony leaned over the closed door and looked down at his feet.

“Do I have to?” he asked miserably into the wood.

“YES!!”

The determined outburst made him jump away from the door. Both Pepper and Rhodey would be damned if Tony wasn’t happy on his birthday, and if he didn’t plan on being happy, they would force him to.

The day progressed slowly and steadily and according to schedule. Honestly… It wasn’t so bad. He enjoyed the shared breakfast and the carefree feeling it brought. It wasn’t that bad in the salon, where he had melted and became one with the armchair while one cosmetician was filing his nails and the other one put a facial mask on his skin, while Pepper, going through the same treatment, was talking to Tony about everything and nothing, just like they used to. It was fun and, to his own surprise, Tony found himself able to relax, until evening came and the time for the party to start was getting closer. Not knowing what or who to expect, Tony entered the common room of the Tower and had a handful of confetti slapped into his face, followed by a cheerful outburst. Maybe his group of friends reduced by over half in the last year, yet the room was packed, and he smiled spotting Peter and Aunt May and Vision and Helen— many people he didn’t expect to see and yet they showed up. It was a nice celebration with loud music and tasty food, and Tony enjoyed it, smiling and laughing, not expecting this day to be as good as it was.

Still, some more guests were about to arrive.

“Boss, an airplane from Wakanda just landed.”

“Wakanda?” Tony repeated after Friday, which interrupted the slide show of photos taken today by Pepper, including the one when Happy came to pick Tony and Pepper from the beauty salon, and somehow got talked into staying and trying on one of the facial masks. The current photo showed the three of them, all with different colored masks spread over their faces, grinning at the camera. “Oh, probably T'Challa. Send him here,” he said with a smile. If it wasn’t for the Black Panther, Tony would be stuck in Siberia till this very moment, his suit damaged badly enough to not be functional anymore, so, of course, that he was invited, and a confirming nod from Rhodey made his doubts go away. Tony got back to the slide show and focused on it for some more time, until some whispering got his attention when the newcomer showed up in the entrance.

“What are they doing here?” someone gasped out and Tony turned around, spotting newly arrived people.

It was T'Challa alright, elegant and regal in a black suit. Accompanied by Wanda, looking out of her place and frightened, and Sam with a grim expression, as if waiting to be asked to leave. There was one more person.

“Is that— Steve?”

It was like if time stopped. Tony heard the name, and all sound, all color, was suddenly drained away, as he saw only Steve. Maybe it was his brain toying with him. Maybe he misheard. Maybe—

Maybe Steve flew all the way from Wakanda, breaking the law yet again, just to see him on his birthday.

Their eyes met. Tony’s widened ones, and Steve’s focused ones, trying to hide the whole nervousness. Even in his posture, he tried to mask it, standing unnaturally stiff and tall.

The silence didn’t last long, and Rhodey stood up from his place, the metal braces on his legs allowing him to perform the action smoothly. “Your Highness,” he greeted T'Challa politely on everyone’s behalf, taking the role Tony was supposed to have.

Steve looked over at Tony’s friend and upon seeing the braces, a brief guilt ran over his face, before he applied a stone expression again. Sam also looked at Rhodey, his expression changing into a short-lived relief.

T'Challa nodded his head, greeting the people gathered. He looked over at Tony, who still seemed frozen, unable to move or look away. There was some gentle pat on his shoulder, and Tony realized that it was Rhodey, as he made his way to T'Challa, not granting Steve with a look.

“Why did you bring him here?” he asked towards the king in a quiet whisper, perfectly hearable in an already quiet room.

After hearing the words, Steve woke up from his trance. He could explain himself. He straightened up even more and squared his shoulders, taking out a phone out of the pocket on his chest.

“Tony sent me an invitation,” he said, showing Rhodey the invitation on his phone, almost sounding defensive.

Just like that, all eyes turned to Tony, who didn’t move a muscle. No, he didn’t. He didn’t send an invitation to anyone. And if he didn’t do it— Tony glanced up at one of the sensors, silently reprimanding Friday for butting in. She had had to hear him mumbling and calling Steve’s name in his sleep one time too many.

A sudden realization ran over Steve’s face, making him clearly uncomfortable. “You— you didn’t,” Steve stuttered out, feeling foolish. Of course. What did he expect. That he would show and all got magically forgotten? “I— I better go,” he mumbled out.

“No,” Tony said quickly, not really knowing why. He looked at Wanda, staring down at her own shoes, and at Vision, looking as if wanting to rush to her. Sam didn’t take off his eyes of Rhodey.

“I will go,” Tony decided, standing up from the couch. For his friends. They deserved a closure.

“Tony, don’t—” Pepper started, but Tony’s expression silenced her. Tony wasn’t sad. He wasn’t furious either. It was a weird mix of anger and panic and pain. His chest was heaving with every struggled out breath and his eyes were narrowed with an unnamed feeling. It would be much easier if he could just ignore Steve, just let him walk away and forget. He couldn’t. Call him petty, but Steve once walked away from him, left him bleeding and hurt and left with no regard to what would happen to him. Tony felt that he deserved an opportunity to do exactly the same. So, he turned around on his heel and did exactly that - he walked out from his own birthday party, not caring.

Tony made it to the terrace and stepped outside, letting the cool air calm him down. He looked up at the stars, gleaming and twinkling, first vivid and bright, until they became clouded and blurry. Not even knowing when, Tony sobbed, first tears going down his cheeks. He wished he could just be angry. Angry and betrayed and hateful. Not this heartbreaking pain going through every fiber of his being, ripping his every cell apart. Seeing Steve… Hearing him… Knowing that he was somewhere there, away from him, and not planning on coming back hurt. Hurt so much that Tony wanted to tore himself apart, piece by piece until there was nothing left.

“Mr Stark?”

Quickly, Tony wiped the tears off his face. No one needed to see Iron Man cry.

“What is it, kid?” he asked, recognizing Peter’s voice.

“Captain America and the rest just left,” Peter said quietly and Tony’s heart clenched painfully in his chest. Of course, he had left. It was what Steve was good at. Leaving.

“He asked me to give you this,” Peter continued, pushing something into Tony’s hand.

Tony looked down and took the piece of rolled up paper, tied with a red ribbon. By the structure of the paper, he could tell that it was Wakandan, thicker and sturdier. He took the ribbon off and straighten the paper, somehow expecting another letter, similar to the one he already received months ago, but it wasn’t that. It was a portrait. A portrait of him, sleeping, wrapped in covers, some curls falling on his forehead, and his mouth slightly opened. In the corner, there was a ‘Happy Birthday, Tony’ scribbled in Steve’s print.

Tony started at the portrait. It was him in Steve’s eyes. Calm, and peaceful, almost angelic. Not the blood covered, broken human he had walked away from and left behind. The drawing was a lie. Those days were not coming back. Steve lost the privilege of seeing him at his most vulnerable a long time ago.

“Mr Stark?”

Tony didn’t notice that his hands started to shake, emotions overwhelming him. He carefully folded the page and slid it into his pocket, trying to control his hands again.

“Let’s go back, it is cold outside,” Tony made a decision, trying to mask his moment of weakness and brush it off as a reaction the cold temperature. In the sky, he saw an aircraft, leaving in a direction not many were welcomed, yet many stayed hidden. Tony watched until it became a small dot, and then blended with the night sky, where he couldn’t distinguish anymore if it was light coming from an aircraft or from the stars.

“Hmmm… Okay… I…”

Tony looked over at Peter, surprised when the teenager started to fumble. Peter nervously glanced to the back, and shrugged, before doing a back handspring that basically flung himself all the way back to the door.

“What the—” Tony asked himself, not understanding the odd behavior. He looked after Peter and his breath stopped when he saw a figure walking out of the shadow, standing next to the teenager.

“He is all yours,” Peter said but made it clear in his voice, that he would be watching. From a distance. Like a spider on a wall.

“Thanks, Queens.”

For the third time today, Tony felt the air being knocked out of him and it was three times too many for his age. He watched Steve step out from the shadows and walking to the center, illuminated by the glow of the solar lamps spread all over the terrace.

“Tony… Can we talk?”

There was nothing to talk. Nothing that could be said. And he had no way of escape, Steve blocking the only way out. Or… He could leap off the building and call one of his suits. He did that almost five years ago, he can do it again, right?

“HEY!” Tony yelled in protest, when a sticky web shot at him, wrapping around his waist and hands, trapping him in. It all happened too fast, and he barely noticed when the same happened to Steve, and then they were abruptly pulled close to each other, their bodies slamming together half way.

“PETER!!” Tony hollered, managing to ignore Steve, which was quite impressive, seeing that his face was pressed into soldier’s neck. “What the hell did you do?!”

“Something I should have back at that airport,” Peter answered, sounding surprisingly strong and confident, sure of his decision. “My web will dissolve in an hour. That’s an hour you have to talk your problems out like grown ups. I will make sure no one interrupts you,” Peter started to walk away, looking for the last time at the tied couple with a sorry face, showing his true feelings. He didn’t want Tony to be mad at him, but it was high time Iron Man would start thinking about himself again.

When the door slid close behind the teen, Tony kept struggling, trying to break the web around them.

“Ow– Tony– ow! Stop fidgeting!” Steve asked, constantly having Tony’s elbows aimed at various parts of his body, or being stepped on, while the brunet was trying to break free.

“Oh, I am sorry!” Tony hissed in anger, “does it hurt?!” he yelled, sounding almost hysterical and purposely jamming his elbow into Steve’s ribs.

Steve zipped his lips, but the way his eyes bulged out briefly, showed that he felt that. Fine, it was childish and unnecessary, but Tony felt good.

“Are you done?” Steve asked in a sigh, when Tony still didn’t stop struggling. “Tony…”

The pleading tone, made Tony finally stop. There was no escape. He would get Peter for this.

“Why. Why now?” he asked quietly, not understanding why from so many days, Steve chose this one.

“I got an invitation.”

“I didn’t send you a one!”

“I know you didn’t.”

Tony jolted his head up looking at the blue eyes. He saw a mix of embarrassment and victory in them.

Steve shrugged. “I lied. It became my specialty lately,” he said, laughing bitterly, and yelping the next second when Tony elbowed him again for the stupid humor. “Fine, I deserved that one,” he grunted out.

Tony didn’t answer, just resorted to giving a grim look. It was just a top of an iceberg of what Steve deserved if someone would ask him.

Steve didn’t seem bothered. If anything, he was happy that the brunet was finally acknowledging him. “God, I miss you,” Steve whispered, feelings taking over reason.

Tony looked away. He didn’t need to know that.

“I miss you every day.”

Then why did you leave, asshole. Tony didn’t say it out loud.

“Tony, I am sorry for what happened between us—”

He really didn’t need to know that.

“— I am sorry I hurt you, I know it will take a long time before you forgive me, if you forgive me—”

Shut up. It won’t change a thing.

“— but I didn’t change my mind. I still think that the Accords are a bad idea.”

Okay. Tony couldn’t stop the eye roll and looked at Steve with an irritated expression. It was the worst apology ever.

“That’s the worst apology ever!” he yelled, and hey, this time he said something out loud.

Steve laughed bitterly. “I know,” he said, agreeing with Tony for the first time in a longer while. “But I wanted you to know that.”

“You were always a stubborn ass, Rogers,” Tony hissed, somehow already knowing it all.

“Takes one to know that.”

Tony didn’t see a need to answer this and only narrowed his eyes. Unhelpfully, it made Steve smile sheepishly. He missed seeing how very expressive Tony was.

“I miss you,” he repeated again in a soft whisper, pressing his forehead to brunet’s.

There was comfort in the gesture. Back in the better days, it was one of Tony’s favorite things to do with Steve. Just being close, having their foreheads pressed together and looking into each other’s eyes. It was sappy and sweet and Tony missed those moments so much it hurt.

“I miss you too,” Tony whispered slowly, not believing his own words, tears building up in his eyes yet again. He missed Steve. So much he was hurting every day just by thinking about him. “But we both made our choices. There is no coming back,” Tony sniffled, feeling his heart breaking.

“I know,” Steve admitted painfully. It was too soon. One day they both would learn to forgive each other, but it was too soon to close that chapter. Not when the Accords were still in the air, and Steve was a wanted man, while Tony’s every move was observed. The world was against them.

“I have to go,” Steve whispered, better aware of the danger he had put them both in by his short visit, than Tony. Tony didn’t want to, but a sob shook his body. He was being left again. Why it all felt as if Steve was toying with his feelings. “Tony, remember, I am closer than you think,” Steve whispered. pressing his cheek to brunet’s in a tender move, “I am just a phone call away.”

And a thousand miles away, marked as one of the most wanted criminals in the USA.

“Hey…” Steve kept whispering, feeling Tony’s hot tears on his face. “I think you are forgetting something very important.”

Tony didn’t dare to ask. He was surprised when he felt a snicker pressed to his cheek.

“You can always call your ex for a booty call, especially on your birthday,” Steve whispered, and just like that, before Tony could fully proceed what just happened, Steve kissed his cheek and tore the web between them with one good flex, and leaped into the darkness.

Tony stood in the middle of the terrace, unsure if what just happened was real. There was a sound of an engine starting and he felt a gust of air. Looking up, Tony saw another Wakandan aircraft, this one coming specifically to pick Steve up and take him back to safety.

He already knew that Steve had this weird, dry sense of humor, Tony secretly loved, but since when he was all up for dramatic escapes like that? Tony cleaned himself off from the remaining web, somehow feeling lighter than before. It would take him a while to think everything through, but for now, he decided not to. He let his mind have some comfort of the current moment and decided to not analyze everything into small, painful pieces.

“Time to go back,” he said to himself, meaning it in more ways than one. When he entered his own party again, Peter was hanging around the door, keeping his word and making sure that no one would interrupt him and Steve. He looked nervously at Tony, not knowing what to expect.

Tony smiled good-naturedly and put a soothing hand on Peter’s shoulder, letting him know that it was alright. “And just for that,” Tony made a dramatic pause, his voice becoming less friendly and more reprimanding, “I am telling Aunt May,” he said, leaving the shocked teen behind.

“Mr Stark, no!” Peter cried out, going after his mentor and back into the crowd.

The party resumed and Tony didn’t even have to fake a smile, the one spread on his lips being one of the most real in months. He didn’t know, if he would take Steve’s offer, but he was sure of two things.

This night, blue eyes would look much more friendly at him.

And.

It was his birthday, so he would do what he wanted.

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art made by @steve-sketchbooks

#stony #steve rogers #tony stark #superhusbands #stevetony #happy birthday tony #no tickling #just angst and fluff #fanfic #fanfiction

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