softimgyu

[softimgyu]

Double cake 🍰

[softimgyu]

[softimgyu]

since you got your degree and you know everything

Pairing: Sam/BlackFemmeHunter!Reader

Summary: y/n falls through ice hunting what Sam thinks is a water sprite but is actually a juvenile Tizheruk. He saves her life, but it doesn't stop her from giving him shit about being loud and wrong. Now soaked to the bone in freezing temperatures, the two seek refuge in a cozy abandoned lake cabin.

Word Count: 7.6k

Tags Warnings: +18 Minors DNI, rivals to lovers, hurt/comfort, smut, dom!sam, sub!reader, fingering, oral (f receiving), multiple orgasms, squirting, overstimulation, possessive!sam, spanking, praise kink, unprotected p/v sex (wrap it up), canon level violence and peril

AN: My first fic in over a decade and my first ever one-shot. I had so much fun writing this. If you see typos, my bad. God's workin' on all of us. If you like it, reblog it and leave a review! Or don't, no pressure. Enjoy!

Lake Superior, Near the Sawtooth Mountains Circa Mid-Season 5

The harsh winter winds cut through your snow soaked jeans straight to your bones. You hate hunting in the cold. You weren’t built for this. Your people hail from much warmer climes in the Carolina low country where winters were mild and folks made up any excuse to cook outside year round. But up here this time of year the arctic air pushed its way over a frozen Lake Superior and right into your bloodstream. Luckily the little brother, who’s much bigger than his big brother, shields you from the wind as he marches ahead toward the lake. Occasionally you look up at Sam's back, a duffle filled with weapons and gear slung over one of his broad, frost dusted shoulders. You sigh exasperatedly through your nose as you try to keep up with his long strides in the knee deep snow. “How much further?”

He stops abruptly in his tracks, just as exasperated as you. He releases a sigh of his own that floats like mist into the frigid air. “The dock’s just up ahead.”

“You said that 20 minutes ago.” 

He turns around revealing his wind chapped face, his nose stinging red. “Look, you can turn back if you need to. I just wanna take a look at the place where the last vic disappeared while we still have daylight.” 

You laugh in a way that’s neither warm nor friendly, running a gloved hand through your locs that are also dampened by the falling snow. “Right, and risk incurring the wrath of Dean if this thing decides it wants a beefy nerd as its next meal? No thanks,” you take a beat to look around the endless, barren, snow swept forest. “Just admit we’re lost and you’ve no idea where you’re going.”

“For the last time, Y/N, I’m not lost. See those mountains,” he points north. “If we keep them on our left shoulder we’ll reach the dock in no time.” Okay, so maybe he does know where he’s going. Or at least he knows how to say it with his chest. Still, you aren’t ready to give him the satisfaction of being right… again.

“And then what? You don’t even know what we’re hunting out here.”

“We’ve gone over this,” he huffs. “Lake Superior hasn’t frozen over like this since ‘94. It’s either a powerful water wraith or a sprite.”

“Or it’s somethin’ corporeal. The witness said she saw a creature pull her husband off that dock while he was ice fishing.”

“Right, the Loch Ness Monster did it,” he muses sarcastically before turning on his heels and continuing to head toward the lake. You watch him tramp through the snow, and bite your tongue. White so he gotta be right. You wished you woke up everyday with that much audacity. Reluctantly you follow along, too frostbitten to keep arguing out in the frigid elements. 

 It’s your first solo hunt with Sam. Dean is nursing a dislocated shoulder and a couple of broken ribs back at Bobby’s. Normally he acted as a buffer for the two of you. It’s not like you hate Sam. You could admit he was a damn good hunter. Hell, he’s famous or infamous depending on the circle of hunters you found yourself in over the years. But a few months in proximity with the man, the myth, and the legend led you to one conclusion: he’s a weirdo know-it-all that always seems to second guess your judgment.  

And God forbid if you want to have a little fun. At least Dean lived up to the hype and knows how to cut loose. But Sam’s a giant wet blanket every time you suggest stopping at a bar or a dancehall to blow off steam after a hunt. He prefers the company of his old books and boring podcasts to unwind. Still, in spite of the constant bickering and “well actually…’s” you feel safe with him as your wingman. His imposing frame and dangerous reputation is its own kind of scary dog privilege that made you breathe a little easier when squaring up against whatever went bump in the night. But you’d never tell him that.

You finally catch up with him as he rounds a bend in the snow covered forest trail that leads you beyond the treeline to an icy shore. The lake is frozen as far as the eye could see, blanketed with a vast white canvas that reflects the remaining daylight so harshly it makes the two of you squint. “See, told ya,” he triumphs, biting back the satisfaction of a sore winner and failing. “Dock’s right up ahead.” You roll your eyes in spite of being relieved that once again, this motherfucker was right.  

“After you,” he gestures, urging you forward. “The sooner we look around the sooner we can head back to the car.” Out of the corner of your eye, you catch him stealing a glance at your ass in your jeans as you pass. He was infuriatingly coltish and awkward around women in a way that made you peg him as shy at first. Which makes no sense to you, since he’s built like a brick shithouse with hair that makes him look like he belongs on the cover of a romance novel. Hell, technically he was thanks to Chuck Shurley. And in those novels, you’d read about his weakness for pretty little smartasses with bad attitudes.

 You couldn’t picture it at first. Sweet Sammy fucking the dog shit out of a werewolf or dreaming about eating a girl out until he woke up stiff and drooling. But he let you know he was just a guy in other ways over the last several months. Not so subtly placing a hand on your waist if he needed to scoot past you in search of a lore book at Bobby’s. His eyes wandering down to the swell of your breasts when you had to wear something revealing to flirt your way into a coroner’s office. But today he’s on his best behavior, no matter how much you try to goad him into unleashing the beast.

The long wooden floating dock is frozen over, slick with ice. He notes it with suspicion. “Maybe the guy fell in.”

“Yeah, and crashed through over a foot of ice and snow from this height? Sounds about right.” You push past him and take a step on the dock, careful to distribute your weight evenly to keep from slipping and falling.

“Be careful,” he warns you.

“What’s it look like I’m doin’?” You walk cautiously down to the end of the dock. From there you can see a massive hole in the ice about 4 feet wide, like something broke through from beneath the surface. “Hey mom, get up here and take a look at this,” you tease. It’s his turn to roll his eyes as he tentatively makes his way over to you. “Yeah, I bet a water sprite did that,” you point at the massive hole in the ice. He ignores your sarcasm and hands you the loaded sawed off shotgun. You decline it knowing the shells probably won’t pierce the creature’s hide. “Flare gun,” you insist.

He rummages through the duffle bag with a smirk, impressed. “So you gonna share with the class? Or am I just supposed to guess?”

“I think we’re dealin’ with what the Inuit call a Pal-Rai-Yûk or a tizheruk.” You nimbly jump down onto the ice, careful once again to keep your weight distributed evenly. “But I’ve never heard of one coming this far south. They’re like giant magic sea snakes made of ice. Fire’s the only thing I’ve heard of that kills them.” He tosses you the flare gun and grabs one for himself about to jump down to join you. “Keep your big ass up there and cover me,” you order, not bothering to look up at him. 

You hear Sam huff, but he stays on the dock, raising the flare gun and keeping his head on a swivel. “We’re lookin’ for a juvenile. Maybe a 10 to 12 footer,” you observe, judging by the size of the hole. You peer into it, the opaque, black water dancing and sloshing beneath the ice. 

“Maybe don’t stand so close to the edge,” he cautions, an air of genuine concern in his voice.

“Maybe shut up and let me do my damn job.”

His smirk returns, but he doesn’t argue. “You’ve hunted one of these before?”

“Once, with my ex,” you reply, deciding not to refer to Gordon Walker by name. He still winces, knowing exactly who you meant. You never blamed Sam for killing him. At least not out loud. Gordon didn’t give him much of a choice in the end. Still, Sam gives you a wide berth when it comes to the attitude out of some misplaced sense of guilt. At least that’s what you assume. The two of you never really talked about it. You consider it water under a very high, rickety rope bridge that neither one of you worked up the courage to cross in the nearly two years since it happened. So you quickly change the subject back to the matter at hand. 

“I’ll make some noise to draw it out.” You shuffle your feet across the snow covered ice, but the sound was too muffled. So you jump up and down. 

Suddenly, Sam pulls out the shotgun again and fires it into the air. Well that’ll do. That’s when you hear it. The sound of moving water and ice breaking a little over a hundred yards in the distance. Both of you swing in its direction, weapons drawn. 

“Y/N get back on the dock,” he bellows. “Now!”

“I’ve got it. Cover me.” You move stealthily toward the creature, eyes focusing on your target like a predator in search of its prey. Sam jumps down, runs to grab you by your wrist, and starts pulling you toward the dock. “What the fuck are you doing?”

“Saving your life,” he retorts sharply. He picks you up by the waist and places you back on the dock like you weigh nothing. “Stay up here. You cover me,” he orders through gritted teeth. You notice the fear in his eyes, recognizing he’s only trying to keep you safe. But like your father, your uncles, and every volatile ex you were forced to de-escalate in the past, he masks his fear for your safety with anger. So you reluctantly accede.

 You stand raising your flare gun as the creature shatters the ice, breaching the surface. It has the head of a viper, covered in icy translucent scales. It bares its jagged, sharp fangs crowding its mouth like icicles, and heads straight for Sam. But it still isn’t in firing range of the flare gun.

“Hey asshole!” you shout from the edge of the dock, waving your arms in the air. It slithers in your direction, breaking shelves of ice as it goes. 60 yards. “That’s right, bring it right over here,” you taunt. 50 yards. 

“Y/N wait!” Sam shouts.

You raise your gun and aim right between its eyes. 40 yards. You take a deep breath and hold it. 30 yards. You fire. But the tizheruk retreats beneath the surface. You miss by inches. “You motherfucker,” you curse. 

It’s silent. “Anything?” he asks, staring up at you from his precarious position on the ice. “Nothing,” you answer, disappointedly. “Shit.”

Suddenly it bursts from beneath the dock knocking you into the freezing lake below. The water hits your body like thousands of tiny needles, stinging and burning you until you can’t breathe. You hear Sam shout your name as you sink beneath the surface. You fight to come up for air, but a large sheet of ice floats above you. You beat against it as hard as you can, but your strength is waning from the lack of oxygen. You see a ball of fire at the surface and hear the creature’s muffled monstrous screams. It’s over. It’s dark now. Seconds pass, how many you aren’t sure. You can’t feel the needles anymore. A numbing sense of peace wraps itself around you. And the darkness takes you home.

Sam grabs an ax from his bag at the end of the dock nearest the shore and runs, jumping onto the ice covering where he saw you land in the water. He has to get to you before it’s too late. A few powerful swings and it breaks apart. Without a second thought, he dives in after you. The lake water is too murky to see, but he feels your frigid hand limp, lifeless. He desperately swims to the surface, holding you close to his chest. You weren’t breathing. He tries not to panic as he pulls you to shore and unzips your coat to start chest compressions. 

Your lips were purple and ice was starting to crystalize in your locs. 1-2-3-4. He pinches your nose and breathes into your mouth. He resumes compressions. 1-2-3-4, 1-2-3-4. “C’mon, Y/N. Come back to me.” He prays that he wasn’t too late. Suddenly you cough up water and inhale sharply. “Oh thank God,” he breathes. He holds you close to his chest and cradles your head. “That’s it, try to breathe normally.”

You relish the comfort, holding onto him gratefully before pulling away. “I told you it was a monster.” A relieved smile tugs at the corners of his mouth, showing his deep set dimples. For a second he almost seems adorable. 

“Damn right you did,” he beams. 

The sun was nearing the horizon. The adrenaline is wearing off all too quickly as cold air clings to your wet clothes and seeps itself into your bones. You both start shivering uncontrollably. If he doesn’t get you to shelter soon, you’ll both freeze to death before you make it back to the Impala. “Can you walk?” he asks, his voice saturated with concern. 

“Yeah, yeah I think so.” He helps you stand. 

“Good. I saw an abandoned cabin along the forest trail less than a quarter mile back. We’ll stay there for the night.”

You reach the cabin after dark, clinging tightly to one another the whole way for any semblance of warmth. A storm is settling in and the winds whip at you harshly, freezing your wet clothes and robbing you of even more body heat. You can barely move. But Sam is there, urging you forward. “C’mon, we’re almost there, Y/N.”

It’s a small log cabin tucked away in the trees just off the forest trail. Sam’s hands are too frigid to successfully pick the lock. He gives up and kicks the door in, quickly closing it behind you to avoid letting in anymore wind and snow. He drops the duffle bag near the door and immediately starts shedding his frozen winter coat and gloves. The cabin’s dark and just as cold inside as it is outdoors, but it offers a reprieve from the wind howling outside. 

The one-roomed cabin is sparsely furnished but well stocked. An old hutch beside the kitchenette counter is full of blankets, canned and dry goods, frozen bottled water, and a first aid kit. Probably left behind for wayward hikers during tourist season. “There’s some matches here,” you note aloud, lighting the old oil lamp on the counter and tossing them to Sam. 

  “I’ll get a fire going,” he mutters walking over to the fireplace. 

You shrug off your coat. It’s getting harder to stand, so you shuffle over to one of the two twin-sized cots on the far end of the cabin to sit. But it occurs to you that the other Winchester isn’t with you. Which is odd. “We need to go outside and find Dean,” you slur.

He looks over his shoulder at you, brow furrowed with worry. “Dean’s at Bobby's, Y/N,” he reminds you as the kindling caught fire. He places a few logs in. “You’re a little confused. We just gotta get you warm and you’ll feel better.” Sam walks over to you and kneels down to help take off your boots and socks. “I got it, I got it,” you insist, standing to remove your soaked sweater and jeans.

You notice the way he licks his lips at the sight of the gentle slopes and curves of your body in matching lavender bra and panties. You smile to yourself, proud that he’s a little flustered. Behind his wandering eyes, you can tell he’s losing the battle with his propriety. But once again he finds his footing on the high ground, turning his head awkwardly and scratching the back of his neck to give you some privacy. He busies himself with finding a blanket for you in the hutch. Once he locates one, he walks over to you, careful to maintain eye contact, and drapes it over your shoulders.  

He clears his throat nervously. “Let’s get you closer to the fire, shall we?” He takes the thin mattresses off of both cots and arranges them on the floor in front of the fireplace. Then he guides you to sit down.

“I’m hypothermic, not brain dead,” you quip through chattering teeth. It comes out a little harsher than you meant.

“Right,” he cards a hand through his damp hair, still shivering himself, and stands to give you your space.  

“S-sorry,” you stutter over your shoulder. He walks past you with an appreciative smile and starts to get out of his own wet clothes. “Thank you for saving my life.”

“You’ve done the same for me,” you hear him grunt behind you as he sheds his cold damp layers of flannel, undershirts, and jeans. “I was just returning the favor.” He wraps himself up in a blanket, gathers all of your clothes and lays them flat in front of the hearth to dry. 

“Now, let’s get something hot in you,” he suggests to which you raise an eyebrow. The unintentional innuendo while the two of you were almost naked elicits another nervous laugh from Sam. You watch your would-be caretaker stride over to the kitchenette, pulling his blanket closed as tightly as possible. 

“I meant soup. I’m sure one of these cans has gotta be soup.” You watch him scour through the selection in the hutch, noting the perfect ratio of his broad shoulders to his slim waist shrouded underneath the blanket. “Ah, here we go. Beef vegetable or chicken noodle?” 

“Chicken noodle, please.”

“Please? You always this well mannered when you’re delirious?” he teases, busying himself with using a moist towelette from the first aid kit to clean the dust out of a ceramic bowl he found in the hutch. 

“Only after you save my life.” This makes Sam smile, exposing his dimples that you couldn’t help but notice look so much more kissable in the firelight. You shook your head at the thought. Maybe you really were delirious? Sam wasn’t your type. He was a shy bookworm who didn’t know how to have fun. In a word: a nerd. 

And yet your eyes follow him as he carts the clean bowl and the can of soup over to the fireplace. Catching glimpses of his sinewy forearms as he sets them down near the hearth. You watch his long, dexterous fingers assemble a makeshift stove with a grill grate and a couple of cinder blocks in the fireplace. Then he opens the can and places it on top. 

Yep, a nerd. A big, buff, sweet nerd who dove into freezing water to save you. Who’s making you soup wearing nothing but a blanket, boxers, and broad shoulders.  You watch a wayward strand of hair fall into his face. And for a moment you wonder how a hunter as smart as Gordon could ever mistake this guy for the antichrist, unless– “Satan in a Sunday hat,” you mutter to yourself.

He glances up, tossing his hair out of his face. “What?” You curse yourself for saying that part out loud. Fuck it. You’re shivering too hard to keep up with filters anyway. 

“Somethin’ my mama used to say, when a man was too good to be true. He’s Satan in a Sunday hat.” He winces at your astute observation and wonders to himself if you had any idea you were at least partially correct. He is Satan’s Sunday hat afterall. But wait a minute–

“You think I’m too good to be true?”

“NO!” You answer a little too quickly. You watch the wheels turn behind his eyes, as if he’s making a mental note of that and filing it away for later. For now, he chews the inside of his cheek in an attempt to hide a smile. “Don’t listen to me. I’m not in my right mind,” you remind him, holding your knees to your chest on the mattress and staring into the fire. Still shivering uncontrollably at least a little from the embarrassment. 

He uses the iron firewood tongs to retrieve your can of soup from the flames and pour it into the clean bowl. You watch him intently, noticing the tinge of crimson thaw his cheeks after your confession. 

“I’m sorry.” He extends the warm bowl of soup to you, a peace offering. 

You accept it graciously, the warmth quickly bringing the feeling back to your numb fingers. “You didn’t know it was gonna bust through the dock like that, Sam.” 

“No, I meant about Gordon.” He settles onto the mattress in front of you to look you in the eye. You avoid his gaze, opting to stare into your soup instead.

“You don’t have to apologize for that. It was you or him.”

He blinks a few times, surprised. That was not the response he was expecting. 

You take a deep breath and try your best to stop shaking.“I knew Gordon was reckless and dangerous. I knew it from the minute I met him. Hell, it's part of the reason why I fell in love with him. But he made his choices. You had none. So no, I don’t blame you Sam.” You slurp your soup, uncomfortable with the silence that lingers in the wake of your transparency. “Besides, we were over way before you… well, y’know.” 

He nods, rolling the weight of your words in his mind. “So if you don’t blame me,” he presses cautiously, “what’s with the hate on?” You shoot a glare at him over the rim of your bowl, which makes him throw up his hands in mock defense.“I’m not tryin’ t’ pick a fight. Just curious.”

You lower the bowl from your lips and finally meet his gaze. “You really wanna know?” He nods again, bracing himself for the worst as he studies your face for an answer in the firelight. Opening the Devil’s Gate. The demon blood. Setting Lucifer free– 

“You’re kind of a know-it-all.” His jaw drops. Somehow this is more offensive. 

“I’m the know-it-all?” he scoffs. “Seriously?”

“Yes, a whole know-it-all,” you double down. “Every time I make a suggestion or come up with a plan, you shoot it down!”

“Yeah because your plans could wind up gettin’ you hurt or worse.”

“Right, like your plans always go off without a hitch.” He raises both eyebrows and cocks his head to the side, conceding to your point. “And don’t even get me started on the ‘umm… well actually’s,’' you lift your index finger with a mocking poindexter voice that makes Sam huff with disapproval. 

He narrows his eyes at you despite the fact that he’s trying to hide a smirk. “I don’t sound like that.”

“You sound just like that,” you tease, doing it again. “‘Well actually Y/N, according to the lore water sprites can manipulate the weather.’”

He nods again, this time not bothering to hide his smile. “Fair enough.” 

The sight of those dimples again makes the butterflies in your stomach suddenly flutter awake after months of hibernation. It makes you shiver a little more vigorously. Sam takes note. Shifting to sit beside you on the mattress and opening his blanket to pull you in close. You caught a glimpse of his taut chest, briefly marveling at the way his anti-possession sigil tattoo perfectly decorates it. Shit.

He catches you staring, a glint of pride in his eyes. “Body heat’ll warm us up a lot faster than soup,” he insists. You feign a reluctant sigh and scoot to his side. He drapes his long, muscular arm over your shoulder, making sure the blanket was covering you. You have to admit, something about being this close to him in barely any clothes feels right. Though you’d never admit it out loud. Not yet anyway. That part would come later, Sam was going to make sure of it. 

“Try not to fight the shivering. It’s just your body trying to get warm,” he advises, pulling you in closer. 

“Here you go,” you tease, your voice surprisingly soft despite your best efforts. “Mansplaining shivering like you’re the only kid who paid attention in biology.” You look up at him, expecting another exasperated sigh, maybe even an eye roll, but the expression that greets you makes your breath catch in your throat. His gaze is already fixed on you, studying your face intently, eyes narrowing in a way that makes him look clever, almost like a fox. They suddenly fall to your lips, the same lips he breathed life into barely an hour ago, then slowly back up to your y/e/c eyes. The air shifts in the room entirely and you suddenly feel the heat of your blood rushing to your face. Well at least I’m all warmed up now.

He tilts his head, as if something finally clicked. The attitude, the witty retorts, the hours worth of arguments for the sake of arguing. It’s all adding up to the fact that you want him just as much as he wants you. And for Sam, it’s the first greenlight on the road to doing what he’s wanted to do to you for months. 

You watch his eyes darken, pupils dilated and fixed on your lips. The facade of a chivalrous bookworm quickly falls away as he licks his lips. “Do you give every man a hard time, or just the ones you think are too good to be true?”

The little sense you have left short circuits. Because who the fuck delivers that kind of a read while looking at you like that? Like a man starved and you’re the last thing in the refrigerator? Your mouth suddenly goes dry and you swallow the lump bobbing in your throat. For the first time since you met the man, you didn’t have a comeback locked and loaded. But you quickly find your footing. 

“Here,” you huff, frustrated in more ways than one, but still unable to hide your smile. “Since you got your degree and you know everything.” He doesn’t bother hiding his satisfaction at making you flustered as he slurps from your bowl. It’s an obscene noise that makes you wonder what else those soft lips are capable of. Shit. Despite your protests to the contrary, you’re beginning to thaw too and he knows it, the smartass. You know he knows it. Fuck. Hell might as well.

“Romantic fire, getting me naked, serving me dinner. If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you were tryin’ t’ seduce me, Sammy.”

He raises an eyebrow at the blunt accusation. “It’s Sam,” he admonishes playfully between sips. “And that depends. Is it working?” He passes the bowl back to you, your fingers grazing his. You’re emboldened by the fact that he doesn’t immediately shy away, lingering on the way your skin warms to his touch before reluctantly pulling away.

You take a sip, pretending to mull it over. “Yeah, a little bit.”

“Good,” a smirk tugs at the corner of his mouth. “Finish your soup and get some sleep,” he orders, standing to his feet. If he was going to really seduce you, he wanted you to have a clear head first.

 You awaken in the night, surprisingly warmed by Sam’s embrace. His breath fanning across the back of your neck as he snoozes placidly behind you. The fire died down to bright embers while you slept, but the oil lamp is still lit, casting an orange glow from the counter top just bright enough to see that he’d placed a couple bottles of water near the hearth to thaw before he decided to spoon you. Thoughtful as ever. You’re tempted to reach for one, but the world beyond Sam’s powerful arms seems too cold to explore. 

No longer separated by your individual blankets and the space between your mattresses, you relish the warmth of his skin against yours. He’s unexpectedly soft, despite the firm, sinewy muscles molded to perfection beneath the surface. One arm is draped over your waist, the ripples of his abs against your back, and the curve of your ass is pressed firmly against what feels like a sizable erection. Well damn.

Maybe it’s involuntary? Men get hard in their sleep all the time. But you remember the way he looked at you while he read you to filth with one question. The pure lust in his eyes. The way his pupils dilated at the sight of your lips. The way he pretended not to be flustered by you in your underwear. Has it always been there? The stolen glances and excuses to touch you hiding in plain sight between the bickering and the sarcasm. Did your near death experience merely bring it into focus? Whatever it was?

Well, there’s nothing but space and opportunity to explore it now. An impish smile tugs on the corners of your mouth. You rolled your hips, pushing your ass against him, knowing full well that Sam’s a light sleeper. His breathing changed rhythms and he stirred awake. You pretended to be asleep, still gently rolling your hips and eliciting a quiet groan from his throat. Got him.

Sam relishes the friction for a moment before he comes to his senses. He blinks the sleep from his eyes and grips your waist, holding you still. “I know you’re awake, Y/N,” he breathes against the tender spot below your ear, his voice still thready with a mix of sleep and restraint. It makes a chill run down your spine and right to your center. “You still delirious?” You squirm, enjoying the way his nails dug crescents into your skin. 

“No more than usual.” 

He laughs through his nose at that and releases you, sitting up on his elbow and pausing for a beat. “Look at me.” You roll over to face him, meeting his scrutiny with as innocent an expression as you can muster. He clearly isn’t buying it. 

Sam saw how you were with other men in bars over the months you spent on the road with them. The way you lured them back to your motel room with a smile and the sway of your hips. The urgent whimpers and moans you’d make, punctuated by the sound of a headboard banging up against thin walls. He took note that these guys all had one thing in common: they shared the deep richness of your skin tone. He resigned himself to the fact that he just wasn’t your type, at least not physically. And after Gordon, he was sure you were off limits. So, begrudgingly, he buried his nose in a book when you were around, even though he would’ve preferred to bury his nose in your cunt. 

Until tonight. Until this very moment. Waking up to that perfect round ass grinding against his cock was a dream come true. But he needed to be certain it was real. And most importantly, that you were in your right mind to consent to all the things he wanted to do to you.

“You sure this is what you want?”

You leave the warmth underneath the covers to straddle him. Your knees on either side of his hips as you cup his face in your hands. You kiss him. He melts right into your mouth. It’s tender and soft at first as you smile excitedly against each other’s lips. Then hungry, open mouthed, and urgent. His hands go straight for your ass, kneading and squeezing your flesh as he grinds against you. 

But he stops himself, pulling away, grabbing the back of your neck firmly with one hand, and taking a couple of deep breaths to calm his racing heart. “I need you to use your words.” A haze of lust darkens his eyes. Eyes that are normally a delicate mix of blues, hazels, and greens. You’d seen them focused with rage. Softened with compassion. Even widened with fear. But this, you’d never seen Sam like this. Breathlessly biting back the urge to pound you into the mattress. 

You reach behind your back, unclasping your bra and tossing it aside without breaking eye contact. “Shut up and fuck me, Sam.” You lean forward, kissing his neck and nibbling his ear lobe. “There, is that good enough for you?”

Apparently it is. He crashes his lips into yours. The kiss was all tongues and teeth and hungry groans into each other’s mouths until you both gasped for air. He stopped himself again, this time tugging at your locs. “Let’s get somethin’ straight,” his voice now strangely calm. He looks you in the eye. And you can hardly recognize the brute staring back at you. “You can talk to me however you want out there,” he pointed to the door with his chin. “But here, right now, I’m the one in charge. And I’ll fuck you when I’m good and ready.” You bite your lip and whimper. “Traffic light rules. Got it?” 

I’ll be damned. It really is the quiet ones you gotta watch out for. You nod. He tugs your hair again, harder this time, making you hiss through gritted teeth. “Use your words, baby.”

“Green, so fucking green,” you gasp. 

“That’s my good girl.”

He rolls over on top of you, trailing kisses down your neck, sucking and biting along the way leaving marks and bruises in his wake. Your hands tangle in his hair, grip tightening as he claims you with his mouth and hands. Groping your breasts and rolling your nipples between his fingers before taking one into his mouth and swirling his tongue around the rigid bud. Then he lavishes the other with his attention. Your whimpers make him throb under the shroud of his boxers. But he wouldn’t give in to the temptation of shoving his cock inside you. Not yet. 

You bucked your hips, desperate for friction against your neglected pussy. He obliges, trailing his hand down your buttery soft belly until he reaches the delicate fabric of your panties, already dampened by your slick. Your breath hitches at the contact. He pressed circles against your center, eliciting a string of wordless whimpers.

His lips slowly traverse their way down your body, blazing a trail of hot wet open mouthed kisses. “Turn over,” he orders. “I wanna taste you from behind.” He sits back on his haunches, giving you the space to obey. And surprisingly you do. You roll over onto your stomach and position your ass in the air, giddy with anticipation. Sam pulls your panties down to your thighs and hums with approval at the sight of your slick folds.

He pulls you closer, spreading you wide open with splayed hands pressing firmly into your cheeks. “Fuck,” he growls. “I’ve waited so long for this.” He licks a thick stripe from your clit to your slit and back again, savoring the taste through a moan. His tongue expertly swirls around your clit repeatedly. You gasp, gripping the blankets, the mattress, anything you can get your hands on. 

“Yes, yes, yes, Sam.”

He smiles against your cunt, loving the way his name tumbles from your lips. He could get used to this. He wraps his lips around your clit, suckling it and shaking his head as he buries his nose inside you. Stopping only to catch his breath before continuing his ministrations. You arch your back, mumbling praises and curses into the mattress. 

“Fuck,” you whine. 

He pauses again to insert a finger, slowly dipping inside of you before pulling out and inserting another. You clench onto them, making his cock throb with anticipation. He pushes down gently on the spongy soft spot inside of you, using the thumb from his other hand to massage your clit. He pushes harder and faster, scissoring his fingers to prepare you for what comes next. You’re practically dripping down his wrists as you near your first orgasm. 

“That’s my good girl,” he encourages. “Cum for me.” He increases the pressure on your clit. Your legs tremble as you pant uncontrollably. Knot tightening in your stomach, you gasp writhing on his stout fingers. So close to the edge. Every muscle in your body tensing up as your whimpers steadily climb up octave after octave until you could no longer contain it. 

“Sam, fuck!” you scream, allowing your climax to wash over you in wave after wave as your walls flutter around his fingers.

Overcome with the need to taste you, he pulls out and resumes sucking on your engorged clit. This time, pausing to pull back the hood and flick his tongue over your bud at a brutal pace. “I am,” he laps you up, “fucking obsessed,” he kisses your clit, “with this cunt,” he continues suckling again. “Give me another one,” he mumbles up against your pussy. 

The overstimulating sensation burns from your center as you throb. “Oh my god, oh my god, yes,” you’re squirming now, voice thready with desperation. He holds you in place with one hand gripping your thigh, the other still exposing your bundle of nerves. His tongue expertly flickers side to side over and over until you topple over the edge again. 

Your body goes limp, no longer able to hold yourself up on your knees at the mercy of your second orgasm. He sits back for a moment, admiring his handiwork. You roll over, grinning ear-to-ear, chest glistening with sweat, heaving as you try to catch your breath. Sam stands, just long enough to remove his boxers. His large cock springs free. “Holy shit,” you breathe, eyes widening at the sight. You slide your panties off and toss them aside. “You brought dick too?” 

This earns a warm chuckle from Sam, exposing his slick covered dimples as he nods. “Still green?” he asks as he lowers himself between your legs.

“Yes please,” you murmur against his lips, savoring the taste of your cunt as he slips his tongue into your mouth. The bulbous head of his cock teases your entrance and makes you shudder. You reach down between your bodies, pumping his lengthy shaft and admiring the weight of it in your hands. He’s so long, thick, and heavy. If you’d known he was hiding this monster in his jeans, you would’ve done this a long time ago.

He groans into your neck and the warmth of his breath against your skin makes you clench down onto nothing. He feels you throbbing on his tip. He’s tired of waiting. Gripping himself at the base, he spreads your wetness around your slick folds before dipping inside of you with a toe curling slowness. 

Your jaw drops, mouth agape releasing a silent moan. The stretch is exquisite, stuffing you utterly and completely as he pushes his way inch by inch to the hilt. You gasp, eyes wide, as his tip grazes your cervix. “Sam!”

“Fuck, baby I can feel the end of you,” he groans, placing a large hand on your tummy and gently pushing down. “Right here.” He gives you a moment to adjust before he decides to move. One hand firmly grips your hip to hold you steady as he pulls out slowly and thrusts his way inside you again. He bites his bottom lip, attempting to restrain himself as he slowly works up to a steady rhythm. He removes his hand from your stomach and grips the back of your neck to kiss you tenderly, pressing his forehead against yours.

You wrap your legs around his waist and dig your heels into his ass, spurring him on. “Faster please,” you moan desperately. Since you asked so nicely, he obliges. Picking up the pace and thrusting with all of his weight. His hips slammed into yours, filling the room with the obscene sounds of wet skin slapping against skin. 

“Fuck you feel so good, Sam. So so good.” Your fingers curled in his hair, gripping tight and holding on for dear life as he pounds you mercilessly into the mattress. He grits his teeth, taking your praise as encouragement to go deeper, harder. Bottoming out with every thrust. You’re sure you’re gonna feel that in the morning, but you don’t care.

An endless string of curses and praise fall from your lips, punctuated by Sam’s wordless groans. He sat up, looking down at the place where your bodies joined, marveling at the sight of his cock shining with your slick. The grip of your lips as he slid in and out of you. He licks his thumb and draws circles on your engorged clit. The familiar heat of another orgasm tightens in your core. He switches to shorter strokes, making sure he angles his hips just right to hit that sweet spot. 

“Cum on my cock,” he encourages breathlessly. He increases the pressure on your clit. Your whole body tenses up again. And when the knot in your stomach finally unties itself as you reach the precipice of your third climax you see static. You push him out, squirting all over the mattress and your blanket. 

Sam watches you shudder in the throes of an intense, full-body orgasm like a woman possessed. He smirks with pride. “You went a little cross eyed that time.”

“Shut up, Sam,” you breathe. You couldn’t help it. You weren’t really thinking. It was kind of a reflex at this point.

The smirk fades and he squares his shoulders. “What was that?” He grabs you by the ankle before you could answer. “C'mere and bend over.” You let him drag you closer, propping yourself up on your knees, arching your back, and tossing your ass up in the air like a good girl. You glance over your shoulder at him with a smirk of your own. The darkness clouding his eyes made you giddy with anticipation. It’s now your turn to get the dog shit fucked out of you by Sam Winchester.

“Face down,” he orders. You obey. He lines himself up just right, before sliding into you again. You welcome the burn of him stretching you open, carving out a place inside you molded perfectly for him. His thrusts were merciless this round as he tightens his grip on your hips, digging crescents into your skin with his nails. You catch each one, throwing it right back at him and bouncing your ass on his cock. He gives it a slap, testing the waters, the sting of his calloused hands lingering on your skin. “Still green?” he groans.

“Yes, fuck Sam,” you gasp. He smacks your ass again, this time harder. It sends a jolt of heat to your center that causes you to clench around him again.

“Fuck yes, that’s my girl. That’s my dirty, dirty girl.” Another slap. “You take me so fucking well, baby.” And another. “Gonna cum inside of this tight cunt and make you all mine.” And another. One of his hands finds its way to your throat, and he pulls you flush against him, still thrusting up into you furiously. He squeezes until you see stars, then releases you. Allowing you to gasp for air before he does it again. 

Your eyes roll back in your head. You’ve never been fucked so hard in your life. He isn’t just making you his. He’s ruining you for anyone else. You no longer care about the chill in the air, the damp mattress at your knees, or the world beyond that cabin door. All that matters is Sam and his big hard cock, splitting you open and making you come undone yet again. Your orgasm incites his own. And before you know it Sam is muttering your name in your ear with more filthy praises, until his hips falter and his voice shatters with his own release. Drenched in sweat, his hair sticking to the sides of his face, he coats the inside of you with hot white ropes. You collapse onto one another in a heap, utterly and completely spent. 

The oil lamp was out now, and the only light in the cabin came from the moon outside, reflecting brightly off the snow through frosted windows. You rest on his chest, atop the remaining dry twin sized mattress trying to catch your breath. Sam’s cum warm and sticky between your thighs. He covers you both up with the dry blanket and kisses your forehead, before smoothing your locs. After a moment, he chuckles to himself, causing you to look up at him. “What’s so funny?” you quizz, tracing lazy circles around his tattoo.

“Nothing, just remembering what you said earlier.”

You sit up to look at him, brow furrowed with curiosity. “C’mon tell me,” you smile.

“Umm… well actually,” he starts with a smirk. “I don’t have my degree. I left Stanford before I could graduate.” 

You thump him on the chest. “Boy bye.”

#oh me oh my #delicioso

[softimgyu]

Camp Wanderlust, Part 2

Pairing: Camp Counselor!Franklin Saint x Black!Fem!reader / Plus Size reader

Warnings: 18+, Minors DNI, You are in charge of your own reading experience. Intentional use of AAVE. Cursing, one use of n-word, kissing, smut. PIV, oral. (female receiving), fingering (female receiving).

Summary: Welcome to Camp Wanderlust! We're so glad you're here! Inner city kids have been granted the opportunity to spend their summer here, getting introduced to a new world. You and Franklin are camp counselors. During the day, you're teaching your kids how to swim but you can't help staring at Franklin's chest. Using the kids to his advantage, he asks you on a date. You weren't sure what to expect, but it was definitely perfect.

Word Count: 7,062k

A/N: I'm sorry this took so long to get out! They are entirely too cute and whew! I need to go lay down now! This is deeply self-indulgent lmfaoooo. Please consider commenting and reblogging to help support writers!

Taglist: @planetblaque @notapradagurl7 @miyuhpapayuh @henneseyhoe @blackerthings @wide-nose-and-wonderful @halfofmysoulsblog @sevikasblackgf @slippinninque @babybratzmaraj @browngirldominion @thecookiebratz @we-outsiiiide @kindofaintrovert @theunsweetenedtruth @theyscreamsannii @kaaliyahsierra @pinkpantheris @blackelysian @sugrcookiiee @hihellogoodbyebruh @softimgyu @neawarren @harmshake @iv0rysoap @ciaqui @amethyst09 @nworbaij @nerdieforpedro

You were having a hard time teaching these damn kids how to swim. Not when Franklin looked like that. Water cascaded down his skin, soaking up the sun, and dripped from his low afro. His swim shorts were a pair of black basketball shorts but it got you thinking about what was underneath those shorts. 

It wasn’t like the water hid everything. On none of the guys. And all the girls knew it. You shared a look across the lake with Dana and Jamika. They also stared at their respective men, water dripping from their torso’s as well. 

There should be a law against putting this many men and women together in an isolated setting like this and expecting them to behave. How could you? Your mouth turned dry every time Franklin came up for air. The way his eyes would close against the sun and he’d brush the water from his face. 

The cool lake water was welcome against the hot, humid air around Camp Wanderlust. It was not enough to cool every inch of you. Your pussy painfully throbbed every time Franklin flexed, smiled, or swam in the lake. You were going to melt soon, the more you paid attention to him. 

The girls in your cabin were a mix of those who knew how to swim and who’d never set foot in a pool of water before. Not many chances to go to a pool to learn, or go to the beach when your parents worked long hours and barely got dinner in on time. 

The ones who could swim, you had them learning how to float on their backs. The ones who didn’t, you had them learn to get used to the water. It was okay to dunk their heads and get their hair wet. It was okay to let loose and have fun. You would help them with their hair afterwards. 

The first part of the morning after breakfast was spent in the water, getting exercises and tiring these kids out. A few days in, they were endless sources of energy and enthusiasm. Warming up to one another as they shared secrets in the cabins. The games between cabins were heating up as everyone took to showing their cabin pride when cheering each other on. 

In a few, everyone was going to split up for the water volleyball game. It was going to take place closer to the shore, where the water was more shallow so that no one felt bad about not getting to participate. 

“Is Mr. Franklin your boyfriend?” 

You coughed as you whipped your head towards one of your kids, Drea, who looked up at you with a goofy grin, one of her front teeth missing. 

“What? Why would you ask that?” You asked. 

“You keep looking at him. My sister said that girls don’t tell boys they like them. They just stare at them and if the boy isn’t dumb, he’ll come talk to her,” Drea said.

There were just…so many things wrong with that sentence that you didn’t know where to begin. Which was more embarrassing? That you got caught staring at Franklin Saint or that you got caught by a twelve year old? 

“That’s one way to do it. Or you could just talk to the boy you like,” you said.

Drea and her friends made a face like that was the worst advice ever. You chuckled. God, were you like this when you were twelve? Probably. The thought of talking to a boy at that age made you violently ill.

You chuckled. “I’ll tell you a secret about boys,” you said. The rest of the girls moved closer as you divulged this secret. They gathered in a semi-circle near you and you couldn’t help pinching yourself. 

“Boys are dumb at any age. They are not taught how to talk to girls, thinking they have to be cool all the time. If you like a boy, sometimes you have to come on out and say it,” you said.

The girls shrieked their displeasure at that little nugget, dramatically flopping around in the water. They kicked up water at each other and you playfully joined in, splashing them. As they calmed down, another little girl, Asia, gave you a serious look. 

“What if they make fun of us?” She asked.

“Some will. Some may not like you back. And that will hurt, but it’s better to know than twist yourself into knots thinking about it. And if they make fun of you, do you really want to like someone who does that?” You asked.

A chorus of “noooooo” rang through the air and you chuckled. 

“So did you tell Mr. Franklin that you liked him?” Drea asked. 

You laughed to cover up the nervous bubbles in your belly. You couldn’t even discuss him without falling to pieces. Every night, you two snuck out to the dock for heavy petting and kissing. You never felt more alive than when his hands slipped under your shirt and caressed your back. 

“Why do ya’ll think I like him?” You asked. What secrets were written across your face when you thought no one was looking?!

“Your voice gets higher when you’re around him,” one girl spoke up.

“Yeah, and you always giggle when you’re standing next to him!” 

“And you’re always poking at each other like my parents!” 

You stopped them with a giggle. You held up your hands as your face heated from all the ways you showed that you were very much into Franklin Saint. Were you that obvious? You resisted the urge to check where he was now. You wanted to see more of him with that water dripping from him. You wanted to lick every drop. 

A whistle split the air and you turned your attention to the dock. Anne stopped blowing the whistle and lifted a megaphone to her lips. Saved by the whistle.

“Are you all ready for water volleyball?!” Anne screamed. You didn’t know how she and Doug had so much fucking energy in the morning. You wanted to slap the megaphone from her hand just to see if she’d cry or find a way to be happy about that too. 

The kids screamed, pumping their little fists. You clapped along with the counselors, eyes finally settling on Franklin. He grinned and gave you a wave. You waved back. Damn, he was too damn delicious. 

You tore your eyes away to focus on Anne who explained water volleyball and the rules. It was all about teamwork, blah blah blah. You tuned her out and focused on your kids. They were grinning, open, and excited. It warmed your heart to see. 

Anne encouraged everyone to get out of the water so that you could make your way to the other side of the dock, where a net had been erected in the lake. Some counselors were going to keep score, others referees, and others to keep an eye on the kids not playing. This was only the first half of the camp. The other half were doing arts and crafts at the moment before it was their turn after lunch. 

You moved your girls out of the lake, helping them onto the shore. Brave souls tried to climb onto the dock, lifting themselves up. It became a competition among the more sporty kids, who could get up the fastest. You ain’t have shit to prove so you walked onto the shore, the sun doing its best to steal the coolness from the lake.

You felt a light hand on your elbow and you nearly tripped from shock. Franklin laughed and caught you, righting you back on your feet. “Literally falling for me, huh?” He asked.

You rolled your eyes and slapped his hands away, gaining distance from him. “You get on my nerves!” You said.

He chuckled and stayed by you to ensure that you didn’t tip over again. “You need to stop scaring me. Sneaking up behind me and stuff.”

The water plastered his shorts to his lean frame and you took a deep gulp at the sight of a certain bulge. Dear god. And that was him after being in the water. What would he look like at full attention? 

You cleared your throat and looked behind you to account for your kids. You didn’t need your filthy thoughts plastered all over your face. These nights with Franklin felt like dreams. But you knew they were real. And they were making your thoughts dizzy. Your breath quicken every time you thought back to his mouth on you. His hands on you. You were left burning to a crisp every time you parted and you had to climb into your bed alone. You didn’t expect to feel so intently for him, but you needed him like a bad habit. 

Cabin 5 slowly gathered themselves together. Both boys and girls began warming up to each other, finding common interests to talk about like school, Star Wars, or whatever it was that kids were into these days. 

They gathered up behind you as Anne called out which cabin was going first. Half from the boys and girls would work together, giving each cabin two chances to win. If it ends up being a tie, then there would be a final showdown. 

Your cabin wasn’t up yet, so you watched Cabin 2 go first against Cabin 3. You hung out and watched as the game went underway, Anne excitedly cheering for both sides. 

A boy pushed between you and Franklin and you weren’t aware you had been standing so close to each other. “Mr. Franklin? Now would be a good time,” he said. 

You looked from the little boy to Franklin. Franklin only smiled. “You right. Ya’ll remember what I told ya’ll?” He asked.

The boys agreed and you turned to face the kids. You looked to the girls, but they looked just as confused as you were. 

“Ya’ll not pranking me right? You really think she likes me?” Franklin asked, but his eyes were on you. Nervous, soft giggles escaped you as you tried to puzzle out what Franklin was up to. 

Your girls jumped in, enthusiastically answering him with the same bullshit they tossed at you. “What makes ya’ll think he likes me?” You asked, folding your arms across your chest. You wore a modest swimsuit, a two piece that still showed a lot of skin. You suddenly felt exposed. Like they were tap dancing on an insecurity you tried hard to bury. 

“He always talks about you. Like how smart you are. He said smart girls are the best girls,” one of the boys answered. 

“He said your smile was the cutest he’s ever seen!” 

You laughed, staring at Franklin. He clasped his hands behind his back and shrugged, like he was a little embarrassed by the attention but wasn’t going to fight it. “Is that right?” You asked the kids, but looked at him. He smiled softly. 

“I also said that you must always compliment a woman whenever you see her. Women are the best thing God blessed us with,” Franklin said.

He was laying it on so thick. And it worked heavenly magic on you. You didn’t take him for a believer in God, much more practical in his approach to life. Forget butterflies, humming birds fluttered in your stomach as you looked at him. 

“You supposed to be teaching these kids about the woods!” You said with a laugh. 

“I’m teaching them valuable lessons to become strong, young men! Ain’t that right?” Franklin asked. 

The kids answered with a yes, jumping up and down and giggling about you two to each other. They were just as bad as the counselors. Middle school really did prepare you for the rest of your life. There was never going to be a moment where people didn’t get downright giddy about two people liking each other. 

You couldn’t talk. You were just as bad. You were smitten with Franklin in ways that made your previous crushes pale in comparison. 

Franklin stepped closer to you. “You don’t know how badly I wanna kiss you right now,” he said. 

“Same,” you admitted. You wanted to push your lips against his and never come up for air. You wanted his hands back around you, holding you, exploring you. Not appropriate to show these kids, so you smiled and looked back at them. 

“Did he put you up to this?” You asked. 

The boys looked to Franklin for help, confirming your suspicions. “Mr. Franklin! You should ask her on a date! That’s what my dad does when he makes my mom mad,” one of the little boys said.

You laughed, shaking your head. These kids were something else. Treating the two of you like you were a soap opera drama. 

“That’s a great idea. Would you like to go on a date with me?” Franklin asked.

“What date would that be?” You asked. Your girls backed you up, oooh’ing and giggling about this playful exchange. 

“A gorgeous bonfire, we can share smores and talk,” he said. You were going to interject, that smores and a bonfire was the norm every night. But then he kept going. “Followed by a walk by the lake, to look at the stars. I’ll tell you that every star up there can’t compare to you.”

You gasped, not prepared for that. You stared at him, at his open, hopeful face and you smiled. He had you hook, line, and sinker. How the hell were you going to walk away after three weeks? When this was all over, losing him would break you. You went to separate schools and you both had plans for the future. Plans that didn’t factor in unexpectedly meeting each other.

The girls next to you sighed briefly, looking at Franklin like they were head over heels in love. You got it. You were falling rapidly for him as well. The boys were a bit slower on the take. Some understood, looking to Franklin like he just altered their minds. Some looked at him like he was crazy. 

“Then I’d walk you back to your cabin and kiss your hand, and beg for another date,” he finished, that lopsided grin reappearing. “Will you say yes?”

You took a deep breath. Shit. You wouldn’t survive a date like that. You’d be too busy trying to jump his bones. 

“Say yes!” Drea said, pushing against your back. The other girls joined her, a round of “say yes” getting louder and disturbing the second round of Cabin 2 versus Cabin 3. The boys jumped in, crowding behind Franklin and turning puppy dog eyes towards you. They clasped their hands in front of them, dropping their chin onto their hands, and poking out their bottom lip. 

“I know you taught them that!” You said and giggled.

“Gotta use every advantage I got,” Franklin said.

You shook your head but finally relented. As if you were going to say no. The kids screamed their excitement, and you told them to direct that excitement towards the other cabins. They were supposed to be sizing up their competition, not worried about your love life. And yet…

You looked at Franklin as the kids pushed forward to watch the game. Both teams lost and won a round, so your kids were up next against Cabin 2. You and Franklin got back into the lake, sharing glances and smirks as you walked further in. The water was about waist high for everyone except the guy counselors.

The hell were they putting in the water in the hood? Everyone was fine. Jamika held up a thumbs up for you and you returned the gesture. You and Franklin worked as a team, calling a fair game and tallying up the points. Your cabin won both rounds and went up against cabin 3, for a combined total of three wins. 

You, Franklin, and Cabin 5 all celebrated your win out of the lake to make room for Cabin 1 and 4. Their game would be a little shorter since there wouldn’t be an odd team out. Franklin bumped shoulders with you as you walked behind your cabin. They playfully recapped the same games you just witnessed. 

“I ain’t get a chance to tell you how good you look in that swimsuit,” Franklin said. 

You shushed him, even though the other cabin counselors weren’t near you and the kids were in front of you. Franklin laughed at your antics, shaking his head. 

“You are so bad,” you said.

“I had to stay in the water up to my chest just so no one would see something they shouldn’t,” Franklin said, intentionally leaving it up to your imagination. You appreciated him censoring himself, but his words only conjured up filthy images in your mind. 

“Do I get to see it later then?” You asked. 

Franklin sucked in a sharp breath and you smiled at getting to trip him up for once. “Are you serious?” He asked.

You nodded. Fuck waiting. You didn’t know what you were waiting for. You only knew that kissing him by moonlight was romantic as hell, but you wanted a little more. You wanted to douse this fire in your belly and you needed him to do it. To finally give in to this thing between you. Connecting you. 

Franklin grinned. He grabbed your hand and brought it to his lips, kissing the back of it. “Tonight?” He asked. 

You smiled. “Tonight.” Tonight, you were going to have sex with Franklin Saint. You were going to faint, but god help you, you needed it. 

“Ewww!” One of the boys shrieked. You looked at him and the whole cabin had turned around to see your hand in Franklin’s. Franklin waved them off and dared them to a race towards the cabin. He gave you a last, scorching look before he took off, never telling the boys when to go. 

You did the same with your girls, running past them to the cabins to get cleaned up and prepare for lunch.

Franklin sat next to you around the campfire. After getting cleaned up and having lunch, the kids still somehow had energy for arts and crafts. They were learning to build cabins out of popsicle sticks. You and Franklin worked around them, providing supplies where needed and working on one together.

But as the sun finally lost its heat, everyone was tired as hell. You decided to let the girls have free time, free to go to the rec room or get a nap in. You opted for a nap. Shit, you were tired as hell. As well as too keyed up for tonight.

Now, you were around the bonfire, speaking to Anne about the day’s festivities and what the kids liked the most. Some shared their honest experiences, telling Anne that they never thought anything like this existed in the real world. They thought “camp” was something made up for TV shows and movies. 

You had to fight off more than a few tears, hearing about kids from broken homes. Kids who didn’t think they’d be able to do something like this. Kids who had to grow up entirely too fast, taking care of their younger siblings and not having any real experiences of their own. 

Franklin’s knee routinely knocked against yours throughout the night. Lingering touches whenever he handed you something like smore supplies or a stick. Your body felt entirely too sensitive. Too in tune with his body. 

Night time in the woods was dreadfully cold, too at odds with the heat of the day. You were far from cold. Body heated in ways you’d never experienced before. You weren’t a virgin, but fuck, you felt like one sitting next to Franklin. The cold air lifted tiny hairs on your legs and arms. You felt every instance that his body connected with yours.

Nerves tingled everywhere. Your inner thighs too sensitive as you rubbed them together. Was there a way to fast forward through life? You wanted to climb him right here and now. 

Anne wound down the night with something a little lighter. She openly admitted that she had no idea what they went through. That made you look at her in a different light. What irritated you most about people like Anne and Doug were that they tried too hard to pretend that they knew what it was like to grow up Black in America. 

The fact that she openly admitted that she didn’t…maybe they weren’t too bad, for some white folks too cringey for their own good. 

Anne went on to talk about choices and how each kid didn’t get to choose which family they were born into, how they grew up, but they did have a choice in doing better. Doing better in school, not because they’re parents wanted them to, but because they needed to learn. They could choose to go to college like you and Franklin did, find a passion, turn that into a job they could be proud of. It was a little sappy but you saw it sink in to some of these kids. 

When Anne was done, she shared one final story about the crazy killer in the woods and that they must never say the name. She pretended to let it slip, but caught herself. The kids joked but they were pooped from the day’s activities. You walked them back to the cabin, your hand tapping against Franklin’s. 

He grabbed your hand, free to do so in the dark. No words. Nothing more than his rough hand in yours. And it was everything to you. 

At lights out, the girls asked if you were going on your date now. You told them yes and squealed with them about how Franklin asked you. You told them that they shouldn’t settle for anything less. Some of these girls would still fall into the same traps you did as a kid and you hoped to get through to some of them. Cut the trauma off at the pass. 

No more girls getting played by fast young boys. You hoped.

You made them promise to behave themselves and you’d tell them all about the date in the morning at breakfast. 

You left the cabin and started off for the bridge to the dock. You already told Dana not to wait up for you. As she picked out her afro, she giggled and kicked her feet. She told you that Jamika owed her five dollars now. 

“This is just so great!” She squealed earlier when you told her.

You decided to stop fighting these teases. They made you want to punch something, but there wasn’t much to entertain yourselves with. Jamika was still after Jason even though he was trying his hardest to spread himself thin amongst the women. You’d think there would be an even split for everyone, but no, Jason was just greedy.

You made it to the bridge and saw Franklin there, standing, bathed in that silver light that gave him an otherworldly glow. Knowing him these past two weeks, you’d known that he was special. But it was moments like these, before he caught you looking, that you truly felt like he was meant for something bigger, greater. 

You told him you were there and he smiled wide, taking your hand and walking towards the dock. The surface of the lake was still, no hint that anyone or anything ever disturbed it. Insects chirped somewhere in the woods, too loud to determine from which direction. The lake was large enough to have a decent walk ahead of you.

Your skin was on fire in anticipation, but Franklin was true to his word. You went for a walk, just the two of you, talking about the future and your plans after college. You asked him what type of business he would get into when he got home. He wasn’t sure just yet, there were so many ideas in his head. 

“Every star up there jealous of you right now,” he said. You damn near melted into a puddle at his feet.

He had subtle calluses on his palms that rubbed against your smooth one. He was into some kind of labor and you found that you wanted to learn everything about him. Where he grew up, what he did when he was at home. 

“My boys Leon and Kevin are my best friends. Right now? They probably down at the skating rink with everybody else,” he said.

“Do you skate?” You asked.

Franklin took a deep breath and chuckled. “Not well.”

“What? The great and powerful Franklin Saint isn’t good at everything?” You asked. 

He laughed and twirled you closer to him, his arm over your shoulder now and your hand still in his. “Not everything. But some things I’m really good at,” he said. He pressed a kiss to your ear, sending shivers down your spine. 

“Really good?” You asked, nibbling on his arm. 

“Really good,” he whispered in your ear. 

Your steps faltered as his deep, sexy voice caressed your ear. You bit back a moan. 

Giddiness spread like heat through your body and you looked at Franklin as it seemed to hit him too. You walked a little faster towards the boat house. It was set at one of the edges of the lake, dark, blending in with the woods beyond it. 

Franklin hurried you inside, closing the door behind you. It felt like you stepped into another realm, filled with magic and dreams. The sounds were muted inside, the chirping of the woods down to a low simmer. 

A boat was smack in the middle of the boathouse, raised on a little platform and tied to a post at the front of the boathouse. The water beneath churned softly, knocking against the wood in a slow rhythmic dance. There were windows inside and it let in the moon’s light, casting long shadows all around. 

“This is beautiful! I feel like I’m in a fairytale but it’s just the boathouse,” you said. Your voice was louder inside too. You hadn’t thought you were shouting, but that’s what it sounded like. 

“Maybe it’s just you, princess,” Franklin said. 

You pursed your lips, not wanting to give him a full corny smile. He smiled though, making you give him one in return. You stepped closer to him, wrapped up in the heat he gave. It rivaled the sun during the day. You wouldn’t mind getting burned by him though. Consumed by him. 

Franklin leaned down and kissed you. Soft, gentle kisses that didn’t hint at anything more. There was no need to rush this. You knew that. But you needed his clothes off. 

You gripped the edges of his Camp Wanderlust t-shirt but he stilled your hands. He smirked at the questioning look in your eyes. Then he took your hand and led you towards the back. There was a storage area back there to the side, full of tools for fixing the boat. Directly in front was a gate for when it was time to exit this boathouse. On the right side, there was a short ladder that led to a short loft area. 

Franklin let you climb up first and you gasped at what you found. There was a wider window there, giving you a perfect glance at the half moon hanging in the sky. The stars twinkled around it and reflected off of the surface of the lake. 

There was a pile of thick blankets on the loft floor, piled high with fluffy pillows facing towards the window. You scooted over so that Franklin could get up there too. He smiled when he got up.

“Wish I could’ve seen your face when you saw it,” he said.

“This is…” You didn’t have the words. 

“Me and my bunkmate found it not too long ago when we were exploring during down time. We promised not to tell anyone else, otherwise this place would get nasty as hell,” he said.

That was an understatement. If anybody else found out about it, namely Jason’s nasty ass, this place would be a breeding ground for all kinds of gross stuff. The fact that Franklin shared it with you took your breath away.

You were further convinced that Franklin was it for you. He was perfect to share this moment with. Perfect all around. He was sweet, playful, confident in small, quiet ways. 

Franklin moved closer until he was right next to you. His hand moved to your cheek, thumb lightly brushing across your cheek. You sighed, pressing your forehead against his. You smiled. 

The lull of the water and the soft chirping gave you more than enough music to sway to. You kissed him, closing that distance between you because you couldn’t stand to be apart anymore. He kissed you just as fiercely, holding you close to him.

You went for his shirt again, lifting it off of him. All day, you’d fantasized about running your hands across his chest. Feeling his smooth, dark skin like velvet. 

“Are you sure you want to do this? I don’t want to pressure you,” he said.

Silly man. You smiled against his lips and kissed him once more. “Pretty sure this was my idea,” you said. Maybe not the romantic boathouse, but moving beyond just kissing. You needed more. You needed him. 

Franklin nodded and resumed his kissing, taking your shirt off. He looked at your breasts held in your bra and his eyes widened like he was staring at something divine. It lit a fire in your core, so hot you were worried that you would be the one to burn him. 

His hands skimmed down to your sides, pressing his fingers into your skin. You straddled him, getting on top of him while he leaned back into the pillows. You reached behind you to take off your bra, but your fingers were too clumsy. Shaking too badly from this need. 

Franklin sat up and helped you. You giggled. You felt too young yourself, stumbling through your first hookup again. God, you were so awkward. Now held that same kind of wonder. The same kind of delicious journey into the unknown with someone else. 

Franklin helped free your breasts and he sucked in a sharp gasp. The cups fell away from you and Franklin slid it from your arms. You expected to be nervous. To be shy and hide yourself. But you were comfortable with him. He made you comfortable. 

Franklin looked at you while his lips went to your breasts, suckling on your flesh and placing kisses there. You sighed, scratching at the nape of his neck. He wrapped his arms around you and held you to him while his mouth found your nipples.

“Oh, fuck,” you whispered. His mouth was hot on you, tongue licking at your nipples. Your pussy throbbed, soaking your panties. Each swipe of his tongue made you grind on his crotch. He brought one hand up to squeeze your breast, pucker your nipple so that it was ripe for his attention. 

Your nipples beaded under his careful exploration. He switched between them, taking his time with each. You dropped your forehead to his head, lost to this sensation. Of being claimed so thoroughly. Your hookups were far more frenzied, too busy trying to get in and get off. 

Franklin was determined to take his time. Your hands roamed across his back. Across his smooth, unblemished skin. You felt cherished in his arms, was that weird? 

Franklin moved his hands down to slip beneath your pants, grabbing two handfuls of your ass. He squeezed and you moaned, scooting higher on him even though there was nowhere else to go. 

“That pussy ready for me?” He asked. His filthy words were what you needed. You nodded. 

“I’m ready for you,” you said. 

Franklin smiled, moving his hands between you to tug at the button of your jeans. Your hands unbuttoned his khakis, desperate for that hardening bulge in his pants. You released each other at the same time, hands flying to each other’s crotches.

Your hands wrapped around his dick first and he groaned at the contact. His eyes briefly shut, face twisted in glorious pleasure and pain, before he opened them and looked at you. Your thumb played with the precum beading on the tip of his dick.

He grinned as his fingers found your damp curls and swirled your clit with your arousal. You shared a gasp, both of your mouths dropping open as you played with each other. Silver moonlight danced over his features. He was so damn beautiful it made your chest ache. 

“You’re so fucking beautiful,” he said. 

You giggled and told him that you were just thinking the same thing. You had to part briefly so that you could maneuver in the loft. You both shed your pants and came back together, you straddling him. 

“Like a fucking angel,” he breathed as you got back on top of him. 

“You’re the sexiest man on the planet, Franklin Saint,” you told him. 

“Hmm, say it again,” he said and grinned. You slapped at his shoulder. 

“No,” you said and poked out your tongue. Franklin pretended like he was going to bite it so you did it again and again, retrieving your tongue whenever he got too close. 

“It’s not too late to back out if you want,” Franklin said, once more checking in with you. You appreciated him for that. Your past lovers didn’t fucking care as long as they got off. 

“I don’t want to stop. Touch me, Franklin,” you whispered and leaned down to catch his lips. His scrumptious, warm lips that made you moan and grind against him. His dick rubbed against your belly, but you needed him inside of you. 

“Condom?” You asked.

Franklin smiled. “Not yet,” he said. You weren’t sure what he meant by that before he suddenly flipped you over onto your back. The plush berry blankets warmed your back from where he had been leaning on it. 

Franklin kneeled above you and you’d never seen a prettier sight. He kissed along your neck, your chest, returning his attention to your nipples. You writhed and gyrated on the blankets, too out of your skin to vocalize what you needed him to do next. You only knew that you’d break soon. 

Sweat gathered on your brow. Your breaths mingled together in the loft area. Franklin moaned and moved lower, kissing your belly. Then he went even lower, pushing your thighs wider to accommodate his shoulders.

He dived in, lapping up your sweet juices. “Fuck, a nigga can drown in here,” he moaned. 

“Fuck,” you cried out. Your hands gripped onto his hair, yanking at him as he licked and suckled on you. 

Franklin gave you the same love and care he showed to your nipples. He fully explored your pussy, licking around your clit. Licking lower. Spearing his tongue in and out of you like he planned to do with his dick. 

The desperate moans leaving you should be embarrassing but were anything but. “Let me hear it, princess,” he moaned into your pussy. 

“Fuck! Franklin!” You moaned, thighs tingling unbearably. Your breaths stuttered in your chest. Your stomach hollowing out as your eyes rolled back. Your mouth opened and closed but no words came out. Nothing but those ragged, dry moans leaving you as you finally fell over the edge with one final lick from Franklin’s tongue.

You exploded. Stars blinking behind your eyelids as you came. Your legs shook, held up in the air by Franklin’s shoulders. You moaned, tears stinging your eyes. “Fuuuck,” you dragged out. Tears fell freely now. Your orgasm was so intense, you could barely breathe. Barely think. 

Your nails dug into Franklin’s shoulders as he continued eating you out. Continued flicking his tongue across that sensitive little bud that brought you so much pleasure. It danced beneath your skin. Flashed through your core like lightning. 

Franklin’s tongue brought you back from the edge, anchoring you so that you found your way home to your body. You gasped and moaned, calming down from something so intense. Franklin kissed up your body, leaving wet tracks on your body.

When he reached your face, he smiled and gently wiped away your tears. He pressed a soft kiss to your mouth. You were too weak to cup his cheek. 

“Okay, princess?” He asked.

You nodded. You were more than okay. You were out of this world. You were on another planet. You were soaring through the stars above. But you settled for a nod. You didn’t have a way to convey your feelings in the moment. 

“Up for more?” He asked.

“Please,” you rasped. “I need it.”

Franklin smiled and left you long enough to grab his pants. He pulled out a condom. You didn’t know how, why, or where he got it. Only grateful that he did have one and that you’d finally get to give in to this burning desire inside. This hunger for his body, his hands, and to be connected in a way only two people could. 

He opened the foil, rolling the condom onto his shaft. You watched as he adjusted the tip, pinching it to give him some room to cum. Thinking about his cum made you clench in desperation. You had cum but it hadn’t satisfied the deeper desire to be filled up. The primal part of you wanted to be claimed in the basest sense of the word. 

Franklin kissed you, taking your thoughts back to his lips. His tongue rolled against yours as he positioned himself between your legs. He pushed into a pushup, lined himself up, and slowly fed you his dick. 

Your eyes widened, gasping. He shushed you, promising that he’d fit. You dug your nails into him again as he worked himself inside. True to his word, he did fit. Franklin was always true to his word. If he promised something, he meant it. 

You groaned, pushing your hips up as he stroked deep within you. “Oh fuck, oh fuck. Oh Franklin,” you moaned. 

He looked you in the eye while he stroked, taking in all of your moans and words like he wanted to swallow them down. He groaned, fucking into you, and you surrendered to his sweet lovemaking. 

The slow pace. The depth. The kisses in between. Your legs bounced around his waist. He glowed from the moonlight. Fuck. This was perfect. This was so incredibly perfect in so many ways. You could fuck for a thousand years and this would be the one night that you’d always remember. The night where you had a blissful, perfect moment.

“You take my breath away every time I see you. Every time you smile. Every time you laugh. Every moment I spend with you just makes me greedy for more,” Franklin groaned, his deep voice sounding like it was taking all his energy to speak. 

“Franklin,” you moaned, tears once more clouding up your vision. “I always seek you out. Wherever I am. I like seeing you from across the room. Knowing that you’re there makes my whole day,” you said.

You felt his dick pulse inside and you moaned at the sensation. “Fuck, don’t say shit like that. I’m trying to last,” he said and chuckled. 

You chuckled. “For what?” 

“So I can hear them pretty ass moans again,” he said. He leaned to his other side, hitting you from a new angle. 

“Oh fuck!” You cried out. This new angle hit your sweet spot and you were clutching him to you, looking to him for that same anchor he provided. 

“It’s okay princess, you can cum,” he said with a cocky smirk. 

Your tease died on your lips as he commanded your orgasm out of you. You hung onto him while your world went dark again at the edges. You only had eyes for the glowing figure above you. 

“Fuck, squeeze that shit,” he groaned.

You squeezed him and clenched around him, moans dripping from your lips like the slick between your thighs. Franklin stroked a few more times before he let himself cum. He halted, balls deep inside, while he came.

His dick pulsed and you scrunched up your face. This was too much. Too much pleasure. Too much. 

Franklin sunk down onto his elbow, huffing. You gasped as well, overcome with pleasure and happiness. Tears fell freely from your eyes. That was twice now that he made you cum and cry. You sniffled while you both calmed down. 

Franklin didn’t wait too long to roll off of you. He took off the condom with a groan and then returned to snuggle up behind you. He kissed your ear and you sighed into him, burrowing deeper. He pulled one of the blankets on top of you and you warmed up even more. 

You grew drowsy as you spoke about anything that came to mind. The camp, the grounds, the stars. Your respective families. Before you drifted off, Franklin suggested that you go back to the cabins. He didn’t want you to get kicked out for his shenanigans even though you agreed to all of this.

You got dressed and looked at each other. Giggles replaced words. He went down first and made sure that you got down okay. Then he walked you to your cabin. You weren’t sure how long you two had been gone, but you knew that you’d be sore and tired in the morning. 

And it’d be entirely worth it. You asked for one more kiss, no one more, okay this is the last one, honest. He placed a kiss to your hand. 

“Will you go out with me tomorrow night?” He asked. You bit your lip and nodded.

You pressed your lips to his and watched as he walked backward towards his cabin. He pointed for you to go inside so you finally did, back against the door after you closed it.

You wanted to squeal. You wanted to get onto the roof of the cabin and see if you could fly. You knew better though. You didn’t want to wake Dana from her sleep. So you changed clothes and climbed into bed with a goofy ass smile on your lips.

The Secret Franklin Files | Part 1

#AH 😋

[softimgyu]

Random thought that I want to share. Okay here goes. While Bruce loves seeing Batmom in lingerie and lace he absolutely loves seeing her in her comfortable underwear, no bra oversized T-shirt and natural hair in a pineapple. It just turns him on even more 

Warnings: There's not smut but it's a little steamy

Word Count: 0.7k

"Bruce, are you listening to me?" The answer was no. He was not listening. He couldn't even pretend to be listening. How could he when his wife sat in the middle of their bed in nothing but a pair of underwear and one of his old Wayne Tech t-shirts? This in combination with her tight coils being put up into a pile on top of her head was a dangerous combination for Bruce. 

"Would you believe me if I said yes?" He asked, sitting at the foot of the bed. He felt Y/N crawl behind him before wrapping her arms around his neck. 

"No," She said, placing a kiss on his stubbled cheek. He smiled softly and leaned into her touch. Something about her relaxed him and he was forever grateful for her.

"Okay, I wasn't. What's happened today?" He asked with sincerity in his tone. She hummed in approval of her husband paying attention to her. She started explaining to him how she checked on the various charities they ran before spending the rest of the day with Thomas, Martha, and Alfred.

"Your kids gave me a run for your money. I thought the twins teasing phase was bad, but now, I'm constantly running behind them," She admitted. It was true, the twins were little terrors except with Damian. For some reason, he was the only one that could keep them in line. 

"I'm sorry. They'll grow out of it. We can always ask one of the boys to come in town for a week to help out," Bruce offered, tilting his head slightly so that he could look his wife in her face. Every day he was reminded how lucky he was to have her.

"I know but I don't want them to feel like they have to help. Bruce?" Y/N noticed her husband had a dreamy look in his eye. It was rare and reserved just for moments with them. His eyes always softened looking at her, it was like he had forgotten how cruel the world had been to him.

"Hmm?" He hummed, his steel blue eyes never once drifted from her face.

"Nope, I know that look. Uh-uh, you aren't putting another one of your big-headed babies in me," She spoke with certainty as she released her husband from her grasp. She slid back towards the headboard of their bed and crossed her arms. To Bruce, this only highlighted the fact that she wasn't wearing a bra. Good to know, he thought to himself.

"First of all, why are they always my kids? And what look?" He knew exactly what she was referring to. He began to make his way to her until he could lay with his head on her thighs. She ran a hand through his damp hair, raking her nails against his scalp.

"That look is how we ended up with Martha and Alfred in the first place." She reminded him. 

"No, that was my Gotham University shirt, the knee-high socks, and the goddess braids," Of course, Bruce remembered her exact outfit when their twins were conceived. What kind of husband would he be if he didn't?

"Bruce!" She jokingly hit his shoulder. Memories flooded back from that night so many years ago. If she remembered correctly, the two of them had discovered a new position.

"What? I'm being honest. Now let me take care of my wife, please," He rolled over to his stomach and placed himself between her legs before pressing a small kiss to the center of her underwear. 

"Bruce?" She shifted her hips lower to put her pussy directly in front of him. He nipped at her panties and pulled them down her thighs, nearly throwing them out of the room. He grinned as she spread her legs a bit more. 

"I'll pull out," Lie. He'd simply make it so she'd be begging for him to finish inside of her. The only thing that was more exciting to him than her in his clothing was the thought of her being pregnant with his child.

Taglist: @flyestvenustrap@megamindsecretlair@blxckdesire@prettyvintageafternoon@lilbanas@certifiedloverwoman@melissa-ashe @hoyoooo

#a DANGEROUS game

[softimgyu]

she was 17 bullying the entirety of london society

[softimgyu]

Lin Beifong | requested by @dont-blame-it-on-the-kids

[softimgyu]

another deranged drawing from my demented mind

[softimgyu]

goodnight everyone (:

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[softimgyu]

⤷‧₊˚ ʚ₊˚‧ ✿ ꒱ 𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐓 𝐈 / the story of how the ushijima's rekindled an old flame that kick-started their love story.

┊ •° ੈ ⋆° ┊ warning readers discretion is advised — female reader, her/she pronouns, black reader (with descriptors), influencer!reader, profanity, alcohol usage, intoxication (both reader and ushijima), flashback in italics, mentions of making out, mentions of fingering, tendou makes an appearance, i just around using ushijima & wakatoshi a lot, it's late but we here, mdni

╰┈➤ song for this part: we might even be falling in love (interlude) by victoria monet

masterlist

Wakatoshi’s fingers lingered on your lower back as the crowd cheered for the excitement of the wedding that was just a couple of days away. His lips grazed upon the shell of your ear at the flash of the photographer’s camera. This felt so unreal, you were about to get married in a couple of days to the love of your life. You felt this feeling of warmth rush over your body with each second of Wakatoshi’s fingertips tracing alongside the lining of your dress. 

“Who would have thought?” His words whisper in your ears with a grin. “Wouldn’t think I would be about to marry the cute girl who I help carry coffee to her internship building.” 

You bite back a smile before you turn to wrap your arms around his neck. Your high heels give you enough height so you won’t have to stand on your tippy toes. The diamond ring on your finger twinkles under the restaurant light before you place a quick peck on his lip.

“Yeah, just some years ago we rekindled in Paris,” You said.

His lips were against your ear once more, “Ah, I remember Paris like it was yesterday. But I could have sworn you told me, what happened in Paris stays-“

His words and your pending embarrassment of remembering the events in Paris made your cheeks heat up. Your eyes trail to your fiancé while he’s getting dragged by his teammates away from you. His chestnut-colored eyes never leave you while a foolish grin spreads on his face before he disappears into the celebratory dinner crowd. Even if he was swallowed up by a sea of people, you still could see him in the crowd with a huge grin as he gloated about being a married man in a couple of days.

Paris. 

What a memory that was.

Your first fashion week as an influencer and blogger had just wrapped up leaving you to explore Paris. You wanted to celebrate the huge opportunities that were graced upon you. Landing a brand deal with a well-known and successful black luxury brand was something huge for you. It felt like a dream if you were going to be honest with yourself. So, you had to celebrate until your last day in Paris. You shopped a lot. Went out clubbing with some other influencers that were here also. Now you stand outside this chocolate shop gazing at the huge chocolate fountain that was in front of the display window that looks like it’s been cleaned countless times during the day.

You went to snap a picture of it for your social media accounts, but a figure inside the store caught your attention. His large frame was hunched over the counter as he was talking to another man with a red buzz-cut hairstyle. Even though the sign on the door was turned to closed, he was inside as if he had special privileges. He wore some light khaki-colored slacks, a black polo that was tucked in and secured with a belt, a beige wool overcoat, and a pair of white Alexander McQueen shoes. His dark olive-brown hair wasn’t messy in the sense that it looked like he just rolled out of bed, but more of him constantly running his fingers through it. He looked familiar. 

When the red-haired guy noticed you staring, you immediately fled. Although, the aesthetically pleasing chocolate fountain would be wonderful for your Paris photo dump for your socials—nothing is more embarrassing than being caught staring at a possible stranger through a window like a creep. You thought you were walking fast enough to put distance between yourself and the shop, but when you felt someone grab a hold of your elbow—the feeling of despair engulfed you so quickly. Until you saw who grabbed you. 

The man who you were staring at. That sense of familiarity wasn’t nothing because you knew him. 

Ushijima Wakatoshi. 

“I knew you looked familiar.” Your voice came out like a whisper as if you didn’t believe he was standing in front of you.

It’s been years since the last time you saw him. You remembered how kind he was when you two first met. Helping you carry baked goods and coffee orders in your internship building. Then two weeks later from that interaction, you saw him again at a farmer’s market in California. Then after that, the next time you saw him was when he was a part of Japan’s volleyball Olympics team. You didn’t want to admit that you thought about him a lot. Who wouldn’t? He was an attractive and genuine guy. The volleyball part was just an extra point. 

“Last time we saw each other, I remember specifically you talked my father’s head off over-”

“Marketing.” You finished his sentence, the distant memory of you practically forcing him to be the third wheel with his day with his father made you cringe. “I’m sorry about that by the way. Thinking back on it, it was extremely intrusive.” 

“Eh, it’s fine. My father still talks about you up to this day, you know? Quote on quote said I should date a girl like you. I can see why he would say that.” His eyes scan over your face to your body and now even though you are covered in a sweater dress—you feel bare. 

The heat that spread from your fingertips to your cheeks made you want to fan yourself. “It’s good to see you again, Ushijima.”

“Wakatoshi..” He corrects. 

Your lips curve into a smile of warmth before speaking again, “Wakatoshi.” 

You liked how that felt, and you can tell that he enjoyed you saying it. The tip of his ears was as red as your purse that was hanging on your shoulder. Soon that deep crimson color imparts across his cheeks. He looks down at his shoes in embarrassment before attempting to speak through the fact that he is blushing in front of you.

“Are you free tonight? Meeting my friend and his co-workers at this bar not too far away from here.” Wakatoshi questions. 

“Yes, I’m just enjoying the last couple of days here before I head back.”

“And when is that?”

“Two days.”

“Great.” was the only thing that left his mouth before he grabbed your hand and walked through the crowd of people towards the bar.

Here you two sat in a bar full of people and that feeling of it only being you two returned. Thighs briefly brushed against each other while you were in a booth together, practically ignoring the environment around each other. Even though the two of you could only send wide grins toward each other, you still felt this strange feeling of comfort wiggle up your spine. Even growing comfortable to lean back further in your seat into Ushijima’s arm that was resting on the back of the booth seat.

“Okay, you have half a million followers. How can I build my following?” Tendou slides his phone across the table to show you his Instagram account.

You glance at his phone briefly. He had a pretty decent following for a chocolatier. From your conversations with him, while you were here with him and Ushijima, he had a bright and energetic personality that you were sure would win people over. You scrolled through his photos of different chocolate he’s made and even some fun photo dumps. His likes on his photos were extremely stable considering the platform’s strange algorithm. Quite obvious it was actual people liking his photos and not bots. 

“You have a decent following and interesting stuff on your page. Have you tried recording a day in your life video?” You asked. “I think it would be cool for people to see the life of a chocolatier.” You shrug your shoulders and slide your phone to him.

“I never thought to do that,” Tendou snatches up his phone to glance through his Instagram again. Soon a young woman caught his attention and he abruptly excused himself, uttering how he had to use his French to good use. 

“So, how’s your social media looking?” You questioned before your eyes looked up at Ushijima. “Do you even have any social media pages? You look like a very reserved guy..” Your words trail off realizing that maybe this was a bit intrusive that came off.

“Not a social media person, but my manager insists I make an Instagram account to connect with fans.” He pulls his phone out, unlocking it swiftly to show you his page.

He had more followers than you and verified. But he had only two photos on his page. One was dated back to a year when he first signed to the Schweiden Alders and the other was with his dad, who you assumed was in California. 

“You only have two pictures. Why? If you mind me asking.” 

“I just don’t see the point of having millions of people to be able to see important details of my life every day. That’s how people begin to construct their own opinions about you even though they merely only see what you post on the internet.” He sips from his beer bottle. 

You hummed at his answer, letting it debrief in your head. You never thought about it that way considering your career choice. Granted, you don’t share a lot about your personal life—but you were a very public person. Over a half million people knew you were in Paris at the moment, but for Ushijima, no one knew he was here unless they were Tendou, his close friends, and maybe some volleyball fans. 

“But your job must be quite interesting though. You have half a million people wanting details on your outfits and such.” He tries to lighten the atmosphere because he can tell that his words are causing you to think deeply.

“I’m grateful for that since they do help a girl eat, but I see why you’re so private. You’re like an all-star volleyball player. I’m sure social media could throw your game off.”

“It does, but it’s nothing I can’t handle. Sports journalists are much harsher, you know.” His fingers traced alongside the rim of his beer bottle.

“How’s your parents?” You asked. “I’m sure your dad is loving the Cali weather,” You add. 

“They’re good. We can officially be in a room together without any back and forth. Think they do it just for me though,” his shoulders shrug and you manage to take note of how broad his shoulders are. 

Maybe you were gawking at his appearance. The last time you saw him, he had height on him. Maybe he grew a bit taller over the years. You definitely can tell whatever workout plan he had made him gain more muscle too. 

“That’s good to hear. I’m sure they’re super proud to see how far you have come.” You cheesed at him and he finished the last bit of his beer before the two of you were interrupted. 

These two young men stood with a huge smile on their faces. Faces as red as the red Sharpie one of them held in their hand. You knew they weren’t there for you, so you only laughed as Ushijima waited for them to spit out what they wanted. 

“We’re huge fans. Can we get some pictures and an autograph?” One asked. 

Ushijima looked at you with an apologetic look that you simply giggled at before letting him talk to his fans. In the meantime, you watch as he talks to the two guys as if he knew them for years. A huge smile on his face and his eyes twinkling like the night stars, seeing him like this felt nice. It brought comfort to you in a sense. During the time of them talking, a waitress placed shots down on the table that the fans brought. In return, you volunteered to take the picture of the trio and watch as Ushijima scribbled his autograph on a spare napkin on the table you two sat at. 

“We’re sorry for interrupting your date. Thanks for the picture and autograph.” One of the guys says before leaving—not giving either you or Ushijima time to correct him that this wasn’t a date. 

You went to make a joke about it, but your phone interrupted that. You quickly down the shot in front of you and make your escape out of the booth. 

“I have to take this call.” You seem to yell over the loud music playing in the bar. You went to stand up to take the phone call outside, but you felt Ushijima tug you back.

“Let me go with you,” You felt his hand grab yours instantly as he slid from outside the booth.

“I’m not going to get lost, you know?” You glance back at him briefly before leading him out of the bar. 

The two walked right by Tendou who was talking with a co-worker and as soon as he saw you two walking towards the door, his bright red eyebrows raised in curiosity. Most likely thinking you two were calling it a night after the extensive round of shots Ushijima fan brought him after he autographed a napkin for him. 

You thought it was strange for someone from one of the brands you work for to call you so late at night. Especially when you had spoken to them earlier—correction, you even did your part of the deal and finally posted the product review they were hounding you for. You listened to the agent talk about how they wanted you to post a review on their newest lipstick line that was being released in two weeks. But as they were throwing out their demands through your tipsy hiccups, they weren’t mentioning anything about increasing your pay.

You were a bit intoxicated and on the phone, with someone from a company you were a brand ambassador for. The night Paris wind brushed against your smooth brown legs under your sweater dress and you thought your body was going to shiver, but the closeness of Ushijima was like a personal heater. His eyes stared down at you with lust and charm while you were listening to the person on the other end. 

They do say some wines can be classified as an aphrodisiac. Perhaps it was the alcohol because you wanted him. You yearned for him just as much as you did years ago when you first met him. The heat that pooled in between your thighs crept up on you when you noticed Ushijima’s eyes scan over your lip gloss-covered lips. 

“Can I kiss you?” 

You couldn’t quite remember if you said yes. But you remembered your timid nods as you leaned to meet him halfway to close the gap between you two. You remembered ending the phone call without a care (and was sure you wouldn’t hear the last of it during your next Zoom meeting). And you remembered how Wakatoshi's lips felt. Soft, smooth, and plushable. He was a stern kisser, it went well with his personality. You could feel his fingertips on the back of your neck locking you in place for him to deepen the kiss. His tongue traced alongside your full lips aching to taste all the alcohol that stained your tongue. His knee breaks apart from your thighs as soon as your lips gasp apart to let him in. Your fingers interlock in his brown hair tugging him closer and your left thigh lifts just a bit for his free hand to grab upon.

Was it cliche to say you’ve never been kissed like this before? The way your lips moved with each other, you would have thought that the two of you had done this before. Perhaps in another life, you two were former lovers. That would explain the chemistry you two bounced off each other within the night and right now under the bright moon that gave you little light in the space you were camped out. 

During the heated makeout session, you could feel his fingerings up the dress you wore and your body instantly heated up. It was Wakatoshi doing this to you, of course, your body would feel like it was running a fever. But the idea of doing this here in an alley as drunken strangers walk by turned you on. Yes, it was scandalous if someone snapped a picture. There goes your brand deals and maybe a decrease in followers, but this was Wakatoshi. You would do anything to feel his expensive fingers rub against your clit. 

After the alleyway interaction, he spent the remaining two days with you. Even though he technically was supposed to leave the next morning—he extended your fairytale of making you feel like the most important woman in the world. Embracing those last forty-eight hours with you as if it were his last specks of air escaping his lungs. 

You remembered his last words before you were boarding your plane. A foolish grin on your glowing face and fingers intertwined with his like a love-sick character from a romance novel. 

“Is it odd to say I want us to work?” He admits. “And we only just rekindled two days ago.” 

“Then I’ll see you at your game next week.” 

“Really?”

“Let’s make this work, Wakatoshi.”

⤷‧₊˚ cuties that wanted to be tagged | @salaciousdoll @honeybleed @mitsuyasfavorite @saltypuffin1040 @torusbitch @lotustv @superslutny @kokonoiscoconut @queendijaaaa @jamaicanqueenaa @liyawritesss @tojiscumdumpster @threezzyo @markleedreams @tenshithetinysuccubby @ryukenzz @strawhatsav @shyartnerd564 @renestudio @theebussyqueensblog

#oh this with some good ol VICTORIA⁉️ #perfection

[softimgyu]

like 99% of "men and women are soooo different!!!" comedy is literally just describing the experience of not understanding other people. like it's not that women never say what they mean talking to other people is just like that. it can be hard to understand what other people are thinking. bioessentialism really rots the brain

[softimgyu]

Appreciate your girl’s lingerie before taking it off.

[softimgyu]

men in suits are my weakness

[softimgyu]

Me if I was in That’s Not my Neighbor

#real

[softimgyu]

eid mubarak to everyone who celebrates!! may it fill your hearts with joy and peace 🤍🤍🤍

[softimgyu]

I have been so.. drained lately like it’s getting out of hand 😭

#between trying to keep up with grades #deal with finals coming up #worrying about financial stuff #friend stuff 🧍🏽‍♀️ #getting a damn car #WHILE ALSO TRYING TO HEAL AND MOVE ON FROM A BREAK UP⁉️😭 #my first relationship too #like the spring semester has not been kind to meeeee #mercury ain’t even have her micro braids in yet #but trust she getting her licks in

[softimgyu]

His kids will usually call every time he’s out on a mission